Answering the Charge to Love

So many things come to mind when I think about love.  As I try to recount all of them, one of the primary things that hit me is the frequency with which I hear the word “love” or the combination of three very popular words, “I love you!”

All of us want to experience love in its most true, unabashed, wholesome form.  At some point in our lives, the quest for this experience takes us through all types of emotions, from exhilaration to unimaginable pain.   Our expectations of love have been shaped by the models of love we were exposed to.

At a recent event attended by men and women between the ages of 17 and 50, I listened intently to the varied, yet similar experiences being recounted across the room.  There was clearly a common theme in everything that was shared.  Each person just wants to be loved.  After a while, I gave in to my desire to remain silent, and instead challenged everyone to be forthright, at least with themselves, about what love really means.  What does love look like?  What does loving someone look like for you?  What does loving yourself look like? What does love really mean for each person?

Earlier today, I was on the phone with my childhood friend from across the world and our lengthy conversation prompted me to revisit the questions once again.  I have thought about those questions repeatedly and each time, I end up in the same place.  My Mum!

Whether it is motherly love, the love for a significant other, love of family, friends and strangers alike, or just an unbiased expression of love for any and everything, I often think of my Mum, the woman who first taught me about love by the way she lives her life.  I have to admit that I’ve told Mum, and many who would listen to my seditiousness, that God doesn’t make women like her anymore. 

I may not always agree with all of her demonstrations of love but I know, without reservation, that Mum is one of the most patient people I have ever known and she is a true personification of love.

When Dad found Mum, he truly found a good woman.  He found a godly woman, a virtuous woman, a true Proverbs 31 woman.  Even as they approach their 60th wedding anniversary in April 2013, Mum continues to demonstrate an unwavering level of love and support for Dad, sometimes to the chagrin of their children who are lovingly patient with him to a much lesser degree.

As I think of Mum and her example of love, I find myself thinking of a popular passage from I Corinthians that is recited at just about every wedding.   The same passage kept springing to mind each time I sat still enough to craft the responses to my own questions.  I embrace the opportunity to give and receive love freely, and experience the full benefit of this beautiful gift.  So, I have decided to personalize this passage and use it as a yard stick in my attempt to hold myself accountable.  Hopefully, this will encourage others to do the same.  

“I am patient and kind.”  I’m working on being more patient in my relationships. I am proud to say that being kind is effortless for me, especially with those I love.  The challenge comes from dealing with the fact that everyone does not operate from the same space I do, and may not always be willing to go the extra mile as I do.  My expectations for what is important to me and what I want are valid.  I also realize that it is quite okay that some of my expectations may be out of sync with the desires of my loved ones.  Being more patient would mean being intentional in how I reconcile what I expect with what they are willing to give, and figure if or how we can arrive at a compromise.

“I am not jealous or boastful or proud or rude.”   A relationship symbolizes a partnership, not a competition.  My genuine wish for those I love is for them to be happy and achieve all of their goals.  My commitment to making that happen never wavers, even if it means I have to excuse myself from their life.  Being jealous of a man I love, my family and my friends or being boastful of my achievements suggests there is competition.  That goes against what I believe partnerships should be.   Pride in our collective goals honors our partnerships and I am grateful to have had an example of a woman who is obedient to submitting to her husband as instructed, without shrinking in her abilities. 

“I do not demand my own way.”   I’ve always had a lack of tolerance for anyone who is passive and willing to give in to everything.  My desire is to create an environment that is both nurturing and supportive to those I love.  This includes prioritizing their needs while making sure mine do not go unmet.  I accept the challenge to consciously continue along this path and I’m thankful that Mum and Dad never allowed me to demand my own way. 

“I am not irritable, and I keep no record of when I have been wronged.”     

Being comfortable in my vulnerability doesn't come naturally for me.  When I feel hurt, experience betrayal or pain in an environment I feel is void of the support I need to heal, I often retreat into a protective shell.  My shell, or wall, may be masked by irritability or perceived anger.  Chipping through this shell is, too, a work in progress and each piece chiseled away offers an opportunity to move closer to experiencing the beauty of love.  This is where working in a true partnership helps.

“I am never glad about injustice but I rejoice whenever the truth wins out.”  Absolutely!  I am fiercely protective of those I love.  I have their back no matter what and I do not take kindly to them being treated unjustly.  Along those same lines, I have to be just in my dealings with those I love and I cherish the incalculable importance of honesty and truth.  The liberating power of truth and honesty cannot be understated. 

