If There's Even the Slightest Chance of Success, I Gotta Take It

Have you ever been between a rock and a hard place? Damned if you do and damned if you don’t? Backed against the wall and feeling hit from all sides, or worse what’s bullying you is so big that it overcasts even the good things happening in your life? Not a good place to be…..or is it?


There is a story in the Old Testament of the Bible about four lepers. Speaking in the voice of a preacher as he clears his throat, takes a sip of water and tells the awaiting congregation, “Those who have their Bibles, turn with me to 2 Kings 7: 3-8. If you have it, say ‘Amen.’”

Now there were four men with leprosy at the entrance of the city gate. They said to each other, “Why stay here until we die? If we say, ‘We’ll go into the city’—the famine is there, and we will die. And if we stay here, we will die. So let’s go over to the camp of the Arameans and surrender. If they spare us, we live; if they kill us, then we die.” At dusk they got up and went to the camp of the Arameans. When they reached the edge of the camp, not a man was there, for the Lord had caused the Arameans to hear the sound of chariots and horses and a great army, so that they said to one another, “Look, the king of Israel has hired the Hittite and Egyptian kings to attack us!” So they got up and fled in the dusk and abandoned their tents and their horses and donkeys. They left the camp as it was and ran for their lives. The men who had leprosy reached the edge of the camp and entered one of the tents. They ate and drank, and carried away silver, gold and clothes, and went off and hid them. They returned and entered another tent and took some things from it and hid them also.

I’m fascinated by this story. There is something so captivating here:  If there is a probability – no matter how small – of success, then I gotta take it.

To fill you in on what’s been going on with me, I told my boss last Tuesday that I was leaving the company. This was no easy decision. Let. Me. Tell. You. If you’ve been following my blog, you know I've been dissatisfied for a looooooong time. But you know how it goes. On the one hand, you tell yourself at least you got a job. All these people out here with more credentials and degrees than you and they can’t find a job. You tell yourself you need to stop complaining and be grateful for what you have. “Besides, you old gurl. You 52 years old. And you know how much your health insurance skyrocketed when you turned 50.” Yet, on the other hand is this just-as-certain voice that says, “Gurl, you can’t stay in this job. You so worn out you can hardly get out of bed to even go to work. You’re miserable.” Being caught between two opposing opinions is like being squeezed to death. You can’t breath. You can’t move. It’s awful!

I couldn’t rest. Even while I was on sick leave, grieving the loss of my cousin, I couldn’t fully grieve the way I needed to because I was worried about my job. I was worried about the load of work awaiting me when I returned. I was worried that deadlines would be missed. Yet, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, incapable of doing a darn thang about it. I begged God to help me. I was under siege.

I know you’re waiting to hear how God saved the day, right? Well, He did but not in the way you’d imagine. Rather than deal with the decision, he zeroed in on the fear, doubt and intimidation that had me in a chokehold. I didn't trust myself.  He knew that was more mammoth than any decision.  “You and I were an indomitable team, weren’t we?,” He said, reminding me of how we masterfully navigated the whole homeownership process. In that moment, I realized that, though the homebuying process had its own chills and thrills, God and I navigated every single aspect of it and did it brilliantly if I must say so myself. Peace came. No more torment. Even in the midst of grieving my cousin, I felt myself expand larger than what was trying to squeeze the life out of me. The decision wasn’t the most important thing. It was knowing that God and I were an indomitable team.

