Bill didn't seem to have any special talent like his sister Susan, but for as long as he could think, he could remember the things that nobody else cared to, like birth dates of strangers, addresses, the serial number on the box of Wheaties that he ate out of each morning, and in this case, license plates. It's not that he tried to remember, it's just that if he saw it, then the numbers just seemed to stick with him indefinitely.
He was awkward the way his sister used to be. They just didn't seem to get the fashion gene or the social bug. But Susan had changed herself somehow, reinvented. Bill hardly noticed the change, it was so gradual, until he looked up one day and truly she was a star, at least in his eye. He loved his sister, and would do anything for her. He would fight for her is she needed it, but since he was the baby and smaller than her in their childhood she often fought his battles. Not that she was trying to, she just always happened to be there. As you can imagine, Susan has never been that much of a fighter but she could commit to a moment. And if in that moment her and Bill had to fight to keep him from being bullied everyday, then Susan would fight and fight she did, wild and unyielding swings that often threw her down. But she showed up daily like clock work at lunch time, just to "fight" for her brother.
Nobody else would have called what she did, fighting. It was more like some wild, tribal dance with a secret message hidden deep inside. It's not that she scared anybody away, she was just persistent. For as long as they wanted to take her brother's lunch or steal his homework or put him in the locker, then Susan wanted to "fight." She showed up like clockwork for 31 days. On day 32 they called a truce that lasted right into adulthood. And somehow they developed some weird friendship with Bill looking out for them in the classroom and the ex-bullies looking out for him in the hallway . . .
"You can't do their homework for them!"
"Well that's what they want!"
"So! You can't do their homework for them." Susan said leaning in close this time, "That's wrong and besides, they still have control. Bill, they are going to have to treat like a friend, leave you alone all together or we are going to have to fight again."
"I don't want to fight again!"
"I don't either, but you will not be bullied and controlled by people. So, you cannot do their homework and if you do, then you and I will fight every day."
"Why are you doing this?!"
"Because I love you. You're a man and men are not supposed to be controlled by their fears. Real men conquer fears." It was something she heard on an inspirational tape and believed. That's how she learned and that's how she taught her brother, her mom was always working and just waiting for her to graduate from High School, so that she could go to work too and help out with the bills. She didn't even know that Susan could sing.
"But I'm no man Susan, I'm only 13."
"We might as well get started now Bill--"
"Bill Thingerson, Mr. Bill Thingerson, Mr. Bill-"
"Yes, I'm right here."
"You can see her now." The nurse smiled as she walked away. That smile made him believe that everything would be fine. Just the same, Bill was still a little freaked out about seeing her. What if she was dying and this hospital visit exposed a secret malady that they never knew she had. Yes, he had ridden over in the ambulance but had been sitting in the waiting area for the past half hour and his imagination ran wild . . .
"Hey boy!"
"What's wrong with her."
"Pain pills."
"She's high!"
"She is medicated so that she doesn't feel the pain."
"She's high."
"High and flying baby. That's me."
Bill burst out into laughter and Susan laughed too, because he laughed. At this point she couldn't tell what was funny and what wasn't. She would feel tomorrow, as for today, she would imitate her baby brother and laugh.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Natasha 10: TKR 1218
Bill didn't know what he was trying to do or why he even left his sister's side. The whole thing just felt like a hit and run and that isn't right. People shouldn't walk all over each other and say nothing. He was tired of getting bumped around, he was tired of watching people that he liked getting bumped around. It was his sister's turn to shine, and now she was knocked over by some fat white girl who doesn't even care.
"That junk isn't fair," he thought as he watched Natasha run away. Once she was out of site, he went back to find his sister.
"I hope she can still sing, I hope they will let her in, I hope she is OK."
"Susan are you alright."
"Yes, I think so, where were you?"
"I tried to get her to stop "
"Who?"
"Son" the medic addressed Bill directly, "She's still groggy and disoriented. We have to go now, are you riding with us?"
"Yes, I'm her brother."
"We know, she told us."
"Is she OK?" Bill asked as he stepped into the ambulance. "She will be, but we have get going."
"She better be ok," he thought to himself, "or the white girl with the license plate number TKR 1218 will be in for a big surprise..."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve . . .
"That junk isn't fair," he thought as he watched Natasha run away. Once she was out of site, he went back to find his sister.
"I hope she can still sing, I hope they will let her in, I hope she is OK."
"Susan are you alright."
"Yes, I think so, where were you?"
"I tried to get her to stop "
"Who?"
"Son" the medic addressed Bill directly, "She's still groggy and disoriented. We have to go now, are you riding with us?"
"Yes, I'm her brother."
"We know, she told us."
"Is she OK?" Bill asked as he stepped into the ambulance. "She will be, but we have get going."
"She better be ok," he thought to himself, "or the white girl with the license plate number TKR 1218 will be in for a big surprise..."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve . . .
Natasha 9: I didn't hurt anybody!
"You hit my sister"
"I didn't hit anybody"
"You hit my sister, you need to come with me," and he grabbed her arm. Natasha was twice Bills size, so she simply snatched it back, but to her surprise his grip was strong and he did not let go.
"Let go of me, Help!"
"You hit my sister"
"I didn't hurt anyone, let go of me! Somebody help me!" where is the police when you need them. "Help me!" She yelled, a little hysterical by now, "Help."
"I don't want to hurt you, you hurt my sister, I want you to come see about her," he said as he let go, aware that this white girl could get him in trouble, conveniently ignoring that concept that you don't touch people that you don't know.
"I didn't hurt anybody!" and Natasha ran out of the center, jumped in her car, drove to her loft, but didn't go in. She just sat there in the car, thinking, of nothing at all. Given the events of the day, how could she be thinking of nothing? But she was, in fact she was putting a lot of energy into thinking of nothing, because she didn't want to feel what she felt in that room just minutes before; which sadly was the same thing she felt in another room filled with critics, a day that she had hoped to forget forever, but it seemed to have found it's way into her future. How would she get it out?
"I didn't hurt anybody!?" she said out loud, thinking of that little black man that grabbed her at the door. "They hurt me!"
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve . . .
"I didn't hit anybody"
"You hit my sister, you need to come with me," and he grabbed her arm. Natasha was twice Bills size, so she simply snatched it back, but to her surprise his grip was strong and he did not let go.
"Let go of me, Help!"
"You hit my sister"
"I didn't hurt anyone, let go of me! Somebody help me!" where is the police when you need them. "Help me!" She yelled, a little hysterical by now, "Help."
"I don't want to hurt you, you hurt my sister, I want you to come see about her," he said as he let go, aware that this white girl could get him in trouble, conveniently ignoring that concept that you don't touch people that you don't know.
"I didn't hurt anybody!" and Natasha ran out of the center, jumped in her car, drove to her loft, but didn't go in. She just sat there in the car, thinking, of nothing at all. Given the events of the day, how could she be thinking of nothing? But she was, in fact she was putting a lot of energy into thinking of nothing, because she didn't want to feel what she felt in that room just minutes before; which sadly was the same thing she felt in another room filled with critics, a day that she had hoped to forget forever, but it seemed to have found it's way into her future. How would she get it out?
"I didn't hurt anybody!?" she said out loud, thinking of that little black man that grabbed her at the door. "They hurt me!"
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve . . .
Natasha 8: Run Away Love
It was strange that she followed them. It was insane that she continued singing after them. And painful that she did not stop herself. In her mind it was some form of revolution, titled "Natasha Stands." Unfortunately, she was truly standing alone in an embarrassing place that she had yet to notice. She went on to solidify her place in American Idol Hysterics by attempting to fight the guards and to hold her note at the same time. She only stopped singing once grabbed in order to physically remove her from the property. And still somehow she managed to snatch herself loose, run back into the audition room and begin to sing again, as if any note she came up with could out shine her stunning behavior from just moments before.
The guards and the judges paused in shock, waiting to see how long she would sing. After three more painful minutes, it was clear that she would never restrain herself, so they would have to
"What is her name?"
"Natasha,"
"Natasha stop this right now." The guards walked toward her, she looked at them with big bulging eyes that could have been used to say so many beautiful things, that only said "somebody help me." But the guards didn't have time to see that, they had to get this room clear and the auditions back on track.
As if reading their minds, she stopped singing, ran out the audition room, breaking the latch on the door, but freeing them of her painful display.
"Did you see that," "
Yes, she's crazy."
"No that girl is hurting"
"I'm the one who's hurting"
"She needs help."
"You can't save everyone Paula"
"I can try" Natasha was to the front door of the conference center about to step out into the street, when Bill tapped her on her shoulder . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
The guards and the judges paused in shock, waiting to see how long she would sing. After three more painful minutes, it was clear that she would never restrain herself, so they would have to
"What is her name?"
"Natasha,"
"Natasha stop this right now." The guards walked toward her, she looked at them with big bulging eyes that could have been used to say so many beautiful things, that only said "somebody help me." But the guards didn't have time to see that, they had to get this room clear and the auditions back on track.
As if reading their minds, she stopped singing, ran out the audition room, breaking the latch on the door, but freeing them of her painful display.
"Did you see that," "
Yes, she's crazy."
"No that girl is hurting"
"I'm the one who's hurting"
"She needs help."
"You can't save everyone Paula"
"I can try" Natasha was to the front door of the conference center about to step out into the street, when Bill tapped her on her shoulder . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha 7: Lingering Sounds
"Thank you for coming," was all they said, but she wanted to know, what did they think of her, so she stood there.
"Thank you for coming," the judges said again and in unison, fully expecting her to walk out the room and the next contestant to enter.
"So what did you think?"
"Thank you, but-"
"No, what did you think? Don't blow me off."
"Are you kidding?"
"What did you think?"
"I personally think she's crazy," thought one judge. He said, "It was terrible."
"Are you kidding?"
"Horrendous in fact."
"People tell me that I can sing."
"Really what people, the voices in your head," he thought, but said "Thank you for coming!" firmly and with irritation in his voice.
