During this recovery from being the strong black woman that I and so many others have come to be, I continue to get insight on new operation procedures for my life. While on break from blogging last month I discovered how much I needed: Continue reading
Break (Noun)—1) something that interrupts the pattern of a thing, causing it to come to a complete halt; 2) a change in direction; 3) a period off from activity; and 4) a vacation, among several other definitions.
“Unplug from the matrix,” my husband, Flynn, tells me when I haven’t eaten, forgot to take my vitamins or no longer hear children crying for my attention. My computer and cell phone distract me, are my constant news networks, social sources, fund suppliers, the way I can be a writer for hire in the comfort of my home and on the run. But with a husband, three children, five disciples, several mentors and increased ministry and writing opportunities, my home became more hectic and my runs more of a hassle. In the midst of this June fray I know that Flynn’s daily matrix comments led to this “suggestion” that I take a break from blogging in July. As you know, I sort of took a break, like the one in number two above, but not like numbers one and three like my hubby would have liked. But even with reposting blogs and writing new introductions (and one new blog, I just couldn’t help myself), that was a pivotal break. First and foremost I learned that I did need a break. I’ll share with you next time the list of insights I got while on my break.
Until then, take it easy if you can’t take a break.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
My father was a quiet man of action. I never heard him say that he wanted to be an example of a man with a strong work ethic who provided for his family and comforted his children, but that’s what I saw, and that’s the type of man I wanted. Though my father had strong character that I sought in men I dated, I wished my father had given me clear dos and don’ts when deciding who’s company I would keep. He didn’t get involved because he said he didn’t want to be judgmental. I embraced a legacy that he, intentionally or unintentionally, left me that was good and challenging for me. I have a husband with a strong work ethic who is a provider and comforter, but trying to recognize someone like him without major character flaws took me on a journey due, in part, to my father’s hands-off, “non-judgmental” approach with my dating.
As I thought about my dad’s legacy, my strong black woman one, especially in light of trying to impart a non-Jezebel-like response to my sons, and how I have been challenging my discipleship group to meet their goals, I began to ask “What type of legacy do you want to leave?” For me this question caused me to think beyond the “I want to be a good wife and a mother” response that we typically say. This question forced me to delve into what attitudes and actions I have and if they lead to my being presently known as a supportive and submissive wife, a selfless and sacrificing mother, a wise spiritual leader and a penetrating writer. For the most part, according to others, I have a solid reputation in these areas. But without planning, not purposing to engage in certain behaviors and attitudes, I could easily leave a legacy I don’t intend. I don’t want to teach my sons to court a woman whose mantra seems to be “accept what I say and not what I do.” She says she is a Christian and goes to church, but she is the aggressor and constantly asserts her way. I don’t want them to see Jezebel in me and think she belongs in women so they pick a Jezebel. As I seek to leave a legacy, I am loosing and losing Jezebel so she has no intentional or unintentional part of me.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
Sunday mornings have always been a test of patience for me, from when I was a little girl and my mama was satisfied to get to church in time to “hear one song and the sermon,” to me agonizing over what to wear to match my required head covering at my previous church to now having the bulk of the job of getting my three sons and me ready for church. With my mama, I wanted to rebel but couldn’t because I couldn’t make her get up on time nor could I drive. At my previous church, I wanted to rebel but I knew the spiritual cost would be too high. Now that I have autonomy over the children and me these Sunday mornings, I have been determined to get us to church on time. In doing so, I see myself as a drill sergeant. Joshua sees me as mean. Continue reading
I don’t know about you, but I get thrown off when people show up to my home unexpected. I may not be dressed right or have other plans and may say something I wouldn’t ordinarily say because these guests showed up and changed the course of my day. This happened Saturday morning. Joshua came into our bedroom and attacked his dad as he lay on the bed. After they tussled a bit, we had a little impromptu family time, an intimate party of sorts. We were feeling good. We were feeling free. And in these moments is when Joshua usually asks some deep question, but this day I asked a question. I wanted to know what Joshua liked about himself. He was struggling to give a list so to help him I asked what he liked about his dad, who he always calls his hero. The list was going good. Then Jezebel crashed our party. Continue reading