So, yes, I told my boss that I was leaving the company. Do I have another job to go to? No. I don’t know what I will be doing. Could I be out of my ever-lovin mind? I might very well be. I’ve been known to make a hair-brained decision from time to time. Despite this being true, here I am again. Though I tried to take the responsible, not-rock-the-boat approach by trying to find a job before giving my notice, I knew that I couldn’t delay my decision any longer. It’s scary as all get-out; yet as exciting as all get-out just the same. All I know is this: God and I have navigated every twist, turn and kerfluffle of my life. He’s been my biggest fan, never damning me for my choices but applauding me for taking the risk. Always there to lend his unwavering support. Who wouldn’t serve a God like that! Soooo using the deductive reasoning of my friends the four lepers, this is what I decided: If I stay at the job, I’ll not be fulfilled and there is no potential for fulfillment. At least not to date. If I don’t make a decision, my indecisiveness will subject me to more suffering, I’ll darn sho not be fulfilled. If I leave my job, all those terrifying might-happens might happen. I might fall flat on my face, this is true. Just the same, if there’s a chance, the slightest chance that I might be successful, I gotta take it.

Are You Living Intentionally?

Are you living intentionally? Reminded by something Cheryl Richardson said during Lesson 24 of Oprah’s Life Class: Newton’s Third Law, I had an encounter with that very question. You see a lady in the audience asked Cheryl the difference between having the intention and having the dream. With poised insight, she responded by saying, “The intention comes from a soulful place. The wish [dream] usually comes from something not working in your life. For instance, I wish I’d meet a partner because I’m lonely and I don’t feel comfortable living alone. I wish I would win the lottery because I’m in debt. My prayer becomes ‘if this is in the highest and best interest for me and those around me then please allow it to happen.’ It’s a humble way of saying that it’s not just about me and what my head thinks, it’s about me and this greater energy, this greater creative force.” This was the last thing I heard before going to bed and its relevance to my life greeted me first thing this morning. Oprah calls it an aha moment. Eckhart Tolle calls it consciousness. The Bible says, “as the light shines, walk therein.”


I've been in an unsettled place. You know that place where you say emphatically I can’t go back to something. Then, as the time to return draws near and you can’t see another way, you start backpedaling? I was in that space. With Lawrence’s death, some things in my life that were barely tolerable became intolerable. I said I couldn’t go back and prayed and prayed and prayed some more. Despite this, it seemed that God wasn’t cosigning on it. So you ask yourself if it’s truly intolerable or if you can squeeze out just one more coping strategy to stay. It’s not that you want to, but you don’t see any other way out.

For weeks, I’ve begged for the escape. I even saw my writing or life coaching as the escape. Repentance came quickly though because you don’t want to saddle something that comes from a pure place with the wishfulness that Cheryl says comes from something not working in your life. Though I hate the circumstances, I needed this break from everything. As I described it to my grief counselor, "all my marbles in my container were scattered and Lawrence's death broke the container." I needed a Selah, a place of rest.

Out of resting came clarity. Was this coming from an egoic need to escape or the demand my calling was placing on my life? From the time I entered high school, my parents and even my larger environment said that I needed to go to college to get a good education so I could get a good job. Throughout my employable years, I’ve allowed that conditioned thinking to lead me into majoring in a field of study that I had an aptitude for and seeking employment in that field. I was never passionate about it.  We weren’t raised to be entrepreneurs or to think outside that conditioned path despite how talented, gifted and creative we were. We were always told what we couldn't do, not what we could do. Today, I was challenged with the disparity between that conditioned thinking and my life intention.

So how do you move from conditioned living to intentional living? It takes an awakening, first and foremost. Some sleeping part of who you really are has to be awakened. That’s why I know there is a God, A Greater Consciousness, A Wonderful Counselor at work in us. Some think that you don’t have access to Him unless you get saved; but there are too many examples to the contrary. I believe that when Jesus died, He reconciled mankind back to God and when the veil in the temple was torn in two, it gave anyone access to Him who was open and had an ear to hear. Else I don’t think the Dalai Lama, Gandhi, or other ambassadors of peace of different faiths would have such an intimate understanding of spiritual principles described as "the fruit of the spirit" in the Bible.  Many of them model kindness, humility, self control, and other fruit better than those of us who claim to know God. I know that what I am saying may irk many of my Christian friends; but even the Bible says that you know a tree by the fruit it bears. Moreover, an evil tree cannot produce good fruit. So if the fruit of someone’s life is good, it challenges the lens through which we see our fellowman. I’m just sayin.

