A Sneak Preview: When Baldwin Loved Brenden by Electa Rome Parks

There is no greater joy than the birth of a new baby, an addition to the family. Well, my 9th baby, When Baldwin Loved Brenden, drops January 29, 2013. As you must know, I'm super excited and can't wait to introduce my baby to the world, to her aunties and cousins! I recently received the sonogram and I want to share the joy:) So, here's your sneak preview!


Fair-weather friends come and go, but true friendship lasts a lifetime. Same goes for true love.

Ten years is a long time. Much can change in ten years, an entire decade. That’s how many years have passed when a former close-knit group of college friends, Baldwin, Brenden, Bria and Christopher, self-proclaimed The Group, are tragically reunited to attend the funeral of one of their own in a small North Carolina town.

The Group hasn’t seen or spoken to one another since an unfortunate set of circumstances placed their friendship in jeopardy ten years earlier. After graduation, everyone went their separate ways and never looked back, until now. The past has a way of catching up with you, sooner or later. Baldwin, the romantic, Brenden, the do-gooder, Bria, the wildchild, Christopher, the pretty boy, are all about to discover the truth in that.

Rihanna was once dubbed the peacemaker of the group. Her death reunites them for an unforgettable, poignant and life changing few days. Each friend will confront their own internal demons and leave a changed person. Secrets are revealed, hurts exposed, tears shed and laugher shared, all in the name of friendship and love.

Can anything truly tear real friendship and love apart?

You Are So Nice!

You are so nice. You are so kind.

 

If I hear those words one more time, I'm going to throw up in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I am nice. I am kind. And. . . I'm very proud of these genuine qualities I possess.

 

However, I have a question. Why is it perceived by some as a weakness? Why do I have to be a bitch to be respected? Or why do I have to be an "A" type personality to get attention? Why do I have to be aggressive and in your face? I don't!

 

Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I repeat, do not because you may be surprised. I don't have to talk the loudest and carry the biggest stick.

 

I will continue to be me and that's just fine with me.



Getting to know author - Electa Rome Parks

Getting to know author
Electa Rome Parks


When did you start writing?I have been writing for as long as I can remember; writing and reading have always defined who and what I am as a person. Writing is the love affair of my life. From a professional standpoint, I started writing and penned my first novel, The Ties That Bind in 2001.


How, why and when did you decide you wanted to be a published writer? How did you go about it? What did you do to achieve this end?For me, becoming a published writer was a natural progression. Friends and family who knew me back in the day, they can all testify to the fact that I was always writing something (a short story, a poem, a play) or had my head buried in a book, usually mystery or supernatural. Being a quiet, shy child, writing was a means for me to express myself, non-verbally. Later, I realized I had a voice that needed to be heard (read). And reading was my escape to meeting other people and worlds that I could only imagine.


I went about accomplishing my goal by researching, networking and finding mentors in my genre. I lived and breathed the literary industry. Eventually I published via print on demand, then traditionally self-published and eventually went mainstream after being picked up by a major publishing house. I achieved this by hustling. . . attending every conference, literary event, signing, book club meeting, etc., that I could. I made it my mission to network with creative, like-minded people in the industry and to get the word out about my book and myself. Passion, persistence and perservance paid off when a literary agent contacted me and within 30 days had inked a 3-book deal with a major publishing house.


How would you describe the writing you are doing?I write contemporary and erotic fiction. I’ve also been classified as a women’s fiction author.


Who is your target audience? What motivated you to start writing for this audience?My target audience is anyone who enjoys a good book! Primarily, African-American women and a small percentage of men tend to purchase my novels. I don’t know if I was motivated to start writing for this audience as opposed to this audience is who I am. I am an African-American woman; however my storylines tend to stem from life experiences, lessons, and situations that are universal.


In the writing you are doing, which authors influenced you most? Why did they have this influence?
I absolutely adore contemporary fiction authors and my greatest influence was, hands down, author Terry McMillian. I witnessed and applauded the commercial successful she achieved with her books, from them being New Times Bestselling novels to being adapted to movies for the big screen. Her books, especially Disappearing Acts, was the first book that spoke to me as I saw myself and others in the storyline. I could relate. I laughed out loud, I cried and I didn’t want that book to end. I wanted to savor each page, digest it and breathe it in. There was such a connection that it left an impact that inspired me to reach for my dream.


How have your own personal experiences influenced your writing? I’m sure in many ways that I haven’t even though about. I write from the heart about many topical issues prevalent in our communities. I’ve touched upon domestic abuse, molestation, friendship, dysfunctional relationships, stalking, mental illness and the list goes on. My characters aren’t perfect and my storylines don’t necessarily have happily ever after endings. However, they are much like real life. I share life lessons and give readers imperfect characters they can embrace, whether they choose to love or hate them.


What are your main concerns as a writer? How do you deal with these concerns? My main concern as a writer is the constantly changing literary climate. I know of many talented authors who have lost book deals and can’t appear to get another one. I hate the fact that the industry is all about sales and the bottom line. There doesn’t appear to be an appreciation for the craft or an internal mentoring process for the author anymore.

I deal with these concerns by accepting the fact that what’s going to be is going to be. What’s meant for me is for me. I simply can’t sweat the small stuff so to speak. I have to continue to write my stories and be true to myself. How the changes pan out remains to be seen.


What are the biggest challenges that you face? And, how do you deal with these challenges?I think I answered this in the previous question. Staying abreast of the changing industry and remaining relevant are two big challenges for me. I deal with them by doing what I love to do, which is to write. I simply can’t allow myself to worry about things which are not within my control.


Do you write every day? How does each session start? How do you proceed? How, where and why does it end? When I first started my professional literary career, I did write every single day. However, with my life evolving, that has changed. I simply don’t have the time to write every single day. My session usually starts with me writing long-hand and simply doing a free flow style. I let the characters speak and tell their story. So, you will never see me with a detailed outline that some authors utilize. Later, I transpose my notes to my computer and tighten the prose up a bit. Typically, by the end of the session, I end up with a good first draft that later will be rewritten several times and edited.


How many books have you written so far? (Please include titles, publisher, date of publication and a brief description of the book/books. I have written eight books, with a 9th book,When Baldwin Loved Brenden, dropping January 2013. A brief description of each novel can be found at my website, www.electaromeparks.com. Please stop by and check them out!


The Stalker Chronicles (Kensington/Urban Books, 2012)
True Confessions (Kensington/Urban Books, 2010)
Diary of a Stalker (Kensington/Urban Books, 2009)
These Are My Confessions (HarperCollins/Avon Red, 2007)
Ladies' Night Out (Penguin Group/NAL, 2007)
Almost Doesn't Count (Penguin Group/NAL, 2005)
Loose Ends (Penguin Group/NAL, 2004)
The Ties That Bind (Penguin Group/NAL, 2004)


What is your latest book about?The Stalker Chronicles - She's back, and this time it's all about revenge.

Tall, dark, and handsome bestselling male author Xavier Preston thought his nightmare—in the form of Pilar, a fanatical stalker/fan—had finally ended. Little does he know it’s only beginning. When Xavier met Pilar, he got much more than he bargained for. What started out as an erotic one-night stand quickly turned into a dangerous game of obsession and pain, with both parties playing to win. Then she simply disappeared.


