Standing with Giants

There’s something about a road trip/traveling with people and breaking bread together that pulls people together. Traveling with people has always been a tell tale way to get to know people, including getting to see first hand all the idiosyncrasies that you otherwise would not see in your normally controlled environments of work, church, and organization. There’s something about stepping outside the office and inviting others into your personal space that tests the limits of relationship. And no one can refute that a good meal and good company has always been compelling stimuli for some of the most revealing and insightful conversations with strangers and loved ones alike. The space in which both take place, vehicles or planes, restaurants or kitchen tables, can be like prison or heaven, depending upon what takes place in conversation. For me there are two possible outcomes: you leave wanting to spend more time with them OR you leave wanting to spend as LITTLE time with them as you can. There’s usually no in between. Thankfully, I want to spend AS MUCH TIME as I possibly can with these women.

Last Friday night, I had yet another opportunity to do both, road trip and dinner, with a group of truly diverse and dynamic women, some of whom I knew, most of whom I didn’t know. Although we weren’t on an extensive trek across the nation from AL to the Mall of America in Minnesota, the 28 miles we drove down to the University of Montevallo revealed that our driver hated being late, knew how to ride- the-bumper-of-car-in-front-of-you-that-was-going-the-speed-limit just enough until they got into the left lane (you know, the Sunday afternoon stroll lane), and would park on the curb just enough that the back bumper of her vehicle wouldn’t be hit by another one passing. All good things to know for future trips with her (as there will be many)…


















Nevertheless, we were going to see someone worthy of driving faster than the speed limit just to hear. The University of Montevallo hosted Dr. Michael Eric Dyson for a lecture entitled “Obama and The Changing Face of America.” Although I had the chance to hear him last year during his visit to Birmingham, he is someone I don’t get enough of. I could just stand around and listen to him pontificate on life and what’s going on in the world. As he began his lecture, I kind of felt like he was talking at me and not to me and was concerned that perhaps the time wasn’t going to be so “magical” and that I would just leave with my list of vocabulary words that I would have to look up that he used during his presentation. A few minutes passed and something happened, either I settled in or he settled in or perhaps both of us did, and the rest of the lecture was understandable and engaging and it made for a great night.

Dr. Dyson was good. But ask me what he said and I’d have to refer to my notes to tell you exactly. The magic happened for me during dinner.

They didn’t cook, but they did stir

2 Timothy 1: 5-7 (The Message Bible)5-7That precious memory triggers another: your honest faith—and what a rich faith it is, handed down from your grandmother Lois to your mother Eunice, and now to you! And the special gift of ministry you received when I laid hands on you and prayed—keep that ablaze! God doesn't want us to be shy with his gifts, but bold and loving and sensible.

Who knew that dinner with 20 women, most of whom I was meeting for the first time, would fill me to the core and render my cheeks sore from the never subsiding smile that visited.

Stepping into Michael’s was soothing, sensual, and inviting as we escorted into our reserved table to the sound of a jazz duet being played live in the bar. The music, old jazz standards, was perfect entrance music for our cast of guests, 20 beautiful, regal, intelligent, intuitive African American women. Having carpooled to the University, we arrived at our eating location in staggered groups. With our table half full, our eager server Wes approached us,

Fellowship

Just to be in the room was electric. Having central seating at the table, I had the leisure of entering and exiting conversations at each end of the table, mostly listening in on the stories of these amazing women. It reminds me of the movie the Women of Brewster Place; only these women’s stories were upbeat, optimistic, reflective, and telling. I learned about how a 50 year old attorney found love again after telling God she was not going to date. Another sister shared her story of being laid off 2 months ago and how she never felt freer in her life. Another woman told of her trek into the world of journalism and broadcasting and becoming a lead anchor woman and retiring. Yet another told the story of being an accountant in various roles and finding that she enjoyed people more than the numbers and moved over into human resources. It was as if I were listening to an audio book of people who had found and were finding the path to their passions and gifts.