Anyway, I digress. What I was awakened with was a reminder of what my life intention is and the areas in my life that weren’t in alignment with that intention. So what is your life intention Suzette? I’m so glad you asked me. My life intention is to recover my authentic soul (wholeness), to build a supportive environment to nurture it and my calling is to offer that to others seeking to do the same. I believe that’s my assignment in this life. In accordance, everything has been held to that intention. Some people I clung to were ripped away, some things I involved myself in had to cease, some baggage that I carried had to be abandoned and some beliefs long held had to be changed, all because a Greater Will was preserving a future I had not arrived at and a calling I had not fully heard. I can continue to rest knowing that God is mindful of all that concerns me and has every intention to bring me into abundance.

Related articles

• The Year of Living Intentionally (sdawson726.wordpress.com)

He Is The Resurrection, You Know

"Grief simply means you have loved well."

"Your grief is in proportion to how much someone or something meant to you."

Of all the responses given by Elizabeth Lesser, a guest author who frequented Oprah’s Soul Series and panels, these words have provided me with a quorum of comfort today. I’ve got to tell you, this period of mourning has been different from any I have ever experienced for one chilling reason. I have spent most of my time alone. I know there are some people who would envy me the fact that I haven’t had to deal with all the background noise that usually accompanies death: family drama and folks coming by that you have to entertain graciously when all you want to do is climb into a dark hole and disappear.  Nevertheless, it's been hell.


Elizabeth goes on to say that one does not grieve well in the 3 days most jobs give you. Grief takes much longer. If you don’t take the time, what’s unsolved emotionally will fester under that persona of functionality and poison you like a cancer that pollutes everything in your life. Most employers and sometimes even people you come in contact with don’t understand that. They want to end their own discomfort by rushing you. Why? Why are people so intimidated by pain? Produce, produce, produce is shoved down our throats from an early age. Live long enough and you’ll find there are some things that will knock you flat on your back and no matter how much you want to get up, you can't.

If there is one cry my soul has made throughout all this, it is to examine the superficialities of my own existence. As much emphasis as is put on performance, that’s not where my value lies. People don’t remember you for that. Nobody is going to cry over you when you die because you saved the company millions of dollars. Nobody is going to mourn the nights you stayed up working or the major events missed in the lives of those you love because of busy doing. Nobody is going to be inspired, impacted or changed by any of it. People will only remember how you made them feel.

How do I make you feel? Do you feel seen, heard and that you matter? That is the heart that beats within me. Is what I am doing aligning with that?  My decisions?  My job?  Do the people I consider as close friends supporting that?  If my life is not opening up for that to be released into this world, then my life is not being lived well. When my cousin died and I heard about the services in Virginia or listened as people reflected at his funeral in Durham, not one person talked about how well he graded papers, his staying up late at night making our his lesson plan, whether he wore designer labels or no-name brands, or whether he had swagger or was a savvy businessman. No. Not. One.What they talked about was how he kept some troubled students from committing suicide. They talked about how he believed in a White student whose family member had filled him with such racial hate and bigotry that he got in trouble in school and how my cousin believed in him and changed his White supremacist family member’s views. They talked about how they felt listened to. They talked about his generosity. The lengths he went to to save or inspire just one child to excel not just in history, algebra or English but in life.

When something tragic happens in life, we have a choice. We really do. We choose our attitude about what is happening in our lives. We choose what we’ll focus on and what will be interwoven into the fabric of our lives.  We choose how we will live our lives moving forward.  Sadly, some folks only remember who didn’t show up. What a waste of time and what a waste of effort! Holding stuff against folks doesn’t change them; it only hardens you. In this experience, I have become aware of it. Out of the annals of my pain came the reality of the moment and the harsher realities of my life. Just as much though, out of my suffering came a genuine desire to be better. I’ve had some disappointments. I’ve had some poor-me moments. I’ve had some tormenting fearful thoughts. I’ve felt like I was going to lose my natural mind. Everything that wasn’t nailed down in my life got pulled apart by the loss and the ensuing grief that followed it.

