Going and Growing

You've got to GO through it to GROW through it


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My Baby Moved Away Today

A poem for my children as I just passed another 
Mother's Day and another birthday:

My baby moved away today
and took grandbaby Mae.
Her and Him and all their stuff
North Carolina they now stay.
I have another child here
my son, my oldest boy. 
If you see him tell him please
to bring his Mom some joy. 

My circle of support shrinks daily
as I struggle to survive. 
My children have all flown the nest
and have moved on with their lives. 
My son became a father, 
my oldest daughter now youngest son.
My baby is a mommy now,
our lives are on the run.
Hustle, bustle, push, pull, drag
catching up when we can.
Long gone are the days of driving
 'round in our minivan.

A lot of love and work dumped in
to them my childen, see
Each one of them raised up I pray
To be who they chose to be.
My lonely heart breaks more and more
each and every day
For the babes that they once used to be 
now leave me in the gray. 
As I push back single tears of fear
for troubles they might find 
I also pray they've grown up now 
to be happy, strong and kind. 

My days of "teaching" may be gone
But now I am their friend. 
I now can undo errors made
To avoid a bitter end.
I've loved my children way too much
not enough and in between. 
Part of what a family learns
As we struggle to be seen. 

My kids and I will be alright 
No matter who flies where
It's love that we all talk about
And make sure that we share. 
My heart may still be broken
and my tears yes, still may fall
I've raised some strong-willed children,
and I know that they will call.

When comes the day they need their Mom
When only she will do
I'll be there on the other side
ready with my "I love you".

(c)  2017 Dawn Bennett


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Hollowed Out

Hollowed Out

It’s hard to go through life feeling like a carved pumpkin. Sometimes the faces can be scary. Sometimes they are funny, but never does it feel good to have your guts ripped out. What I have found to be helpful in these times is to write a gratitude list.

It may be hard to find things that I am grateful for, but that’s when the real digging begins.

Dust off the shovel and till the soil of your life.

Are you breathing? Have you been given a new day in which to make free choices? Do you have ONE friend in whom you can confide? It’s a good day.

When your guts are lying on the ground and your seeds are scattered, that is the time to look for the remnant that remains. Life can be hard.

But, if there is breath in your body, you can find a shred of gratitude.

Most pumpkins wind up with a candle inside to light up the darkness. This is the time to take your hollowed out self and bring in some light. Sit. Rest. Glow.

It’s hard to go through life feeling like a carved pumpkin, hollowed out. But finding the little things in life to be grateful for: breath, free choice, the comfort of a friend…it’s a good day.


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Mi Gente (My People)

Mi gente is Spanish for “my people.” In a recent conversation with a Puerto Rican friend about the massacre in Orlando, at which 49 brown and black people were shot dead, there is strong opinion that the coverage of the event has been whitewashed. “Whitewashed” is a term used by cultures other than Caucasians and describes the stripping of all things organic and cultural to a particular event. It is not a positive term. It is not a positive action. I want to bring this conversation into its rightful place, because in some sense people of color (POC) have been stripped bare of the vigils that have been held in many places of faith over the last week.

I attended several of the ceremonies and I’d have to agree, there was a definite lack of representation from the brown and black communities. The sadness is exacerbated by the fact that it was a gay bar that was shot up and the vast majority of the victims were part of the LGBT+ community. This community, is mi gente, even though I identify as a cisgender, straight, white person. Some POC would not allow me to claim this, and in all sincerity it is a stretch, I agree.

Let’s take a moment and unpack these thoughts. Why are they mi gente? Well, because half my family and one of my children is gay and I am an ally, so we are all part of the LGBT+ family, together. They are mi gente because we are all children of God and loved unconditionally and equally by our Creator. So, our familial lines bleed together as our bodies and hearts bleed together. Why then is it a stretch for me to claim them as mi gente? Because to do that whitewashes and attempts to normalize the atrocity, as if I suffer as the brown and black community suffers. Which is simply not so. I do not profess to intimately know the culture and customs that white America has stripped from POC, those who invest their time, talent and treasure in the same economy I do.

The majority of the vigils that were held this week to mourn for Orlando where organized and attended primarily by white folks. Where are the brown people? Where are the black people? Why are they not standing up? Why are they underrepresented? It is not for lack of want, I can assure you. Many are in hiding, in fear of additional victimization and harm. (This I know because I met with them.) They are huddled together in private masses and vigils held in homes where safety is not an issue. (This I know because I met with them.) Some would argue and say that the brown and black community should be grateful that the white community “stepped up” to organize gatherings. And those I spoke to are glad and grateful the white community has mourned along with them.

