Showing posts with label current events. Show all posts

Medical Professionals Chosen By Race: Racism or Self-Preservation?

It started out as a simple post.  A friend of mine posted on social media that she had made a conscious decision to have medical professionals that looked like her because she believed they were stronger advocates for her and her family than those who did not.  Immediately, replies of affirmation  hit the page, along with stories of people who hadn't made the decision initially and the medical battles they fought because of what they felt were preconceived notions about African-American patients. 

Blocked, deleted, and called a racist

The past few days have been filled with strife for the nation. There have been countless peaceful protests and horribly, there have been terrible riots and violence. It’s been awful and unproductive. I’ve posted on my personal social media pages several times that violence and rioting had no place in this protest—no matter who you were. I’ve condemned violence. I’ve celebrated people of all races and ethnicities coming together. I’ve also shared my thoughts and fears.

I recently posted the below on a personal account:

“I had a lady tell me that I have no idea what it's like to have your husband leave the house every day and have no idea if he is going to come back home in the evening. He's an LEO. I told her that I live it every day, not only my husband, but my son, and my fathers, brothers, brothers in love, nephews, etc.

I have plenty of LEOs in my family, so I get it. But I've been black my entire life and I get THAT more. #imjustsaying

A Tale of Two Worlds...

Some of you will be quick to unfollow me for this one and it’s okay. I’m tired of being silent about it and if being vocal about my truth causes people to walk away, so be it.

The heartbreak of the Manukyans and the questions raised by their IVF journey

I've been following the story of Anni and Ashot Manukyan since it hit the major news media circuits a few days ago.  Anni and her husband struggle(d) with secondary infertility and decided to use CHS Fertility to get pregnant via in vitro fertilization (IVF).

Why I took my 12 y/o son to the polls

I called the sitter on the way to the house.  Bug had the day off from school.  The sitter was still with Honeybee and baby A.  He was enjoying the day doing what preteens do on a rainy and dreary day.  He was sleeping.  I told the sitter that I would be picking him up in about ten minutes and for him to be ready.

When are we going to humble ourselves and pray?

Guys, I have to preempt my usual Weekend Recap and vent. The past few days my heart has been breaking over and over again. Last Thursday, avowed white supremacist Gregory Bush, walked into a Louisville, Kentucky grocery store and killed two black senior citizens. The victims were minding their own business, grocery shopping, and were killed. Fifteen minutes earlier, the same shooter had tried to enter a predominantly black church but found the doors locked and went on his way.

Human Trafficking is REAL (A scary moment for a friend of mine)...

Guys, I have scrolled through FB countless times and have recently seen stories of human traffickers. Some I paid attention to. Some I dismissed as click bait. After today, I never will again. This morning, I saw a post describing an ordeal of a woman and her child being almost abducted and something seemed scarily familiar. I contacted a friend who seemed similar to the person described in the post and confirmed it was her. This morning, someone tried to abduct her and her newborn baby. Guys, my absolute heart.

Depression is Real

Many years ago, I wrote a poem while in high school. I was going through depression then, but no one knew it. I smiled every day. I was polite and poised. I made sure to represent my family’s name well. I made sure to maintain high grades and speak positive. I encouraged others and made sure no one left my presence without feeling like I truly cared about their well being. Inside I was dying. I walked out of one room with a smile and turned the corner by myself with a frown. I compared myself to other incessantly. Why wasn’t I popular? Why didn’t people like me? Why did I get teased so much? Why wasn’t my mother raising me? Why wasn’t my father raising me? I was hurt. When I wrote the poem, it was to explain to myself what I was feeling and the impact it was having on me.

Yesterday I was saddened to read the news of Kate Spade, who chose to commit suicide to escape her personal struggles. I can only imagine the heartbreak she felt in believing the world and her family would be better off without her presence. I can only imagine how hard her husband, daughter, and loved ones are searching to see if there were signs. Of course, now there are rumors of splits and mental illness. That now is not the point. With her gone, all that remains is the prevention of another such tragedy before it’s too late.

