An Attitude of Gratitude

Each day that we live, we choose how we will respond to situations that arise. From the trivial, to the grand, consciously and subconsciously, we send these responses into the universe—affecting our lives, and the lives of others both directly and indirectly. Often, unaware of our tendency to take things for granted, we fail to see the wonder around us.

From the time the alarm clock sounds, many of us begin complaining. “Uh, it’s too early to be up”. “I hate mornings.” “I’m not a morning person”. “It’s too hot/cold outside” “I don’t feel like going to work today”. “I hate my hair”. “I don’t like the way I look in this outfit”. “I hate this job”. “The people I work with get on my last nerve”. “I’ve got too much on my plate”. “I can’t wait for this day to be over”. “They don’t pay me enough for this”. “I hate my commute”. “These kids get on my nerves”. “There aren’t enough hours in a day”. “I don’t feel like cooking”. “I’m tired of eating the same things”. “I’m not happy”. “There’s nothing on cable”. …and then we go to bed, wake up, and do it all again.

I challenge you to start your day with an attitude of gratitude. When your alarm clock rings, and you wake up, I want you to be cognizant of the fact that there are some who won’t wake up. Every time we open our eyes, we are fortunate. When you’re fed up with your job, think about the many unemployed people desperately seeking the opportunity that you are taking for granted. Better yet, think about how happy you were to get the job in the first place. When you’re praying for a day or a week to be over, remember, tomorrow is not promised. Live in the moment. When you’re stuck in traffic, think about the people who will be involved in a car accident, and won’t make it home. When you can’t find anything to watch on television, remember, there are many people who don’t own a television. Consider yourself privileged. When you find yourself annoyed with the kids, think about the many people who want to start a family but have been unable to conceive. The next time you open your refrigerator, or reach into your cupboard/pantry for something to cook or eat, reflect for a moment, on the families that will go to bed hungry.

It’s very easy to lose site of our blessings—especially when we are faced with challenges. However, it is important to be grateful for the things that make up our individual life experience. Begin your day with intentional gratitude because there’s so much to be thankful for. There’s always someone who would prefer to deal with your “problems” than to face their own.

Two Kinds of Smart People...

Have you ever talked with someone who used every word in the dictionary to form a simple sentence—the kind of person who regurgitates his intellect and rolls around on the floor in it? You know the type...they look for every opportunity to broadcast their brilliance. The effort is deliberate and overbearing--even obnoxious. Quite frankly, it's disgusting. However, this person doesn't seem to have any idea of that. They are so caught up in making sure you see them in the way that they want to be seen, and don't even realize that they've rammed their genius down your throat. I've watched this type of person change the mood in a room. Most of the time I’m able to fight off the urge to call the person out on it (I've got quite the reputation for being brutally honest...matter-of-fact...direct), but, more than a few times, I've been the person who said what everyone else was thinking. You don't have to wear a "Brainpower" t-shirt or shout your I.Q. score through a megaphone in order to let people know that you're smart. In fact, you don't have to tell people anything, they can always figure out more about you by what you do than by what you say.


When Christine Romans of CNN asked Van Jones to share the best advice he had ever gotten, he told her what his dad had advised him just before he went off to law school:

"Listen, when you get there, you're going to see, there are two kinds of smart people. There are smart people that take very simple things and make them sound very complicated so they can enrich themselves, and there are people who take very complicated things and make them sound simple to empower other people. I want you to be that kind of smart kid when you come back home."

I absolutely love and live by that advice!

...and I'll admit, I get a real kick out of seeing the "smart" guys light bulb dim as he begins to realize that the "cut-ups" in the room are brighter than he could ever dream of being, but have chosen to leave their megaphones at home.

Learning to Forgive...the Hard Way

When you think about “forgiving” you probably immediately think of a person who has wronged you.  The idea of forgiving the person (or persons) may bring on feelings of guilt too—especially when the person wants your forgiveness, but you can’t seem to move beyond your indignation.  Sometimes trying to explain why you can’t forgive to someone else is even more difficult…because you actually have to hear how petty or illogical your rationale sounds.  In some cases, forgiveness is a challenge because of painful memories or scars (physical or mental).  These can be tough to overcome. 