As a white American, I want to ask where our support for our brown and black brothers and sisters is on a daily basis. How do we engage with their culture in a way that celebrates our diversity and agape love for one another? It’s a nice sentiment to come out in droves to show support after tragedy; But white folks, where is the support during times of peace and harmony? How dare we commandeer their vigils? How dare we profess to know the ache that lives in their homes and in their hearts? How dare we whitewash religious services with comfortability and practices that are common to the mainline, white, Christian community in hopes to ease their pain?

To mourn with mi gente, I need to learn their language of love, so I can love them how they need to be loved, not how I perceive it so.  We must learn to love our multi-cultural country –  embrace our diversity. We must learn to sit in our discomfort and listen to the pains that spill from our brown and black family. I do not write this post to divide us, but rather to unite us. While my words may seem harsh, in reality it is my attempt to raise awareness of the additional victimization that takes place when white America rushes in to solve an issue we don’t know anything about.

The white LGBT+ community is a sibling to the brown and black LGBT+ communities.

How can we make a difference then? We can listen. We can support. We can mourn by the side of our ethnic family. We are all one family, true, as we all come from one Creator. However, around half of the victims were brown and the other half were black. There was not a single white victim. Therefore, as a white American, to claim them as mi gente only works to ease my pain. If I am truly interested in showing up for my ethnic siblings, and sincerely desire to ease their pain, it must be on their terms. In the blurred lines of the kingdom of God they are mi gente, but the love they need at this time will acknowledge, respect, and appreciate our cultural differences.


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Twinkies and Chips

Note: I have since moved into a different industry, but this this still good food for thought, pun intended.

Sometimes the food is not so bad at the bottom of the food chain. Sure, it’s not champagne and escargot. But, hey, you need a Twinkie and bag of chips every now and again to satisfy.

I was thinking about this at work today, as the clamor in the office rose up. I work in an often hostile work environment. It occurred to me, on this particular day, that being a bottom feeder is not always a bad thing. Take for instance this newly redesigned database which holds critical information on the taxpayers in my State. The darn thing was full of bugs, as the previous version was written in-house by our IT guys. Nice guys and helpful sometimes. So, as the story goes there was not enough justification to purchase a hi-tech system, one that would allow us to link nationally to a database that would all but eliminate error. So, our IT guys, yes the same folks who wrote the first version, redesigned a new one. Hmmm.

That’s not all. What really causes heartburn is that there was no rollout of static data, we used live data since we had the chance to test multiple scenarios in a live setting. Hmmmm. I sure hope those of you who are Techies are clinching your jaw and are a bit queasy right this moment. Anyway, today, I found a bug or two (yes, in the newly redesigned version) and inquired of the powers that be on how to resolve it. (This is where the Twinkie comes in). In my ignorance of all things IT, I failed to realize how temperamental program writers can be. Turns out there is a certain “personality” written into each program and it behaves differently in alternate settings. As I continued on in my search of the mistake, I asked for help. My co-worker overheard and graciously chimed in. Turns out he has a degree in programming but is not currently working in that role. The writer took issue of the bugs that were discovered and revealed. My coworker took advantage of an opportunity to share some of his knowledge and a few of us were, just there. In the periphery. In my case, looking cute (smiles). I thought to myself at one point, “Oh, how I wish I knew what they were talking about. It would be so helpful to be able to solve some of these issues on my own. Or at least be able to speak some informed words into the issue”. Wait! Stop right there lady. There’s a saying that goes something like this: You can’t be good at everything. I was grateful this day, because although I found the error, my job ended at reporting it. Clearly I have no idea how to fix it. Don’t need to. Not my job. That is someone else’s specialty. Someone else’s talent.

I learned that sometimes ignorance can in fact be bliss. Well, bliss may be an overstatement. But, it can be convenient so say the least. By my not knowing anything about programming, I was able to avoid an office argument, hostile negotiations, hurt feelings, frustration, perspiration, palpitation and provocation. The only real residual harm done to me is that the explosion happened in my office, at my computer where the information was displayed on the screen. There was a bit of clean up from the “food fight”, which is okay with me. I had a Twinkie and a bag of chips in my desk when it was all done. So, I sat back and did what many bottom-feeders do. I ate to my heart’s content. Enjoyed every bite.


