The thoughts, reflections, rants, raves, on my life; The life of a Christian, black, gay, male.

I don’t know too much about where you came from but I do know something about who you were.

You were the woman who raised eight children to be strong. You raised them to be stronger than any other person that I have every encountered in my life. You instilled in them not just strength of muscle but strength of mind; the strength to stand fast to their convictions when others give way to doubt and fear. You gave them the strength of heart to love unconditionally without limits and with reason enough to walk away without closing the door.

You were the woman who raised eight children to be independent. You raised them to follow their dreams and their own voice even when it seemed like it was being drowned out by everyone else’s.

You, my grandmother, kept alive in your children practicality and resourcefulness. Where others saw junk and nothing you saw value more than sentiment. That goes for people too. What was once worthless you gave worth once more. Your sons and daughters however much they might deny it are you; each one of them in possession of a different part of your personality; a different part of you. My grandmother lived what she knew and taught to whoever would listen. I remember joking and laughing as a child at some of the home made remedies she used on me and told me. A humongous spoon full of mustard and eucalyptus tea to clear out the mucus in my chest a normal prescription for her asthmatic grandchild. I later discovered that they are more sound than the medicines I was taught in school to be “modern” and “advanced”. Only latter did some of the same modern medicines get pulled off the shelves. While what you taught me still remains.

In your own way you could bring your children, my family, together and keep them together focused and united.

You were my grandmother.

I and the rest of my family will miss you

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About this blog

I offer my own unique voice, my own vision. I think the saying goes that writers write because no one else can say what they have to say quite the way they have to say it. That is why I write, that is what I offer.



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