Happy International Women's Day!

Happy International Women's Day

I woke up this morning, full on “get-this-day-started” mode, and turned on the news for some informative background noise as I prepped my babies’ breakfasts. The news fairly shouted that today was March 8th, International Women’s Day 2018. I smiled at that because I know some people see the day as unnecessary and completely out of place, but any day that allows me to celebrate the brave women in my circle is a day I want to embrace. (BTW, that was a heck of a long sentence). Anywho, let’s discuss for a moment, shall we.

The first International Women’s Day was celebrated in 1911 started by the Suffragettes. These ladies were the scourge of society when they first started. In a world where women were treated as little more than property, and indeed could not even be willed property or own any of their own, men thought the notion that women deserved equal treatment ( as in property ownership, financial management, and voting rights) as preposterous. Today, in several countries across the world, the same beliefs hold fast. Women are seen as inferior and weak-minded in these places. Some of “these places” are closer than you think.

As I listened to the announcement, my eyes were immediately drawn to my Honeybee and my Baby A. both contently in their places in our family room. They are our future and it is so important that they grow up to know they are strong women with their own minds who can achieve anything they set their mind out to achieve.

It’s the same with the women in the #TTC, #infertility, and #fertilitymom communities. We are strong women. Remember the first time you stabbed your stomach fat with that long behind needle? Yeah, that’s strength. Or the time, she had to get blood drawn from your HAND because all your veins refused to cooperate from the daily blood draws in the fertility process? Yep, that’s strength. Or, the moment you had to pick yourself up and try again when that #BFN showed its face across the latest test. That is strength.

This isn’t some man bashing post when I say women, you rock! You absolutely do. I’m glad it is recognized and celebrated. I’m glad women all around the world are seeking a better way, seeking better opportunities! 

Today, women can aspire to be and do whatever they desire to.  I'm looking forward to seeing that world when my girls become women.

Have an awesome day!


Something has to change...

I was supposed to post some cutesy Valentine’s Day recap for you today. It was supposed to include pictures of our day and the love that was shared. I may do that later this week, but not today. Today, I want to have a moment with you. Today, I want to have a raw and open discussion with you about yesterday’s school shooting-the 8th such shooting in our nation this school year. I want to talk to you and make it clear that something has to change.

I was at work when news broke of the school shooting. I caught a glimpse of it on my way to my desk. There was a gentleman looking at the news feed and I asked him what was going on.

“Another school shooting.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“The media says 20, but you know the sensationalize everything. Probably nothing”

And he walked away…and I did too hoping and praying he was right, but sickened that it was so easily dismissed by this gentleman and worried because this was the same spot I was in when I saw the destruction and devastation of Newtown. I couldn’t do it again and prayed it was an error.


Saturday, our family continued the tradition that we have observed for the past four years.  On Oct 17th, we walked to end Alzheimer's.  This cruel disease has marked itself in my family over and over and over again.  I've seen family members who raised me suddenly not remember my name.  I have seen them forget to eat, to walk, to talk.  I've watched them deteriorate and watched muscles atrophy.  Then, when I thought that my heart wouldn't take any more, I watched them smile, have an amazing moment of lucidity, and soon after return to Heaven to meet God there.

When my great-grandmother was diagnosed, I was convinced she wouldn't deteriorate rapidly.  This was a strong woman.  She was the backbone for everything and everyone.  There was no way this disease would claim her.  But this disease did what it does best--destroyed--and soon, she was internal to herself.  I started walking for a cure then.
The reason I walk...

Saturday morning, we all donned our purple and drove an hour away to stand in freezing temperatures and walk with others who shared our plight.  We were late arriving this year and I missed the annual trek to the table to collect the colored flowers to reflect the loss of my great-grandmother and the fight that my relatives are currently enduring.  I was heartbroken about that. This is a ritual we've done as a family over and over again, one that never gets old.  One that I hated I would miss out on.