“I never give up, never lose faith, am always hopeful, and endure through every circumstance.”  I am a work in progress.  Giving up, losing faith and endurance through every circumstance comes easier when there is honesty, fairness and cooperation in a relationship.  The challenge to honor this comes from feeling slighted and dishonored by the very ones you are most vulnerable to in love.  In essence, this verse challenges me to dig deep and hold firm, as opposed to referring to my exit strategy in an effort to self-protect.  It inspires me to remain steadfast in addressing the things that may cause me to waver.

Ultimately, my desire is to experience love in its truest, purest form.   This requires a conscious effort to own this passage.  Personalizing it forces me to be present in my actions and how they affect my relationships.  Do my actions honor the one I love?  Do they contribute to the growth of my relationships or would it undermine the stability and security of my partner?  Do they reflect what my loved ones require in their personal growth, their mental, physical and emotional well-being?  Would it light up their eyes with a smile if they knew what I was doing, or light a ferocious fire that burns painfully through their hearts? 

Am I being patient and kind, or jealous, boastful, proud, rude and demanding?  Am I looking at the past to inspire the growth and health of my partnerships, or using it to be punitive?  Am I honest and truthful in my interactions, protecting the interest of the ones I love against all others, including myself?   Am I really thinking of giving up?

The wall has been lined for me with this measuring stick for a woman who intends to live and love honorably.  I accept the charge to work earnestly, one stair at a time, to straighten out the areas of this measuring stick that aren't quite aligned.  To paraphrase Toni Morrison, when the people I love walk into a room, do my eyes light up?

When I walk into a room, do your eyes light up?

~~Vic~~

Embarking on a Season of Gratitude

From every corner of Africa, to points all throughout the United States and the rest of the world, Christians are celebrating Ash Wednesday.  This holy day for Christians marks the start of Lent, and culminates with Christ's crucifixion and resurrection. 

Some approach this day with great reverence for what it signifies: the start of an intense period during which God's plan for our salvation is most evident.  Lent may present an opportunity for them to walk in spiritual consciousness, in appreciation for the unmatched sacrifice by the ultimate parent, our Almighty God.

Others who are not so spiritually connected, especially in the US, may look at this day as the day after Fat Tuesday, the end of Mardi Gras and a period that leads to Easter.  Easter's significance, in this case, may have a different resonance than the observance of Christ's resurrection.  Easter may be a day when all of the stores are closed; majority of America doesn't have to work and everyone gets dolled up in their finest to join their family at Big Momma's for dinner. 

For others yet, Ash Wednesday may start a period when they give something up; something that is considered a vice, a luxury.  Giving something up may be an outward demonstration of their sincerity in observing this holy period, to show appreciation for the 40 day period Jesus spent in prayer, fasting and reflection in the wilderness, in the midst of grueling temptations.

For me, Lent is a very special period that always reminds me of the importance of God's grace.  It reminds me of home, the place where I was introduced to the full realm of what the Bible means.  Home is the place where I was taught about the different seasons in the Bible: Pentecost, Advent, Septuagesima, Lent, etc.  It is the place where the foundation was laid for my belief in God.  Lent is the period which Dad said one should not indulge in anything remotely related to partying.

Lent represents a period of deep reflection.  A period of penance.  A time to abstain from material things that may interfere with one's spiritual growth. 

Lent is the period during which my birthday falls every year and so it always seems natural for me to approach it as an opportunity to reflect on the many blessings of my life's journey.  Celebrating my New Year, my birthday, is more important to me now than it's ever been before. 

Life has taught me that waking up in the morning is not a given.  I have learned that the little-big things I take for granted are indeed unique blessings that others crave.  The joys I celebrate and the challenges that strengthen me are not entitlements to which I am obligated.  With this in mind, I cannot think of a better time than this Ash Wednesday, to walk with intention in the spirit of gratitude for the next 40 days. 

Everyday comes with its own dose of challenges that sometimes make you cringe.  As we start this season of Lent, I am reminded of a very important lesson from my Grandmother, Ellen Cordelia Cole: Things could be so much better, but they could be significantly worse so be thankful for what you have.  Today, and for the remainder of these 40 days, I will celebrate those things for which I am especially thankful.

I could have the ultimate blessing in everything I do, and that would be awesome.  On the other hand, but for the grace of God, I could be in a position where I have nothing.  So, for the many things I am blessed with I say Thank You, Lord, for I am grateful.