What I am choosing though is to not waste any of it. It’s not me, but the Greater I Am who is doing the choosing. I’m just not fighting against it. It’s scary to go through something and not know how it’s going to turn out. It’s painful and uncomfortable but this is a holy moment. This is a holy moment. My path has been altered. It hurts, yes. Nonetheless, I don’t just want to stop hurting and to resume business as usual. Instead, I want to attain a greater level of wholeness. I want to see this through God's eyes.  If not, my cousin’s death will have no meaning. Unless a loss fuels something Greater in you; then it has no value. As surely as the last breath is taken by your loved one; it is truly their end if it doesn’t power your authentic soul to higher heights and deeper depths. So, I will be patient with myself and trust God. Only He can make all things work together for my good. Only He can make all things beautiful in their time. And So It Is.

Well, it’s dark outside again. Still haven’t quite made my peace with darkness. It still feels like being in a dark hole with no way out. Sort of like a grave. Nevertheless, God is with me and one day the anxiety will cease. He is The Resurrection, you know.

I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye

The title says it all. It’s been two weeks and I don’t cry as much. One would think that I’m improving, right? I don’t think so, for today, as I sat in my therapist’s office and poured out my heart, my feelings were just as raw as when I first heard of my cousin’s death. I find that I’m not only dealing with his sudden death but the reality of my own mortality. What’s to stop that from happening to me? The more I hear about what led up to his death, the more I realize that his issues were medically related, yes; but that’s not all. As much as he was lauded as a phenomenal teacher, coach, pillar in his community, there was a backdrop of extreme stress. The stress of pushing despite, overlooking, dismissing and under-evaluating the toll it was taking on his life. “Mr. Mumford, are you alright?,” a student would ask when it took him too long to get up from his desk. “Mr. Mumford, are you alright?, asked by a passerby at a school, in a hospital, or while taking care of business for his dad as he was observed leaning against a wall or clenching his chest or holding his head as he sat slumped over in a chair. So what killed him? Medical issues exacerbated by stress or stress manifesting in medical issues?



I may never know why my dear cousin’s life was snuffed out. It is troubling to think about. Both my therapist and Naturopathic Doctor wondered if I fear that I will die too. After all, he was my age. It is common to be anxious about dying especially when it’s someone close to your age, I am told. “Are you afraid that you’re gonna die too?,” my ND asked. “I don’t think so,” I answered. “It’s more sobering to think that I might die alone.” Folks say that you’re born alone and you die alone. It’s different though to have a heart attack and there is no one there to help. True, I have family, I have friends, I have a loving man; but they all live elsewhere. They wouldn’t think anything was different if I didn’t return a phone call immediately. It’s sad when the first people who’d be concerned would be the folks on your job. Even as I type, I could expire in the next second and no one would be the wiser. I think that’s what’s most troublesome about all this.



Don’t misunderstand. I know that one day we all will be leaving this earthly realm one way or another. I’m not sitting here afraid of that. It’s more wondering if I am tolerating instead of living. “Death is only a tragedy if you haven’t lived,” is a quote that resonated with me when I first heard it on the movie THE FAMILY THAT PREYS. Am I afraid that that will be today or tomorrow? No. I’m most concerned about the quality of my life not when I’m going to die.



