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