And so starts a journey steeped in the humility of gratitude: Day One!

~~Vic~~

Divine Order! Everything Happens as it Should

I hold on to this belief firmly.  Some of us think we have to be involved in bringing about everything that happens in our lives.  That was my mode of operation before I was introduced to a quote from one of my favorite books, The Alchemist.  “The universe conspires in our favor.”

While having lunch with one of my mentors several years ago, she informed me that a colleague had been inquiring about me.   He’d asked questions about my character, personal and professional background, work ethic, business acumen.  I was surprised!  I knew the person, a vice president for the company were both of them worked.  I’d never given much thought to anything beyond interacting with him within professional boundaries.

As it turned out, plans were underway to replace the leader of a local organization.  Prospective replacements, including me, were being evaluated without our knowledge.  As we continued our conversation over lunch, my mentor reminded me that decisions were always being made and everyone needs an advocate who can represent their voice at the table. 

This message was reiterated several years later when I participated in a program for women in higher education administration.  I have never had aspirations to hold specific positions and my experience at HERS clarified my professional desires: to be in the circle of influence.  Last Thursday, I walked away from another visit with my mentor, smiling at how she had been positioned in places where I need an advocate.  Even in my absence, the universe still conspires in my favor.

In August 1997, a few weeks before Princess Diana’s tragic accident, I made a quick run to purchase items I needed for dinner the next evening.  Mum asked to join me for the drive across town but I assured her that waiting for her to get dressed would prevent me from getting to Georgetown Market on time.  She wasn’t too happy about my impatience but bid me safe travel.  Merely an hour later, Mum was standing over me in tears, as I lay in pain in a hospital emergency room.  After I left home, I was hit directly on the passenger side by a reckless driver.  What used to be the front passenger seat was now occupied by the mangled frame of the car and the dashboard rested squarely on my knees.  Mum would have been in that passenger seat but on that night, God’s divine order was in full effect.  The universe conspired in her favor.

Last week, I started working on a solution for a work-related issue.  I put things in motion for what seemed like the perfect solution to the problem.  Everything moved along very slowly and my schedule was jam packed with previously scheduled meetings.  My hope of solidifying all of the terms for the solution by January 31 quickly faded and late Friday night, it became clear that my sure-fire solution was not going to work.  I had to get back to the drawing board.

As I stood in line at the bank today, I received an email from a former employee.  It was clear that her account had been compromised.  I deleted the email and smiled calmly before placing a quick call to her.   She had been an excellent employee and one I knew could definitely provide the assistance I needed.  It turned out she is unemployed and in need of an opportunity. This was the solution I needed.  She had just learned that her account had been hacked but to me, it was divine order.  The universe had conspired in our favor.

We are so accustomed to doing things we believe will align all of our stars so that we can execute our perfectly laid out plans.  Life experiences, however, continue to teach me that everything will happen as it should.  Whether or not things happen the way we want, they happen as they should.

I am so grateful today for the lesson, especially because the universe conspired in favor of someone who woke up this morning and asked God to provide a means for her to take care of her son.  What she wasn’t even aware of was that God had already set in motion everything needed to answer her prayers.  I look back with gratitude at the automated out-of-office messages, the missed calls, the challenge coordinating calendars and the widely varied contractual terms I wrestled with all week.  I exited work mode last evening believing that I will identify a solution, and I did. 

I have been reminded once again that everything happens as it should.  Yes, the universe conspires in our favor.

Divine order!

~~Vic~~

Hugs Unlimited!

I had just stepped out of the shower, basking in the serenity of the soft music flowing through the air and the relaxing aroma from the candles strategically placed around my bathroom, when my Lil African walked in to say good night.  Without stopping to think, I draped my robe around me and bid my baby a good night, giving her the usual hug and planted a soft kiss squarely on her forehead.  She smiled contentedly, eyes closed. 

I turned to resume my leisurely moment just as she reached for my arm and said, "Mom, hug me again.  Please.  You feel so warm."

For what seemed like an eternity, I stood there and hugged my little girl tightly.  Now, this may seem like a simple mother-daughter hug but last night, it felt different.  I was fully present as I held my baby, letting the warmth between us convey how much I love her and celebrate the gift she is to me. 

