3 days after my 11th birthday, I woke up at my Grandmother’s house. I tried to sneak and play my aunts Nintendo before anyone woke up. Turns out, everyone was already awake. My Mamal called me down to the living room of her split level home. As I came down the stairs she told me to sit down. She carefully explained that my dad was out with friends the night before. Some people were shooting into the crowd outside of the place where my father had gone to hang with friends and to dance the night away. My dad had been shot. I asked her if he would be ok or if we could go visit him in the hospital. She told me no.

3 days after my 11th birthday, I woke up to a day full of promise only to find out that my father was murdered. It was the winter of 1999. November 20th, 1999. It took a week to burry my dad. My mom sang at the funeral. I wept in my Great Great Aunts lap

In 20 days, it will be the 20th anniversary of my father’s death. I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that ever since late August of this year I have been falling apart. Emotionally, I have been all over the place. Reeling. Upset at the thought that my 31st birthday is around the corner, and all I can think about is my father’s life being taken away from me.

In 20 days, I’ll still find myself dealing with some recent deaths. Two people from my church passed away recently. One person in his own opinion was “…just a dumb country boy who learned how to paint for a living.” He sent me and my daughter on our first real vacation together. We stayed in his Florida condo for free and we were able to take one of our church buddies with us. As we drove down, he called to check on us and to make sure we were being safe. He made sure he purchased our tickets to Disney World a few weeks in advance. It was one of the kindest things a man had ever done for me without me asking. He checked on me for several weeks following that as he painted and made minor repairs around the church. When he passed, I sang at his funeral. It knocked the wind out of me.

The other member of my church who passed felt like family. She was my circle sister, chancel choir singing, compliment giving, recommendation letter writing, leave a little make-up on your birthday card giving, sorority sister, grandma, aunt and friend. It’s strange to think of a 90+ year old woman as your friend. But when she looked me squarely in the eyes as frequently as she could and told me how much she loved me, I knew that she was divinely sent to me to be a friend. That’s partially why when her health declined, I silently refused to go see her. I couldn’t bare looking her in the eyes anymore because I knew that God was going to eventually call her name. When she passed, I sang at her funeral. Strangely, it gave me peace.

The loss of my two church friends who I know loved me in differing ways reminded me of all the ways we can show people how much they mean to us.

Dealing with death at any age is traumatic. Like the time my Uncle Brian and my Great Grandma Doris died in the same week, so I attended a funeral on Friday and a funeral on Saturday. I wasn’t right for weeks after that. Or like the time when my younger cousin Tamia and her baby passed away. Seeing her and her baby boy in the casket nearly took me out. I had nightmares for several days after that. Dealing with death at any age is traumatic, but when I was 11, my family had no clue how to deal with a grieving child. That wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t really anyones fault. They did the best they could do.

Yesterday I was silent because I wanted to ignore everything that was going on.

I wanted to ignore the fact that a Black man named Christian Cooper in NY had survived the cops being wrongfully called on him. I wanted to ignore the fact that a Black man named George Floyd was killed by a White Police Officer who refused to remove his knee from George’s neck.

I wanted to ignore it because this summer, I sought out an internship at a predominately white church in my denomination (of which my church has a loving relationship with) as a learning opportunity. I believe the people I know at this church are good people. I also believe there’s a possibility that some of the people at this church may not agree with me speaking out in this way.

I wanted to ignore it because I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers.
But I can’t. Not when my skin is the same color as #GeorgeFloyd and #ChristianCooper’s.

I can’t ignore it to save me some type of Happiness and Joy because this morning I still woke up sorrowful.

I can’t ignore it when my child’s father runs outside alone in Charlotte as often as he can to help him live a healthy life for our daughter.

I can’t ignore it when all of my brothers have been in the system at one point in their lives or another and have had bad experiences with the police.

I can’t ignore it when I think about my guy friends who are all law abiding citizens live their daily lives in this disgusting world.