Stunning Pilar hasn't gone away, though. In fact, she has been very near, watching his every move and patiently waiting for him to realize they were meant to be together forever. She still believes they’re soul mates, and the only option for her is “Until death do us part.” If she can't have Xavier, then no one can. Now no one is safe—not his friends, and definitely not him.


Revenge can be a real killer.

How long did it take you to write the book? It took approximately 4 months to write the novel. This timeframe didn’t include rewrites and edits.


Where and when was it published?It was published in January 2012 by Kensington/Urban Books.


How did you chose a publisher for the book? Why this publisher? What advantages and/or disadvantages has this presented? How are you dealing with these?My recent novel was part of a second, two-book deal with this particular publishing house.


Which aspects of the work you put into the book did you find most difficult? Why do you think this was so? How did you deal with these?At this point in my career, I pretty much have a system or rhythm when it comes to my writing. Once I have my storyline and the characters are speaking to me, it’s on. LOL. As strange as it may sound, I almost see the various scenes played out in my mind like a movie. I hear my characters voices as clear as I can hear yours.

I can’t really describe any difficulties I had with my previous project. It was a much-anticipated, much-requested sequel and the characters hadn’t left me. In fact, their voices were as strong as ever. So, it was like revisiting old friends, playing catch-up and putting it all on paper.


Which aspects of the work did you enjoy most? Why is this?I enjoyed revisiting old friends in The Stalker Chronicles, which is the sequel to Diary of a Stalker. I had missed my characters and it was refreshing to find out what was going on in their lives and to speak with them again.


What sets the book apart from the other things you've written?This was only my second attempt at an erotic thriller. So the genre was a little different from what I typically write.


In what way is it similar to the others? It was similar in that it incorporated my trademark style of writing that I have become known for: it was drama-filled, spicy, relationship-based, fast paced with imperfect characters and with a twist to the storyline.


What will your next book be about?My next book is titled, When Baldwin Loved Brenden.
Fair-weather friends come and go, but true friendship lasts a lifetime. Same goes for true love.
Ten years is a long time. Much can change in ten years, an entire decade. That’s how many years have passed when a former close-knit group of college friends, Baldwin, Brenden, Bria and Christopher, self-proclaimed The Group, are tragically reunited to attend the funeral of one of their own in a small North Carolina town.

The Group hasn’t seen or spoken to one another since an unfortunate set of circumstances placed their friendship in jeopardy ten years earlier. After graduation, everyone went their separate ways and never looked back, until now. The past has a way of catching up with you, sooner or later. Baldwin, the romantic, Brenden, the do-gooder, Bria, the wildchild, Christopher, the pretty boy, are all about to discover the truth in that.


Rihanna was once dubbed the peacemaker of the group. Her death reunites them for an unforgettable, poignant and life changing few days. Each friend will confront their own internal demons and leave a changed person. Secrets are revealed, hurts exposed, tears shed and laugher shared, all in the name of friendship and love.

Can anything truly tear real friendship and love apart?

What would you say has been your most significant achievement as a writer?I would say my most significant achievement has been just that. . . the fact that I am a published author. It’s not a dream anymore, it’s a reality. I have a voice. Readers embrace my books and enjoy them. I’m doing something I love and that I’m passionate about. It doesn’t get any better than that. Priceless.

Introducing the GA Peach Authors

Marissa Monteilh, Gail McFarland, Electa Rome Parks & Jean Holloway

"Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn't really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That's because they were unable to connect experiences they've had and synthesize new things."
--Steve Jobs

"To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it."
--Osho

"Why do writers write? Because it isn't there."
--Thomas Berger

Anybody Can Write a Book!

"Anybody can write a book."

 Seriously?

"Yeah, anybody can write a book."

Absolutely not.

"Huh, anybody can write a book. I know if such and such wrote one, I know I can."

"Really? Really?"

Writers are a dime a dozen.

Sitting in the small, elegant room surrounded by a roomful of gossiping women preparing for a few hours of pampering and beauty treatment, I strained my ears to make sure I had heard what I thought I had.

 To my chagrin, I had indeed heard correctly.

 I felt it was somewhat of an insult to imply, hell, not even imply, but to blatantly state it as a fact that a craft, an art, one I personally took very seriously, could be done by anyone. Can anybody fly a plane? Can anybody perform surgery? Can anybody move people with their words? My answer is an unequivocal, "NO!"

 I remember the days, not that long ago, when writers were well respected, well regarded leaders in their communities. Writing was a noble profession. Nowadays, with the onslaught of self-publishing and an overly saturated marketplace, it must appear that anyone can write a book because everyone and their mama's first cousin is doing so.

 I have always proclaimed that everyone has at least one good book in them. Unfortunately, that doesn't necessarily mean you can or should write it. Maybe you have a story that needs to be heard, but written by someone else.

 So, Dear Margaret,

 Regardless of what you may think, anybody cannot write a book. Writing is an art. A craft. A talent to be softly caressed, constantly nurtured and carefully honed. And writers, well writers, are in love with words because we realize they are so much more than simple letters and syllables on a page. Words possess power and magic. They evoke emotion, whether good or bad, words declare independence and announce the start of a new nation where you can become anything you want to become with hard work. Words speak of dreams of racial equity where we aren't judged by the color of our skin. Words even speak of the path to salvation. . . and heaven and hell.

Writing a book doesn't consist of throwing fragmented, disjointed and run-on sentences on a page for 200 plus pages and placing a title on the cover page. It's so much more. Sure, it may appear easy enough. Good writers have a knack of making it seem that way. . . effortless.

 In hindsight, maybe she was right. Anybody can write a book. Not everyone can write a good book.

A Sneak Preview: When Baldwin Loved Brenden by Electa Rome Parks

There is no greater joy than the birth of a new baby, an addition to the family. Well, my 9th baby, When Baldwin Loved Brenden, drops January 29, 2013. As you must know, I'm super excited and can't wait to introduce my baby to the world, to her aunties and cousins! I recently received the sonogram and I want to share the joy:) So, here's your sneak preview!


Fair-weather friends come and go, but true friendship lasts a lifetime. Same goes for true love.

Ten years is a long time. Much can change in ten years, an entire decade. That’s how many years have passed when a former close-knit group of college friends, Baldwin, Brenden, Bria and Christopher, self-proclaimed The Group, are tragically reunited to attend the funeral of one of their own in a small North Carolina town.

The Group hasn’t seen or spoken to one another since an unfortunate set of circumstances placed their friendship in jeopardy ten years earlier. After graduation, everyone went their separate ways and never looked back, until now. The past has a way of catching up with you, sooner or later. Baldwin, the romantic, Brenden, the do-gooder, Bria, the wildchild, Christopher, the pretty boy, are all about to discover the truth in that.

Rihanna was once dubbed the peacemaker of the group. Her death reunites them for an unforgettable, poignant and life changing few days. Each friend will confront their own internal demons and leave a changed person. Secrets are revealed, hurts exposed, tears shed and laugher shared, all in the name of friendship and love.

Can anything truly tear real friendship and love apart?

