Of Trimester Grades, My Grandmother and Time …

The morning second trimester grades came alive on power school for both students and parents to see I missed our youngest daughter’s call. I had been praying.

I called her back on completing my meditation.

She was not pleased with the results, needed to talk, but her break was over and she

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Of a Butter Dish, Christmas Parades and Santa’s Knee … (continued)

(continued …)

Arriving home and seeing my mother’s care still absent, I breathed a sigh of relief.

We had returned home before her.

I greatly doubted

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Of Mothers Daughters and Prayerful Happiness …

Though we dated several times, he even attending church with me, our relationship stalled. I was not her, never could or would be. I was also headed off for college, the one and same university that had graduated him.

I was sad during much of the summer.

He had stood me up and not followed through on attending

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Of Leaving for College, Crushes, and A Photographer …

The day I married, July 3rd, 1982 stood six years from the day my brother had died. I can only imagine what my mother’s life must have been like during the years that followed.

Instead of having a child, a son at home for three years following the August of 1978 when I left for college, my mother re-entered a house where she would live alone until she died in 1996 at the hospital in Berkeley, California where my husband is on staff.

My mother did not drive me to college. Instead she engaged a former student, one year older than me, and who was a sophomore where I would be attending.

He readily accepted, safely delivered me as he

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Of Vipassana, Abandoned Dreams, and “The Map of True Places” …

I ended my last blog asking readers, “Are you a Tiger Mom? Cheetah Mom? A fierce feline mother of great prowess? If so, what is your story?
What hopes and dreams do you hold for your daughters and/or sons?
What are your passions?
Are and if so, how are you living them out?”

On reading the last three questions I realized that I had segued into new territory.

The hopes and dreams we hold for our children lie

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Of Hopes, Dreams, and Cheetah Mamas …

Now a mother of three daughters, a licensed psychotherapist and an author, I still lean back in awe at how much emphasis individuals of certain cultures, African-American included, place upon the success of our children.

Some weekends ago I attended the Senior Recognition Ceremony held each year by hundreds of Jack-n-Jill Chapters across the country, honoring the children of mother-members who having and preparing to graduate high school will in less than three months, leave for college.

Conversations during the meal, as usual, included

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Of Intimacy, Revelation and Redemption…

In my recent interview with Tabitha Vinson of Praise and Worship ICU (PWICU), we discussed human intimacy, an aspect that, for Tabitha, played heavily in my recent novel, The House.

That night, it struck me that as with The House, and all good works of fiction, intimacy plays an important role in not simply the emotional narrative of a story.

Intimacy heavily contributes to the establishment of the opening of a work of fiction.

Through presenting the protagonist in a series of intimate relationships, readers get to know the personality of the central character, flaws and all.

From this we gain entrance into their yearnings.

And yearnings always relate to desires and wants, ultimately inner conflicts that get ignited once the protagonist enters the quest to achieve her or his goal.

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