"No, let me sing another song, that will help to see," and Natasha broke out into song again without so much as a nod from the judges. Except this time instead of misplaced confidence, her painful little song was filled with an ugly desperation; the kind that drives people away. Consequently, the judges got up and left through the back door, figuring if she will not exit, then they will. They were collectively tired of being vocally hijacked by people with mediocre skills.
Natasha, opened her eyes in mid note and while holding it, she decided to follow . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
"Thank you for coming," the judges said again and in unison, fully expecting her to walk out the room and the next contestant to enter.
"So what did you think?"
"Thank you, but-"
"No, what did you think? Don't blow me off."
"Are you kidding?"
"What did you think?"
"I personally think she's crazy," thought one judge. He said, "It was terrible."
"Are you kidding?"
"Horrendous in fact."
"People tell me that I can sing."
"Really what people, the voices in your head," he thought, but said "Thank you for coming!" firmly and with irritation in his voice.
"No, let me sing another song, that will help to see," and Natasha broke out into song again without so much as a nod from the judges. Except this time instead of misplaced confidence, her painful little song was filled with an ugly desperation; the kind that drives people away. Consequently, the judges got up and left through the back door, figuring if she will not exit, then they will. They were collectively tired of being vocally hijacked by people with mediocre skills.
Natasha, opened her eyes in mid note and while holding it, she decided to follow . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha 6: For the Pain of Music
She had opened her mouth, and sang the same notes that she had sung so many times before. She seemed to have misplaced the proper sound at the start of the song and never found it again. It's not clear as to whether she was looking for it.
Natasha sang hard with a passion and confidence that far exceeded her skill. To the judges it was amazing that she would audition with that type of "ability." But Natasha knew that she was "knocking them dead," when in reality if they had fallen over and died, to one judge it would not have been one moment too soon. It was "horrendous" he thought, "no one should go through this type of pain." Little did he know, the real pain would begin at the end of the song . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha sang hard with a passion and confidence that far exceeded her skill. To the judges it was amazing that she would audition with that type of "ability." But Natasha knew that she was "knocking them dead," when in reality if they had fallen over and died, to one judge it would not have been one moment too soon. It was "horrendous" he thought, "no one should go through this type of pain." Little did he know, the real pain would begin at the end of the song . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha 5: Stormy Weather
Natasha was so upset by the judges response to her song that in the end, she just stormed out of that room without looking. What did they know about good music? She was so tired of being corrected and judged and made to feel like she was nothing. So she decided, "no more and not today." She didn't realize that like so many others before her, she had come to air her emotional and dirty laundry on national televsion . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha 4: Stampede
The door opened suddenly, hitting Ms. Thing in the face. She was told to stand in that spot and to wait for her turn. That door was supposed to be locked. All contestants where exiting and entering from the door on the other side, but you would have to tell that to Susan on another day. Today her face hurt and her nose began to bleed and she felt like--somebody needed to get her up off the floor, because it was going to mess up her outfit.
She hadn't completely realized that the blood stains had already done that nor that she had been unconscious for seven minutes, that two girls had auditioned and been rejected and that now the ambulance was on it's way for her. She also didn't know that the elephant that hit her, never stopped to see about her.
"Is it my turn yet?" Susan was never one for dramatics unless it was on the stage. In turn, she was trying to gather herself and get ready to go in to audition, but the world wouldn't steady itself. It kept knocking her over. She wanted to yell, "stop doing that already!" But all she could say was "whoa," and reach for something or somebody to hold her up . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
She hadn't completely realized that the blood stains had already done that nor that she had been unconscious for seven minutes, that two girls had auditioned and been rejected and that now the ambulance was on it's way for her. She also didn't know that the elephant that hit her, never stopped to see about her.
"Is it my turn yet?" Susan was never one for dramatics unless it was on the stage. In turn, she was trying to gather herself and get ready to go in to audition, but the world wouldn't steady itself. It kept knocking her over. She wanted to yell, "stop doing that already!" But all she could say was "whoa," and reach for something or somebody to hold her up . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha 3: meet Ms. Thing
Ms. Thing was not a cocky woman, but given the power behind her voice, the whole world would have allowed a little arrogance, but she didn't require it.
She was born Susan Thingerson, a name that was a curse in middle school, as she was often referred to as Thing, as in the hand on the Adams Family. At that time, she wasn't a beautiful girl, mainly because she wasn't confident and let's face it her momma didn't know how or care to dress her and figured that as long as the girl had clothes on, then the girl was a success for the day. Suffice it to say, the time in between class was hard on Susan, until the day she sang her little song at the school recital.
They brought all the classes into the gym for a special program. There was a guest speaker that day. He was supposed to address racial issues in the school. But he felt like confidence was the real issue and feeling good in your own skin no matter what color it was. He spoke about it so passionately, he had the teachers on the edge of their seats forgetting that this was for the kids. At one point he said that 'confidence can make an ugly woman beautiful and a bully a little kinder.' Susan was no bully, but she desperately wanted to be pretty at least, let alone beautiful. She couldn't get the phrase out her head.
This particular speaker had the ability to reach the child in you and bring out the adult. By the time he finished Susan thought she was grown. So when he announced a quick singing contest and requested volunteers, she was already on the stage before she came to herself.
It was like confidence had mesmerized her so strongly that she couldn't even hear the kids saying,
"What is she getting up for?"
"What does Thing think she is doing now?"
It wasn't that Susan did alot of crazy things, she simply looked crazy doing the things that she did do; partly due to her clothes, hairstyle and facial expressions. She was always a very expressive person. And today she looked crazy to all of her classmates, again.
"What's your name little girl," asked the speaker, taken aback by her hair style mostly, but determined not to show it in his face.
"Susan. Susan Thingerson."
"What are going to sing for us today?," he asked, thinking with that name the kids must give her hell.
"Nothing." she said. "Nothing?" the speaker said, but thought "this little girl must be a little crazy," but then he looked her dead in her eyes and said, "This must be the name of your song?."
The force behind his gaze straighten her up, she half thought "this is a look a daddy must give," but then again Susan wouldn't know. Regardless of why, something in her responded to him and responded quickly, "Yes sir, that's the name of my song," not really having a name at all and she took the microphone, gently from his hands and began to sing the song with no words. A woman's soul came out that little girl's throat that day. It was the kind of sound that makes you want to cry and sway and groove, it just made you feel.
When she finished, she said, "thank you Mr. Speaker" and gave him the microphone back. He completed the contest out of formality and when it was over, he announced the winner is "Ms. Thing! Come on up her girl and get your prize, I think you have found your ticket!" And from that day on everybody called her Ms. Thing.
But now, Susan was in the hallway, waiting for a chance audition. There was one girl in the room, and after her, she would be next...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
She was born Susan Thingerson, a name that was a curse in middle school, as she was often referred to as Thing, as in the hand on the Adams Family. At that time, she wasn't a beautiful girl, mainly because she wasn't confident and let's face it her momma didn't know how or care to dress her and figured that as long as the girl had clothes on, then the girl was a success for the day. Suffice it to say, the time in between class was hard on Susan, until the day she sang her little song at the school recital.
They brought all the classes into the gym for a special program. There was a guest speaker that day. He was supposed to address racial issues in the school. But he felt like confidence was the real issue and feeling good in your own skin no matter what color it was. He spoke about it so passionately, he had the teachers on the edge of their seats forgetting that this was for the kids. At one point he said that 'confidence can make an ugly woman beautiful and a bully a little kinder.' Susan was no bully, but she desperately wanted to be pretty at least, let alone beautiful. She couldn't get the phrase out her head.
This particular speaker had the ability to reach the child in you and bring out the adult. By the time he finished Susan thought she was grown. So when he announced a quick singing contest and requested volunteers, she was already on the stage before she came to herself.
It was like confidence had mesmerized her so strongly that she couldn't even hear the kids saying,
"What is she getting up for?"
"What does Thing think she is doing now?"
It wasn't that Susan did alot of crazy things, she simply looked crazy doing the things that she did do; partly due to her clothes, hairstyle and facial expressions. She was always a very expressive person. And today she looked crazy to all of her classmates, again.
"What's your name little girl," asked the speaker, taken aback by her hair style mostly, but determined not to show it in his face.
"Susan. Susan Thingerson."
"What are going to sing for us today?," he asked, thinking with that name the kids must give her hell.
"Nothing." she said. "Nothing?" the speaker said, but thought "this little girl must be a little crazy," but then he looked her dead in her eyes and said, "This must be the name of your song?."
The force behind his gaze straighten her up, she half thought "this is a look a daddy must give," but then again Susan wouldn't know. Regardless of why, something in her responded to him and responded quickly, "Yes sir, that's the name of my song," not really having a name at all and she took the microphone, gently from his hands and began to sing the song with no words. A woman's soul came out that little girl's throat that day. It was the kind of sound that makes you want to cry and sway and groove, it just made you feel.
When she finished, she said, "thank you Mr. Speaker" and gave him the microphone back. He completed the contest out of formality and when it was over, he announced the winner is "Ms. Thing! Come on up her girl and get your prize, I think you have found your ticket!" And from that day on everybody called her Ms. Thing.
But now, Susan was in the hallway, waiting for a chance audition. There was one girl in the room, and after her, she would be next...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha 2: she thought she knew
She walked into that room with the confidence of an elephant. If there wasn't room enough for her, than she was going to make her own space. They called her name and she stepped to the center of the stage.
"What are going to do for us today?"
"Sing," she said confidently with an air that put the judges at odds with her immediately. It is amazing how one word can set a person off or calm them down. Words had been spinning around Natasha her whole life. Unfortunately, she seldom paid attention to them and the impact that they had on her own little world. People often wanted to strike after they heard her speak. It was not so much the things she said as it was the space in between the words. The inflections, her gaze, the rise and fall of that space that people seldom pay attention to. Because the space in between the words tell the truth.
"Which song will you be singing?"
"It's an original piece."