We'd arrived just as the walk began.  FatherWinter, Superburg, and I hustled in line with the other walkers and began the pilgrimage that is our walk.  Three miles later, we crossed the pavilions steps signaling another successfully completed walk.  I was certain Mama was in Heaven aware that we were still walking every year just for her.  May it one day not be necessary to walk at all.

A sea of purple all supporting an awesome cause
The social media campaign for the walk asked why do I walk.  I walk for this moment.  I walk for my great-grandmother.  I walk for my great-aunts.  I walk for children and grandchildren.  I walk so that they won't have to.  I walk to show my son so that he knows the importance of this movement.  I walk because one day there will be a cure and I want to know that the steps I made contributed in some small way.

#ENDALZ is so much more than a social media hashtag.  It's my war cry.  It will be song well until the walk is over.  Let's find a cure.

Explaining 9/11

Photo Credit:  Google Search
When the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center, I was a senior in college and I was asleep. It was a Tuesday and I’d had a class schedule that meant my first class wouldn’t begin until 1PM. I hadn’t planned on waking up until much later that day, so I was more than annoyed when a girlfriend called and woke me up out of a restful slumber.

“Girl! Are you watching TV”

I remember sighing and asking her what channel and remember her asking me what channel I had. That shook me and I turned on the television just in time to see the second plane slam into the South Tower. I hung up the phone and ran into my best friend/college apartment mate’s room. I swung open the door and she stared at me wrapped in the arms of her boyfriend (now husband). Tears streamed down her face. I knew immediately it was no accident.

That day was a sad combination of raw emotion. I remember throwing on clothes and sobbing with relief as my mother picked up the phone from Jersey. She was at work, mere Life Flight moments from the destruction and could see the smoke from the roof. She begged me to stay inside because she feared more attacks and I told her I couldn’t because I had “a job to do”. I remember changing clothes, grabbing my reporter’s pad, and heading out. Somewhere along the line I ran into my male best friend and heart string. He and I walked together to the college auditorium where there was standing room only while our chancellor gave a speech about the tragic events, why classes would not be cancelled “because he would not let them win”, and how we needed to pray. I remember my friend praying with me and keeping me calm despite not hearing from his family at the Pentagon and in DC. I remember his walking me to my 1PM class and telling me to go straight to class and then to go home, that he loved me, and that everything would be alright. That was 14 years ago and I remember almost every detail like it was yesterday.

In recent years, I have shown Superbug pictures and articles of that day. I showed him the slide show that showed the destruction of the towers. I showed him the candlelight vigils. Last year, when he asked why the people didn’t come down the stairs, I showed him the captured of pictures of those who jumped because of the heat of the flames and being blocked from any other way.

When we discussed 9/11, we discussed people who executed a terror attack because they believed they were within their right to do so. He asked what I was doing on that fateful day, how I felt, and if I think about the day anymore. As he gets older, he doesn’t ask about it as often. I suppose it is similar to thoughts I had about Pearl Harbor. I was aghast at the attack and could only imagine what my great-grandmother felt, but I couldn’t quite relate and some how felt a safety bubble that it wouldn’t happen again. At least I did.

I hope and pray that Superbug and Honeybee never experience a moment of profound historical significance as 9/11 or Pearl Harbor. While it is always important to #NeverForget, let us hope and pray that the next generation won’t have such a moment to recall.


Love, Live, Laugh--Date Night

Well, that was quick! In my 35 by 35 post, I mentioned that I would like to have monthly date nights with my husband. I haven't even mentioned this to him yet nor am I even certain he reads this blog, but God grants us the desires of our hearts. Last night, my husband and I had the opportunity to laugh out loud and be a bit carefree as we went to see Kevin Hart, one of our favorite comedian/actors perform.

Now, to know me is to know that I have a love of Kevin Hart. To know my husband is to know that he enjoys laughter (and magic). For his birthday (February), I surprised him with tickets to the Kevin Hart show which was coming to DC in August. I thought I’d purchased tickets for Friday only to realize rather quickly that I purchased them for Thursday instead. Not a big deal as I am certainly up for mid-week excursions. But I have to admit that, as I write this a day later, I am exhausted.