Rest in Peace Whitney!

 "We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will."

~Chuck Palahniuk~

 Whitney Houston passed away February 12, 2012. She was 48 years old.

I never in a million years thought I would be hearing those words, not anytime soon, anyway. In fact, I went to sleep last night hoping I'd wake up and it would all be a horrible dream...but it wasn't. The world has lost a shining star, an international icon. My heart aches and my prayers go out to her family.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love me some Whitney Houston. I have all her Cds and even play her holiday Cd each Christmas; it's part of our family tradition. From the very first time I saw her, I remember asking, "Who is that?" There was just something about her that made you take a second look. Whitney was talk, thin and beautiful. Unforgettable. And when she opened her mouth to sing, it wasn't just any voice that spilled forth, it came straight from the angelic gates of heaven itself. You realized you had witnessed something spectacular and God-given.I was in awe. I appreciated talent even back then.

There was just something about Whitney that appealed to me immediately. Maybe it was because she was REAL. She was the sister-friend that I could have gone to school with or simply hung out with. I could imagine myself picking up the phone and saying, "Whitney, girl let me tell you what happened today"  or "Girl, you showed out on the Soul Train Awards." Whitney carried herself with an air of class and sophistication whenever I was privy to her presence on stage. Her beauty radiated outward like a halo for all to see and she made me so very proud.

Whitney's talent spoke volumes and when she blessed us with a song, we realized we were in the presence of a superstar. God blessed her with an extraordinary voice that generations of young artist would try to emulate, but there was only one Whitney. There will never be another. When she sang a song, we felt it somewhere deep within, inside. We didn't just hear her songs, we experienced each emotion. For me, it's all about the emotion. Not many artist can capture the essence of a song that makes us feel it, note by note.

Back in the day, I wanted to be Whitney. I sensed there was something special about her from the very beginning. She had that IT appeal and it radiated brilliantly like the brightest star in the sky. I emulated her hairstyle. You know, the one she wore with big wavy curls, and I attempted to dress like her. I didn't have the height, but I had her reed-thin frame. And her smile lit up any stage she graced. Whitney could do no wrong in my eyes. I would defend her like she was my home girl from the block.

Yes, Whitney was human. So, please don't judge her. She had very real flaws, imperfections, demons and a dark side like the rest of us. Guess what? It didn't take away from the incredible gift God had bestowed upon her. Remember how she took that Dolly Parton song, I Will Always Love You, and made it her own? She placed her stamp on it and it was pure Whitney. Remember the video of her simply sitting in a chair, how could you forget it, there was nothing dramatic or over-the-top about it? But she owned that song and when she hit those high notes with little to no effort, I wanted to jump through the screen and give her a high five and say, "You go, girl! Do the damn thing." Whitney was my girl. That's her legacy....she was the greatest talent of my era. And I will always, always love her.

I've come to learn, there is a lesson in everything. What I take away from Whitney Houston's tragic death is twofold:

Life is short, so very short. We are here and gone in the blink of an eye, so don't take it for granted. Show and tell your loved ones how important they are to you. AND...I pray that I live my life in a way that affects people in a positive way. I don't want my living to be in vain. I don't want to be forgettable. When I take my final breath, I want to leave behind something that is lasting and pure and good for generation after generation to appreciate.

Rest in peace, Whitney. You are gone, but never forgotten. There will never be another Whitney Houston. Rest now. Job well done!



The Wait is Over! The Stalker Chronicles by Electa Rome Parks

She's back, and this time it's all about revenge.

Tall, dark, and handsome bestselling male author Xavier Preston thought his nightmare—in the form of Pilar, a fanatical stalker/fan—had finally ended. Little does he know it’s only beginning.

When Xavier met Pilar, he got much more than he bargained for. What started out as an erotic one-night stand quickly turned into a dangerous game of obsession and pain, with both parties playing to win. Then she simply disappeared.

Stunning Pilar hasn't gone away, though. In fact, she has been very near, watching his every move and patiently waiting for him to realize they were meant to be together forever. She still believes they’re soul mates, and the only option for her is “Until death do us part.” If she can't have Xavier, then no one can. Now no one is safe—not his friends, and definitely not him.

Revenge can be a real killer.

Prologue

It was getting easier and easier now.

She moved quickly and efficiently throughout the spacious three-car garage. She wanted to remove any traces of evidence that she had ever been there. She had always been good at simply disappearing and being invisible. That was easy.

She was definitely more confident, and it showed in her cool, calm, and collected demeanor. She was no longer afraid of being caught, because the urge to punish those who had hurt her was stronger, much more overwhelming, and urgent. She probably couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to---she was operating on pure animal instinct. The need to survive and protect herself by any means necessary overrode anything else. Fight or flight. And she had long been tired of running.

There had been others over the years, more than she could count on one hand. They were mere vague gray memories that occasionally crossed her mind, like one might think of a stray pet one owned as a child, but she dismissed the images just as quickly. She never held on to them for more than a few fleeting moments in time. Denial was her refuge.

Only one had successfully escaped her sharp talons and womanly wiles. Or had he? Maybe she let him get away, just that one time. She hadn’t determined which. Sometimes she thought of him, when her mind wasn’t a jumble of darkness, discontent, and madness. There were moments. . . .

She missed him, yearned for his special touch, the touch that only he could deliver with precision and skill. His touch brought heat and desire. His lies brought pain and sorrow. She hated that he escaped her grasp, or that possibly she let him walk away, unscathed. She still considered him her soul mate, the one who made her complete and safe and sound. She yearned to feel complete, because most days she realized she was broken and damaged beyond repair. However, she couldn’t think of that one just yet. Not now. That would come later. The strenuous act of positioning this one just right was over. Now she had serious, delicate cleanup work to complete. Within seconds, that one, the one who got away, was pushed to the dark, cold recesses of her mind. Forgotten . . . for now.

It was painstakingly slow work because everything had to be absolutely perfect. She had observed and respected what a perfectionist he was. He thrived on it. She softly snickered to herself and had to catch herself before it became an all-out rambunctious laugh. He didn’t look too perfect right now, slumped behind the steering wheel of his black BMW like a deflated, tossed-aside bag of rags and bones. Another snicker escaped. She tightly clamped her gloved hand down over her mouth to stop it, to keep it from spilling forth.

When he was discovered—hopefully, within a day or two—she wanted him to appear perfect in death. That was the least she could do, because she honestly felt she owed him that much. With a gloved hand, she carefully took the typewritten note out of his jacket pocket, typed from the personal computer in his home office, and gently placed it next to him on the soft leather passenger seat of his car. Laughter escaped freely and drifted into the still air.

She took one last hopeful look at him and placed a single kiss on his left cheek. She wanted to remember him at peace. Happy. So handsome. She sighed before she carefully closed the driver’s side car door. Then she continued to wipe down any surface she might have touched that bore her prints. She was patient as perspiration dotted her forehead. From her experiences, she knew that patience was a virtue.

She dreamily thought, We could have been so deliriously happy together. They always fucked things up. Always. She hadn’t met a man yet who didn’t. It was never a matter of if, but when. If only he hadn’t started to question or doubt her because of that damn movie, Diary of a Stalker, which had been released a month earlier and was a blockbuster success. Everyone was talking about it; already there was talk of Oscar nominations for best actress and best actor. She couldn’t escape it, no matter where she turned or what it signified for her.