I don’t know if it’s a family thing but my cousin’s lifestyle mirrors that of his dad, my dad and other men in our family. It’s as if they all read from the same dictionary that defines being a strong man as pressing past challenges to make sure other people are taken care of. Though it manifests itself the same, the females in my family don’t define their manhood by it. I think we are more typifying self-sacrifice. It’s viewed as noble or Christlike. We are the suffering servants, the loyal accommodaters who get worn down by being there despite the resistance we get when we attempt to assert what we need. It’s not that we don’t tell you; it’s the resistance I think that eats away at our resolve. Case and point, after working on Sunday to finish financials for my job, I asked myself if the pressure to perform was greater than the grief that put up a fight. I’ve said that I can’t keep working. I’ve said that I need time. Yet, I pushed myself to get the job done with less regard for myself. Is it external pressures or internal ones? Internal I would guess as I consider the anxiety I’ve felt over not being able to perform to that same high standard that I’m praised for. Or maybe it’s the external that has somehow seeped into my self-worth over the years and has blinded me to what really matters in life.



We all are dysfunctional in some way, shape or form. So I’m not too hard on myself for that. Internal, external, doesn’t matter. Same as I’ve taught some people to regard me for me, I’ve taught others to put themselves and their needs above my own. None of this is their fault. Instead of complaining that I’ve gotten calls that have ended with “Oh girl, I’m so sorry. Let me know if I can do anything,” I should have said, “I need something to eat and I don’t want to cook it,” or “I feel alone and want you to come over.” It’s not their fault that I didn’t say it. People are only being who they are. They are dealing with their own lives. They are not responsible for my health and well being – I am. I must assert what I need because I value it. How people respond is definitely important to teaching me who I can count on and what part they wish to play in my life.  Either I can accept it or reject it.  That's totally my call.


I say I because I can choose to continue to allow the stress in my life to eat me alive or I can make decisions that support me. Even in grief, I feel my Wise Self challenging my self-value and motioning for me to rise to another level. The God who sees, knows and cares is working within me to give me strength and clarity of how to support His efforts to take care of me. Has he miraculously transported me out of my misery? No. He has walked alongside me throughout it, often taking the lead when it’s time. He is leading me now. For me, as for many others, death is the pathway to life. Nothing raises your consciousness like the death of a loved one. You go in one way but come out another. I think about Congresswoman Gabby Gifford’s harrowing experience. From death’s door she was rescued and brought back. Why? I’m sure many were anticipating her return to Congress and the heightened sense of purpose. She resigned over the weekend. I am not shocked though. When you go through something life-altering, your life is altered. That’s why some people change their associations, their way of living, or move to another part of the world. That’s why families start foundations or fight to change laws after loss of a loved one. Like them, Gabby’s moment of clarity is uniquely tailored to her path in life. I respect that.  



Oh well, I know that I’m rambling so I feel I have to ask myself what is the point to all this. The point is this. I don’t think it’s other people who make us bitter or better. I think it lies in our choice to stay open or to shut down. I realize that when stressed I tend to give in to the familiar codependency or the familiar overachiever syndrome. Even in grief, that's my go-to.  I won’t damn myself for it. I won’t guilt myself or shame myself for it. Instead, I own it and open my heart to that Wise part of me who knows that I’m just in an emotional tailspin. Despite my decisions or mistakes, when it’s time for something to be over, God has always offered me a way of escape. I can rest in Him taking care to make sure I don’t harm myself or anyone else during this time. Lawrence’s death shook me to my core and scattered all the marbles I had carefully placed in life’s jar. I am seeing now that my recovery isn’t in scrambling to pick up the marbles, but to let them roll and bounce to wherever they wish. The way through all this is not in my performance any way. It’s in my surrender. “God, I’ve been praying for a long time. I know that You see from a panoramic view what I cannot see. I trust you to give me the help I need and to pick up the pieces or to leave them scattered and give me new ones.”

I Saw Love Personified

Death reveals so much about people. Uncle John, Aunt Beulah, Cousin Mary and dem can make you shake your head in dismay as they argue over who did what for whom or who should get what or who didn’t do this or that. Some clenching their fists while others clutching their Bibles. My mom use to say that she wasn’t gonna leave a lot of life insurance money for family to fight over. Many a family has been torn apart at the death of a loved one. I don’t know all that went on behind the scenes but what I saw at my cousin’s funeral was endearing and impacted me deeply.