"OK, well let's have it then-" When Natasha began to sing, it truly was like glass breaking, but not the shattering kind. It was a slow crack that gradually spread across that favorite mirror or the window sill in your car. She started off alright. You think,
"maybe this girl has got something," and then the quietest little break in the glass. She was the kind of singer that you couldn't put your finger on what was wrong or what was right. So you just had to decide
"I don't like it" and go on with your life. Besides, it wasn't like anybody could tell Natasha anything about all the things that she thought she knew, until she met Ms. Thing-
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
"What are going to do for us today?"
"Sing," she said confidently with an air that put the judges at odds with her immediately. It is amazing how one word can set a person off or calm them down. Words had been spinning around Natasha her whole life. Unfortunately, she seldom paid attention to them and the impact that they had on her own little world. People often wanted to strike after they heard her speak. It was not so much the things she said as it was the space in between the words. The inflections, her gaze, the rise and fall of that space that people seldom pay attention to. Because the space in between the words tell the truth.
"Which song will you be singing?"
"It's an original piece."
"OK, well let's have it then-" When Natasha began to sing, it truly was like glass breaking, but not the shattering kind. It was a slow crack that gradually spread across that favorite mirror or the window sill in your car. She started off alright. You think,
"maybe this girl has got something," and then the quietest little break in the glass. She was the kind of singer that you couldn't put your finger on what was wrong or what was right. So you just had to decide
"I don't like it" and go on with your life. Besides, it wasn't like anybody could tell Natasha anything about all the things that she thought she knew, until she met Ms. Thing-
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Natasha 1: front and center
Natasha wanted so much more out of life that she felt her desires made a fool out of her. Even knowing this, she felt possessed by her need to be seen. It was like she couldn't stop herself from running to the front. She couldn't sing, yet she entered every contest. She couldn't dance, yet she was the first to the floor. She looked terrible in a swimsuit (or at least the ones she chose), and yes, she was the first to put hers on--bikini and all.
She just wanted to be in front. Her behavior was second nature, she half noticed it any more. As a child her mother always commented on it. As a woman, she use to try to see herself and control it. But now she just figures this is who I am. I am a singer, so I sing, I am a dancer, so I dance. I am beautiful, why should I hide it, so she didn't.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
She just wanted to be in front. Her behavior was second nature, she half noticed it any more. As a child her mother always commented on it. As a woman, she use to try to see herself and control it. But now she just figures this is who I am. I am a singer, so I sing, I am a dancer, so I dance. I am beautiful, why should I hide it, so she didn't.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Ella 15: authors comments about her
She found herself again, and that excites me.
An interesting fact about her is Eleanor means compassion & Davis means beloved. Once she decided to live up to her name, she found that she could do anything. I can't wait to see what else she does in the future . . .
until then, we will see you later--Eleanor James Davis.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
An interesting fact about her is Eleanor means compassion & Davis means beloved. Once she decided to live up to her name, she found that she could do anything. I can't wait to see what else she does in the future . . .
until then, we will see you later--Eleanor James Davis.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 14: moonlight dancing
She needed him. She wanted him. She was reaching for him, finally, again. He had been waiting for her to come back to him for so long. Sure her body was there, but the spirit that she used to have, the one he fell in love with had entered that casket with her father and from that point on every time something in her life broke away, a part of Ella did as well. But today, she realized that Eleanor was strong and had the right to be whole. But she didn't want to say all those words, and with Harold she didn't need too right now. All she wanted was to touch him and let him hold her and to move with him close to her and not care what anybody thought.
She walked to him, like he had something she needed and he did; Love, and the fact that he got her. She walked toward him like a model taking the runway, her limp was obvious but her focus was undeniable. She forgot about the cast on her leg and so did he, all she saw was Harold Davis.
And when they finally touched all she wanted was rock and sway in his presence, dance with him. And they danced in the moonlight. They moved together to their own rhythm, the guitarist tried to catch their beat, but it didn't matter. They had all the music they needed. Eleanor James Davis was alive again. The way it was beating in her chest was enough music for the both of them.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
She walked to him, like he had something she needed and he did; Love, and the fact that he got her. She walked toward him like a model taking the runway, her limp was obvious but her focus was undeniable. She forgot about the cast on her leg and so did he, all she saw was Harold Davis.
And when they finally touched all she wanted was rock and sway in his presence, dance with him. And they danced in the moonlight. They moved together to their own rhythm, the guitarist tried to catch their beat, but it didn't matter. They had all the music they needed. Eleanor James Davis was alive again. The way it was beating in her chest was enough music for the both of them.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 13: Alexandria & Harold
Eleanor hugged her sister next, saving her husband for last. She had not told him everything that happened today. Harold knew that Eleanor was OK, but he didn't know all the changes she had gone through.
Alexandria had called him earlier today to get him ready for tonight,
"Harold. Harold, this is Alexandria-"
"I know who you are," Harold hated being called at work, unless it was his wife with something interesting to say, the way she used to in the earlier days of their relationship; pretending to be a potential client, she would request to speak to "Mr. Harold Davis please." And when he would get on the phone she would say the silliest, sexist things and end then the conversation with a "I got to go, bye love." Leaving him thinking of her all day. Her timing was impeccable and even when it wasn't, he didn't care because she never took up too much time, she often left him wanting more and she made him remember that his life was more than that job. But this was Alexandria and he was irritated, at everything really. And most of all, irritated at what he no longer had, his wife's attention.
"We are having a surprise for your wife."
"When is it, Alexandria?"
"Will you be there Harold?"
"Well, when is it?"
"Harold, please do me this favor and say that you will be here for the party, because you know that it won't mean anything to Eleanor without you there."
"Sure, but when did you start calling her Eleanor and when is the party?"
"Today. And the party is tonight. I will call you later with an exact place and time?"
"Well call me on my next break at 3:45. What are we celebrating?"
"Her birthday! OK, got to go, lots to do!" Harold didn't even bother to ask, as Alexandria hung up the phone. His wife's birthday was six months a way, but Alexandria was known for eccentrics and Harold didn't feel like he had the time to wade through her stuff today. Alexandria didn't mention the funeral because she knew Harold would not come, they had a good 'in-laws relationship', but he didn't respond well to all of Alexandria's ideas, and she knew how far she could go with him. With one exception, she has never pushed the envelope (but that's another story).
Harold didn't care to much for tonight's event much; and was about to dismiss it as another one of those things that you forget forever as soon as you get home. He found it silly
until he saw his wife
hobbling across the lawn,
eyes fixed on him
as if he had something she wanted,
needed
and wouldn't stop until she got it.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Alexandria had called him earlier today to get him ready for tonight,
"Harold. Harold, this is Alexandria-"
"I know who you are," Harold hated being called at work, unless it was his wife with something interesting to say, the way she used to in the earlier days of their relationship; pretending to be a potential client, she would request to speak to "Mr. Harold Davis please." And when he would get on the phone she would say the silliest, sexist things and end then the conversation with a "I got to go, bye love." Leaving him thinking of her all day. Her timing was impeccable and even when it wasn't, he didn't care because she never took up too much time, she often left him wanting more and she made him remember that his life was more than that job. But this was Alexandria and he was irritated, at everything really. And most of all, irritated at what he no longer had, his wife's attention.
"We are having a surprise for your wife."
"When is it, Alexandria?"
"Will you be there Harold?"
"Well, when is it?"
"Harold, please do me this favor and say that you will be here for the party, because you know that it won't mean anything to Eleanor without you there."
"Sure, but when did you start calling her Eleanor and when is the party?"
"Today. And the party is tonight. I will call you later with an exact place and time?"
"Well call me on my next break at 3:45. What are we celebrating?"
"Her birthday! OK, got to go, lots to do!" Harold didn't even bother to ask, as Alexandria hung up the phone. His wife's birthday was six months a way, but Alexandria was known for eccentrics and Harold didn't feel like he had the time to wade through her stuff today. Alexandria didn't mention the funeral because she knew Harold would not come, they had a good 'in-laws relationship', but he didn't respond well to all of Alexandria's ideas, and she knew how far she could go with him. With one exception, she has never pushed the envelope (but that's another story).
Harold didn't care to much for tonight's event much; and was about to dismiss it as another one of those things that you forget forever as soon as you get home. He found it silly
until he saw his wife
hobbling across the lawn,
eyes fixed on him
as if he had something she wanted,
needed
and wouldn't stop until she got it.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 12: It is Time
It was time. It was time to live, so Eleanor gathered herself and walked right through all the people that she had known for a life time; neighbors, friends, her sister, her mother. She hugged her mother strong, in a way that she had not hugged her since she was a girl. Eleanor had watched from a distance, she had seen her crying with her sister, and had been shocked at her mother's tears. Everyone knew she wasn't dead, but their responses to her life were more intense than she ever imagined. She had always fancied herself alone, but so many seemed to care in different ways. They all noticed the quality of her life, why hadn't she . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 11: Now, I have a chance
not because of her ankle or because she felt sick, but because she had overheard all the sad things that people said about her. Personally she had stopped noticing all the things she started and never finished, but to hear it all said in one place in ear range.
Of course they didn't know she could hear them otherwise they never would have said those things. Why did she let Alexandria convince her that
"hearing this will be good for you, therapeutic"
When all it seemed to do was hurt her feelings or better yet, it made her glad that she didn't die today.
"Now I have a chance-"
"Everybody," Alexandria's voice interrupted Eleanor's thoughts, "can I have your attention, please! Eleanor will be arriving soon, so let's get ready to party. Follow me to the hill, thank you. Despite that fact that I planned this event here, I now think that dancing in a graveyard when you are perfectly happy is morbid, so follow me to a new location, thank you." And she lead them across the street to a strangers house, knocked on his door and asked if he would like to come to their party. Once he said yes, she promptly notified him that we are moving it to your front lawn, kissed him on the check and told the guitarist to start playing.