CIBH: I just want to live

I've been very silent.  Painfully silent.  I've kept my opinions to myself, my voice to myself.  I haven't spoken aloud my thoughts, fears, or frustrations.  The numerous times I've wanted to do so on this blog and haven't are way too many.  I've wanted to keep it close to sterile, focusing on Honeybee and the process, our family, and the good of the world.  Then, with all of the things that have been happening lately, it has become more than apparent that this world that Honeybee and Superbug are going to inherit is looking very different from my views as a child.

This week, last week, and the week before the news have been heavily peppered with stories of unarmed African-Americans being killed or dying under mysterious circumstances.  Some were killed while worshiping.  Another died after a traffic stop where an arrest probably should not have happened in the first place.  The last was killed by a campus police officer in a video so heinous that ALL of his supervisors and the leaders in the city have completely and totally distanced themselves from the shooter.  While I believe one case was simply an overreach after finding someone who knew their Constitution rights and being upset that they wouldn't back down, the others have clear racial overtones.  It bothers me.  It scares me.

Amtrak thoughts

Logo from site.

So, I’ve purposely not commented on the Amtrak tragedy. It really hit me in a soft spot. I’m familiar with the route that Train 188 took. I’ve ridden it several times. While I only rode 188, a few times and always for business, I was a familiar fixture on Trains 80 and 94. Train 94 was the first train ride for my then 3-year-old Superbug. We sat in the Quiet Car and amazed the conductor because he was so well behaved that no one knew he was on the train from the moment we boarded to the moment we left. I remember getting kudos for his behavior. I remember Superbug’s excitement. The quiet car. The same type that was so heavily damaged that they didn’t find the last body until yesterday. The same quiet car I would look forward to riding in when journeying from Fredericksburg to Newark Penn Station. The train would change out engines at DC’s Union Station and then there was the comfortable, quiet, and plush ride the rest of the way.

When I saw the news, I was moved. My mother was as well. Prior to marriage, I would often make my weekend and holiday visits my mother in New Jersey using Amtrak. I favored two trains in this endeavor. Train number 80 from Rocky Mount, NC (if I was leaving from my hometown) and Train number 94 if I was leaving from my home in Northern Virginia. I think everyone who has ever ridden an Amtrak train felt a connection with this story. Those who believe in God, I imagine, began to pray.

I can’t imagine the emotions those on the train experienced. One minute everything is fine, the next everything is chaos. People were missing shoes, were bloodied, and were delirious. I saw pictures of the Quiet Car on the news. It looked like someone had taken a can opener and ripped the side completely open. I felt the shudder. My favorite was the quiet car. As Superbug grew older, we would go to the “other” cars and enjoy the ride there talking and enjoying each other’s company. I would have a bag of entertainment and snacks that I’d deploy when things got boring. Those were good days and good memories. I look forward to sharing those with Honeybee one day.

I know the conductor is sick with grief and the family and friends of the departed, likewise. I hope everyone finds comfort and that this full cause of this tragic event is understood. In the meantime, I intend to keep them all in my prayers.


Weekend Recap: The Fight Edition

It was supposed to be the weekend of legends!  Sports all weekend long.  NBA Playoffs with defending champs San Antonio Spurs vs. the Los Angeles Clippers.  And the fight of the century with Floyd "Money" Mayweather and Manny "Pack-man" Pacquiao.  I was so hyped.  My entire family was hyped.  We had no idea where we were going to watch the fight, but rest assured we knew we would be watching it.  It had been discussed off and on for weeks.  I am a Mayweather fan, but likewise am a fan of Pacquiao for his open love of Christ and the amount of aid he returns to his community. I was hoping to see an underdog victory in some way form or fashion. 