At one point in the evening, our cruise director, the dynamic lady responsible for bringing this group together made mention to me that she wished she’d seated everyone differently and commented that there were key people she wanted to be sure I personally had the opportunity to connect with. Then the conversations turned to jobs and talents and hobbies and when it was my turn something remarkable happened. Someone made mention of dreading going to work everyday and how they hated their jobs and I chimed in with my “amen’s” to indicate I understood. Attention fell on me when I was asked what I’d rather be doing. My friends begin explaining the blog that I write and our cruise director excitedly asks me to recite a small poem I’d done for her while on the way to ATL for a giving circle retreat. A little nervous, I’m thinking in my head “I hope I can remember this.” And everyone is waiting attentively as I nervously giggle and ask if they are ready. So there I was, on one end of the table at Michael’s, reciting my intro to the likes of these Birmingham giants of women, and I’m feeding off their energy and before I finish, they are erupting in applause as if my words have hit them in their gut, then quiet to allow me to finish my piece. And then the other side of the table “Freddie” in particular, wants to hear it. So the tell me to stand up and project and deliver it, so I did, in front of a table of 19 women and again they burst into applause and then it happened.

These women begin to speak of my gift and said they heard Maya Angelou and saw Nikki Giovanni in me as I stood to recite. And they call it a gift and tell me to share it and offer whatever it is that I need to publish and copyright and even offer to give my book to Maya Angelou when she comes into town in September. I have attorney’s calling me their long lost daughter, a woman I just met tonight, who wants to connect with me and provide me with resources to get done. Advertisement, literary agent, editing services, copyright services, I will be their project. They want one on one time with me. They want my card, they want to have brunch… “what do you need?”

Me, I am overwhelmed and encouraged and laughing and blushing and speechless, really truly speechless. I’m thinking to myself “God you are so funny and so clever.” These women are touched and moved by my words, not even an entire poem, just a snippet and I am glad and eating it up.

I am being chided to take my talent out of the ground and stop hiding it. I am having bibles stories being brought up and stories about giving all to pursue the dream and how it happens like that and how one call can change my life.

And I’m full and my friends, the ones I knew before I got there, are all saying and looking at me with “I told you so” looks and I am embarrassed and joyfully and soaking in all this advice and appreciating strangers appreciating and recognizing the gift in me. They say “We have Maya Angelou sitting at the table with us” and we’re hugging and high fiving across the table and it’s just amazing.

These women are amazing. Their story, their lives, are my life. We are all one, and surprisingly, we will walk the same down different roads to get to the place we call home. The place where we don’t have stress headaches from work and where we are excited about waking up and we go to our windows in the morning, through the curtains back and the blinds open and say “Good morning God, what are we going to do today.” I am grateful for fellowship around a petite sirloin medium and a not so delicious loaded potato.

There’s something amazing about getting a group of women together, some who know each other, others that don’t. We have missed the gathering of the women in so many ways and it is difficult to duplicate this time honored tradition in our community. The meeting of women, young and seasoned, to come together and share, break bread at a table of equality, mutual respect, and openness is missing.

Amazing things happen in the midst of a gathering of women, and I pray we are able to duplicate the connection that bound us that night. You could just feel it, the chord being interwoven into the fabric of our beings as we gathered for one more group photo and gave our hugs and goodbyes. For some of us, those goodbyes were the beginning of friendships to come, promises of hope for future dream fulfillment, and if nothing more, a chance to see that 50 is looking better everyday and I will not dread going there and growing old. Turning 50 has never looked better.

We all need experience, but we don’t all need to have gone through it. We need a way to look down the road and chart a path without having to experience all the pitfalls and speed bumps and potholes, a way to navigate successfully through the weather and seasons, and still keep our sanity, our dignity, our independence, our faith, and our woman-ness, our distinct femininity while telling the world “mess with me and you’ll have trouble.” I needed to touch that example. And I touched it tonight. I see it all the time, but tonight, I touched it.