We all struggle with the notion of forgiving, sometimes choosing to embrace it, other times deciding to dismiss it.  The decision is always personal—no one can make you forgive.  I am not writing to try and change that either.  However, I will share that I learned the importance of forgiving the hard way.  When I was a teenager, I lost my dearest friend in a car accident.  At the time I was not speaking to her because of something that was so irrelevant but seemed reason enough at the time.  When I received the news that she had been in a car accident, I pleaded with God to spare her life.  I begged for one more opportunity to tell her that I loved her.  I never got that opportunity.  I was devastated.  You see, it had never occurred to me that we wouldn’t have the chance to make amends.  We were 18…we had so many years ahead of us.  That’s what I thought, but I was wrong. 

As a result of that experience, I have always asked myself an important question whenever the issue of forgiveness is on the table.  I reflect on the person who I am upset with and I ask myself this:  If something were to happen that resulted in the death of this person, would it matter to me?  Would I wish that I had handled the situation differently?  If I can’t say “No” then I have to let it go.  Whatever you decide to do, make sure that you can live with the decision because pleading, begging, and bargaining with God will not turn back the hands of time.

Trayvon Martin was My Son

I am saddened by the death of Trayvon Martin and sickened by the circumstances that led to his death, and the handling of the case. At this point, I don’t find it necessary to write all of the details because his name alone has become a household word. Although his death was clearly racially motivated in the very least, it seems to me that it was a calculated and sinister execution. The coward that killed him should have been arrested that very night, or maybe I’m confused because my experience with law enforcement has always been viewed through the eyes of a black woman. In my experience, black men have always been arrested first, and then the details are sorted out. In my experience, young black boys are harassed, frisked, and questioned without parental consent. In my experience, young black men are killed and authorities try and find evidence that the deceased was a problem child with poor character, and a history of some form of delinquency. In my experience, many young black boys have been arrested, beaten, and charged with misdemeanor offenses like disorderly conduct, for denying an officer the opportunity to search them without probable cause.
As a result of these personal experiences, I grew more concerned about my son as he entered his teenage years. Of course, all parents worry about their children, but for minority parents, teaching our sons—and daughters about racial profiling by people and law enforcement is a rite of passage. I’m raising my sons in a suburban neighborhood—a gated community. They are intelligent, articulate, respectful, and personable. However, my oldest son is seventeen and stands nearly 6’4 inches tall. Unfortunately, because of the color of his skin, in a hoodie, he fits the description of a criminal. He cannot congregate in front of the movie theatre with a group of black boys and laugh and crack jokes the way he can if he is out with his white friends. The behavior is viewed as obnoxious in the least and even menacing by some.
As a pre-teen, the neighborhood boys would play a game called “Manhunt”. This is a game that has to be played outdoors and in the dark. I don’t remember all of the details of the game, but from his description, it sounds like “Hide and Go Seek”. When he ran anxiously into the house for a flashlight to look for his friends and explained the game, I told him he could not play. He couldn’t understand why and thought that I was overreacting. I recall him being very upset. It didn’t matter. The rule still applied. I knew that we were new to the neighborhood, and one of only three black families living here. I was not willing to take the chance that people would see my son hiding in the bushes and have an initial thought of him being an innocent kid playing a game. He didn’t understand it then, but he does now.
Prior to him getting his car, we described what he should do if he was stopped by a police officer. Part of this dialogue that nearly every minority parent has with their kids—no matter their social or economic status, included: Keep both hands on the steering wheel, answer every question politely, don’t make any sudden movements, if asked to get out of the car or for permission to search the car, ask if you can contact your parents because you are a minor and may need an attorney. However, if all of this is disregarded and you are taken out of the car, do not resist. If they ask you to sit on the curb, sit on the curb. If they ask you to lie face down on the pavement without probable cause, lie face down on the pavement. It’s better to be arrested than to be killed. My son knows those rules like he knows his name. Sadly, for the rest of his life, those rules could be the difference between life and death for him.
Trayvon Martin was my son. Trayvon Martin was your son. What can we do differently to ensure that young black boys have a fair chance at living? That is certainly not too much to ask. No one should die because of the color of their skin. Regardless of the color of your skin, it is my hope that you can either relate to, or understand this plight. I hope that it sickens and outrages you to the point of action. I hope it moves you to do something. It really is up to us. Lady Justice is supposed to be blind, but I hate to say it, she’s cheating. She has managed to slip that blindfold just below her eyelid and we have got to put it back in place and tie it tighter. Would you join me in signing the petition for justice on behalf of Trayvon Martin? We are the change, and together we can make a difference. Go to www.change.org and sign the petition.