Eleanor watched from across the street.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Of course they didn't know she could hear them otherwise they never would have said those things. Why did she let Alexandria convince her that
"hearing this will be good for you, therapeutic"
When all it seemed to do was hurt her feelings or better yet, it made her glad that she didn't die today.
"Now I have a chance-"
"Everybody," Alexandria's voice interrupted Eleanor's thoughts, "can I have your attention, please! Eleanor will be arriving soon, so let's get ready to party. Follow me to the hill, thank you. Despite that fact that I planned this event here, I now think that dancing in a graveyard when you are perfectly happy is morbid, so follow me to a new location, thank you." And she lead them across the street to a strangers house, knocked on his door and asked if he would like to come to their party. Once he said yes, she promptly notified him that we are moving it to your front lawn, kissed him on the check and told the guitarist to start playing.
Eleanor watched from across the street.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 10: Alexandria's plans
-to do anything about it.
Everything was ready.
The people arrived for the wake and the funeral service disguised as a party. Alexandria knew that you normally have them on different nights, but she figured that guest would understand and particularly be forgiving since the honoree survived. And Alexandria wouldn't be Alexandria if the she considered the possibility that they might want to come. Obviously, she was right because it was a good turn out. She figured that everyone should be happy because this is the best kind of funeral, the kind where the honoree survives.
"If only I could get Eleanor to get in that coffin. It's only for the eulogy," she thought, " and then she gets to rise from the dead."
She had convinced the funeral attendent to let her rent the room and in turn to borrow the coffin for the ceremony at no charge. Oh Well, lost opportunity, everyone will just have to pretend.
"It's working out," Alexandria said, assuring herself, and sighing at all the things she has to go through for people.
Eleanor was remarkablely alert give the fact that she felt like passing out-
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Everything was ready.
The people arrived for the wake and the funeral service disguised as a party. Alexandria knew that you normally have them on different nights, but she figured that guest would understand and particularly be forgiving since the honoree survived. And Alexandria wouldn't be Alexandria if the she considered the possibility that they might want to come. Obviously, she was right because it was a good turn out. She figured that everyone should be happy because this is the best kind of funeral, the kind where the honoree survives.
"If only I could get Eleanor to get in that coffin. It's only for the eulogy," she thought, " and then she gets to rise from the dead."
She had convinced the funeral attendent to let her rent the room and in turn to borrow the coffin for the ceremony at no charge. Oh Well, lost opportunity, everyone will just have to pretend.
"It's working out," Alexandria said, assuring herself, and sighing at all the things she has to go through for people.
Eleanor was remarkablely alert give the fact that she felt like passing out-
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 9: Thank God It Happened In The Morning
Alexandria can make anything happen, especially if it involves clothes and a party, and this would involve both. And it would happen today. By the time Eleanor left the hospital with her sister it was noon. Alexandria thought,
"Thank God this all happened in the morning because I still have time to pull it all together." She decided that she would take Eleanor to the store and buy her a new outfit, probably wide-legged pant suit on account of the cast, something in a light color to complement Eleanor's permanent shoe for the next few months. She would insist that Eleanor use one crutch because it's sexy and she would wrap it or
"maybe I'll spray paint it to match" she thought, "Whatever's quicker."
Alexandria was a big time shopper, the clerks new her by name, so she called ahead of time, told them that she was on her way, the size she wanted and the special need she had. And do you know, they met her at the door with a young man and wheel chair, that Eleanor protested do to her new found personal liberation, but Alexandria insisted that she sit down,
"Save your grand standing for tonight. You are going to need your energy."
"Why Alex, what is going on tonight?!" Eleanor asked half worried, half excited as she flashed back to several of her sister's 'ideas' over the years, ideas that used to make Eleanor wince but now the same moments made her smile, because Alexandria always had 'such gumption' as their father used to say.
Eleanor had been on the phone with her husband while Alexandria had started all her mental planning, so she missed the non-verbal cues that she usually reads off her sister. She missed when the big idea came that made her sister sparkle. She would have an opportunity to see that look again tonight, but by then it would be to late-
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
"Thank God this all happened in the morning because I still have time to pull it all together." She decided that she would take Eleanor to the store and buy her a new outfit, probably wide-legged pant suit on account of the cast, something in a light color to complement Eleanor's permanent shoe for the next few months. She would insist that Eleanor use one crutch because it's sexy and she would wrap it or
"maybe I'll spray paint it to match" she thought, "Whatever's quicker."
Alexandria was a big time shopper, the clerks new her by name, so she called ahead of time, told them that she was on her way, the size she wanted and the special need she had. And do you know, they met her at the door with a young man and wheel chair, that Eleanor protested do to her new found personal liberation, but Alexandria insisted that she sit down,
"Save your grand standing for tonight. You are going to need your energy."
"Why Alex, what is going on tonight?!" Eleanor asked half worried, half excited as she flashed back to several of her sister's 'ideas' over the years, ideas that used to make Eleanor wince but now the same moments made her smile, because Alexandria always had 'such gumption' as their father used to say.
Eleanor had been on the phone with her husband while Alexandria had started all her mental planning, so she missed the non-verbal cues that she usually reads off her sister. She missed when the big idea came that made her sister sparkle. She would have an opportunity to see that look again tonight, but by then it would be to late-
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 8: they call me Phoenix
She began to position herself to try to stand up, slowly. She began to feel a pain that most people feel quickly, slowly. She began to scream and yell for all the right reasons, slowly. She began to rise.
She tried to walk but it hurt. She pushed her thoughts back and began to focus on the baby steps that would get her back inside the house with the perfect white picket fence. One the way home, she slipped into something or someone else altogether. Slowly, she became grateful that she could hop a little and crawl a little and make it home. Slowly, she saved her self.
It took her so long to cover those few steps, by the time she made it in, she had forgiven everybody who wasn't there to rescue her, even her father. Once inside the house she knew that she still had to go through with her plans . . . So she killed herself, not all of herself, just the weakest and saddest parts, until the only thing left was her birth right, Eleanor James, a woman of compassion and great power.
But she didn't know that she was becoming all of that at the time; what she did know was the fact that she was dying in all the right places and crying from a darkness that use to make her hollow inside, places that she talked to cover up.
When a car finally passed by that house with the perfect white picket fence on that quiet street, Eleanor was already inside, dialing 911 and her sister. And by then she wanted to live for real this time.
When Alex arrived at the hospital, there where no more tears on Ella's face.
"Eleanor, are those wings I see?" said Alex, gently interrogating her sister. And for the first time in her adult life, Eleanor truly smiled and she was beautiful like her mother, and free. Even with her un-kept hair, dirty clothes, and throbbing foot; she never felt better. And finally she had a story to tell, something interesting to share with Harold, who seemed to have loved her in the dark and in the light. But that would have to wait because she had called her sister first and everybody knows that Alexandria was crazy, but Eleanor often forgot just how far she would go to make a point . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
She tried to walk but it hurt. She pushed her thoughts back and began to focus on the baby steps that would get her back inside the house with the perfect white picket fence. One the way home, she slipped into something or someone else altogether. Slowly, she became grateful that she could hop a little and crawl a little and make it home. Slowly, she saved her self.
It took her so long to cover those few steps, by the time she made it in, she had forgiven everybody who wasn't there to rescue her, even her father. Once inside the house she knew that she still had to go through with her plans . . . So she killed herself, not all of herself, just the weakest and saddest parts, until the only thing left was her birth right, Eleanor James, a woman of compassion and great power.
But she didn't know that she was becoming all of that at the time; what she did know was the fact that she was dying in all the right places and crying from a darkness that use to make her hollow inside, places that she talked to cover up.
When a car finally passed by that house with the perfect white picket fence on that quiet street, Eleanor was already inside, dialing 911 and her sister. And by then she wanted to live for real this time.
When Alex arrived at the hospital, there where no more tears on Ella's face.
"Eleanor, are those wings I see?" said Alex, gently interrogating her sister. And for the first time in her adult life, Eleanor truly smiled and she was beautiful like her mother, and free. Even with her un-kept hair, dirty clothes, and throbbing foot; she never felt better. And finally she had a story to tell, something interesting to share with Harold, who seemed to have loved her in the dark and in the light. But that would have to wait because she had called her sister first and everybody knows that Alexandria was crazy, but Eleanor often forgot just how far she would go to make a point . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 7: bright yellow capri's
"People kill themselves all the time," she thought, "So why should I be any different."
Life is hard. And while women don't belong in puddles in the middle of the street, not even quiet ones, Ella's street was far too calm for a half-hearted suicide attempt. But she waited for a car to come by and hit her anyway. What Ella failed to realize is that more people survive each day than die, but she was having a moment that could be fatal. After 3 minutes, however, no body came.
Even if they had, she would have been spotted in her bright yellow summer carpi's early enough to spare her life. So she hoped, she hoped that the broken bone had punctured an important blood vessel and then she could be dying right now and nobody would care, and she wouldn't have to try anymore. Well, another 3 minutes passed and she was still breathing; breathing as normal as could be expected with a broken ankle.
If only Ella had known her strength. She has a remarkable threshold for physical pain and little tolerance for emotional hurts, they often cut her way too deep, but most humans bleed by what's said and done to the heart and often overcome what's done to the body. But those thoughts, they still lingered; Suicide is unnatural, but it has a way of sticking around. And for Ella on that day it was just what she thought she needed. So she figured it out, she finally found a way to kill herself in increments. Only Ella knew what to do to make things right...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Life is hard. And while women don't belong in puddles in the middle of the street, not even quiet ones, Ella's street was far too calm for a half-hearted suicide attempt. But she waited for a car to come by and hit her anyway. What Ella failed to realize is that more people survive each day than die, but she was having a moment that could be fatal. After 3 minutes, however, no body came.
Even if they had, she would have been spotted in her bright yellow summer carpi's early enough to spare her life. So she hoped, she hoped that the broken bone had punctured an important blood vessel and then she could be dying right now and nobody would care, and she wouldn't have to try anymore. Well, another 3 minutes passed and she was still breathing; breathing as normal as could be expected with a broken ankle.