We weren’t rushed by the urgency of a clock warning us of an impending deadline or the phone waiting to resume its function of transmitting voices through fiber-optic lines.  No, this was a special moment where a teenager – my teenager - who still needs her mommy's hug was honest enough to ask for and indulge in it.

I am a hugger!  I love to feel the warmth of my loved ones when we share a hug.  Hugs are a powerful way for us to relay messages that could be as personal and simple, as they could be loaded with unspoken, heartfelt messages.

A quick hug can let a stranger or a friend know I am happy to see them for the first time or reconnect after a break.  Sometimes, a firm hug that lingers may say “I really am happy to see you”; “Thank You”; “I appreciate you”; “I really don't want to leave”; “I miss you already.”

A simple "stolen" hug from the back could be a message of "I'll thank you later" or, well, a lot more.  A close, tight hug can say “I love you”; “I've missed you” or “I just want to feel you close to me”.  A light, yet tender hug could say “I've been looking forward to this quiet, tender moment with you, my love”.

The hug I shared with my baby last night transferred the warmth and love directly from a mother's heart to that of her little girl.  I felt like I had my little girl firmly within my grasp.  I felt her rhythmic breath silently saying “I love you, Mommy”.  The tight, lingering embrace carved a message of “Mom, please protect me and continue to hold me close to your heart”.  Her head on my chest and the look of contentment on her face told me that her ears heard my heart beat a message that she was safe with me and that she will always hold that special place.  For that forever moment, no one and nothing else existed in a world normally charged with unlimited activity.

Last night, I stopped for as long as necessary to use a powerful gift I have to send a message in a way that words could not express.  For that moment, time stopped as we reached deep within to convey an important message in a universal language.  That moment was just one in an infinite series waiting to be created over and over, with special people who can fully understand the unspoken language of hugs.

Here's the best part of it all:  there is no translation needed, no knowledge of morse codes, no currency necessary to barter, no prescription to be filled.  It is free of charge, available worldwide and it is not an endangered species.

So, if you've ever held back on dishing out hugs to those deserving, I hope I've reassured you that the supply is endless and the language universal.  You can thank me later...with a hug.

Not to worry, no prescription needed.

~~Vic~~

A Pinch of Salt and a Healthy Dash of Love

A simple text message that includes my baby’s request for dinner always warms my heart.  One of my absolute favorite things to do is cook!   I get such a kick out of being in my kitchen so much so that when I bought each of my homes, the first place I wanted to see was the kitchen.   It gives me so much joy to see my loved ones enjoying a meal I’ve prepared.  While some would look forward to getting home to kick their feet up at the end of a busy day, I bolt home to create magic in my kitchen. 

My special love affair with arranging ingredients together to create culinary masterpieces, started before I was even 10 years old.  Mum would have me by her side, adding different ingredients to the pot as she cooked.   This is one of the best gifts she has given me, bar none.  I paid close attention to the order in which everything was added and as any adventurous child would do, I wondered what would happen if I changed that order.   I longed for the day when I could figure that out.  Mum consistently did it all with such precision and tenderness, and I took special care to emulate that.   This was the highlight for me. 

As the youngest in the family, I had already seen my brother and sisters do their stint in the kitchen.  There were no canned goods or blenders, no measuring cups or scales, no gloves or easy buttons to simplify the process.  No, we did it all in the back yard, with tools that made you work every muscle in your body.  “Matta Odo en Matta Pensil” (mortar and pestle), “peppeh stone” (a large flat granite rock and a smaller one used to grind food to a pulp, by hand), fire stone (a three-stone outdoor fireplace, where you set a fire with freshly cut wood).    

Talk about cooking from scratch, this was it.  You went to the market to buy fresh ingredients daily and process them for your daily meals, by hand.  We had everything we needed, even that ‘thing” that made Mum know exactly how much of everything should use.  Her investment secured a place for all of her children among the league of great cooks.  Of course, I’m that confident!  Ask those who we’ve fed on a regular day or those special holidays where there is food beyond what a single table can cradle.

Once the creative fireside sessions were complete, the phase that posed a challenge for my young mind started.  Especially on holidays like Christmas and Easter, Mum would line up her fine dishes and baskets where she would lovingly heap scoop after scoop of food to be delivered to family, neighbors and friends.   My eyes would dejectedly follow each bowl out of the kitchen, on their journey to warm up someone else’s heart and belly.  I would frequently peek into the pot to monitor what was left for me.  Oh, and for the rest of my family too.  “Does she not realize that we have to eat too?  Why does she always do this?”