No, you didn’t reject me and attempt to walk away, without a backward glance, she thought. How dare he? She didn’t do well with rejection. Never had. Never would. She chuckled to herself, thinking the joke was definitely on him. If he were alive, he would probably appreciate the joke as well. She had decided years ago that no one, especially not a man, would ever hurt her again. Never again. So far, she hadn’t broken her promise to herself, nor did she have any intentions to going forward.

She exited the beautiful, spacious home that screamed quiet elegance, luxury, and money. She let herself out and quietly disappeared into the night, under the cover of darkness. She craved the darkness for its mystery and power. She whistled a happy tune to herself as she walked away. No worries. No rush. She was lost in her own demented world. Enter at your own risk.

She reminisced about a man—a beautiful, tall, dark, and very sexy man with deep dimples and gorgeous teeth, a man she couldn’t wait to be reunited with. Her body craved him, and she could hardly contain her excitement and joy at just the mere thought of being in his presence again. It had been too long. As for the one in the garage, with the car engine running and the towel stuffed in the exhaust system, he had already slipped her mind, before his body was even cold and stiff. Her last thoughts of him were that when they found him, she hoped he would look perfect. She knew he would want it that way. After all, that was the least she could do. She hummed a lively tune and strolled off into the darkness.

Send your essay (Aha Moment) for inclusion in non-fiction book by Electa Rome Parks!!

My road traveled to becoming a mature, wiser woman has been an amazing journey consisting of glorious up and devastating downs, and everything in between, which still continues to this day. Life really is a journey, not a destination.


I firmly believe it takes a village to raise a child. Wouldn’t it have been great if when you were a child, someone had shared their life lessons with you? Gave you a blueprint so to speak? Made your journey through this maze called life a bit easier?

Well, that’s what I would like to compile, a sharing of life lessons in non-fiction form for our young women. I intend to interview at least 100 women, age 21 and older, who are willing to share for publication, an “AHA moment” in life.

If interested in being interviewed, via an essay submission, please contact me at novelideal@aol.com for further details, submission guidelines and consideration. Please place “AHA MOMENT” in the subject line.

Let’s make a difference!

Peace & Blessings,

Electa

Dream Deferred

Sometimes, I sit and frantically listen
Listen to my internal, silent screammm
build, building, building
to maximum decimals
that longs to burst, stumble forth
to be set free

Disappointment, yes
Despair, maybe
Defeat, never

Can you hear it too?
Listen closely
The urgent wailings
tortured groans,
moans
Listen carefully
to my internal, silent scream that screeches and scratches
so loudly that I'm completely numb inside

Numb from dreaming, scheming and screaming
while grasping, clawing for the stars
and beyond
Numb from an internal longing,
a desire so strong
so deep
so organic
so real
so true

To be heard
to have a strong, vibrant voice
not just any voice that blends in with all the rest
to make a big difference in a small way
to be a legend, innovator
to leave a legacy
to be immortal

Sometimes, I sit and silently cringe
Cringe at the invisible ache and puppet strings
that stir and pull my soul
from a deep, guttural place within
This way and that
Bursting free
No rest
No peace

Unable to live and foster my dream
Unacceptable
External forces beyond my control
dream dashers
powers that be
no respect, saturation
diminishing my passion

Inside, my spirit dies piece by piece
like rotting meat
bit by bit
little by little
Each and every day

From the words of Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load

Or does it explode?

I Will Not Be Triumphed Over

The power of words has always been my salvation. In my darkest, most daunting moments, when I've felt I couldn't go on, they've purged, cleansed and restored my soul. Even as a child, at some level I understood this and basked in their beauty and strength.

In one of my most recent, more frequent pity party moments, I read the following:

"I will not be triumphed over."             

Wow! That spoke to me. Spoke to me from an ancient place of memory from generations and generations gone by. I am unbreakable, unbendable, unstoppable...no one, no thing, no situation, nobody is going to tear me down. Life may attempt to strip me down, stomp me down, wear me out, make me doubt myself, throw me curves, kick me to the curb, but in the end, I'll still rise. I will not be triumphed over. 

When I read those words, I immediately felt a heavy weight rise from my shoulders. I was at peace with my life, my situation, my predicament, my moment. Sure, I could, I really could, wallow in righteous self pity because life hasn't treated me like a favorite child recently. I'm in the midst of a storm, in the eye of a fierce storm that has bombarded me with residue from a layoff and a chain of unfortunate events that come at me blindly, from left and right. Yes, I could easily spiral into an empty pit of despair. I could curl up and give up.

Digesting that quote made me realize, I've survived worse---the death of my mother and sister being top on the list. I've been down before, but God always has my back. With age, I've come to realize that typically when one door closes, another opens right on time. We just have to remember to stop staring at the closed door in order to clearly see the one which has opened. The universe always makes a way for us.

No, I refuse to be triumphed over when my spirit is too strong to stay down and out. Do you hear me? My spirit, my resilience is too mighty. I have my doubts and worries like anyone else, I'm human, but when the dust settles and I'm in my quiet space, I hear the whispers, loud and clear, speaking to me from a place of wisdom. And I listen.

God has never and will never forsake me. And with that knowledge, I can loudly and mightily proclaim: I will not be triumphed over.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

The Oprah Winfrey Show---the end of an era

This isn’t about a gift-giving ceremony, Oprah explains. "There will be no guests, no surprises, you will not be getting a car. This last hour is about me saying thank you, it is my love letter to you. I want to leave you all with the lessons that anchor my life. Everyday that I stood here I knew that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. There was many a day I came to work tired, but I showed up because I knew that you were waiting, you were waiting for whatever we had to offer. That’s why I never missed a day in 25 years."



After 25 years of being on the air, The Oprah Winfrey Show, broadcast it's last show today.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how I feel about that.

Perhaps, bittersweet.

Sure, I had heard the news months ago about the last show airing on May 25th. I absent-mindedly watched the commercials showing the countdown.

I thought to myself, "Oh, how nice. They are really making this an event."

Then it was May and the date crept closer and closer. A funny feeling that I couldn't explain settled in the pit of my stomach and I found myself paying closer attention. After all, this was the woman who was on the TV set in my living room, five days out of the week. . . for 25 years.

Once again, I thought to myself, "I need to watch a few shows for old times sake."

Finally news broke that there were going to be two, not one, final show.

As I reflected, I thought, "Wow, this is a big deal."

And then today---it finally happened. The final show of Oprah Winfrey aired. And to my surprise, I was sad as I made my way down memory lane. Oprah's final show reminded me of the favorite and beloved relative who you think will always be around and you tend to take them for granted. And then....something tragic happens, maybe they die or go far away.

It's at that moment, maybe an "aha moment" when you realize how much they meant to you. Bittersweet memories set in, exactly like what happened to me today. You feel a desire to tell them how they've made a difference in your life and how much you appreciate them.