Black History Month...Big Deal. (Reposted from last year by request)

Twenty-eight days. I guess the fact that I’m not impressed makes me ungrateful. Well, I’m still not impressed. Each year during the month of February, kids in schools across America get to hear about Martin Luther King Jr., George Washington Carver, Harriet Tubman, Garrett Morgan and Jackie Robinson. Bulletin boards in schools across the nation are adorned with pictures, artwork, and biographical data in tribute to these and other black historical figures. African American communities host events to celebrate and corporate giants buy radio and television ads to show that they are culturally aware and committed to diversity. There are 365 days in a year and Black History gets 28 of them. Big deal. I sincerely believe that there was a time—many years ago, when acknowledging Black History for one month really meant something. I’m sure that when Carter G. Woodson started Negro History Week in 1926, he never envisioned that fifty years later, an entire month would be designated to commemorate the history of African Americans. I’m guessing that in 1976, African American parents were elated when their young children came home with a picture of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or were assigned to write a book report on a famous African American person. In 1976, the recognition of Black History month was a sign that our country had taken a huge step in the right direction. The country as a whole had moved from blatant discrimination to tolerance. I’d like to think that in 1976, the parents of school aged children felt the same kind of pride that I felt when my kindergartener wore his Barack Obama t-shirt to school the day after the 2008 elections. For on that day, we were celebrating something unprecedented. We were celebrating the day that our nation—as a whole moved from mere tolerance to acceptance. Although “acceptance” still implies inferiority (since the person who accepts someone or something is bestowing approval or favor), it still felt like a major hurdle had been crossed. I think it’s time for our nation to embrace the notion of equality. I subscribe to that notion. If one is an American, he or she should be afforded the same opportunities and privileges as any other American. Carter G. Woodson started Negro History with the dual purpose of getting African Americans to take pride in their worth as a people and getting others to embrace African Americans history as an important part of American History. To achieve the latter, our history must be infused into the history of our country—making every day black history day. As a nation, we have to go beyond the mere shout outs and mentions. We have to shift from the ideal of pacifying a people with trivial acts of tolerance and acceptance and instead, employ the universal ideology that tolerance and acceptance are patronizing at best, and at worst, insulting to the intelligence of the rational man. I’m not suggesting that we do away with Black History Month, I’m suggesting we work harder at being inclusive and treating every American equally. When that happens, there would no longer be a need for the twenty-eight day garbage time, where second string citizens get to have their moment in the spotlight. Until then, Happy Black History Month. I’m still not impressed.