One day, when I could no longer bear the torment, I ventured to finally satisfy my burning curiosity.   “Mum, why do you always send the best portion of the food out to all of these people when you haven’t dished ours out yet?”   Mum didn’t skip a beat.  She knew my eyes were larger than my little stomach and she was sure her days of forcing me to sit still and finish the limited portion of food on my plate were still not behind me.  In the way only Mum would impart a lesson that carries you through life, she handed me another gem.  “When you give a gift to someone, you don’t save the best for yourself and give them what’s left over.  Always make sure you give from the heart and do it in a way that ensures you have enough left for yourself.”  At that point, all my young mind wanted to entertain was the assurance that there will be enough food left for me to enjoy.  That fireside lesson, however, makes so much more sense now and still guides me each time I serve food.

My love for cooking was such a big part of who I was as I grew up.  Imagine the disappointment I felt when, as a teenager, Mum objected to my desire to pursue a career in foods and nutrition.  But this was what I loved! 

“Why would you want to go to school to learn something you already do well?” 

They say mothers know best so despite my opposition to her logic, I defaulted to other things I enjoyed doing, but never shied away from my love for cooking.  What Mum knew then that I hadn’t even entertained, was that there was a fine line between a hobby and a chore. 

You see, I’ve never looked at cooking as something I “had” to do; as a chore.  I despise chores and could never associate cooking with doing chores.  Cooking was a favorite pastime that I enjoyed.   It compares to that natural high others get from shopping but for me, cooking trumps that any day.  Well, not unless we’re shopping for shoes.  As long as I did it because I wanted to, I would enjoy it.  The moment cooking became a job I had to do or a chore that was required, it would lose its excitement.  Mum knew her youngest child well enough to protect that special connection I had developed with cooking.

What is it about cooking, you ask?  Hmmm, all of it, I would say!  It is the thrill of creating something special each time I enter a kitchen.  It is that innate desire to make a wish come true when I ask my loved ones “what would you like to eat?”  I could very easily go into the kitchen and prepare what I want or think they should have, but there is something special about creating a meal that I know someone desires; their favorite dish; a dish they haven’t had in a while; something they’ve been craving; that special thing they may only be able to get from my kitchen.   It is the joy of effortlessly putting together a series of ingredients to unveil love on a plate, even if one of those ingredients is shellfish that I am both allergic to and have no desire for.  It is honoring a gift God has entrusted to me.

On a typical Saturday afternoon, my curtains would be drawn to let in the beautiful natural light; my front door and the door to the back patio would be open to let in soothing breeze; smooth reggae music would be blaring from the Music Choice channel on my TV, or the collection of my favorite reggae and African tunes; the air would be saturated with the sweet, inviting aroma of food wafting from my kitchen; and if you dare to peek in, you will find a thoroughly engaged me, wrapped in my “lappa” (wrap) and comfortable tank top, singing and swaying contentedly as I systematically add a pinch of salt, a sprinkle of herbs and a healthy dose of love to the dishes under creation.

So often, I get requests for my recipes.  Whether it is for rice sticks, salmon stew, curry shrimp, or jerk turkey, my response is always the same:  I don’t share my recipes but I will be happy to cook for you.  For the few people who I have ever shared a recipe or two with, I have heard the same thing: theirs doesn’t taste like mine.  But of course, all of my dishes include more than the listed ingredients.  How can anyone else add love like mine to a recipe?

No, I don’t eat much at all, to the chagrin of my loved ones.  My satisfaction that comes from serving my loves, my family and my friends from my kitchen feeds my body, fills my heart and nourishes my soul beyond description.  So, when you sink your teeth into the next bite of one of Vic’s creations, close your eyes and let your heart be flooded with the healthy dash of love in each spoonful. 

Indulge!  There’s plenty more where that came from.  Dinner is served!

~~Vic~~

Living with Clear Intention

“What is the quality of your intent?”  ~~ Thurgood Marshall

I remember sitting at the counter of the Information Center at Temple University when I first heard the quote by US Supreme Court Justice, Thurgood Marshall. “What is the quality of your intent?”  WHOA! That was one of the many thought-provoking moments I experienced in that building on Cecil B. Moore Avenue and Broad Street. 

Back then, I was a work-study student who was learning how to use Word Perfect to type my assignments and belt out my poems, short stories and unending letters to the friends I left back home. For those of you who don’t know, Word Perfect was the Microsoft Word of my college years, minus a toolbar that now provides a shortcut to perform the formatting you need.  How things have changed!