1:36 AM 2-21-09

Standing With Giants

by Crystal Goodman

I thought
Standing next to giants
Would make me feel small
And fade into
Their shadows
Cast from their alignment with the sun
But on the contrary
For shadows are derived of light
Not darkness
And after words spilled from lips
The shadows disappeared
Giants reached down
Picked up my small confidence
And lifted it upon their shoulders
And I understood at once
Giants see what I cannot
And elevating my vision
My line of sight
Let me see that I too
Was a giant
Living in shadows
Of my own making
My sight
Now elevated
Saw clearly
I could fly

The Cusp

The Cusp (a reprint of a blog right after my 1st Caribbean Cruise)
Thursday, October 05, 2006 4:05 PM

Good morning silence, good morning to myself....

I am mellow today on the outside, but inside my soul and spirit are active, potential energy building as we speak, filling me with an anticipation of something. I am full, not drained, so my spirit seeks an outlet to pour out this abundance of thought and experience. My trip afforded me several luxuries: rest, realization, and reflection.

I saw the Diaspora of my people living in various conditions, from Haitian dancers who entertain vacationers looking to experience an "exotic cultural experience", to Jamaican coffee shop owners sharing their mama's strawberry cheesecake and drinking otaheite juice (the Jamaican apple). I sat up front with our Mestizo tour guide in Cozumel telling us about the living conditions of the locals and his goals of graduating from the university the following year with a degree in economics, all the while getting to practice the little Spanish I remember from college courses and getting familiar with my new second language. I recognized the echoes of basic human needs of water, food, and shelter, and felt closer to the world at large, unified under the premise that we all just want decent lives for ourselves and our seed, and a sense that we have accomplished something in this life before we transition into eternity.

So many names and faces to remember beginning with Rosen from Bulgaria, our stateroom attendant, who left our towels shaped in turtles, lobsters, and monkeys, looking "cool" sporting a pair of sun glasses we left on the vanity. He was the employee of the year for this ship and we were blessed to have him.

We laughed with Jean-Max on the beaches of Labadee as he explained to us his exasperation with tourists and their questions, mostly "white Americans" who seemed to be on a hunt for anything that looked like something on the beach. Jean-Max explained to us that while he worked on beach patrol he was not the creator of Haiti, or its beaches, or it's beach creatures and didn't have the monopoly on the knowledge of each item a tourist picked up on the beach like people seemed to think. And while we stood there, a Caucasian gentleman approached him, and sure enough, inquired of him as to his "find" on the beach, what it was exactly and whether it was alive. And we, the knowing bystanders, muffled our giggles long enough until the gentleman retreated to the shoreline to keep finding things. Jean-Max laughed easily, shook his head, and continued telling us about the village not to far from where we were standing. As we left, he did something totally unexpected. He says, "I have something for you" and proceeds to reach into his back pack and retrieves two necklaces and two bracelets and offers them to us as gifts for conversation and fellowship. I can still see his smile and can't remember the phrase he taught us (but I have it written down in my journal, of course) as a greeting to his fellow countrymen. He said when we come back, ask for him. "Everyone here knows me," he says. "They will lead you to me when you come back." So I will remember him.

Costel, from Romania, our assistant server who flirted with me each time I came to the dinning room and wouldn't allow me to leave the ship without getting a hug (I threw in a kiss on the cheek for giggles and blushes), was another welcoming face. He knew about all forms of entertainment, remembered movies that I once loved but had forgotten, and had us on the floor laughing as he recited verbatim scenes from Martin Lawrence's "Big Mama's House," though he stated Cedric the Entertainer was his favorite comedian. He sparked the interest of my family and friends when I ordered a latte one evening after dinner. Upon returning with my latte, he informed me that he had prepared the latte himself because he knew they would not give it the care that he would like for "my latte" to have. One of the family friends related his comment to Alicia Key's comment during the song "You Don't Know My Name" lyrics:

I always use some milk and cream for you, cause...I think you're kinda sweet.

So from that day forward, they egged him on. And he never failed to provide gracious comments whenever he was around.

Jefferson and Jason (St. Martin and Jamaica) who we had plenty of conversations with all over the ship, on the island, a one chance (if you believe in chance) meeting just before we left the ship Sunday morning, the stories of home and how they ended up on the ship.