As I found myself becoming nostalgic, I realized regardless of whether you love or hate Oprah, I for one love her ( I guess you can tell), you can't negate her effect on American culture. No one can take that away from her. She grew from a talk show host to an American pop icon.

Oprah showed the world that a poor, black girl from rural Mississippi could grow up and become the first, black female billionaire and one of the most influential and powerful women in the country.

Oprah crossed color boundaries and became everyone's best girlfriend. Admit it, everyone wanted to be like Gayle and be Oprah's BFF.

When Oprah spoke, people listened. What a brand she manufactured of herself. Her stamp of approval guaranteed a person, business or product, instant, overnight success. Just ask Dr. Phil, Suzie Orman, Dr. Oz and others. Powerful.

Oprah changed publishing as we know it today. Suddenly, it was cool to be in a book club and to actually read and discuss books. And as an author, I knew exactly what it meant to have your book chosen as her Book Club Pick....it meant becoming a New York Times bestselling author overnight. Oprah validated you to America and America trusted Oprah.

Oprah taught us the difference between being religious and being spiritual. "I know I’ve never been alone, and you haven’t either. That presence, that flow, some people call it grace, it’s working in my life at every single turn. It’s yours for the asking." Oprah added, "God is love and God is life. And your life is always speaking to you, first in whispers."

And who else but Oprah would give an entire studio audience cars? No one will ever forget, "You get a car! You get a car! And you get a car!" We can't begin to elaborate on what Oprah has done on an international basis as well, giving of her time, money...building schools.

We laughed with her, cried tears of sorrow and happiness, kept journals recording our thoughts, experiences and feelings, embraced the power of women, all women, had our "aha moments", learned of our power within, bought our "favorite things" and learned many, countless life lessons over her 25 year reign.

A rare era has ended. No one will EVER replace Oprah. We've witnessed a rare occurrence in our lives. We have Oprah, Obama in the White House, a black first lady, Michelle, along with her mother and beautiful daughters....all making us proud.

As I reminisce, I realize I literary grew up with Oprah. I went from a young woman to a middle aged woman over the course of those years. I guess I never expected her to go away. She was such a staple in my home. I've learned so many lessons about life, love, relationships, people in general, the world and basically how I see myself. At the end of the day, we are all the same, no matter the race, sex, nationality---we want the same for our families, for our children. And none of us are perfect---life is a constant struggle to be the best we can be, live our best lives and serve others. We are all just trying to get it right, one day at a time.

I'll miss Oprah much like I'd miss a beloved relative. I know this isn't the end, only the beginning of even greater things to come. Even as she ended her show, she still had words of wisdom to instill.

Oprah says the lesson she wants everyone to get from this show is to know "what sparks the light in you so that you in your own way can illuminate the world. I didn’t even imagine that the show would have the depth and the reach that (it has now). ... Wherever you are, that’s your stage, your circle of influence. That’s your talk show, that’s where your power lies. … You have the power to change somebody’s life. Everyone has a calling, and your real job in life is to figure out what that is and get about the business of doing it."

As she said her final goodbyes, "I won't say good-bye, I'll just say, until we meet again. To God be the glory."  Once again I thought, "Oprah is a true class act. Bravo."

And then the screen faded to black.



Confessions from a Soon-To-Be Empty Nester

"For over 2 decades my #1 pursuit was raising my children well,

and now the job is over,

and here I stand like a high-level,

high stress but low paid CEO

who's company just got bought out!"

In the not too far distant future, I will enter the realm of empty nester. And to be honest, I'm not too sure how I feel about that.

If you ask my husband, sure, he is ready to have the house to ourselves again. If you ask my acquaintances who have gone through this phase of their lives, it's wonderful. Enjoy it.

I'm still not convinced.

My son, Brandon, is a rising senior in high school and my daughter, Briana, is a rising junior in high school. So, they will leave to pursue a collegiate education in the very near future, and in back to back events. I won't have the opportunity to get use to one being gone before the other leaves.

Over the years, my children and I have had a great relationship; I can't even complain about the teenage years. I've always spent a lot of time with them and have always nurtured their interest, exposed them to new things and supported their endeavors, as most parents do. I've always tried to respect them as the individual and unique young people that they are. If I must say so myself, my children are good kids. They have good heads on their shoulders and will make intelligent decisions as they explore the next chapter of their lives as they "become" and fulfill their destiny.

So, what's the problem you ask?

To be honest, I'm not sure myself. Yes, I will miss them dearly. Yes, my buddies will be away at college, hopefully not too far, but not too close either. Yes, the house will feel empty without them, without the constant activity and chatter. Yes, they are moving on to the next phase of their lives and they will probably make some mistakes. Yes, they will become productive citizens of the world. And yes, I know they will make us proud.

I will forever cherish their early years: the first day of school, purchasing school supplies, buying the cartoon-character Valentine Day cards, picking the perfect Halloween costumes, waking up on Xmas morning, attending ballet, tap, jazz, basketball practices and games, cheering at cross country events, karate lessons, smiling as they recited Easter and Xmas speeches, attending school functions where they received awards, recited poems, and the list goes on and on and on. Great memories, great times...

I think the moving on means I have to enter the next phase of my life as well.

For so long, my identity has been one of wife, mother and author...I'll feel lost without wearing the title of hands on mom. True, I know I will always be their mom, but I must learn to function at a different level.

Change is good, right? Of course it is. The only thing that is constant is change. Now, I will have more time to spend with my husband, more time to focus on writing, more time to focus on me and me time.

A soon-to-be empty nester---that's me. That's my new title.
A title I will eventually wear with pride because I realize I have done the best I can in raising my children. My job is done.

I won't embrace it like a glove, but I'm sure in time, I will accept it. I have no choice.

For the parents who have little ones, my words of advice is to enjoy them, love them, hold them close...because the years fly by so quickly and one day you wake up and they are young men and women.

That's the beauty of life....it's forever changing and evolving, just ripe for new memories and experiences.

Women Rock

Women Rock!

If I had the opportunity to live my life over, I would like to come back as a woman, again, without hesitation. That's a fact. I adore being a woman and all that entails. Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou sums it up beautifully.


It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman

I think women are the most powerful, special and divine creatures on earth and some of the best and most meaningful times of my life have been spent in the company of my sisterfriends.

There is nothing quite like the society of womanhood that nurtures, protects, grooms and loves with so much passion and distinction. I am who I am and what I am today because of life lessons learned at the knees of my mother, aunts and female cousins. I am a strong, resilient, independent and self-sufficient woman because of them. I pray that someday someone will be able to say the same of me.

Over the years, I have developed friendships with a small number of girlfriends that will last a lifetime. I love them like a sister and they love me back even when we get on each other's nerves. However, that's the beauty of it all. They have been there for me through thick and thin, flowing tears of joy and sadness, wonderful triumphs and devastating tragedy. My best girlfriends have comforted me during the death of my mother, celebrated my marriage and rejoiced in the birth of my children. There is so much history and that means everything to me...they know me as well as I know myself.

Girl talk over the phone that lasts for hours, unbridled laughter and gossip over drinks and dinner, making a six-hour road trip just because I asked, checking in on me when I'm not feeling well, supporting my dreams as if they are their own. There is truly something spectacular that encompasses a genuine circle of women. There is magic and power in their midst that rises up and transforms.