If only Ella had known her strength. She has a remarkable threshold for physical pain and little tolerance for emotional hurts, they often cut her way too deep, but most humans bleed by what's said and done to the heart and often overcome what's done to the body. But those thoughts, they still lingered; Suicide is unnatural, but it has a way of sticking around. And for Ella on that day it was just what she thought she needed. So she figured it out, she finally found a way to kill herself in increments. Only Ella knew what to do to make things right...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 6: about that curb
...happy, beautiful, strong, kind. She had meant to become the things she dreamed of when she was a child,
to be a master chef,
to dance in the moonlight like nothing else in the world mattered,
to change her little place on the planet with a smile that spoke volumes,
to be happier, to listen longer, to love harder, to dream bigger, to just be more, and now...
she was stepping off the curb that day on the quiet street in front of the house with the perfect white picket fence, and she heard her ankle snap. But that's not the interesting part. She fell to the ground and grabbed her foot. She was sitting in the middle of that quiet street in front of the house with the perfect white picket fence, and as if waiting for something, Ella held her breathe for the slightest moment, she paused everything. No tear, no yell, and no body came because no body saw her fall.
And this angered her. She was angry that her husband was at work instead of home to help her; that her sister moved away to the neighboring town instead of living next door like she told her to; that her children were grown and lived so far away; that her neighbors weren't more alert and helpful. Her anger at everything and everybody was a stabbing pain in her heart that hurt more than the broken and now swollen ankle that caused her to crumble to the ground in the first place. And on top of all her rage, Ella was embarassed for falling off the curb on the quiet street in front of the house with the perfect white pickett fence. She was so consumed that she just stayed there in a pitiful little puddle refusing to move. . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
to be a master chef,
to dance in the moonlight like nothing else in the world mattered,
to change her little place on the planet with a smile that spoke volumes,
to be happier, to listen longer, to love harder, to dream bigger, to just be more, and now...
she was stepping off the curb that day on the quiet street in front of the house with the perfect white picket fence, and she heard her ankle snap. But that's not the interesting part. She fell to the ground and grabbed her foot. She was sitting in the middle of that quiet street in front of the house with the perfect white picket fence, and as if waiting for something, Ella held her breathe for the slightest moment, she paused everything. No tear, no yell, and no body came because no body saw her fall.
And this angered her. She was angry that her husband was at work instead of home to help her; that her sister moved away to the neighboring town instead of living next door like she told her to; that her children were grown and lived so far away; that her neighbors weren't more alert and helpful. Her anger at everything and everybody was a stabbing pain in her heart that hurt more than the broken and now swollen ankle that caused her to crumble to the ground in the first place. And on top of all her rage, Ella was embarassed for falling off the curb on the quiet street in front of the house with the perfect white pickett fence. She was so consumed that she just stayed there in a pitiful little puddle refusing to move. . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 5: what happened to the fire?
...before she became so perfect.
She used to be a little messy and quite sexy to her him. Not that she was a slob nor that he wanted to be around one, but rather, she was neatly unkept. He always thought of her as a free following beauty, a natural. Even when she was a failure, it was beautiful. She played baseball with the worst of them, but she could talk junk with the best, and then run for cover, while her older sister, Alex, would just stand there almost inviting a fight. But Harold, never saw her sister because he was always chasing after Ella. There was something soft and something strong about her. He never could nail it down, but he knew he wanted to be around it.
But that was before...
when he was a boy and she was a girl
"Ella, whatever happened to the fire in you-" He asked her on one of those days when she was fussing about something somebody wore to the store that afternoon. The question she heard was,
"Ella, whatever happened to the fire place, do you-"
"You wouldn't let me buy it when it was on sale, prices are too high right now. Does that mean I can start looking for a sale Harold. Thank you baby. " She closed her answer with an 'I love you' as she continued with her original conversation about Susan Meyer's attire this evening and the particulars of fashion.
"What about the men's fashion show that we talked about this fall, did she start the planning?"
"No, she just never got to it."
"Oh this one, Ella wanted to take the local kids on a field trip to see-"
"Oh yes we were taking the children to see the caves. I did that. Ella meant to go with us, but she just never got to it."
So many disappointments it was becoming hard to hear any more of it. How had this happened, how had she slipped into this life when she had meant to be so much more...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
She used to be a little messy and quite sexy to her him. Not that she was a slob nor that he wanted to be around one, but rather, she was neatly unkept. He always thought of her as a free following beauty, a natural. Even when she was a failure, it was beautiful. She played baseball with the worst of them, but she could talk junk with the best, and then run for cover, while her older sister, Alex, would just stand there almost inviting a fight. But Harold, never saw her sister because he was always chasing after Ella. There was something soft and something strong about her. He never could nail it down, but he knew he wanted to be around it.
But that was before...
when he was a boy and she was a girl
"Ella, whatever happened to the fire in you-" He asked her on one of those days when she was fussing about something somebody wore to the store that afternoon. The question she heard was,
"Ella, whatever happened to the fire place, do you-"
"You wouldn't let me buy it when it was on sale, prices are too high right now. Does that mean I can start looking for a sale Harold. Thank you baby. " She closed her answer with an 'I love you' as she continued with her original conversation about Susan Meyer's attire this evening and the particulars of fashion.
"What about the men's fashion show that we talked about this fall, did she start the planning?"
"No, she just never got to it."
"Oh this one, Ella wanted to take the local kids on a field trip to see-"
"Oh yes we were taking the children to see the caves. I did that. Ella meant to go with us, but she just never got to it."
So many disappointments it was becoming hard to hear any more of it. How had this happened, how had she slipped into this life when she had meant to be so much more...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 4: a gentle name
Ella is a gentle name.
But Ella herself, was soft in all the wrong places and mean in all the rest.
She was weak on her dreams and hard on the people around her.
What a shame that a woman with such clarity about everyone else did not use her power for something more than cutting people down.
"What about the garden club she was going to start. She always spoke of wanting to learn more about that."
"She did talk about it alot, but just never got to it."
"Well, who is going to take her place at the center, wasn' t she volunteering there?"
"No, she went to visit, but just never got around to signing up."
"But she talked about it so much."
"She did didn't she, well, she just never got to it."
If Ella could here this litany of dreams with no endings, she would be sad, and possibly die all over again. She never realized how much she wasn't doing, how much she didn't make happen, because she thought she made everything happen. Her husband, often she said,
"Ella you act like the sky would fall if you weren't here to hold it in place. Let it be woman and go do something interesting." She used to be the most exciting thing that he had ever met. When he was a boy and she was a girl, she used to dance at inappropriate times and sing at the top of her lungs and laugh just because. She used to be so free, she used to be so real; but that was before...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.org, I got the nerve to say . . .
But Ella herself, was soft in all the wrong places and mean in all the rest.
She was weak on her dreams and hard on the people around her.
What a shame that a woman with such clarity about everyone else did not use her power for something more than cutting people down.
"What about the garden club she was going to start. She always spoke of wanting to learn more about that."
"She did talk about it alot, but just never got to it."
"Well, who is going to take her place at the center, wasn' t she volunteering there?"
"No, she went to visit, but just never got around to signing up."
"But she talked about it so much."
"She did didn't she, well, she just never got to it."
If Ella could here this litany of dreams with no endings, she would be sad, and possibly die all over again. She never realized how much she wasn't doing, how much she didn't make happen, because she thought she made everything happen. Her husband, often she said,
"Ella you act like the sky would fall if you weren't here to hold it in place. Let it be woman and go do something interesting." She used to be the most exciting thing that he had ever met. When he was a boy and she was a girl, she used to dance at inappropriate times and sing at the top of her lungs and laugh just because. She used to be so free, she used to be so real; but that was before...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.org, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 3: breathtaking...
By now you can probably tell that Ella was not what you call 'a joy to be around.' Her mother was though.
Her mother had the ability to make a cruel man kind, at least while he was in her presence.
People often became their best selves around her.
It was something in her eyes. But Ella thought it was something in her food. So Ella, like her mother, became a breathtaking cook and missed the truest part of her mom, the ability to see the best and draw it out with a simple smile. Ella's mother loved people, and there was no getting around it. When she looked you in your eye you felt like smiling, you felt like sitting up a little straighter, you felt important, you just felt good. She would talk to you about whatever thoughts were on her mind, ask your opinion and pause as if your response really mattered to her. It was just her way.
In the end it made her a lot of money because over the years the people who sat around her house began leaving money in the basket on the table in the kitchen. Ella thought it was the meal they loved, but it was that thing in her mother's eyes that reminded them that they mattered. They could never repay her for that nor did she want them to try, it was their way of saying thank you. Ella's mother never asked or expected anything, except your presence at meal time. And she often got just what she wanted and plenty of stories.
"Why don't you open a store?"
"That's just to hard," she would say. "What I do is for love. And love is easy."
"Alright, but those biscuits are good and money is necessary," same phrases, different faces and they almost always left money on the table anyway.
It's how the family survived after Ella's father died, her mother's cooking. It's how her mother survived--with a routine and more people to love. But now it's Ella's funeral and her mother, who always called her Eleanor James is present, smiling and crying at the same time.
She wished her daughter had learned to love. Had lived to laugh. Had listened to all the things that she did not say. Maybe she didn't explain enough to her child. Maybe she didn't teach her how to see people. She assumed that Eleanor would catch on the way she had caught on to mother's unspoken ways.
"Oh my daughter did learn some things from me" she whispered softly.
"Yes she did, mom," replied her other daughter Alexandria James, the one who always seemed to read her mind, the one who was defiantly independent, the one who wanted to know why she called them by their full names more times than not. "She meant to learn more, but she just never got to it."
"What do you mean?"
"You and her cook in a way that I can't mom, and Lord knows I try, but Ella knew that there were things about you that she never got. Stuff she was supposed to learn, but somehow missed."