Then we have the group from Indianapolis, the brothers from Queens, Caucasian guy from Jacksonville, the Hispanic guy from Houston, Norma in Cozumel, the guy in Cozumel who likes piernas and culos, Mr. Craig from Detroit who taught us how to play Texas Hold 'Em in 5 minutes, the man who suffered defeat to my female counterpart on the rock climbing wall, Valerie on deck 7, Kieivan on deck 9, and a whole host of other characters on that we passed daily while enjoying the luxuries of vacation.

I come home to silence and loudness, hustle and bustle, life as usual but yet not the usual life. I guess I'll close by saying this: everyone should go on vacation, a real vacation, at some point in life.

I'm at the cusp. After 7 days at sea, fighting the sting of salt water in my eyes long enough that I can actually see the bright, sparkling, alive water, the sandy beaches, and the blue skies, I have returned refreshed and clean. I don't know what I'm on the edge of, but I'm looking forward to it.

How Do You Like Your Eggs?

...Scrambled soft with a little milk and cheese never hurt nobody.

Funny how, no matter how you like your eggs, sunny side up, fried, scrambled, boiled, when it come down to it, we all had the same thing for breakfast. Just different expressions of culinary talents and consumer preference when it comes to preparing them.

Substitute eggs with love. Lets look at how we like our love? When it boils down to it, its all God (God is love, remember?). So what's your preference for how your receive it? What's acceptable? How do you perceive when someone is showing you "some love"?
In my life, I've come to prefer several forms of love.

Growing up, love was shown to me through affection, discipline, boundaries, and sharing. My mother and father created a "Swiss Family Robinson" lifestyle of sorts. We had family night. We had dates with our parents. We had a daily routine, complete with chores, devotion, play time, and homework time. My parents were consistent with discipline, always explaining why we were getting spanked, punished, having something taken away. One parent was very honest, yet gracious and kind. The other parent was very honest, nurturing, and loving, yet blunt. They always hugged us once discipline time was over, reassuring us we were disciplined because we were loved. And though it never helped my sore behind, or my hurt feelings, when it was all said and done, I knew that I was loved. So my preference for love, based on my upbringing, is an outlined, clear and verbally communicated, actions reinforced words, taken a face value, consistent expression. Life and the expression of love outside my home was viewed through glasses that all "outside" should emulate the love I saw in my home. Love looked like my parents. Love for me was scrambled eggs.

During the course of time, love changed in its form in my home. It went from outlined to kind of a loose parameter. Though it still entailed the verbal communication, reinforced actions, life at face value, it no longer SEEMED consistent. Circumstances deemed changes to the foundation that had come to be love for me. That foundation, for me, became shaky. My parents' love was no longer scrambled eggs. Now their love was sometimes sunny side up, sometimes boiled, sometimes poached. Being used to scrambled, I choose not to "buy it" and started looking for scrambled. I didn't receive the other forms, making me feel somewhat love deprived. (and yes, I wrote a poem about it! LOL) But it was still love.

Fast forward through 14 years of encounters with many people, many experiences, many places and many forms of love. I love scrambled eggs, and though I might have ventured out and tried a teeny tiny bit of the other types, I didn't risk enough to eat an entire helping of them to fully appreciate the quality of each expression.

Until recently. With each revelation I'm learning that its alright to let go of what I know, have experience with, am comfortable with, in order to grab onto something different. The revelations expose how I recognize love, receive love, and even how I show love.
It reminds me of a poem I wrote about a musician who had a lover and his expression of love to her was writing and singer love ballads to her at concerts. But she, being accustomed to and preferring to receive gifts and flowers, never broadened her range of receiving so she could catch all the love he was sending her way in the songs. He, on the other hand, never broadened his range of giving so he could send a message of love in a medium she could accept. On the flip side, she loved music so she would show up for all the concerts and enjoy the music, so he felt loved because she supported His love. He was confused that she didn’t feel loved and he did. There was no communication and compromise to be sure they were sending and accepting the love that they so desperately needed from one another. She was dejected and he was defeated feeling he wasn't the one for her.

So can we consider the possibility that we might be missing out on love, not because of it's scarcity or lack of loving people around us, but because we prefer scrambled eggs and won't accept sunny side up, thereby passing up what we want and need because it's not in the preferred form. What's the risk in trying? You scared you might like it? And so what if you don't. You tried. All I'm challenging you to do is to be open enough to try accepting those sunny side up eggs and smile about it.

