Because I Love You

"I'm waiting for you... I'm calling you." “Tina, I’m waiting for you… I’m calling you.”   God, please be my writing companion. Let the Holy Ghost write with me and be  my  ghost writer. Make me lie down in green pastures of comfort when I write. Free me from Fear.  Remove the spirit of Fear that wakes upon me like morning dew. Remove the spirit of Fear that follows me around like a puppy. Remove the spirit of Fear that weighs on me like a sweater, like a scarf, then like a noose. Remove the spirit of Fear that chokes my good ideas.   Give me your Holy Spirit of comfort when I write. Give me your Holy Spirit of peace when I write. Give me your Holy Spirit of truth when I write. Give me your Holy Spirit of joy when I write.   In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.  Thank you!   That’s why I write so well when I’m on vacation. That’s why my journaling began, when I wanted to peacefully reflect upon my experiences just for me. There were no audiences to please....

As my husband José and I toasted the new year at a party with old and new friends, the thought of recent news dampened my optimism for a prosperous new year. Last year ended with a somber realization the new year was going to be grim due to receiving some bad financial news. As Krik Franklin’s song “Intercession” says, “ Jesus please mention my name, see I got some bad news today…, its got me questioning my faith.” Like Kirk, I was questioning my faith too. W hen someone at the party exclaimed, “And a prosperous new decade,” I let go of my dashed hopes and embraced the optimism for the coming new decade. Maybe 2020 would be awful, but 2021, 2022... could be   good again. But that didn’t remove my grim outlook. Then the following events happened, and I was reminded that my circumstances were not defined by my financial or physical abilities; it was going to be a year of abundance anyway!   1) My girlfriend’s son and his wife had a healthy baby girl on New Year’s Day, born about...

I put Aaron on the potty seat in the bathroom, he was 20 months old, then I went into the kid’s bedroom to finish nursing Ana. After I finished with Ana, I heard Cannaday’s high pitch voice coming from another room, “Be still Aaron. Be still.” I was so busy getting ready I forgot Aaron was on the potty seat. It was December 1988 and we were getting ready to attend a Kwanzaa celebration and dinner. This was going to be our first big family outing since having Ana in August. We were living in a two‐bedroom townhome. The bathroom and bedrooms were upstairs and the living room, kitchen, dining room, and family rooms were on the first floor. I assumed their father was in the basement level of our townhouse ironing his clothes. I tightened up my bathrobe and headed for the bathroom down the hall to get Aaron off the potty seat. The light was on, and Aaron was sitting quietly on the “throne” while Cannaday, his 3 ½ year old big brother, was standing in front of him. The “throne” is a pott...

I feel like he is in me and I am in him. Where I am he is also. We have two different bodies but they are not separated. They are joined, intertwined in a way unseen by the naked eye.  I wrote these thoughts about José in our AC period, "after the curb." You see, I thwarted José's advances when we initially met in 2003. I kicked him to the curb, as he would later describe in a poem. It wasn't until we met again in 2005 that I began to open up to getting to know him, to letting him into my life. By 2007, I discovered what love was, what being in love with José felt like, and this is what I wrote in my journal at that time. We feel each other without touching, so when we touch it’s like returning to where we once began, where our lives began, like coming home again, like being held in my mother’s arms again. Being touched and held by you is where I relax and begin a new: a new me, a new breath, a new beginning. When you touch me, I feel your love enter my body. Love tr...

Whatever you want me to be, I’ll be. Wherever you want me to go, I’ll go. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do. It’s my desire to be……… Just what you want me to be. It’s my desire, my desire.  It’s my desire, to be……. Just what you want me to be.   Those were the words of a song I sang as a kid in Antioch Baptist Church’s youth choir in the 1970’s. Growing up, church songs were the only songs to which I knew all the words. Sometimes I would sing along with the radio to artists like, The Commodores, Teddy Pendergrass, Peabo Bryson, or Earth Wind and Fire, but I mimicked the words I didn’t know. Was it, “Love has found a way in my heart tonight, or “Love has a holiday in my heart tonight,” in Love’s Holiday by Earth Wind? Was Lionel Richie of the Commodores singing, “I’m easy like Sunday morning,” or, “I’m leaving next Sunday morning?” So when I auditioned as a young adult for a community theatre production of Dream Girls, my audition song was a gospel song from church. I don’t r...