"That's my fault. I should have--"
"She never blamed you. She wandered if she wasn't paying attention to the right things. She thought the food made you great, when it was something else all together. She wanted to learn, she meant to ask you, but her pride got the best of her and she just never got to it. It bothered her the way people loved your company and seemed to--"
"--tolerate hers."
"It bothered her the way I can understand you and seem to take it for granted. It bothered her that she just never got around to loving life the way that you do. It bothered her that being an excellent cook was all she had. It bothered her that she just never got around to being more. Don't cry mom. I--"
"I love you. Both of you. I love you."
And they stood their holding each other with there water-filled eyes...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the never to say . . .
Her mother had the ability to make a cruel man kind, at least while he was in her presence.
People often became their best selves around her.
It was something in her eyes. But Ella thought it was something in her food. So Ella, like her mother, became a breathtaking cook and missed the truest part of her mom, the ability to see the best and draw it out with a simple smile. Ella's mother loved people, and there was no getting around it. When she looked you in your eye you felt like smiling, you felt like sitting up a little straighter, you felt important, you just felt good. She would talk to you about whatever thoughts were on her mind, ask your opinion and pause as if your response really mattered to her. It was just her way.
In the end it made her a lot of money because over the years the people who sat around her house began leaving money in the basket on the table in the kitchen. Ella thought it was the meal they loved, but it was that thing in her mother's eyes that reminded them that they mattered. They could never repay her for that nor did she want them to try, it was their way of saying thank you. Ella's mother never asked or expected anything, except your presence at meal time. And she often got just what she wanted and plenty of stories.
"Why don't you open a store?"
"That's just to hard," she would say. "What I do is for love. And love is easy."
"Alright, but those biscuits are good and money is necessary," same phrases, different faces and they almost always left money on the table anyway.
It's how the family survived after Ella's father died, her mother's cooking. It's how her mother survived--with a routine and more people to love. But now it's Ella's funeral and her mother, who always called her Eleanor James is present, smiling and crying at the same time.
She wished her daughter had learned to love. Had lived to laugh. Had listened to all the things that she did not say. Maybe she didn't explain enough to her child. Maybe she didn't teach her how to see people. She assumed that Eleanor would catch on the way she had caught on to mother's unspoken ways.
"Oh my daughter did learn some things from me" she whispered softly.
"Yes she did, mom," replied her other daughter Alexandria James, the one who always seemed to read her mind, the one who was defiantly independent, the one who wanted to know why she called them by their full names more times than not. "She meant to learn more, but she just never got to it."
"What do you mean?"
"You and her cook in a way that I can't mom, and Lord knows I try, but Ella knew that there were things about you that she never got. Stuff she was supposed to learn, but somehow missed."
"That's my fault. I should have--"
"She never blamed you. She wandered if she wasn't paying attention to the right things. She thought the food made you great, when it was something else all together. She wanted to learn, she meant to ask you, but her pride got the best of her and she just never got to it. It bothered her the way people loved your company and seemed to--"
"--tolerate hers."
"It bothered her the way I can understand you and seem to take it for granted. It bothered her that she just never got around to loving life the way that you do. It bothered her that being an excellent cook was all she had. It bothered her that she just never got around to being more. Don't cry mom. I--"
"I love you. Both of you. I love you."
And they stood their holding each other with there water-filled eyes...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the never to say . . .
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Ella 2: stab you sweet
...kill herself, but the circumstances of this event will also have to wait.
Ella was short for Eleanor James. Ella was a soft and sweet name where as Eleanor was more forceful and presidential. To say Eleanor James is here was to announce the arrival of some one who mattered, but as it was Mrs. James always went by Ella.
"Hi I'm Ella James," she would say when meeting new people. "You can call me Ella," she would add with a beautiful smile that the recipient never suspected would turn to a frown and irritation as they passed on by. You see, there where very few people on the planet that she liked or even regarded with any real respect. She knew how to stab you sweet but a stab was still a stab. She often harped on anything she could find, house shoes worn to the grocery store, a new hairstyle that just doesn't fit her face.
"I am not gossipping," she would say. "I'm just telling it like it is. And a woman cannot be judged for telling the truth. Somebody had to say it." But the truth is, half of what Ella said never had to be uttered out loud, a fact her husband often pointed out, but she considered his comments to be jokes, love talk between the two of them. She talked so much about very little that she only heard the words; and seldom the meaning. She understood him on the day he said, "I love you." And she lived as if that was the only truly important thing that he ever said to her. He had not said it in a while though, and because Ella had been talking so much, she had not noticed. And now, it was too late for Ella to hear or say anything else, because Ella was dead.
"What about that business idea she had."
"She just never got to it. After a few years someone came up with the same idea and you know the rest."
"Well what about that dance skit she was going to put together for the small kids."
"Oh, that was such a cute idea, I remember when she told me, but she just never got to it."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella was short for Eleanor James. Ella was a soft and sweet name where as Eleanor was more forceful and presidential. To say Eleanor James is here was to announce the arrival of some one who mattered, but as it was Mrs. James always went by Ella.
"Hi I'm Ella James," she would say when meeting new people. "You can call me Ella," she would add with a beautiful smile that the recipient never suspected would turn to a frown and irritation as they passed on by. You see, there where very few people on the planet that she liked or even regarded with any real respect. She knew how to stab you sweet but a stab was still a stab. She often harped on anything she could find, house shoes worn to the grocery store, a new hairstyle that just doesn't fit her face.
"I am not gossipping," she would say. "I'm just telling it like it is. And a woman cannot be judged for telling the truth. Somebody had to say it." But the truth is, half of what Ella said never had to be uttered out loud, a fact her husband often pointed out, but she considered his comments to be jokes, love talk between the two of them. She talked so much about very little that she only heard the words; and seldom the meaning. She understood him on the day he said, "I love you." And she lived as if that was the only truly important thing that he ever said to her. He had not said it in a while though, and because Ella had been talking so much, she had not noticed. And now, it was too late for Ella to hear or say anything else, because Ella was dead.
"What about that business idea she had."
"She just never got to it. After a few years someone came up with the same idea and you know the rest."
"Well what about that dance skit she was going to put together for the small kids."
"Oh, that was such a cute idea, I remember when she told me, but she just never got to it."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Ella 1: don't leave me this way
"She just never got to it," that's what everybody said at her funeral.
"What about skydiving?"
"She just never got to it. Did you ever think she was."
"What about singing, she was a great singer?"
"She just never got to it."
"What about travel, did she ever make it out to see you?"
"No, I guess she was waiting for the perfect time and 'she just never got to it.'"
You could hear conversations like that echoing all over the graveyard. Ella was a big talker. But she lived a small life, very small. As it turns out, she actually did very little outside of work and home and reading those magazines and books that gave her plenty of ideas but very little "guts to go do." Her husband always said to her, "that's what's wrong with you Ella. You got dreams, but no guts to go do." Of course, he always ended it with a "and shut up talking to me 'till you go do something interesting. It seems she finally did do something interesting, she up and died by a freak curbing accident in a quiet neighborhood, but that's another story. Suffice it to say, now he wanted to talk to her about the one dream that she actually got up the nerve to do...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
"What about skydiving?"
"She just never got to it. Did you ever think she was."
"What about singing, she was a great singer?"
"She just never got to it."
"What about travel, did she ever make it out to see you?"
"No, I guess she was waiting for the perfect time and 'she just never got to it.'"
You could hear conversations like that echoing all over the graveyard. Ella was a big talker. But she lived a small life, very small. As it turns out, she actually did very little outside of work and home and reading those magazines and books that gave her plenty of ideas but very little "guts to go do." Her husband always said to her, "that's what's wrong with you Ella. You got dreams, but no guts to go do." Of course, he always ended it with a "and shut up talking to me 'till you go do something interesting. It seems she finally did do something interesting, she up and died by a freak curbing accident in a quiet neighborhood, but that's another story. Suffice it to say, now he wanted to talk to her about the one dream that she actually got up the nerve to do...
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 8: a woman in love
Pausing and obviously caught up in her own thoughts, she smiled and then finally said.
"I am so thankful for your father. I would have missed out on his love. And I would have never known that there was more.
Lem, there is so much more to a relationship than what you think of right now. There are countless ways to offend and hurt each other. But with the right person you will experience the volumes of opportunities to show 'I love you' over and over again. And if you do it right-"
"Do what right mom?"
"Your life. Your life, Lem."
"But we are talking about women."
"No son, we are only talking of one woman, the woman you choose to marry, and she is a big part of your life. If you do your life right, then you will be
'known in the city's gates,' Lem, and when you 'sit among the elders of the land'
and your wife
will affect that image.
So you need a woman whose
'strength and dignity are her clothing'
whose 'position is strong and secure'
a woman that when
'she opens her mouth,' skillful and godly Wisdom emerges, 'and on her tongue is the law of kindness'
a woman whose
'children rise up and call her blessed'
You need a real, righteous, victory woman Lem. A woman a grace who can live and soar with you in the good times; a woman of undeniable strength who can walk through the 'valleys of the shadow of death' with you in the bad times; a woman who never forgets herself because she knows her beauty, her strength, her love and she knows you. Choose wise, and you remember the kind of man that I told you and that your Father showed you that you are to be. Character is in you Lem, we placed it there, Wisdom is in you. Let that guide your decisions, then you will have fun and pleasure and power for a lifetime (not just in your youth). And you will be able to recognize this woman and respond to her so that 'her husband boasts of and praises her saying...
many daughters have done well with strength of character but you excel them all.
charm is deceptive, beauty is vain, but a woman in love with God, she shall be praised.
give her the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates of the city.
A life lived in victory and with victory is a beautiful life in deed.
Find her.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.org, I got the nerve to say . . .
"I am so thankful for your father. I would have missed out on his love. And I would have never known that there was more.
Lem, there is so much more to a relationship than what you think of right now. There are countless ways to offend and hurt each other. But with the right person you will experience the volumes of opportunities to show 'I love you' over and over again. And if you do it right-"
"Do what right mom?"