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It’s A Good Friday

It’s later in the month, later than I’d like it to be actually. I’ve been waiting for inspiration to give you something I felt was worth reading. It finally came today. It’s true, it’s real, it’s honest. It’s a page from my journal this morning. I know I’m not the only one in this quagmire, maybe that’s why I felt it’s worth reading. Happy Easter to all of humanity.

…..

“It’s a Good Friday!

Abba, so much is changing, but you have stayed the same. The tomb is empty this morning. No one knows where you are or where you went.

This season of Lent has been so incredibly painful. I’ve been so far from you – and so close to you. I’m scared, I’m isolated, I’m exhausted, I’m angry, I’m so incredibly sad. I’m eager, I’m demanding, I’m questioning, I’m forgetful, I’m desperate. I have anxiety; I’ve traveled far and wide to find peace – to create peace – to upset peace – and to enjoy the peace. It’s Good Friday, and like the rest of the fold, I’m seeking because the tomb is empty and I don’t know where you went.

Ferguson is still looking for you. Naples says they have you, the golden roads are supposed to prove that. Nashville sings all about you, but the people are still dying of hunger and thirst.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to see you in everything and be grateful, because honestly, when I don’t get what I want (and the way I perceive I need it to be), I think you either suck or you’re looking at someone else’s life. I mean, there’s lots of us down here trying to figure this crazy shit out. Maybe you got me mixed up?

It’s supposed to rain here Sunday – I’m looking forward to that. Everything is better after some cleansing rain. The sun will surely rise and shine, that’s all it knows how to do. Thanks for that too.

Thanks for never taking your eye off me. I’ll try to reciprocate that a bit better today. I love you.”


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Welcome Home Prodigal Me

Welcome home, prodigal self. There’s a story in the Bible about a son who took off with all of the blessings his dad gave him. His brother was really jealous because he stayed behind as the responsible one. The prodigal, however, took off and had a great time, but ultimately rendering himself broke, hungry and without adequate shelter.

He came to the end of himself. He made the brave decision to go home. As the story is told, the father saw him coming back from out in the distance and decided to throw a party.

Many of us have been the prodigal in our own lives and have had a tendency to punish ourselves time and time again without ceasing. We drive us to the end of ourselves. Then, in a very narcissistic but self-imposing way we cry why is my life such crap? How did I get here? Is it ever going to get better?

How about this. What if, you saw yourself, your prodigal self that is, off in the distance and you decided to throw yourself a party. Just as the biblical version tells it. Pull out the fine red robe, the signet ring, the fatted calf! All of it! Because you know what? When you’ve been to the end of yourself and you survive it – it’s worth a party.

The journey to the center of our birth, as my prior January post explains, is a long and sometimes treacherous road. It very rarely goes as planned and for most of us, there are lots of bumps and bruises (and maybe a few stitches and broken bones) along the way. So, when you make it back, you’ve earned a celebration.

What if I have no one to greet me, you think? YOU are there, are you not? That’s the only greeting you really need. After all, no one knows the details of the journey quite like you.

Listen, all I’m suggesting is that you treat yourself like the royalty you ARE, instead of adopting the idea of what you think you ought to be. Every one of us is a diamond in the rough. The number of cuts in a diamond determines the glisten. Well, there are never going to be enough “cuts” to make what you perceive, but the “cuts” you do have, the one’s that make you shine like the gem you are, you already have them. Every last one, you earned them. Along your road, remember?

Anyone who says they are not a prodigal, or has not had a prodigal experience is a liar.  Or an alien. Part of being a human being is coming to the end of yourself at certain times in life. Then, having to figure out how to get back on track and move forward.

Let’s talk a minute about the prodigal’s brother. He wasn’t perfect either. Jealousy is not handsome (or pretty, ladies). It is possible part of the reason you had a prodigal moment is because of rejection or neglect. Maybe you got the short end of a sharp stick. It happens. We’re all prodigals. We’re all humans (not aliens). So, when you turn to go back home, if you’re met with a negative Nate or Nellie, just walk on by.

The robe is yours to wear, the signet ring is your size and is yours to wear. The fatted calf has been prepared with sides and desserts, in your honor. Eat, drink and celebrate. You made it back. Now, shine on you crazy diamond.