Not too long ago, I recall reading a short passage via the Internet; someone forwarded it to me. It focused on advice an elderly grandmother gave to her only granddaughter the night before her big wedding. She calmly and cautiously told her granddaughter no matter what happened in life, never let go of her friends. The young, soon to be bride reflected on how much she adored her future husband and how she couldn't wait to have his children; he was all she needed in her life. Then the grandmother wisely explained: Husbands may come and go, children grow up and take on lives of their own, but friendship, true friendship, is everlasting. Cling to it.

Sure enough, years later, the granddaughter and her husband had divorced, the children had graduated from college with careers and families of their own, but the granddaughter had adhered to her grandmother's advice and clung to her friends. They, her friends, were still there through it all.

I'll say it again, women absolutely rock!

Carpe Diem --- Seize the Day

Carpe Diem

Tomorrow isn't promised.

I'm a bit sad right now. Have been for a few days.

And that's okay.

There will be times during our lifetimes when our spirits are in need of uplifting. We can't be upbeat all the time. Living comes with its ups and...downs.

Sometimes your life can be changed in the blink of an eye by an event that takes place.

That's all it takes...

Amazing.

To look up with a totally different set of eyes and perspective on life.

Life is precious. So short. You can be here today and gone tomorrow with the snap of your fingers.

Events can transform you. For good or bad.

Then questions start to haunt your mind.

1) Am I living life to the fullest?

2)Am I following my calling?

3)Is this it?

We can only pray that our living will not be in vain. I know I pray that when I take my final breath, I will have made a difference.

Big or small.

But make a difference. Leave the world a better place than the way you entered it.

I pray that at the end, God will say, "Well done."

Why Do I Torture Myself?

I want to share this with you guys; I found it while surfing the net (and no, I don’t have anything else to do with my time. LOL) It is a piece I wrote circa 2001, 10 years ago when I was still a self-published author (well, actually I was POD, not even self-published yet). My vision still remains the same, which is very validating for me.

Why Do I Torture Myself?

Why do I torture myself? That's a question I've asked myself dozens of times over the last few months. I still haven't come up with a rational, logical answer; only an answer that I feel from the heart. You see, I'm a writer. That's a term, that until recently, I felt uncomfortable calling myself, but it's starting to feel more and more like a warm, cozy blanket on a cold, rainy day. The term writer embraces me and defines me as no other word has in the past.

I love to write; always have, always will. Writing takes me on journeys that I've never imagined before. Writing clears up all the clutter from everyday living. It's an amazing, powerful feeling to start with a word, then a sentence, and then to eventually create these wonderful, intriguing, fictitious characters that come to life on a piece of paper right before my eyes. I never know where I'm taking them or where there are taking me. These characters are figments of my imagination that readers embrace, be it to love them or hate them, as their own. Amazing.

I have an intimate love affair with the feel of crisp paper, colorful pens and a sturdy keyboard against my fingertips. I'm in heaven! I love the sound the keyboard makes as I type out my feelings and thoughts, word by word, page by page. Yeah, the power of words is awesome. Words can form opinions, change your attitude, make you happy, make you laugh when you want to cry. . . change your entire life.

I discovered this power at a very early age and it's never left me. I still remember the first time I read Terry McMillan's Disappearing Acts; I savored every page with a smile on my face and suffered heartfelt sadness as it ended. Yes, I appreciate and embrace the power of the written word. So, why do I torture myself? I do it because every time I think this self-publishing journey is too hard, or too competitive, or too expensive, or too this or too that. . . a little voice in the back of my head whispers for me to keep on keeping on. I have this strong, burning desire to be heard. I have stories to tell. It's that simple. That's my purpose in life.

No, I admit, my stories are not great pieces of literary work, I'll leave that to Toni Morrison, and I'm not trying to write the All American novel, but I have great stories to tell and fascinating stories to be heard. My wish is that I'm entertaining avid readers and maybe letting them take a look at themselves, a sister, a brother, an aunt. They can relate. They feel something if only for 200 pages. I'm taking them on a mini-vacation. And maybe, just maybe, by the time they have read the last page. . . they will take something positive away as well.

Yes, I'm a writer! I can scream that with pride and confidence because God has given me a measure of talent that I should utilize. Why do I torment myself? Because I have no choice when my inner voice is pushing me to follow my dream and to walk out on faith. With hard work, determination and drive, my voice can be heard as well. I have stories to tell.

Electa Rome Parks
Author of The Ties That Bind


Note: Electa Rome Parks published "The Ties That Bind" in May, 2001. It can be purchased through Bookamillion.com, Xlibris.com bookstore and Amazon.com. Email address: novelideal@aol.com

Ode to Writing

I think I've loved you since the first time we met.

There was just something about you that spoke to me, spoke to me with a passion and genuine honesty like never before. When I was in your presence, I realized my full potential, my destiny and became whole.

To this day, when I'm with you, I come alive. I burn with the fervor of a woman possessed. I can't get enough of you. Just the thought of being with you, makes my body ache and burn with desire.

You complete me. I know, I realize that's a very strong statement. But it's true, you make me whole. I couldn't imagine life without you. You're my beginning and end. My alpha and omega.

You're the keeper of my secrets and desires. You share my dreams as if they were your own. You delight in my triumphs. And my failures and hurt, you ease the pain with the stroke of a pen. You embrace me in loving arms with your magic and power.

When I become one with you, I feel...

Unstoppable
Superhuman
Alive
Immortal

In the deepest throes of my pain, just the thought of being without you, of not having you in my life. . . makes me so unbelievably sad. I can't phantom life without you. I need you. I desire you and I cling to you so desperately. Can't you see that?

We've had our ups and downs. I guess that's just part of life, part of every relationship. But I can't continue to live like this. Not knowing if you love me back. I think you do, but sometimes I'm not so sure. I shouldn't have to struggle and back pedal and take three steps forward to take one back. I shouldn't have to hustle every day of my life to prove my alliance. Don't tease me and make me work so hard to prove my love. I've shown you over and over again. I think I love you much more than you love me.

I realize I need you much more than you'll ever need me. I accept that fact that you have other friends in your life that love you just as much as I do. I'm willing to share as long as you will commit to me when you're with me. I adore you. Can't you see that? You are so beautiful. Only you can awaken my soul and create magic all around. I'm totally sprung.

I don't want to sound desperate and lonely, but I can't lose you, not now, not ever. I need you in my life like I need air to breath, eyes to see. You nourish my soul, my very being. I don't think I could go on without you. Does this give you pleasure? Pleasure that you have so much power over me?

Please try to understand. I can't, I will not, go on without you. Knowing I'd do almost anything to keep you in my life makes me take a good, hard look at myself. What type of woman am I?

How damaged I must be since I can't survive without you?

How desperate I must be to beg you to never leave me?

How deranged I must sound to love you even if you sometimes don't love me back?

See, I've loved you since the first time we met. And no matter what, I can't live without you.

