#welcomehomewoodhill

If you've known me for longer than 5 minutes you probably know where and who I consider, "home."

Home... like a good friend I look up to shared a couple weeks ago... is where our people are. It's where we find rest. It is also where we get really passionate about things not being how they should be. It is a place where you are intentional. My home just happens to be Woodhill. 

Don't get me wrong... I love Lexington as a whole. I love San Diego, Santa Cruz, Harlem, Jackson, Knoxville, Boca, D.C. etc. I have a little image of home in each of those places. But Woodhill has always been where my people are, and where a little girl dreamed of having a home with a basement and a yard where kids and families can just be. 

Fast forward to the year 2021... with a lot of prayer, patience, (some impatience too) and a very out of the norm blessing in disguise... that little girls dream of a house in Woodhill, with a basement and backyard has become a reality!  

Yes. I bought my first house! It just so happens to be my mentors current house... and they haven't been able to move into their new home yet... so really it seems right on par for how our lives typically go. We dream real big and then we gotta wait for the rest of the world to catch up with us!

But now it's really really close... like I just looked at paint colors and we moved the kitchen table over to their new spot (just down the road). So while we inch closer and closer to this new reality. Please keep on praying over the transition, the countless memories that have and will be made, that neighbors continue to feel more like family than strangers... and that I somehow magically learn how to manage an entire house like a real adult...sheesh. 

No, but on a serious note... this is all God. And if you wanna know just how good the Creator is, use this wild ride as an example! This last little bit of life has felt like a never ending pit of darkness... so when I remind myself of the promises the Lord has kept, and that the homie hasn't forgotten me or my people... I am extremely grateful. 

So, if you've made it this far on the journey with me, you're awesome. I'll cry forever over this one... but just know when the time comes and its safe for us to have the biggest housewarming party known to humankind. It will absolutely be happening! 

In the meantime, if you feel compelled to help me furnish this epic blessing with cute and functional things... you can find my registry's below. 

https://www.target.com/gift-registry/gift/welcomehomewoodhill 

https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/396AW3KMDS0FG?ref_=wl_share

#welcomehomewoodhill

365 Days Later

I looked up the definition of survivors guilt… 

“Survivors guilt is a mental condition that occurs when a person believes they have done something wrong by surviving a traumatic or tragic event when others did not, often feeling self-guilt.

A variant form has been found among rescue and emergency services personnel who blame themselves for doing too little to help those in danger, and among therapists, who may feel a form of guilt in the face of their patients' suffering.”

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I remember watching him pick at the skin peeling off his very fresh tattoo... while several adults talked about next steps... "my brothers keeper" in big block letters across his forearm. The name of that brother woven within the sentence. Up to that point he hadn't looked up at us. Head bowed, eyes blank. But when I took his arm to examine the ink and commented on how "he would love this." I got a nod of approval. 

No one prepared us for the guilt and shame we have.

No one prepared us for this hardness inside our souls. 

No one prepared them to watch their best friend die. 

///

All we can manage to do some days is... Asking the same questions. Praying the same prayers. Crying and screaming for help but nothing has changed. And yet everything has changed. 

I am tired of believing the lie that my job is to go to funerals and vigils instead of graduations. 

///

365 days later. 

365 days after I reached out for him. 

365 days after blood spilled & our community wouldn’t ever be the same again. 

365 days our hearts have longed for change. 

I hope no one ever has to experience a young person's face being revealed as they are turned over in the grass. I’ve prayed for the nightmares to stop. For the images of violence to be removed. That memories of him laughing and playing ball and hanging out in the front yard would take over my mind. 

365 days later and the total number of young people lost to gun violence in Lexington, Knoxville, Louisville, Chicago, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, etc. has doubled its usual average. 

Day after day after day. 

We hear of another child killed.

Eventually you start believing lies. 

You believe things like you could have done more. It should have been you. What if this or that would have happened instead. 

The guilt takes over. The lack of hope feels heavy. And like I wrote 365 days ago, the sadness creeps in without your permission. And if I knew then what I know now... I would have told myself to let go. To release those lies. To grieve and heal and not to become numb like I am today. To breathe in and out and pray for the strength I still haven’t been able to muster on my own.

There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t think of or pray for my kids. I think of how so many lives changed that day. I think how we are so far from where we need to be. And other times I recognize how far we've come. 

I had dread about this day on the calendar… Like once I turn the page something horrible would happen. But the reality is. Horrible things have happened and beautiful things have happened nearly all 365 days since we lost Donya. 

What is important is will I sit in a pit of hopelessness or will I fight to stand tall another day? Will I work hard to make sure this trauma can’t happen again? Will I let go of the things I feel I need to be in control of and just let God be God? Or will I believe lies that cripple me from being who I was meant to be? 

This year has been so many people feeling guilt, shame, sadness and anger. I hope we can lay those things down and know that's not what God wants for us. And it's not what our boy would want. There will be joy for us yet.

Grandparents Are In A Class All On Their Own

Grandparents are in a class all on their own. 

They are almost always wiser than our parents. They tend to be sweet first, and heavy handed later. For some they are more like parents to their grandkids. For others, maybe they never got to experience a true relationship with them. 

Some live in our homes, or right down the road. Others, out of state or even further than that. 

Adoptive grandparents can become someones saving grace. A place they eat some good food and feel peace. Oftentimes listening to wisdom they didn't know they needed to rejoin their biological family. 

Grandparents have lived lives we can't even imagine ourselves. From their childhood, to their victories and failures... maybe a black and white image or story told around the table is what connects us to them. 

Some are much younger grandparents and they are alive to see great grandkids etc. Others may have a trauma or difficult past that keeps them apart. 

Grandparents are the ones who will slip you a dollar behind your parents back or rat you out in a heartbeat if they don't like what they see! Easily our role models, prayer warriors, and "come and sit down next to me" kinda relationships.

I was blessed with a mix of it all. Stories I am still learning and listening to. Memories of lives I never knew, and some I have the honor to know now. 

Grandparents invoke faith. They encourage purpose. They whisper wisdom into our minds and hearts from a young age in hopes we will one day believe it in ourselves. 

Today I looked down at my phone in disbelief. My Grandma, our Grandma Martin, had left this world. 

We swore she would outlive us. That she would keep sharing stories of friends and family forever. That nothing this world threw her way could ever slow her down. 

She was blunt and kind and loved God more than anything. She was the tiniest ball of sweet and sassy.

As broken and in shock as I am, I have peace... because I know she had it her entire life. Until the very end, she didn't fear pain or death. Only the absence of God. 

Her little giggle. Her smile. Her willingness to love a stranger and a relative the same. I can only hope to carry those traits in a similar way. 

I will deal with the heaviness, the grief that comes with loss and many things out of our control. I'm sure I will feel and have much more to say in the future... 

But for now I want to recognize the joy she was to me and so many she came in contact with over the years. How she can finally ask God the questions she's wanted to for so long. To be reunited with my Grandpa, her siblings and parents in Heaven. 

Rest In Peace