I saw love personified. My cousin was an only child and adopted. I think he struggled with that more than I knew. When my cousin’s father died, I was afraid that he would feel orphaned and disconnected. That’s the reason I had to get to him. For various reasons, many of the family I knew couldn’t make it to the wake. I’m glad I did. That within itself was Divine favor as we had driven for three hours all over Roxboro and beyond and were about to give up when an angel in the form of a man at a gas station gave us clear directions.

Since that time, as God would have it, his cousins V and T devoted themselves to his care and provided him with a sense of family and connection that he had longed for since his mother’s death and probably even before. What a gift. It was astounding to me the sacrifices they made even in his death.

They say that love is in the details. Symbolic of it was the fact that his cousins bought him a brand new suit to be buried in. “New clothes for his new home,” V said, "down to his underwear." To most folks this sounds ludicrous. Everyone knows that you can’t take anything material to the other side. But again, it wasn’t about reasoning or rationality, it was about care and love.

Even at the graveside, when everyone else left, his cousins stayed the limo driver and told the grave attendants they didn’t want to leave his casket sitting on slats to be buried later. Seeing their resolve, I, my son and my mom stayed as well.  It was like no other burial I had ever witnessed.  The vault was placed over the casket and secured. The grave attendants then chained the vault and it was lifted by a bulldozer while they removed the slats. They then careful navigated the unit into the ground. Once it was lowered, dirt was added and the green grass-looking tarp was put on top.

What was most striking to me was his cousin T. He stood watch with unwavering commitment until every detail was done. He didn’t move. It was cold. He stood there. It was a laborious process. He stood there. He didn’t move from his spot. It reminded me of the military where one soldier salutes a fallen comrade.  Oh my God, how moving it was.  I only hope that when I die, someone will want to make sure that even my remains are handled with such care. V said it was the norm for them to pull the covers up over him when he was unable to do it himself. As they tucked him in securely in life, they tucked him in securely in death. Again, love is in the details.

As I remember the funeral and the emotional ups and downs of the past week, I have asked that I become a better person, a better friend, a better human being. I’ve tried to remember the countless moments of awareness, of evaluation and of a greater understanding of life, people and love. They are glimmers at first but as we move through grief to surrender, those moments become building blocks for the new normal we have to build. A normal where you will carry your loved one in your heart and are inspired to be better for it.

Even for those who don’t believe in God or tend to place their hopes in their own abilities, life has a way of bringing you to a point of reckoning. You’ll either get up more conscious of who you are or you’ll slip further down into despair and allow your pain to drive you further from who you were meant to be. I believe that coming-to-yourself is that spiritual part of you asserting itself.  And even in the darkest of nights or the most harrowing of circumstances, He will reveal Himself as a voice or a flicker of light when it’s time. Some call Him the indomitable human spirit. I call him the Holy Spirit. He counsels and enables and helps you when, in your ability, you simply can’t do it on your own.

I know that death is intimidating for most--myself included. The Bible calls it an enemy. It takes something precious and leaves you with loss. Some folks who are uncomfortable with grief will try to divert you by quoting scriptures or rationalizing the death in some way. I don’t want to be like that. Grief is the byproduct of loving someone.  There is no way to make it better.  All we can do is be with.  There is power in being with.  There is healing in being with.  One person's humanity can touch another's.  When someone sees you, hears you and shows you that you matter, that’s the highest form of validation. And accepting it from whomever, whenever is humility.

It saddens me that our society pushes you to just get over stuff. And we confuse being able to function to being over it but it shows up in other ways. It shows up in us becoming overly critical or touchy. It shows up in broken relationships and broken trusts. It shows up in stomachaches, headaches, muscle aches and other aches. It shows up in workaholism, alcoholism, and other isms. It shows up in the egoic need to control other people, places and things. It shows up in extreme and risqué behaviors. If you peel that banana back it traces back to something undervalued by others or unresolved. Some root of bitterness, disappointment, hurt or pain.