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Journey To the Center of My Birth

Happy New Year! For some 2016 has been declared as the turn-around year. For others, it will be a year of traveling in the same direction, only deeper, and perhaps at a faster clip. And, that may or may not be a good thing. Time will tell.

For me, I’m hoping for a bit of both actually. You see, for me, 2016 is going to be a year of great change. And it won’t all be good change. Or will it? Change is one of the only guarantees in the Universe. We can embrace it, reject it, rail against it, work in harmony with it, question it or just observe it. Whatever we choose to do, change is inevitable. In Ecclesiastes 3:4, the Bible talks about a time for all things under the sun. I believe this is true and I also believe that not all change is looked upon as welcomed. For part of this year, I will have that attitude I expect.

We are each on a private journey to discover who we are, in the midst of where we are. Where we are physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. We must learn to look upon this journey as a necessity rather than a burden, even when the journey is through a dry and weary land. Being a human being is the most excruciating journey we will ever encounter. This is a strong statement and I admit that. But, selah (from Hebrew, meaning, “pause and think on this”). If we are a people whose belief and trust are in something or someone bigger than us, then we are sure to resonate with that infamous lyric so eloquently stated by Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need.” Believers in God will undoubtedly admit that there are times we wonder where the hell God is in a particular situation. When we can’t see the forest through the trees. Sometimes we can’t even see the trees. But God has clearer vision. That’s where our hope lies.

The journey to the center of our birth is a requirement for all of us, to figure out where we came from, where we are and more decidedly, where we want to go. In 2016 many of us will travel through fire to get to our next place. For some, a smooth sail down a quiet stream will be in store. Others will be led into a desert and will likely feel the cracked ground beneath their feet and wonder again, where the hell is God? But, have no lingering fear. Notice, I said lingering. Fear is inevitable, even with the good changes that will come our way.

I think it’s fair to say change and fear live in tandem.

(I know you’ve heard of the fear of failure. But, have you heard of the fear of success?)

One important adoption for the coming year of change will be to acquire some type of calming discipline. For some yoga, others running or extreme sports will be needed. Yet for others, prayer and meditation. (Oops! I accidentally typed medication….I corrected the typo, but realized that for some it may very well include medication…and if that’s what it takes, that’s okay too, under a doctor’s supervision of course.) The important thing here is that the journey to the center of your birth will require from you the hardest part of the journey…a decision.

A few years ago a great philosopher gave me some life changing advice (okay, it was my older brother actually). He said, “Everyone else has an opinion, you have a decision.”

Here I am again this year looking at some continuing big-life changes. As I recalled that advice, I believe it is still powerful and still true. My decisions may only make sense to me. Your decisions may only make sense to you. To others they may look like delusion or risky. That’s their opinion. I have to decide what it takes for me to be able to travel my journey (and so do you).

As you look over your new 2016 calendar, you’re only about seven days or so in. You’ve got about another 355 days or so of change waiting for you. So what’s it going to be? Embrace? Reject? Question? Rail? Walk in harmony? Observe? You decide. Let the naysayers and haters have their opinions. Let the loved ones and supporters have their opinions. There’s nothing you can do about what they think of your circumstance or your decision to act (or not).

They have an opinion. YOU HAVE A DECISION.

I’d love to tell you to stand tall and face your fears! To roar like a lion! To fight, fight fight! But, the best advice might just be to shut the hell up and let time pass. To cry and lick your wounds in private. To pray and just keep hoping in a brighter day. See, I just have an opinion too. I also have a decision, and it’s no less scary than yours. Being a writer doesn’t grant me any special passes, only a vessel to talk about my life on a public platform, and hope that another beautiful human is somehow inspired.

The journey to the center of your birth never ends. The journey started before you left the womb and it will continue until you return to the Dust. If you don’t have the moxie to be brave today, don’t fret. Bravery is a relative term (the magazines and media will tell you otherwise though). If you need to retreat today, please do. If you need to run and rage, do so (just don’t hurt anyone else in the process). If you need to stand up for yourself, stand. If you need to sit quietly, sit. There is a time and a season for everything under the sun. Just remember, it’s your journey to the center of your birth. We all have an opinion and we all have a decision. Do what your Spirit calls you to do. Be well. Be loved. Love.

Be the most authentic version of you you can be today. Don’t lose hope in a brighter tomorrow though. Hope is a vital supply needed for the journey. Find your hope, keep your hope. It’s our birthright.