"Your life. Your life, Lem."
"But we are talking about women."
"No son, we are only talking of one woman, the woman you choose to marry, and she is a big part of your life. If you do your life right, then you will be
'known in the city's gates,' Lem, and when you 'sit among the elders of the land'
and your wife
will affect that image.
So you need a woman whose
'strength and dignity are her clothing'
whose 'position is strong and secure'
a woman that when
'she opens her mouth,' skillful and godly Wisdom emerges, 'and on her tongue is the law of kindness'
a woman whose
'children rise up and call her blessed'
You need a real, righteous, victory woman Lem. A woman a grace who can live and soar with you in the good times; a woman of undeniable strength who can walk through the 'valleys of the shadow of death' with you in the bad times; a woman who never forgets herself because she knows her beauty, her strength, her love and she knows you. Choose wise, and you remember the kind of man that I told you and that your Father showed you that you are to be. Character is in you Lem, we placed it there, Wisdom is in you. Let that guide your decisions, then you will have fun and pleasure and power for a lifetime (not just in your youth). And you will be able to recognize this woman and respond to her so that 'her husband boasts of and praises her saying...
many daughters have done well with strength of character but you excel them all.
charm is deceptive, beauty is vain, but a woman in love with God, she shall be praised.
give her the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates of the city.
A life lived in victory and with victory is a beautiful life in deed.
Find her.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.org, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 7: whispering sweet 'everythings' in your ear
"Lem," his mother entering his thoughts as if on cue, "do you recall the phrase, 'whispering sweet nothings in my ear."
"Yes." he answered slowly with that simple word drenched in curiosity.
"It refers to--"
"It's like my ex-girlfriend, she used to love to whisper things in my ear. I thought is was sexy."
"Yes that is exactly what I am talking about, except, I'm not certain that it's true. Are the things whispered in a lovers ear 'nothings' or 'everythings'?"
"What do you mean mom?"
"I used to date this man, before I met your father, and--"
"Excuse me, mom, but there is no man, before you met my father."
"Yes, but for the sake of my point--"
"Well, for the sake of your point."
"I used to date this person who loved to whisper in my ear too. It looked so romantic to on lookers, like he really must love me. He would whisper things that seemed like nothing really, telling me where to sit everytime we went out to eat; telling me to sit down at parties and events that he felt I had been moving around to much (which seemed to be every party): His message, always delivered in a whisper.
He seemed to whisper things that could have been spoken audibly. Pull my chair out and I would know where you wanted me sit. Or ask me, "Which seat would you prefer" and then he would know where I wanted to sit. It was a subtle thing, that meant nothing--almost. Through a series of events we broke up."
"What happened mom."
"A story for another day Lem. But, when I met your father, we walked right into love. And he adores whispering in my ear. He will ask me audibly in a crowded room, "where would you like to sit," and once we are settled he will lean in to me and tell me how beautiful I look or how my smile turns him on or--"
"Mom! Now that was too much information."
"Or how he was thinking of something I said earlier that day. He always considers my words. Anyway, your father whispers sweet 'everythings' in my ear and he makes me feel more beautiful, more wanted, more special and more happy; Lem, be careful. Who you let whisper in your ear will affect everything; your self esteem, your joy, your strength, your decisions, your peace of mind..."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
"Yes." he answered slowly with that simple word drenched in curiosity.
"It refers to--"
"It's like my ex-girlfriend, she used to love to whisper things in my ear. I thought is was sexy."
"Yes that is exactly what I am talking about, except, I'm not certain that it's true. Are the things whispered in a lovers ear 'nothings' or 'everythings'?"
"What do you mean mom?"
"I used to date this man, before I met your father, and--"
"Excuse me, mom, but there is no man, before you met my father."
"Yes, but for the sake of my point--"
"Well, for the sake of your point."
"I used to date this person who loved to whisper in my ear too. It looked so romantic to on lookers, like he really must love me. He would whisper things that seemed like nothing really, telling me where to sit everytime we went out to eat; telling me to sit down at parties and events that he felt I had been moving around to much (which seemed to be every party): His message, always delivered in a whisper.
He seemed to whisper things that could have been spoken audibly. Pull my chair out and I would know where you wanted me sit. Or ask me, "Which seat would you prefer" and then he would know where I wanted to sit. It was a subtle thing, that meant nothing--almost. Through a series of events we broke up."
"What happened mom."
"A story for another day Lem. But, when I met your father, we walked right into love. And he adores whispering in my ear. He will ask me audibly in a crowded room, "where would you like to sit," and once we are settled he will lean in to me and tell me how beautiful I look or how my smile turns him on or--"
"Mom! Now that was too much information."
"Or how he was thinking of something I said earlier that day. He always considers my words. Anyway, your father whispers sweet 'everythings' in my ear and he makes me feel more beautiful, more wanted, more special and more happy; Lem, be careful. Who you let whisper in your ear will affect everything; your self esteem, your joy, your strength, your decisions, your peace of mind..."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 6: her business mind
"...a smart and savvy woman, not to be taken lightly.
Should you ignore her mind
only your dreams and your family will suffer.
Should you truly see her,
you secure your family and your community.
Be aware of her and the kind of woman that she is...
she is real estate savvy
'considers a field, and buys it'
she is fitness focused
'she girds herself with strength and makes her arms firm and strong'
she is business minded
'she makes fine garments and leads others to buy them'
she is community service driven
'she opens her hands to the poor, yes, she reaches out her filled hands to the needy'
her attire is regal
'her clothing is of linen, pure and fine, and of purple such as that of which the clothing of priests and the hallowed cloths of the temple were made'
she is prepared
'she is not afraid of the snow for her household...is doubly clothed'
her home is lovely
'she makes for herself coverlets, cushions, and rugs of tapestry'
she is a balanced woman
'expanding prudently and not courting neglect of her present duties by assuming other duties' remember that she 'considers' before she makes a move
she is a leader and she has help
rising 'while it is yet night and...assigns her maids their tasks.'
looking well 'to how things go in her household'
she guards her mind
refusing to eat 'the bread of idleness, gossip, discontent, and self-pity.'
she is beautiful in the way that she lives, in the way that she sees, in the way that she serves
she is powerful in the way that she stands for her husband, for her family, for her community and for herself
she is effective in the way that she impacts the people that cross her path.
Son, Lem, understand that the woman you choose will change your life because she has an intimate position that rest in the fold of your arm or that spot in the curve of your neck, the way that I fit with your father."
He could see his parents hugging with his mother held in his father's arms looking like two pieces designed to connect at that point. He began to remember the countless times that he caught them in a quiet moment in the hallway, the living room; they never hid their love from him. It always seemed like an endless moment for them, even when he caught them after an argument
"I'm sorry baby."
"Me too honey." And then they held each other right there in the kitchen, like they hadn't just finished raising all kinds of hell from the front to the back of the house.
He knew they loved each other.
There was something in their eyes that told him.
But he now knew that they spoke to each other
in ways that he never heard before;
in ways that his mother is trying to make him understand;
in ways that he is beginning to think that he will need from a woman some day.
But not just any woman . . ."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Should you ignore her mind
only your dreams and your family will suffer.
Should you truly see her,
you secure your family and your community.
Be aware of her and the kind of woman that she is...
she is real estate savvy
'considers a field, and buys it'
she is fitness focused
'she girds herself with strength and makes her arms firm and strong'
she is business minded
'she makes fine garments and leads others to buy them'
she is community service driven
'she opens her hands to the poor, yes, she reaches out her filled hands to the needy'
her attire is regal
'her clothing is of linen, pure and fine, and of purple such as that of which the clothing of priests and the hallowed cloths of the temple were made'
she is prepared
'she is not afraid of the snow for her household...is doubly clothed'
her home is lovely
'she makes for herself coverlets, cushions, and rugs of tapestry'
she is a balanced woman
'expanding prudently and not courting neglect of her present duties by assuming other duties' remember that she 'considers' before she makes a move
she is a leader and she has help
rising 'while it is yet night and...assigns her maids their tasks.'
looking well 'to how things go in her household'
she guards her mind
refusing to eat 'the bread of idleness, gossip, discontent, and self-pity.'
she is beautiful in the way that she lives, in the way that she sees, in the way that she serves
she is powerful in the way that she stands for her husband, for her family, for her community and for herself
she is effective in the way that she impacts the people that cross her path.
Son, Lem, understand that the woman you choose will change your life because she has an intimate position that rest in the fold of your arm or that spot in the curve of your neck, the way that I fit with your father."
He could see his parents hugging with his mother held in his father's arms looking like two pieces designed to connect at that point. He began to remember the countless times that he caught them in a quiet moment in the hallway, the living room; they never hid their love from him. It always seemed like an endless moment for them, even when he caught them after an argument
"I'm sorry baby."
"Me too honey." And then they held each other right there in the kitchen, like they hadn't just finished raising all kinds of hell from the front to the back of the house.
He knew they loved each other.
There was something in their eyes that told him.
But he now knew that they spoke to each other
in ways that he never heard before;
in ways that his mother is trying to make him understand;
in ways that he is beginning to think that he will need from a woman some day.
But not just any woman . . ."
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 5: her trust, her comfort, her creativity
"You will be able to trust her with all that you are and all that you have.
Her words will be life to you.
She will speak truth and light no matter what.
She will be your partner,
and the two of you will reason and build together.
You will learn to trust her voice and she will be worthy of that trust.
You will find comfort in her gaze, her arms, her smile, her touch, her thoughts, her words.
Her love will be a pleasure to you.
With her at your side, you will conquer twice as many giants.
She will give you her best self for as long as there is life in her.
You will find excellence and creativity buried deep inside this woman.
She will turn raw materials into beauty and use.
Diligently discovering new things for her family, you will find her interesting (for a lifetime) 'like the merchant ships loaded with foods' from far away lands. There will always be something new to learn of her.
'She rises while it is yet night and gets spiritual food for her household and assigns her maids their tasks.' She cares about the people around her and is a teacher by nature. But there is so much more." Lem's mother stops and he can see her mind shift.