Change Can Be a Pain

A couple of weeks ago I went to my dentists’ office to pick up my “aligners”. Yep, I did it. After years of contemplating about whether or not to get my bottom teeth straightened out, I decided to get the invisible braces. It seemed like an easy fix—just wear the aligners for eight months to a year and voilà, a perfect smile. I sat in the chair and watched as he took the aligners out of the package that was customized for me. I opened my mouth as instructed so that the aligners could be fitted onto my teeth. I was not prepared for the “pressure” that I felt. My teeth and gums hurt so bad that I wanted to take the devices out immediately. He assured me that it would feel better in 48 hours. He explained that it would take about ten minutes to take the aligners out of my mouth by myself and encouraged me to be patient when I made my first attempt. He advised that I return to his office the following day if I was unable to remove the braces myself. I drove home trying to figure out what I had gotten myself into. That evening, I had to take the braces out in order to brush my teeth. The notion of “pressure” was no match for the pain that I felt. It felt as if I were pulling out my teeth without Novocain. I talked to myself throughout the process and finally they came out. I brushed my teeth gently and snapped the braces back into place. Again I felt a rush of pain. I took some ibuprofen and went straight to bed. Eating was not an option. The next day I was not interested in eating anything. To make matters worse, it was difficult to say certain words because of the braces. The only thing I could look forward to was the 48th hour. I developed a strategy of drinking Ensure for breakfast and lunch so that I only had to take the braces off to eat dinner. Two days later, still painful. Three days later, no better. It took about a week for me to finally get to the point where it was worth it to take the braces out to eat lunch, and about a week and a half for me to be able to make the “S” sound when I spoke. It’s been two weeks now, and I can take them out and put them in with little difficulty. I can eat and only experience mild soreness. Two weeks ago, I didn’t think that I’d ever eat again. Next week, it will be time for the new set of aligners—the next “phase” of my treatment plan. You see, every two to three weeks I will get a new set of “vice grips” and have to deal with the pressure of my teeth adjusting, shifting and correcting. I’m hearing from “survivors” that it gets easier to deal with over time. The lesson that I want to share with you is that change is never easy. In fact, change is uncomfortable. Change doesn’t feel good. Sometimes it’s even painful. Change can leave you feeling uncertain about your decision. You may even feel like retreating to your old method of operation—change has a way of making the old way seem easier. One of the most frustrating things about change is that it takes time. Real change doesn’t usually happen overnight. Progress is not easy to see either. It may happen so slowly that it doesn’t seem like it’s happening at all. It may not seem worth it. Change anyway. Ghandi said it best: “Become the change you want to see”. If there’s something that you want to fix, fix it. If there’s something you want to do, do it. If there’s something you need to stop, stop it. If there’s something you want to be, be it. If it’s important to you, commit to change even though it’s difficult. For after the rain comes the rainbow and after the pain comes the reward. I’m smiling through the pain and changing for the better all the while!

Don't Forget to Look Out for the Squirrels

A few weeks ago while riding home from the grocery store at a speed of about 35mph, a squirrel darted out in front of me. I thought nothing of it at first because it’s a regular occurrence. Squirrels are so fast that I never considered that I would actually hit one at the speed I was going. However, this time was different. The squirrel never made it to the median. I looked through my rearview mirror and there he was—road kill. It was the first time I’d ever hit or ran over anything (well anything that was alive). I felt really bad. Sure, some would say “it was just a squirrel”, but it was a preventable accident. I could have slowed down or stopped until the squirrel had safely made it across the street, but I didn’t think I had to. Had it been a dog or a duck, I would have slowed down. But, I just assumed the squirrel would make it across. They always do. There’s even a “Geico” commercial that shows a squirrel make it across a busy street in the nick of time.

This morning, while riding on the highway, I saw a dead raccoon that had obviously met the same fate as the squirrel and for whatever reason, I thought about the incident again. I thought to myself—if everything happens for a reason, I wonder why I hit that squirrel. Here’s what came to me:

In life there are lots of people who need help. Their shortcomings, obstacles, and dilemmas are evident. We all know people who need help and hopefully, we respond and offer our support and/or assistance in whatever manner we can. We check on our friends and relatives who are faced with struggles to make sure that they are okay, and remind them regularly that we are there to help if needed. These people are our “Dogs” and “Ducks”. We know we need to watch out for them, look after them, and make sure that they are alright. We understand their vulnerabilities and the role we may have to play in making their lives manageable.

On the other hand, we all know people that seem to have it all together. These are the friends and relatives that have never asked for help, don’t appear to have any problems and couldn’t possibly benefit from any help that you could offer. After all, these people seem to be doing just as good, if not better, than you are. These people don’t seem to “need” anything. In fact, they are always doing or helping others. These people are our “Squirrels”. Remember what happened to that squirrel that decided to cross in front of me? Yep, I “assumed” that squirrel could get across the street. I was wrong.

I challenge each of you to look out for the “Squirrels” in your life. These people are movers and shakers; they are always busy, busy, busy. They think that they can do anything and everything. They may feel invincible but they aren’t. Check on them. Offer to help them with a task or invite them over for dinner or out for drinks. Call just to let them know that you care. Remind them to slow down and take a break. Oh,…and if you’re the squirrel, it’s better to take your time and carefully chart out your course of action, than to dart towards your goal without regarding the obstacles and dangers in front of you. Don't get so wrapped up in trying to do so much that you end up killing yourself. Of course, there are challenges that must be overcome in order to be successful, but please...slow down.