There's a whole different experience of God and love you can walk in when you're willing to receive other healthy forms of them. And once we learn how to receive it, both from God and from man, we won't ever be love starved again. Take love out of the proverbial skillet and stick it in the boiler, the microwave, and the oven, and see for yourself that it is still love, just not scrambled.

In her song "Learning: outro" on her latest cd, India.Arie sings "The highest expression of love to give without expecting, the highest expression of love is to accept without exception….I have so much to learn." I'm learning to like sunny side up and boiled ain't so bad. In fact, they are pretty good. I'm taking the exclusiveness from scrambled and am even ordering the sunny side up.

I'm learning the art of experimentation. All in the name of accepting and giving love. And for me it begins with food. Are you willing to venture out? Just a thought.

Return On Investment

ROI

Today I feel proud.
I stick my chest out
And pat myself on the back
Appreciating me
Celebrating the beginning of small dreams
Recognize the small steps
I’m making towards responsibility
No longer will I be set back by insurance premiums due
No shame face when retirement is discussed in groups
I am investing in me
Swallowing my elephant piece by piece
Breaking off small chunks
Chewing it thoroughly
Swallowing each
Not choking in defeat
I am investing in me
Taking the match the re-source provides
Putting it with mine
Stretching the length of my stride
Handling with wisdom
The lot that is my own
I am finally making a home
And I am investing in me
Planted a seed to grow a tree
Watering it with responsibility
Trimming back the dead leaves
No more NSF fees
Illuminating my greed
Or taking enough of my pay
To purchase the newest technology
I’m acting my wage these days
Not over taxing my talents
With frivolous trips to Wally world
Buying food that goes bad
I’m listening, not just hearing
Something my mom would smile about
I’m applying, not just knowing
And it seems things are coming together
For the better
I have decided that I can love
Even though it’s still a mystery to me
The process of letting go
Releasing intentionally
No longer are things stripped away violently
I am giving
Out of necessity
The need to be me
I now believe in
The gift of me
I’m opening my hand
Releasing my clenched fist
Giving my 4 and a half cents
And religiously my 1st 10th
Even if
It’s all I have
Realizing it’s still investing in me
Nothing is being taken away
Not today
And my gift
Gets leverage
Being currency
Flowing through me
So I,
I cast my bread upon the waters
I know soon
Somehow
In time
Or in eternity
They will return to me
And I then will eat
Because I am finally
Intentionally
With destiny
Investing in me

2/12/2009
8:56AM

Signing my name...

Today

Today is all I have

Yesterday is gone

Tomorrow hasn’t come

But now, right now

I have a chance

To do something

To take a stand

On what I hold as true

So what will I do

I will act

Out on my heart

And shun fears thoughts

And make a start

Take a step

Towards my wildest dreams

Walking forward means

I’ll soon be free

CKG

2/11/09
7:48 am

This morning I'm dreaming wide awake thanks to Amy, my coworker and a musician stuck in the accounting world. As she was passing by this morning I asked her a question, "are we still dreaming?" to which she replied, "well... actually I am," and passed me the piece of paper she had just retrieved from the printer. The header read "The Profession of Music Therapy" and she told me the story about her exposure to the field and that she'd been looking back into it recently. I got excited because one of my neighbors across the street did music therapy for a living and before she moved in about two years ago, I had never even hear of the profession. Amy closed her spill of her research with "... so that's my dream for the week... what about you... you still dreaming?" And I thought about what my dream is and I immediately thought about the ongoing book project I've been "working on" forever it seems and I replied with a hesitant "Yea... still working on the book..."

So this morning, here's to all the dreamers, who dream wide awake in spurts, every two or three weeks or so, then succomb to regular living in areas we have a lack of passion.

I encourage you, do something today to feed the dream... don't let it die. It's like your body, each day you eat, you nourish it and encourage it to continue.

Do the same with your dream today, whether its doing some research on that business you want to start, or writing a blog you want syndicated, or taking 30 minutes to exercise hard, or whatever it is, feed your dream.