Yes, I know that I must keep living – in fact, I want to keep living – and that’s the key. To live. To not be eaten up by grief. To not be consumed by anger. To not let the pain fester but lead us to something sacred within us. To live is to not abandon the moment be it pleasant or painful. To live in it, trusting that you will live through it. To be as honest and pure as a little child when they are sad. To trust your Wiser Self, that Greater Consciousness, that Divine Awareness whom I call God to watch out for you. To know when you need to cry and when you need to laugh. To know when it’s time to cling and when it’s time to let go. If you stay present, life will expose to you some treasure locked inside that you never ever knew was there. I want to come out of this better and I trust God to make all things beautiful in His time.

Related articles

• Celebrate Life Every Day (3sharedpaths.com)
• Rewind, Restart: The Grief Process and Journey (onewomansgriefofepicproportions.wordpress.com)
• This City Year Life: Finding Meaning in Loss (cityyearsanjose.wordpress.com)

Savoring Instead of Surviving

What does YOUR next chapter look like?


While surfing the web, I happened upon this question. Today’s surfing is a little different than most. My cousin’s funeral was today. So today was a day of endings. Though he left us on Sunday, January 8th; we didn’t commemorate that exodus until today. Today was the final goodbye before we committed his body to the ground and his soul to God, His Creator.

Honestly, up until this defining moment, I had not made a New Year’s resolution. And really, this isn’t a resolution; it’s more an awakening. I don’t consider myself a hokey, hoo doo, supernatural type of person. So please don’t read any of that into what I’m about to say. I’ve simply had a sense that my cousin has been communicating with me. No, it hasn’t been an audible voice neither have I seen any shadows, forms or aborigines. Nothing moving from here to there. Nothing Poltergeist-ish. I’ve simply had a deep sensing that he’s trying to tell me something. Something he needs me to know.

Live. That’s what I’ve been hearing. You’ve been responsible, you’ve raised your son, you’ve been painstaking in making sound judgments and good decisions; but you need to live. Please understand, it wasn’t him giving me permission to act on an egoic impulse neither was it a warning. It wasn’t him trying to tell me how short life is. Nothing like that. It was the voice of one who had transcended. He was speaking to my faith.

For you see, I’ve been like the little fearful mouse in the corner about things I’ve wanted to do in life. I could impress you by saying it was because I put my son first. And truly I did. As a post-divorce single parent, I had to make sacrifices and I did that with absolute joy. But what I’m talking about goes wayyyyyy beyond that. I saw my parents work, work, work. Nothing came easy. They took literally that passage of scripture where it says that a man shall work by the sweat of his brow. I only saw them go to church and go to work. That was it. We never took family vacations. My mom and dad never got away for alone times. They either felt it sinful and irreverent to partake of certain pleasures of life or my dad would say he had already travelled and no longer wanted to.

So being a product of all that, I’ve found it difficult to break free of that survival mentality. I’m doing better, true; but every single time I make a purchase for myself, I have to overcome the guilt that it brings. I think if we were to reference the book or the movie EAT PRAY LOVE as an example, I feel that I’ve thoroughly prayed – all my life I’ve sought to know God. He Is ever revealing Himself to me. I’m experiencing satisfying love. My sweet Robert is an absolute gift of Love. It’s the eat part. It’s the enjoying life part that has been a battle.

Take for instance something as simple as purchasing a flat-screen TV. I heaved and hawed over it for weeks, taking painstaking lengths to get the best deal. It wasn’t because I was so concerned with the brand name or the pixels. I was more concerned with buying TVs while they were the cheapest. Sounds pretty responsible right? Yes, on the surface; not so much when you looked underneath. I was scared. That’s the real. I was scared to make a purchase of that magnitude because it wasn’t a need. If my current set was broken, somehow I would have felt more justified. It wasn’t though.

What about buying it just because I wanted it? What about that?