“The quality of your intent!” This is still one of my favorites and the one that reminds me to live my life with clear intention.  It sounds a lot like my mom telling me “whenever you say or do something, even if no one is around, act like the whole world is watching you do it with your head held high."  That quote has stuck with me over the years.  It resonates with the message of integrity and my favorite of Don Miguel Ruiz’s Four Agreements, “Be impeccable with your word.”

I don’t make many decisions lightly, especially when they impact my Lil African.  Everything does!   So when I make a decision, I try to think of how it would impact me and the people involved.  Hard as it may be sometimes, I have to face up to the real intent behind my intent.   What’s my motivation? What’s the real reason why?  What’s the reason behind my decision, the quality of the intent?

My life has been pretty busy over the years taking care of my baby and my home; being committed to my family;  handling the responsibilities of a demanding career; active involvement in my sorority and my community; and now, being committed to the man in my life.  

Last November, I was speaking with the person who has been my sounding board.  He was my rock at my weakest moment and had come down to love on me and hold me up when I wasn’t able to stand on my own.  For over a week, he watched everyone who came around and joined him in taking care of my family as we mourned.  So, after all of the services were over and I told him that I was making some changes in who and what I focused my time and energies on, he was already steps ahead of me.

You see, I had always believed that the people and things that you spend the bulk of your time on are the ones that will likely sustain you in your hour of need.  My brother’s death proved me wrong. 

I had run myself ragged - intentionally - helping this person, volunteering for that thing, serving on this or that committee, advising for this or that group, and oh, leaving just enough to feed the needs of my loved ones.   What was the quality of my intent in doing all of these things?  Satisfy my passion to serve; to help others.  I wanted to pay forward the assistance I had been afforded.  I wanted to be a good friend, to invest in relationships that inspire and motivate me. The quality of my intent was to enhance and enrich the life of my baby girl, my family, my love, and my friends; make the heart of my loved ones smile in the manner in which they make my heart sing.  My intent was to be a willing participant who works to secure the legacy of institutions that have aided my growth; to be a servant-leader.  I ran myself ragged to serve others as payment for my rent for living.

I made a decision to reduce some of my commitments recently, when it became apparent that my involvement with the people and things related to those commitments was in contrast with my intent to be faithful to those I love.  The quality of my intent to serve others had inadvertently put my loved ones at a disadvantage for my time.  The reason why T was steps ahead of me in my declaration to make some changes is because he noticed the same things I did.  The people and things that had taken the bulk of my time; the faces that went with the names he had heard the most; the people he had watched me run to in their time of need, were conspicuously absent amidst the family and friends who were present in mine.  He, too, wondered!

Now what?  Well, I have had a mirror-revealing examination of myself and realized that the quality of my intent has been to give genuinely without much expectation for personal gain.  Personal gain included benefits to my loved ones.

Moving forward, I am approaching life with a focus on myself.  The quality of my intent now is to make sure I limit the circle of my personal investments and focus on the people and things that would not only benefit from my passion to give and serve, but that will also fulfill my personal desire to live a full life with the ones I love.  I will no longer leave my baby with alternate activities while I train and serve others whose agenda do not include her.  My family will not have to compete for my presence because someone else needs me.  The man who stands by my side will not have to revive me with a trip to the spa because he was concerned that I spent long nights to fulfill my commitment to serve.  Most importantly, I will not send a subliminal message to my precious Lil African that this is the way things are supposed to be.

I am very clear on what my AHA experience produced.  This shift will not interfere with me being the caring, giving person I am, because it is in my nature.  The difference, however, is that the gifts of my time and my heart will now flow in a different direction.  It is important for me to be impeccable with my word to myself and others, and I expect the same in return.  For each meeting or event I attend; each commitment I make; for each phone call, text message, inbox message I send or respond to, I have to be sure it will best serve those on the other end in a way that will enrich my life and the lives of those closest to my heart. 

I embrace the charge to live my life with careful thought to the quality of my intent.  Mom’s wise words will continue to guide my steps so that with everything I say or do, even if no one is around, I’ll act as though the whole world is watching me do it with my head held high.

Lesson learned!

