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 . . .
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