In making my peace with present-day matters of race, gender, and power in America; in finding a way through my disappointment, frustration, and fear, I had to embrace that as a woman of African descent in modern American, my life has very little value.
She challenges me to be stronger. She insists on my advocating for myself as I always have for her.
I write. I don't always write well, but I write daily. It is exercise. It is worship. It helps encourage the practice of discipline in my writing.
I don't regret taking our children apple-picking, but it was a hilarious conversation. It made me aware of my privilege.
I don't care about your tears. I've been suffering in silence for so long that I've forgotten how to complain.
Go where you are celebrated...
“You know what I learned about fig trees? The roots are tenacious, even invasive. They do not give up. There’s a testimony there.”
You Were Not Meant to be Pretty... My Kind of Beautiful — Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me, A Guide to Living with Impeccable Grace and Style The words of Suzanne Rivard. Fortunately, my mother made it abundantly clear that "pretty" was genetics and luck, but smart, aggressive, determined women were always beautiful. …
While planning was important, “one needed to live a life that was open to change,” according to the Holy Spirit.
What do you have to lose? Maybe everything, but what if you don't fail?