History is the memory of things said and done.
Carl L. Becker
Next month in March, the world will celebrate Women’s History Month. I am ecstatic. You are probably wondering why since I’m not famous or my cute model face isn’t on anyone billboards in New York. I am excited about my own She Story. I am excited to reread the history I’ve already written in the pages of my biography.
GOD knew me long before my parents were blessed with me. HE placed inside of me everything I would need to become a Woman of worship, war (prayer changes things), work (I always have a hustle or two in the works!), winner (I’m only competing against my own resume) and wonderful (my mom calls me her ‘Sunshine’). I can’t say that I was always this confident. When I look at pictures of me growing up, I still feel the sting of being the ugly duckling, the nerd (I wore bifocals and always carried a book) and the skinny girl with beautiful hair (which I no longer treasure). Now, I realize all of those things were superficial. Deep inside I was like Joseph the Dreamer, whose story can be found in the 37th chapter of Genesis (http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=genesis%2037&version=AMP).
Growing up in a small town which offered very little recreational activities that interested me (non-athletic in every way), few role models making it BIG and life happening slowly all around me; I was thinking of ways to move ahead, to see more of the world, to have more, to give more, to become more. It was a strong feeling inside of me that often I didn’t understand it; I was restless. I spent a lot of time reading (now I’m a MS Reading Coach). Books would transport me to places I never dreamed of traveling to, I shared tears with characters that experienced the same hardships and I learned from trailblazing educators that passion and truth meant more than my teaching certificates & college degrees.
Those childhood years and throughout my teenage years my love for words and writing blossomed. I kept a diary like most young girls, as I got older I began to journal. My Godmother would indulge my fetish for beautiful journals and pens (and she still does). I wrote and wrote and wrote. I even majored in English in undergrad. I wanted to record as much of my story to share with those I could trust with the intimate details.
Today I am still on that path. I am still writing. My love for reading and writing now affords me the luxury to go back & reread what I learned about myself and others on a rainy day several years ago. Or that young man who I thought I loved so dearly and would marry (Whew, the bullets I dodge, LOL!). I am not chasing my history because it is with me tucked away in the pages of numerous journals and spiral notebooks that I sit and read when I need a reminder of the roads I’ve traveled. During these times I am able to reflect on my progress as a single African American woman.
I can see the strides I am making. I can see the bridges I have crossed. I am able to whisper a prayer of thanks for those who have allowed me to lean on them all these years. I am honoring my history. It is tainted in some areas, there are blemishes that would cause some to tuck their tail and hide. NOT ME! I am living. Some have said I make wearing all the many hats I do look easy including parenting. To that I say: I know there is a GOD. He walks with me daily as I create the history of a dIvA mOm on a journey worth remembering.
In His Love,
“I’m every woman,
It’s all in me.
Anything you want done, baby,
I’ll do it naturally.”
~I’m Every Woman Lyrics by Whitney Houston~