The decision was mine. I just had trouble permitting myself to buy it. It wasn’t about God; the problem was in me. It’s called TRUST. I didn’t trust that God would provide just as much for a want as a need. I struggled with whether there would be more if I used what I had. Lawrence needed me to know that God had more than enough for me. He didn't want me to squandor this life for a so-so one when I could have so much more.

I think that’s why I’m finding this awakening so profound. Something happened when Lawrence left his body. I know this. Despite my grief, I knew something else was going on. In my mind’s eye, or shall I say my spirit’s eye, I saw him wanting to communicate with me from a place of transcendence. He was now looking at a God, ready, willing and wanting to provide everything I’d ever ever need in this life. I kept hearing “Suzette, you’ll be irresponsible if you don’t live. There are places you’ve not been, GO. There are things you have not seen, SEE THEM.” I could hear him pleading with me. Do it and trust God.

So my next chapter looks like this: me tasting the good things of life. I see my eyes rolling back and closing in absolute delight as the flavor of living excites my palette and fills me with joy. It’s the savoring instead of surviving. That’s the message. Thank you, Lawrence. I hear you. I hear you.

Except for the purr of my furnace off and on, silence. Every now and then, I hear the rumbling of a car passing or is it a bus? School children waiting on the corner. Wonder if you are waiting on the corner? It’s times like this that you ask yourself if heaven is real. I know I’ve been taught about heaven—pearly gates, streets paved with gold—but is that really what it’s like to die? Or are the pearly gates a metaphor.


What was it like for you? What was it like to be sitting and laughing then to walk into the kitchen to simply get a glass of water? Was there a stabbing in your chest or did it happen so fast that you exited your body before you knew it? Did you gasp for breath with eyes bulging in horror and try to crawl or did you see your mother or your father beckoning for you to join them? How did you exit this life, this world, this earthly realm?

Did you feel alone? Oh, I so hope you didn’t feel alone. I know people say you face death alone but it’s different when there’s no one seeing you to the door, I think. There’s a difference in starring into loving faces or feeling a warm hand. Some peoples’ accounts of near-death experiences is that everything turned dark. Others say they saw a bright light. One preacher lady said her spirit hovered in anticipation as she watched doctors try to bring her back. She said she didn’t want to come back into a pain-filled body, but God told her it wasn’t her time.

Did you want to leave, Lawrence? I know that congestive heart failure leaves you with a lot of problems; but did you want to leave? Were you tired of fighting? I know you’d been sick and was having multiple issues with your body; but Oveda said you were looking forward to going to Hawaii in March. Doesn’t sound like you wanted to die to me.

All I know is that I feel lonely without you. We didn’t talk everyday, I know that. But I knew you were there. There was a security in knowing you were on this planet. You were the closest thing to having a brother that I had ever had. When we were little we use to practice kissing. Remember? Too funny. Oftentimes, our mom’s would put us in front of the black and white TV and we’d watch people kiss. You were so willing to participate….lol. Remember that time I took out my Christmas leftovers and made a meal. We had so much fun eating, talking and laughing. Or the time we went to Copelands and sat at the bar. I think that girl liked you. And you kept ordering different wines—determined to find one that I’d like. You knew how to celebrate. You didn’t even seem bothered when we couldn’t find one. I didn’t like ‘em and you drank ‘em…lol. I think you planned it that way.

We were twin souls, Lawrence. We were adventurous and made each other laugh til our sides hurt. We talked about stuff that meant a lot to us. Sometimes it’d be hours! I didn’t get a chance to tell you that your advice paid off. I met a wonderful man and I soooo wanted you to meet him. Oveda said you were so proud of me and Derrien. She said you’d talk about us all the time. I’m glad. I loved you so much and I wanted you to feel it. She said you did.

Well, let me get up. I feel so heavy, Lawrence. I feel like a weight is on my heart. One minute I think of you and laugh; then turn around and think of you and cry. I know that you felt misunderstood sometimes. I understood you. I knew your heart. Here’s to another day of functioning…just functioning.