Unfortunately, our weekend started a little differently than planned.  Friday morning, our Honeybee woke up with a really high fever.  I ended up locking on a sick visit appointment for about 9:40 and rushed out of the house once Superbug was safely on the bus.  The doctor's office determined pretty quickly that our Honeybee had an ear infection...again.  This is the third or fourth time she has had one and the office mentioned the possibility of an ear nose and throat specialist in the future.  For now, they gave her a shot of antibiotics and scheduled her for a follow-up appointment and shot the next day.  Honeybee was not a happy camper and was quite cranky. 

Because of the fever and because she definitely needed Mommy's TLC, I couldn't take her to the daycare.  Usually, I would just come home and telecommute.  This time that wasn't an option.  You see, Friday was scheduled to be my last day at the office.  I will be starting a new position with a new company in a few days and Friday was the day I was to check out at the outgoing location.  This left me with only one option.  I had to complete the check out procedures with Honeybee at the office.

Fortunately, the office was very great about it.  I was able to complete all of my checkout proceedings within 2 hours. My colleagues assisted by keeping Honeybee entertained.  It actually worked out well because the team hadn't seen her in a very long time.  Even though she was under the weather, it was still a great opportunity for them to see how big she has gotten.  After I checked out, I was able to get Honeybee to sleep, which she sorely needed.  When FatherWinter and Superbug arrived later that afternoon, Honeybee was still resting but woke up later feeling quite a bit better.

I was holding her and recounting the shots and Honeybee's new medicine regiment when FatherWinter switched subjects and mentioned the upcoming fight.  We'd still not decided where we would watch the event.  He suggested that we should host a fight party since we hadn't heard anyone who would be doing the same.  I thought it was a great idea since I didn't want to take Honeybee out while she was ill and liked the idea of being able to put her down comfortably in her crib where she could rest well.  We discussed a few of the specifics and decided to go for it.

Honeybee felt well enough to "inspect" the chips in the pantry
Saturday morning, the text went out to several friends and family to invite them over.  It was nothing major.  Pizza and wings from Pizza Hut, tons of chips and dip, and a few beverages.  About twenty people came over and we had a really good time.  I have to admit I was really hoping that Mayweather would be on the receiving end of at least one major knockdown. It didn't happen though. For most of us, it happened as we expected.  Mayweather won the fight.  Pacquiao had a couple of nice hits, but didn't deliver the blows we thought he could have.  All in all, it wasn't the fight we were hoping for, but I did enjoy having friends and family over.

However, I still must admit that the fight was overhyped in a major way.  I saw all of the cleverly placed marketing strategies.  I saw the over the top ones with the Burger King mascot and Justin Beiber walking in with Mayweather.  I saw the Geico placement with the selfie taken right before the fight.  I saw all of the marketing money, but didn't see the "epic" fight that I'd hoped for.  The fight did indeed seem pretty one sided most of the match.  I'd hoped to see more blow for blow. I wanted to see a competition and have something to truly discuss with my husband.  We did more discussing of the final seconds in the Spurs game than we did with the fight.  (BTW congrats, Clippers). Okay,I'm off the soap box.

Today, the family went to church and heard a wonderful message.  Our Pastor preached on being the victor and not the victim. There was a rousing sermon, a powerful musical worship experience, and then fellowship with family and friends after.  After church was over and after running errands, FatherWinter and I decided to watch a movie our church hosted earlier this week.  We were unable to attend, so we pulled God's Not Dead up on Amazon and watched it there.  What an awesome movie it was.

If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.  I was a bit skeptical that I would enjoy it, but I have to say that it was well worth the time.

Well, that's our weekend in a nutshell.  I hope your weekend was just as enjoyable. 

Take care and be blessed.


Where there's smoke, there's fire...right?

Beverly Johnson:
Photo caption:Beverly
Yesterday afternoon, I was doing my regular lunch break skim of current events making sure there was nothing I needed to bring to FatherWinter’s attention during our daily evening share and saw a bold headline that caught my eye.  “Bill Cosby Drugged Me.  This Is My Story.”  Like everyone, I’ve seen and heard the numerous women who have stepped forward and stated that Mr. Cosby allegedly sexually assaulted them or drugged them.  I listened to their story and reserved judgment as I have no idea who is or is not speaking accurately.  This one, however, stopped me in my tracks.  This article was written by Beverly Johnson.  Yes, African-American CEO, model, legacy, ICON, Beverly Johnson. 