I wrote this poem inspired by Amy. And surprisingly, when I sent it to her, she printed it out and had me autograph it, a gesture that encouraged me and gave me a glimpse that someday, I will catch cramps in my hand from autographing my books.

Thank you Amy. I'm working on my autograph...

Together, We Have It All

This morning I drove into work listening to the Tom Joyner Morning Show in the midst of regular rush hour traffic on I-459. Wednesdays on the show is Christmas and Tom Joyner reads a letter received from a listener who is asking for a favor for a person/organization that is in needs or merits rewarding based on situational character. This morning the letter was from a Sumpter County Head Start program director, a nationally funded program, asking for computers for its facility. Tom went on to read that because of a shortage of national funding and cut backs, the facility which served 400 children were unable to repair its computers and were in dire need of new ones to facilitate its technological initiatives with the students. Tom, being the wonderful benevolent person that he is, granted them 5 brand new computers to "jump start" their technology objective. Tom Joyner's continuous acts of kindness reminded me of Rev. Joseph Lowery's words during the 2006 Southern Leadership Conference I attended here in Birmingham

"Will words create deeds that meet needs."

In his case, they certainly have.

Listening to that brings me to this. As a person recently engaged in community philanthropy through the Birmingham Change Fund (http://www.birminghamchangefund.org/), it never ceases to amaze me the needs in our commmunity and the ways in which we have historically risen to meet those needs, as much as we could. My group is ending a grant cycle now that is resulting is giving grants to grassroots organizations that are addressing the needs of the community. Our task is to assess those in need, the area of need, and the capacity at which we are able to assist them. There is a growing network of giving circles like ours that are doing the same thing. http://www.thecommunityinvestment.org/

But what if, in a more informal sense, we all looked around our community, assessed it's needs, the area of need, and the capacity at which we personally are able to assist. Historically, African Americans have followed this model of philanthropy. We all can remember neighborhoods giving money to David, Sadie's son, as he headed off to college, or taking up a special collection during Sunday school to give to Lou Ellen because she just had surgery. Small gestures of kindness like these are what brought my people through the rough times of days gone. I know that a return to these gestures is going to sustain us through the tough economic times we face now as a nation.

Here's one example that came to mind as I was typing this just now. The Head Start program in Sumpter County was in need of computers. I currently have two PC's in my home that I don't use. I have friends in the business of rebuilding computers and for less than $400.00 I can have both of them refreshed and available for use complete with all the basic Microsoft Office tools and the like for another small organization in need of computers. I'm sure if I continue to poke around my home, there are many more items, resources there that will be very useful and can be very critical gifts to my community to help it reach its goal of developing the next generation.

Just last week I received 6 cds in the mail from a former coworker of math software that they used to help their daughter through some difficult classes. Since they were no longer using them, she mailed them to me to use with our youth at my local assembly. I'm not sure how much the software cost them but my budget and the church trustees will be glad about not having to spend that money in these lean budgetary times.

I'm not very knowledgeable about economical issues. I know enough to make me dangerous and able to handle the basic conversation about the "bad" economy and the inevitable cuts that are going to take place in areas that we really need more funding. I'm not adept at policy making, neither do I know the ins and outs of what it takes to get more money in the budget for key programs. But I am good at writing and I think I'll do a lunch and learn on essay writing for high school students. And perhaps my musician friends can help me put on a small recital for the kids in the community that play instruments.

What I'm saying is that each of us have, in our hands, some capacity to help meet the needs of our community. I encourage you to look in your houses, think about your skill set and knowledge, and find small ways that we everyday folk can make up for the lack in governmental support with support from our gifts and personal talents.

I'd like to hear about some ways you have thought of to "meet the needs" in the areas you are in. Let me hear from you....

In closing, a couple of weeks ago I attended a leadership training at my local assembly where our dynamic assistant pastor and pastor facilitated two great sessions. During the first session we learned about teamwork and how it accomplishes goals that feed into our overall mission. One thing she said that stuck out to me was this: "I don't have it all together, but together, we have it all."

So I leave that with you: I don't have it all together, but together, we have it all.