“Gone were the weak knees and legs getting ready to crumble, restored were my strong runner legs, dancer body, doing what I do best: rejoice, dance, run, hop, skip and jump. It was hallelujah time! It was praising God time! Between 7-8am EST Tuesday May 19, 2020, I texted Reggie asking how the day had gone, knowing it was about 8-9pm in Japan. His reply, “Mom and baby are stable and doing fine. I’m fine too,” was a normal reply regarding updates on his wife’s condition, our daughter Ana. On Sunday, Reggie told us Ana was in the US Naval Hospital in Okinawa Japan due to early dilation (3cm), our prayers were for her to go full term; she was in her sixth month. When I spoke with Ana Monday night EST/Tuesday morning JPN, she expected to be discharged that day or the next but all was well; but the next information I read in Reggie’s text took my breath away: Hensley Courtland Thomas born Tuesday May 19 Time: 1613 or 4:13PM JPN, 3:13AM EST Length: 13.8 inches Weight: 2lbs 5ozs Gestation: 26...

YES! Thank you! Amen! A conviction for all 3 men responsible for the death of Ahmaud Arbery is a victory and a tragedy. A victory for seeing black people as people whose lives matter, and a tragedy for the lives lost to murder and imprisonment. Healing can begin for Ahmaud's family and the families of the McMichaels and the Bryans. Amen! Ashé! We apologize Mr. Arbery for not seeing you in your fullness and potential when you were among the living. Most of us only saw you in your death. Let's open our eyes, so they are as beautiful as yours, and SEE EVERYONE. Amen! Ashé! https://www.cnn.com/us/live-news/ahmaud-arbery-killing-trial-verdict-watch-11-24-21/index.html

State Prosecutor Linda Dunikoski, CBS news photo As we prepare for the outcome of the case against the men responsible for killing 25-year old Ahmaud Arbery, I wonder what type of jury is present. Is it a jury of their peers that only reflects their deranged or misguided beliefs, or a jury of their peers that represents the best of humanity, the better parts of these three men, who communicate to the defendants what they did was wrong, and they could do better? The fact that Ahmaud fought back against his assailants has no bearing on their innocence for causing his death. A person being attacked is going to take action to defend themselves. Flight or fight is a natural instinctive response.  Were Ahmaud’s attackers trying to relive the days of white men harassing and killing a black person? (I worked with two women in Rochester who suffered from PTSD whenever they’re in the presence of white men in pickup trucks. They told me it was common practice for white men in pickup trucks to...

Lois Spotts, Tina, Grandma Rose, circa 1995 She was with me, Grandma Rose, my mother-in-law. She seemed sad. She was wearing her signature house dress with rope belt. Rose stood over me quietly pondering something, watching and observing like she did from time to time, studying us, her children, grandchildren, and daughters-in-law like me.   Rose always had a big heart. Although the words she spoke weren’t exactly “I love you,” they were laced with love, that is, they usually asked a lot of questions or told you what to do.   “Do you pack Roger’s bag when he travels?”   “What kind of food are you cooking for supper?”   “You’re gonna roll my hair for me tonight.”   “What’cha doing in the kitchen?”   “No, you can’t have the key to the freezer.”   “Don’t cut that cake until Sunday.” Many times, she would send us things we didn’t ask for but she knew we needed them before we did. “Now I bought this little sweater for Cannaday, I got it for $2.00, see. I wa...

I always dreamed of taking my family on a vacation like the ones my work colleagues talked about. Their stories about boating, fishing, hiking, and camping in the Adirondacks were fascinating to me. Growing up, my family didn’t take vacations like that. We visited relatives out of town and my dad took us kids fishing; catching night crawlers the night before and waking up at 4am to go fishing was exciting. However, I wanted my children to experience something more, a camping trip like my colleagues’ families. And so, my husband Roger and I saved our money, and in 1994 we rented a cottage in the Adirondacks for our young family, Cannaday (9yrs), Aaron (7yrs), and Ana (6yrs). I had never written a travel diary before. This was my first attempt to capture the special moments my life was too busy to savor. I wanted to have this travel diary for future remembrance when my life slowed down, if it ever did. Day 1 July 2 We left for the Adirondack Mountains at noon with borrowed fishing poles ...