This woman was the first African-American woman to grace the cover of Vogue.  In 1975, she was the first African-American woman to appear on the French magazine cover Elle.  This woman’s pictures were in Jet and Ebony.  I remember seeing her in various media mentions as a youngster and well into young womanhood.  As simple and wrong as it sounds, this woman immediately had some clout with me.  This is not to say that the other women who have come forward have not struck a chord.  They have.  I have said in recent weeks that something must be going on because suddenly everyone is coming forward with the same story, same method of delivery, and same deep scares.  Coming from a woman who has faced sexual abuse, I know how difficult it is to come forward and tell your story.  I know the doubt and mockery that can come.  I don’t take that away from any of these women.  However, seeing Ms. Johnson’s face next to article and then again during her television interview on Today this morning drove this story a more out into the open for me.
The Cosby Show
Photo Credit: In Flex we
Just what is really going on with Mr. Cosby?  Like millions of other Americans, I grew up watching The Cosby Show on television.  My great-grandmother, cousins, and I would sit in my great-grandmother’s room and would watch the antics of Cliff, Claire, Sandra, Denise, Theo, Vanessa, and Rudy.  We loved the anniversary episode where Rudy sang to Cliff’s parents.  I laughed out loud when Clair politely and assertively put Elvin in place after her spoke chauvinistic babble.  This was our show.  We were pleased to see positive representations of African-Americans on the television.  Here, there were doctors and lawyers, entrepreneurs, business executives, musical artists.  I saw possibility and familiarity as I knew I had relatives who’d attended college and knew it what I was going to do given the chance and opportunity.  It was why I kept my grades up, why I studied hard, why I stayed out of trouble and didn’t follow the crowd.  Mr. Cosby was a “good guy” to me and filled my desire for a father in a time when my father was unknown and not present.  You can imagine my shock at the first case alerting of this issue.  And, I sorrowfully admit that I thought “is this someone who is trying to blackmail him”.  But then more and more women started coming forward.  It seemed everyday someone else was giving an interview and showing support for the original alleged victim.  And my thoughts took me to Tiger Woods.

Tiger Woods
Photo credit:
Remember when Tiger and his former wife had their famous holiday episode where he crashed the car and she chased him with the golf club?  At first it seemed some a small domestic issue, crazy, but isolated.  Then, suddenly there was a woman who claimed she was having an affair with Tiger.  The world laughed, but then came another, and another, and another until finally Tiger admitted that ALL of them were telling the truth.  He’d been intimate and/or inappropriate with ALL of them while married to his wife.  There was so much smoke in this instance and the fire was certainly revealed.  Is it so wrong to wonder the same in this instance?

We’ve gone from one woman who has been mocked and ridiculed to several dozen.  Each one with similar instances, similar storylines, and we’ve had no rebuttal from Mr. Cosby.  This is definitely a smoke, yell fire situation, right?  I have to say I am not in any position to judge anyone.  I certainly don’t want to be judged, but with all of the noise that has been raised from these events recently, I’m not sure that my thoughts of Mr. Cosby’s brand will ever be the same.

It would appear the public is thinking the same. Mr. Cosby has lost his upcoming television show with NBC.  He's resigned from his Board of Trustee position with Temple University.  Endorsements are being lost. In a strange way, it appears the alleged victims of this heinous act will have some comfort in they are being believed and heard despite what they feared.

I leave my musings with this:  I will continue to watch this story develop, await to see if there is any word from the Cosby camp, and hope that appropriate punishment, apology, and change occurs.  