~~Vic~~

The Moment My Life Changed (Pre-Blog Piece)

"We need never be ashamed of our tears."  ~~ Charles Dickens

Dr. M. Douglas Carew

At 7:55 PM on Friday, November 9, 2012, my world came to a screeching halt with a single phone call.  My niece announced very calmly, as my nephew listened on, that my only brother fell asleep and never woke up.

Having to tell my parents and hold Mum in my arms as she let out a gut-wrenching scream was more than I was prepared for, and was the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life.  We are still grappling with how a healthy man would fall asleep and not wake up! 
   
To say we were heart-broken or devastated is a severe understatement.  We have experienced multiple losses in the last few years but this one cut so very deeply.  For a while, It was with God's grace that we were able to feel the sun's heat even though we could not fully enjoy the beauty or smell the fragrance of the beautiful roses that were being sent in his honor.

Mo was well accomplished in his personal and professional life, leading his beautiful family as impeccably as he led Africa International University where he served as Vice Chancellor/President.  He was the most modest, soft-spoken, selfless, unassuming, and honorable person I know.  This man is the closest to a perfect being I have ever known!  Those of you closest to me know I always say that my brother is the one person I would fully vouch for with my life.  He epitomized the ideals of the men my sisters and I prayed that God would bless us with.

Mom and Dad are dealing with it all breath by breath, as we all are.  The triple portion of  prayers especially for my mom and my sister-in-law are helping bit by bit.  The many well wishes expressed through many media including our memorial site www.douglascarew.com, have been remarkably helpful.  My only wish, other than being told that the nightmare was a mistake, has been to be able to offer some meaningful consolation to my mom.  I am still working on it.

One evening last December, I was awakened by my ringing cell phone in the midst of a beautiful dream about my brother; the only dream I have had of him since he left us.  This dream was light but it didn't follow any particular storyline.  What was clear, however, is that Mo's spirit was very much alive in that dream.  On the eve of the 40th day following his death, I was heartened by that because it was almost as if he reassuring me that all is well.

Two months after we lost Mo, the dry bones in our valley are being revived.  I still wake up to a beautiful picture of my brother, carefully poised atop the jewelery ammoire in my bedroom.  These days, however.  I greet that image with a smile and a grateful heart that recognizes the gift I never fully grasped.  This image is now part of my new "normal".

On the 40th day after Mo's death, we shed the grey clothing that represented the outward display of our 40-day period of mourning.  The amazing show of love and support from friends and family worldwide continues to sustain us.  When we didn't have the strength to stand on our own, they held us up.  When our tears flowed non-stop, they dried them.  When our bodies quivered with the pain of our loss, they embraced us.  Even when we couldn't eat, they still made sure we had food available. 

Even today, we carry each of these people in our hearts and will always remember that they proved to be a friend in our time of need.  As we move forward to month two, Years 1, 5, 10 and beyond, we are still learning how to navigate between a healthy form of mourning, remembrance and celebration, and pick ourselves up to live a full life, sans one of the integral members of our family.   We may flow clumsily between heartfelt laughter and unstoppable tears, but we will press on.  Our smiles are becoming less fleeting, much warmer.  Our voices are getting less shaky, a little stronger.  The sun appears a bit brighter everyday and we are starting to feel Mo's warmth and see his smile in the beautiful rays.  It is a work in progress so please bear with us.

God has carefully planted so many messages in lots of places for me.  I would like to share with you, two of these messages that were sprinkled all over the place for me, just before our first Christmas without Mo.  First, is a timely word of inspiration shared by Iyanla Vanzant:  "Life continues after death as long as you remember the warmth of another's smile, the gentleness of their touch, the meaning they brought to your life. In your remembrance of another, death cannot overtake life."  This was a powerful message that I absolutely needed at the exact moment I received it.  Mo is so alive in my thoughts; in my mind's eye; in our many pictures of him; in the videos of him; in the warm messages we continue to receive; in my beautiful niece and two amazing nephews who mirror their dad in words and deeds.

I want to share Mo's very favorite piece, the Hallelujah Chorus.  This is the second of the messages I'd like to share.  I saw this video as I sat quietly thinking of Mo one evening.  As I watched it, all I could think of was his soft, appreciative smile and just imagined him watching this video.  This anthem was one of the final pieces played in celebration of his life at one of his memorial services.  Please take a moment to watch it and feel the warmth of Mo's smile.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXh7JR9oKVE&feature=share

Two months into our new reality, I thank those who stood with us most sincerely, for helping us to make each day a little easier to reach deep within, and breathe.

~~Vic~~