On the Road Again

On the Road Again

Goin' places that I've never been

Seein' things that I may never see again

And I can't wait to get on the road again

As a toddler, it was common knowledge that my son, Brandon would fall asleep within minutes of riding in a car, any car. There was just something about the calmness, coziness and comfort of riding in the back seat that lulled him to sleep no matter how rambunctious he was minutes earlier.

Brandon would courageously fight against it, but with heavy, drooping eyelids betraying him, within minutes he would give in to the pull of heavenly sleep.

My son inherited this condition honestly. Look at his mama.

I don't fall asleep when I ride in a car or heaven forbid, when I'm behind the steering wheel. However, early on in my life, I made a fascinating discovery. I do my best thinking, dreaming, reflecting and decision making when I'm driving, especially long distance drives on the open freeway. I've always adored driving. Long distance driving doesn't bother me as it does some people. In fact, I long for those trips. When I was younger and carefree, it was common for me and a group of friends to scream out, "Road trip." And off we went, as far as our short money would take us.

I could clearly relate to parts of the movie, Thelma and Louise, because I identified with how getting away makes situations appear much clearer. I wouldn't have taken such drastic steps, but clearly by the end of the movie, they knew exactly what and who they were. And they knew they couldn't go back to the life they had left behind.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to travel to Jacksonville, FL, to visit a book club. I drove the 5 and a half hours distance from Atlanta. There is no other feeling like taking to the open road, alone with yourself. So, if you don't like yourself. . . oh well, now that's a problem. I've never been one to need a crowd around all the time; personally, I prefer my own company. So, I was as happy as a fat kid in an ice cream shop.

I turned off the radio, let down my car windows, sipped on my ice cold Cola Cola, ate my barbecue chips and leisurely cruised the miles away, small town by small town. Being alone with your thoughts is a wonderful thing. It's a feeling I relish because it is so rare for me. I think some people are afraid of being alone with themselves. Myself, I delight in it.

My drive was very therapeutic and I resolved some issues that were bothering me and were unclear at the time. During the course of my drive, by simply being able to listen, really listen to my spirit, some important decisions were made and closure was finally surrendered on others.

My senses were wide open and all over the place. The drive along 75S is by no means an exciting ride unless you enjoy passing through city after city declaring themselves the peach city, the pecan city, the magnolia city, seeing a giant peanut, signs for adult sex stores, billboards for miles and miles directing you to pull over and buy Georgia pecans or the one about thousands of books, all for only $3 each. I was tempted to pull off the exit to check out the books for $3, but I've also seen too many horror flicks that focus on road trips and horrible things that happen to the lone female. Same reason I don't stop at rest stops. . . but I digress.

At the time, that drive was exactly what I needed, excitement or not.

I saw, smelled, listened and embraced everything within my sight, all within the confines of my medium-size car. After making some overdue decisions, shortly afterwards, I passed a rural church sitting back off the interstate, in a country field of wild flowers of every color under the rainbow. At first I thought I was imagining things, even as I slowed to a crawl to observe it, because in it's simple, rustic appeal, it didn't seem real. It reminded me of a painting. A small country, white church with a steeple in the shape of a large white cross. It set quiet, strong, and defiant. It took it as a sign from God that I had indeed made the right decisions.

There is nothing like getting in touch with your spirit---away from the daily grind and distractions that clog and clutter our inner voice. Open the sunroof, let down the windows and hit the open road in search of your truths. It works for me. So. . .

Get your motor runnin'

Head out on the highway

Lookin' for adventure

And whatever comes our way



Making a Difference

"Congratulations on your Black Expressions Feature!"

Have you ever heard the expression that the smallest gesture can make the biggest impression? It is definitely true. You never know what a smile or simple gesture will do for a person. It could make all the difference in their world.

Currently, I'm going through my manic-depressive state (I'm just kidding people; I'm not really a manic-depressive person. I do not want to get any rumors started. No, Pilar from Diary of a Stalker isn't based on me):) My self-imposed label stems from a private joke my friends and I share. And I certainly understand the serious nature of the disease and do not mean to make light of it in any shape, form or fashion. However, I tend to have periods of great moods and then suddenly, I become "Miss Moody, Leave Me the Hell Alone." Lately, I haven't been functioning at my best from a professional standpoint.

Ask any author, we all have our extreme highs and low lows. We pray that the highs outweigh the lows. In my case, the lows have lasted a little longer lately. For those of you who follow me, you know that I have shed some tears, vented about "woe with me, poor me". . . how I'm not at the level I'd like to be. . . how I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired of the politics and changes of this industry. . . how I'm burnt out with the constant hustle of marketing and promoting. . . how I'm fed up with people who present themselves as your friend, but who really aren't. . . how you have to always keep your name in the forefront. . . how you always have to wear a thick skin. . . I vent about the cliques, the constant struggles and the pretentiousness. I vent about the store closings. . . I vent, vent, vent.

Then I take to my bed and simply sleep my troubles away. That's how I deal with stress. Covers over my head and blessed sleep. I have a straight out fabulous pity party and invite anyone and everyone to attend. You are courtesy invited to my "Life Sucks and Then We Die Party." Come as you are because no one really cares or gives a fuck.

I'm usually positive and upbeat, I thrive on that (I'm the affirmations queen), but sometimes life brings me the blues like anyone else. Reality is: Sometimes you simply can't make lemonade out of lemons. Sometimes if it smells like bs, looks like bs, then guess what, it is probably bs. Eventually I pray about the situation, count my many blessings, try not to sweat the small stuff which seems large gigantic stuff at that time, pick myself up, dust off my wounded ego and move on. After all, life doesn't stop for my woes. And who am I kidding? I couldn't and wouldn't give up writing any more than I could give up breathing.After all, writing is my connection and lifeline to the world. I don't want to lose that and be placed on life support. Writing makes up some of the best parts of who I am. And the majority of the time, I like, hell I love, who that person is.

But, I digress. . .

In the midst of my pity party, in the eye of the storm, imagine my surprise and delight when I received a simple text from an "A" list, New York Times bestselling, fierce author congratulating me on the accomplishment of the Black Expressions feature. I will not mention any names, but I thought that was such a grand, classy gesture. The author did not have to take the time, energy or a minute out of her day to send me that text. Just the fact that she did---took a moment out of her busy schedule (I know for a fact she was trying to meet a book deadline), made all the difference in the world. It was even more special because I personally admire her talent, success and beauty, both outside and within. I've followed her career from day one and marvel at her successes and humbleness.

Her simple gesture placed a smile on my face for the remainder of the day and she probably doesn't even realize it. But that's what it's all about, touching lives and not expecting anything in return. However, as are the laws of the universe, when you give unselfishly, eventually you do receive.

And just like that. . . that simple gesture successfully lifted me out of my funk and inspired me to keep on keeping on. People are taking notice of my hard work, dedication and passion for what I do. That is the one thing that is in my control. . . to keep the fire that burns deep within, alive. . . one word at a time.

"To often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word. . . when I awake I know I have one more day to make a difference in someone's life." ---author unknown



Enjoy Every Moment

Enjoy Every Moment

Take a moment and tell me what part of this scenario doesn't quite fit.

I was watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and crying.

Yes, crying. You read this correctly.

Most of us know for an absolute fact that an episode from any of the The Real Housewives franchise means pettiness, craziness and drama, drama, drama. An emotional moment is not usually part of the equation.