"Tell me more mom. What else is she?"
"Lem, she is . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Her words will be life to you.
She will speak truth and light no matter what.
She will be your partner,
and the two of you will reason and build together.
You will learn to trust her voice and she will be worthy of that trust.
You will find comfort in her gaze, her arms, her smile, her touch, her thoughts, her words.
Her love will be a pleasure to you.
With her at your side, you will conquer twice as many giants.
She will give you her best self for as long as there is life in her.
You will find excellence and creativity buried deep inside this woman.
She will turn raw materials into beauty and use.
Diligently discovering new things for her family, you will find her interesting (for a lifetime) 'like the merchant ships loaded with foods' from far away lands. There will always be something new to learn of her.
'She rises while it is yet night and gets spiritual food for her household and assigns her maids their tasks.' She cares about the people around her and is a teacher by nature. But there is so much more." Lem's mother stops and he can see her mind shift.
"Tell me more mom. What else is she?"
"Lem, she is . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 4: his broken heart
"She is far more precious than jewelry."
Continuing to look at the rubies in one of her rings and thinking of her favorite strand of pearls often worn on special occasions, the words flowed,
"Her value is far above rubies or pearls."
Lem knew how his mom adored the jewelry that dad had given her over the years, how she cared for her rings and guarded her necklaces, how she smiled when she thought of each gift. And because of this awareness, he was beginning understand that this "woman" that his mother was speaking of had to be special and had to be a journey, because some of those jewels in his mother's rings came from far away places.
As a boy Lem listened to his father's tales of various countries that his mother's rings came from. As a man he had helped him discover some the jewels that adorned her favorite pieces. He had come to understand the value and the cost of those jewels.
But this "woman" that his mother speaks of was more.
For a heart that had been broken but uncertain as to whether he had ever truly been loved by the objects of his affection, he began to focus in on her words. Time became endless. Something in him awoke. He needed to hear the rest of what she was saying. . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Continuing to look at the rubies in one of her rings and thinking of her favorite strand of pearls often worn on special occasions, the words flowed,
"Her value is far above rubies or pearls."
Lem knew how his mom adored the jewelry that dad had given her over the years, how she cared for her rings and guarded her necklaces, how she smiled when she thought of each gift. And because of this awareness, he was beginning understand that this "woman" that his mother was speaking of had to be special and had to be a journey, because some of those jewels in his mother's rings came from far away places.
As a boy Lem listened to his father's tales of various countries that his mother's rings came from. As a man he had helped him discover some the jewels that adorned her favorite pieces. He had come to understand the value and the cost of those jewels.
But this "woman" that his mother speaks of was more.
For a heart that had been broken but uncertain as to whether he had ever truly been loved by the objects of his affection, he began to focus in on her words. Time became endless. Something in him awoke. He needed to hear the rest of what she was saying. . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 3: her name is freedom
"Her name is Freedom," Lem, "Her beauty is Wisdom. She will dance in the moonlight and dream of you in your absence and long for you much like the Queen does as she waits for her lover in Solomon's song.
She will prepare her garden for you (and you alone) and she will love you for lifetimes in ways, you won't even be able to name.
Choose wisely, son. Choose a woman who can truly see you and love you.
Choose strong, a woman who can stand with you, and pray for you."
She pauses to see what he is hearing; his eyes are like books to her. He is alert, thinking, engaged but still not entirely clear why she feels such importance to tell him all this now, but he can tell that on this day,
he should listen;
and so he does;
listen,
to his mother's voice,
to the dream and the clarity in her speech,
and above all,
to the certainty of her words,
as she reveals her 'womanness' list.
a woman's realness,
her hidden treasures (or demons depending on the woman) that make her who she truly is
the things that surface after you get beyond the physical and into the powerful
the things that will either build their future together, or destroy it
her nature, that's what his mother spoke of
a woman's nature
she wanted her son to fall in love with her nature
more than her beauty or her duty
her nature
"She is capable and intelligent and excellent in every way, son. She
is virtuous. And if you can find her, then you will discover something priceless." Looking down at her jewelry, she continues . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
She will prepare her garden for you (and you alone) and she will love you for lifetimes in ways, you won't even be able to name.
Choose wisely, son. Choose a woman who can truly see you and love you.
Choose strong, a woman who can stand with you, and pray for you."
She pauses to see what he is hearing; his eyes are like books to her. He is alert, thinking, engaged but still not entirely clear why she feels such importance to tell him all this now, but he can tell that on this day,
he should listen;
and so he does;
listen,
to his mother's voice,
to the dream and the clarity in her speech,
and above all,
to the certainty of her words,
as she reveals her 'womanness' list.
a woman's realness,
her hidden treasures (or demons depending on the woman) that make her who she truly is
the things that surface after you get beyond the physical and into the powerful
the things that will either build their future together, or destroy it
her nature, that's what his mother spoke of
a woman's nature
she wanted her son to fall in love with her nature
more than her beauty or her duty
her nature
"She is capable and intelligent and excellent in every way, son. She
is virtuous. And if you can find her, then you will discover something priceless." Looking down at her jewelry, she continues . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 2: her nature is her real beauty
"Son," Lem's mother begins
"I know your likes and dislikes, I know your taste in women and your affinity for the nicer things in life. I know because I have raised you, and watched you, and loved you; and a mother comes to know her son." Lem listens with curiosity. He has had many talks with his mother before with her often giving him words of wisdom. Words that usually click right after he has done something stupid. But today there is something else inside her, he almost senses the awaking urgency buried in her customary calm; he notices her need for him to understand what she is saying.
"Lem," she interrupts his thoughts, "it's about your wife"
"Mom, I'm not married, yet" he answers with a slight turn to his lips, lips poised to form a smile and a joke when he realizes that in this moment she may not want to hear his well placed comedy about her Alzheimer's.
"I know son. One day you will, and I need you to know some important things about this woman."
"How do you know who she is?"
"Her name I don't know, but her nature, I can touch her nature with my own hands. And her nature is her real beauty." His mother had always been a poet, so he was used to her colorful words. But when she said 'nature,' he pictured her body (a body he felt that he could look at for a life time) and when she said 'beauty' he pictured her smile (a smile he knew that he could wake to every morning).
In reality, she was speaking of something else all together. Understanding how visual her son is, she whispered a pray in between thoughts
"Father, give me the words."
She reached out and touched her son; placed both her hands around his face, framing it as she had done when he was a boy. She saw her little boy and she saw the man that was forming inside of him and she spoke to that man . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
"I know your likes and dislikes, I know your taste in women and your affinity for the nicer things in life. I know because I have raised you, and watched you, and loved you; and a mother comes to know her son." Lem listens with curiosity. He has had many talks with his mother before with her often giving him words of wisdom. Words that usually click right after he has done something stupid. But today there is something else inside her, he almost senses the awaking urgency buried in her customary calm; he notices her need for him to understand what she is saying.
"Lem," she interrupts his thoughts, "it's about your wife"
"Mom, I'm not married, yet" he answers with a slight turn to his lips, lips poised to form a smile and a joke when he realizes that in this moment she may not want to hear his well placed comedy about her Alzheimer's.
"I know son. One day you will, and I need you to know some important things about this woman."
"How do you know who she is?"
"Her name I don't know, but her nature, I can touch her nature with my own hands. And her nature is her real beauty." His mother had always been a poet, so he was used to her colorful words. But when she said 'nature,' he pictured her body (a body he felt that he could look at for a life time) and when she said 'beauty' he pictured her smile (a smile he knew that he could wake to every morning).
In reality, she was speaking of something else all together. Understanding how visual her son is, she whispered a pray in between thoughts
"Father, give me the words."
She reached out and touched her son; placed both her hands around his face, framing it as she had done when he was a boy. She saw her little boy and she saw the man that was forming inside of him and she spoke to that man . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
Lem 1: a mother speaks to her son . . .
Recently, I was reading proverbs 31 again, and I am reminded of just how exciting being a woman really is. So many of us look at that book and think that it's talking about the married woman; dismissing it for all of us single divas in motion. But in reality it is about a woman speaking to her son. She reminds him of what kind of man he is supposed to be, and then turns the conversation toward what kind of woman he should choose to love and marry, and this is where it gets interesting.
How can this book only be for married women, if his mother is giving him advice regarding choosing a partner for life? The woman she speaks of would already have to be smart, savvy and capable (prior to marriage) in order for him to identify the character traits that his mother speaks of...
I picture the two of them in some quiet moment. Strolling together, talking of the recent adventures experienced in their absence from each other. As the catching up concludes the two stop and rest as a breeze captures their breath and perfects their afternoon together. The son, now a full grown man, sitting at his mother's feet, as he did when he was a child, listens to this final life changing piece of advise.
It must have been meaningful to his mother as her mind chose words wisely. She understood what her son did not fully comprehend, yet...
that a woman has the power to change a man's life for right or for wrong,
and the one that her son would select to spend the rest of his life with needed to be anything but average. Now, how would she relay this truth to him? . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, gospelnerve.com. I got the nerve to say . . .
How can this book only be for married women, if his mother is giving him advice regarding choosing a partner for life? The woman she speaks of would already have to be smart, savvy and capable (prior to marriage) in order for him to identify the character traits that his mother speaks of...
I picture the two of them in some quiet moment. Strolling together, talking of the recent adventures experienced in their absence from each other. As the catching up concludes the two stop and rest as a breeze captures their breath and perfects their afternoon together. The son, now a full grown man, sitting at his mother's feet, as he did when he was a child, listens to this final life changing piece of advise.
It must have been meaningful to his mother as her mind chose words wisely. She understood what her son did not fully comprehend, yet...
that a woman has the power to change a man's life for right or for wrong,
and the one that her son would select to spend the rest of his life with needed to be anything but average. Now, how would she relay this truth to him? . . .
(c) Jamillah Warner, gospelnerve.com. I got the nerve to say . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