This is not the world I grew up in...and sometimes that worries me

I've been sitting here this week watching the news.  I know.  I know.  I can already see the eye rolls and hear the groans, but I am a news nut.  It stems from my grandmother turning it on before we got ready for school in the morning, in the afternoon when we came home, and at night before we went to bed.  We used to talk about what we'd seen.  The practice carried itself with me when I went to college and chose to major in a Communications field.  I still watched the news all day, every day.

This week, I've been watching and seeing that this world is not the same one I grew up in.  I was watching a story with accompanying video of a female student who attacked her teacher after being told to get off her cell phone during class.  The student threw a chair and book at the teacher and the teacher retaliated.  The student's family was demanding the teacher be fired for not behaving "professionally".  They blamed the teacher for retaliating.  They are talking about suing the school system and the city.  But, they never made any acknowledgement anywhere that their family member was wrong for physically assaulting the instructor or even thinking it was okay to do so.  Ummmmmm.....I'm sorry.  I have a problem with that.

I was raised in a family of educators.  I was also raised with good morals and taught to respect my elders and those in authority positions.  I may not agree with what they say.  I may not agree with how they say it, but I am certainly not allowed to put my hands on them just because they tell me something I don't agree with.  This is the same way I teach my son and will teach my daughter. I mean...has the world changed so much that it is okay for children to assault adults and the child is not disciplined for that?

My husband and I very much STILL believe in the old ways.   My son still holds doors open for women and elderly.  He still says yes sir and yes ma'am.  He looks people in the eye when talking to them.  If he says "yeah", instead of yes when talking to an adult, we have a problem.  He is allowed to play on the street in front of our home and down to the end of the same street.  He may not do even that without permission to be outside. I don't think my husband and I are being unreasonable with our expectations of his behavior and while Superbug is sometimes joked for having "strict" parents, we have yet to have an educator tell us they have a problem with our son's behavior (minus an occasional age appropriate distraction).  Moreover, we usually hear compliments with regards to his presence in the class.  If our child did what was done in that classroom, I can assure you the conversation held in front of the camera would not have been calling for the dismissal of the instructor.

Now, to be fair, I don't know the entire story.  I only know what I saw on the camera.  I am well aware that some teachers can have agendas against parents and take them out of students.  But even then, there are ways to handle it.  Let me share a true story with you.  A close relative of mine had to have words with her son's teacher after the teacher kept trying to hit on her husband.  After the husband made it clear that he was not interested, all of a sudden there were bad reports made just about every day.  The relative complained to the principal, but it was hearsay.  It wasn't until a cleverly placed audio device captured the teacher and her antics was the teacher let go.  So, as I said, I know those cases exist.  But even if that were the case in this instance, throwing a book and a chair and launching oneself at the teacher is not the way to handle the situation.

This world is getting terrible.  My faith tells me that these are birth pangs of the world.  I believe that with all of me because some of the stuff that we have going on today was never allowed in my time--the blatant disrespect, the constant killing of youth by youth, the shooting and killing of unarmed citizens by those sworn to protect and serve.

I have a boy, a little brown boy, who came to me several months ago and told me the little boy down the street won't play with him because his father told him he wasn't allowed to play with little brown boys.  My son didn't understand as I explained that some people are going to judge him because of his skin color and because they are making assumptions about him.  He was only seven years old at the time.  That was not the conversation I wanted to have with him.  Nor was having to explain what the word "racist" meant when he asked after a day at school this year.  Apparently, he was invited to play a game called racist and refused because he didn't know what the word meant. That wasn't a conversation I remember anyone having to have with me at seven years old.

My husband and I teach our son the faith of Jesus Christ.  We teach him to love all people, even those who hate him.  We teach him that he will have to face some hard truths in his life, but as long as he keeps Jesus at the forefront of all of his decisions, everything else will fall into place.  But I must admit, there are times that this world and all that it is becoming weigh heavily on me.

What will this world be for Honeybee?  I pray that it is a prosperous.  I pray she will always know and be surrounded by love.  I hope she will always know great things and that she never doubts that she is a core of our family.  I hope she knows that her heart strings tie intricately to all of ours, that she is a part of us.  I hope she always knows that we love her.