My emotional outburst and tears surprised even me.

Yes, I am an emotional person. Yes, I cry at sappy movies. Yes, I will cry from watching the evening news. But not from watching The Real Housewives.

I was watching the episode, the one right before the season finale. This is the episode where Kyle's oldest child/oldest daughter, Farrah, graduates from college. There were several touching moments that spoke from somewhere deep within and tugged at my heartstrings because I could relate at a maternal level.

I have a daughter, Briana, who's fifteen years old. She is full of life, always has a smile and a hug to offer to those around her. She keeps our family full of laughter. Saying “I love you” is a part of her every day lingo. Kisses follow. Plain and simple, Briana is a happy child. She’s a mini me.

During the celebratory lunch in honor of Farrah, with family and friends surrounding her, Kyle makes an emotionally-laced speech. My tears started to flow. At that point I realized, no matter how rich or poor, no matter what race or ethnicity, country or culture, there is a bond between mother and daughter that is powerful stuff.

With tears and a shaky voice, Kyle speaks of her love for her daughter, and there is no denying that, and how she has been blessed from the day she was born. She is so proud at the way her daughter turned out and the person she has always been. Let me repeat that. . . always been. Kyle triumphantly proclaimed she had waited for this moment for twenty-one years. In that moment, Kyle and I connected because I knew exactly what she meant and the emotions she was experiencing.

More tears flowed, from me.

And, I know that my moment is just around the corner; the moment when my daughter will go off to make her place in the world. This same daughter who told me many years ago: “I’m so happy that out of all the mommies in the world, God chose you for me. I love you Mommy!”

It’s true. Daughters are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. My daughter is only fifteen years old, but she has been the joy of my life, along with her brother, Brandon. They have taught me the true meaning of love, unconditional love, and motherhood and sacrifice and a willingness to lay down my life for another person, if need be. I can be a fierce tigress when defending my precious clubs. When they hurt, I hurt. When they are happy, I bask in their joy. Their triumphs are my victories.

I pray for them. I pray for greatness from them.

I could not picture life without them. My children make me proud every moment of my life. And because of them, I am a better person. I have enough wonderful memories of them growing up to last a lifetime. I smile in reflection. My only regret is that my mother never had the opportunity to get to know the wonderful people they are. My gifts.

Children grow up so fast. I will never forget, years ago, a complete stranger approached us in a store, maybe Sears. Brandon and Briana were smaller then and my husband and I were carrying them in our arms. He had Brandon and I had Briana. The middle-aged white male smiled and told us to always kiss them, hold them tight, and enjoy every moment because after age twelve, the years zoom by, in the blink of an eye. How true he was.

Enjoy every moment.



And I Want it Right Now

"Dear God, I pray for patience. And I want it right now!"

I'm impatient.

Impatient to a fault.

I want what I want when I want it. And I want it yesterday.

And you all know the world doesn't stop in mid-orbit to cater to my whims. So, lots of times, hell, many times, I find myself highly frustrated and spasming out because it takes everything in me to contain myself. Oh, I'm also a little bit spoiled.

That's not good.

But, I gave up kiddng myself that I would work on it years ago. Who was I kidding? I'll go to my grave with an air of impatience dangling in my midst. In fact, in death, I'll probably be wondering why it's taking my family so long to bury me ( or cremate, haven't decided which). And then I'll be complaining because it's taking the heavenly angels too long to open the pearly gates and let me enter.  Later, I'll spasm out because I'm tired of waiting in line to speak with God. Why can't my name be moved up the list to the VIP session? I would want express service. LOL.

Sometimes, we have a rare opportunity to learn a life lesson played out in a very public manner and with a very unlikely character. A life lesson came the other day, in the form of Ted Williams, the homeless man with the golden voice. No one can tell me that wasn't God's intervention.

After sinking to his lowest since succumbing to issues dealing with drugs, alcohol and unemployment, Ted Williams had been homeless for over a decade . The unemployment came after losing the battle with the drugs and alcohol. Yet, people who have now been interviewed, remembering him from his days on the streets of Ohio, all say he is a kind and gentle man. . . with the gift of voice. Even with the harsh, daily reality of living on the streets and realizing how far he had sunk, Ted never lost his spirit nor his gift. Amazing.

Fast forward or maybe even play it forward, an angel in the form of a newspaper reporter, records and videos Ted speaking and millions of hits later on the Internet --- the rest is history. A viral success.

What is amazing is that through all Ted's struggles and challenges of making a life on the streets, God protected his voice until it was his time. If that isn't a testimony, then I don't know what is. We may go through up and downs in life --- because that is life. However, when it is our time, there is no one or any thing or any situation that can stop us from living up to God's greatness and special plan for us. No weapons formed against us, no naysayers, no haters, no dream dashers, no pessimist, no one can stop it. No one. It's all in divine time and divine order. Isn't that comforting to know?

Next time I complain about what hasn't happened in my life, in my time frame, I'll think of Ted Williams and the wonderful, supernatural miracles that can happen if we leave it up to God's timeline. God has our back.

It didn't escape my attention that even though Ted was homeless, that didn't stop him from telling anyone who would listen what gift God had bestowed upon him and if they allowed him, he showed them too in a rich, articulate, golden, perfect, flawless voice. Praise his name.

Skeptics are always saying that they haven't seen any miracles during our lifetimes.  Ain't no people being risen from the death or a few fish and loaves of bread transformed to feed many. I say, miracles are absolutely out there. We have to see them for what they are. We also have to open our eyes and our hearts. To go from homelessness, and three days later you are cruising the media circuit, inspiring people, moving people to tears and receiving multiple job offers and a house---that's a miracle. Just ask Ted Williams.

If that isn't a perfect example of God working supernatural goodness in someone's life than I don't know what is.

God is good.

A Toast to a New Year!

Another year. A new beginning.

Happy New Year! It's 2011. Can you believe it? My, time does fly. . . For as long as I can remember, I've always loved celebrating the start of a new year. For me, a new year symbolizes starting over with a fresh, clean slate. . . another chance to make right the wrongs of the previous year. For me, a new year is like being given the gift of a new beginning.

I stopped making new year resolutions years ago because, for me, they were pointless. Caught up in the excitement and lure of a new year, I randomly chose three areas I needed or wanted to make improvements. Mind you, these were tossed out without a clear plan in place. Usually, I was doomed bfore I even finished writing the list and typically by three months into the new year, my resolutions were totally forgotten. Nothing accomplished.

Now, I use the start of each new year to reflect on the previous year, good and bad, and to focus on obtainable improvements the following year with a logical action plan. My goal is to always end the next year in a better place: emotionally, physically, spirtually and mentally.

I strive to constantly enlighten myself as to who and what I am as a person and my place in the world. Only then can I live up to my full potential and in living up to my full potential, only then am I at the greatest level to give back and serve the greatest good. You see, I strive to strengthen and utilize the power I possess inside.

New years come and go so quickly, blink and you'll miss living. Raising my glass, lets toast to another year.Here's to love, happiness, good health, joy and prosperity---more than you can stand. Lets toast to new beginnings.