I won’t ignore it. It’s too painful to ignore, and too painful to bare.
I’m a Black Woman and a citizen of the USA and I’m tired of the injustice.

I wanted to start todays blog with this statement, “I wish I could say that co-parenting has been an easy journey.” But I realized that this statement isn’t completely true. In fact, it isn’t true at all. I don’t wish this journey would have been easy because co-parenting has helped to shape who I have become. I’m a better person, mother, friend and believer because of my journey. With that said, I want to tell you how I overcame resentment and what it has done for our parenting relationship.

It happened last summer. I was upset about some money that he did not send or some kind of miscommunication we had and I blew up. We were both in a tight spot at the time. Suddenly, in the middle of a heated argument, I lost it completely. I wasn’t even sure why I said it, but I immediately knew it was true as it rolled off my tongue and into his ears. “You owe me. I feel like you owe me.”

There it was. We had spent 10 years in separate places trying to raise a daughter together, but we never communicated on a genuine level. I felt alone in parenting, alone in romance and that he had left me hanging to live a fun life in the Queen City. It hurt me to say what I said because it forced me to look at the reasons why I had come to resent him so much. The person who I was once head over heels in love with had (in my mind) neglected his parenting duties and his allegiance to me as the mother of his child. I had unspoken expectations for him and his role in our lives. So long as these expectations remained in my head they continued to breed resentment in my heart. This conversation was the turning point in our parenting endeavors.

I began to really communicate as much as I could what I needed his help with; From $20.00 for gas to a summer to myself, I asked for it all. Things did not change overnight. I had to fight the “I am a Black woman and I don’t need your help” mentality. This is what kept me overworking myself to stay afloat, asking everyone else for support except for him and internalizing the pain when I fell flat. I had to learn that this was a two-person team and that whether I liked it or not I just couldn’t do it alone. And when I made him aware of how much I was really doing to get it done he started to show up differently – through simple appreciation posts, taking baby girl more often and sending money whenever I needed it without hesitation.

And don’t get me wrong, my resentment wasn’t solely based on my pride and my inability to effectively communicate what I needed from him as a co-parent. He had his own internal and external struggles to deal with that kept from being the parent he needed to be. He had to grow as a man first and then as father in order to be a better co-parent. Moreover, he had to grow spiritually and I had to get real about who I was in all of that mess. I had to get real about my feelings about our failed relationship. I had to get real about feeling like I missed out on life while he lived child free. I had to get real about what I needed from him in order for this to work. I couldn’t continue to play the role of the super woman anymore. We can improve our personal circumstances, it’s true, but if we don’t get real with ourselves and examine our hearts, it’s all for naught. I can honestly say that our parenting relationship is much better because we are doing the work and working together.

I’m grateful for our journey in co-parenting. I’m a real G because of it!

The emergence and prominence of Trap Gospel over the last few years has been an interesting one to follow. For most of the Christians that I surround myself with, Trap Gospel is somehow sacrilegious. I, on the other hand, live for a good Gospel message over a tight beat. The rhythms and sounds of Trap Gospel songs give me dance bop vibes that remind my body of dance moves that would be outlawed in a house of worship, yet I feel compelled to drop it low and boisterously shout God’s praises. It’s an amazing yet conflicting feeling.

I’ve often questioned whether or not this was a negative reaction. And likewise, Christians all over the world wonder how far is too far. Some say the merging of “worldly” or secular sounds and rhythms with lyrics about God defiles the actual message being presented. Others would argue that it’s a useful tool for bringing youth back to church. People like me just say it’s a hot way to express their love for God.

Moreover, believers have to decide for themselves and listen to the Spirit of God about what works best for them. If it doesn’t sit well with you, then you shouldn’t listen. We shouldn’t condemn others who find a way to give God praise through a medium that’s familiar to their ears and hearts. Every person is not created the same; We don’t all share the same convictions and that is between the individual and God.

Here’s what I do know…music and dancing were integral parts of my ancestors lives. My ancestors hail from slavery in the American South, and even further back various countries in West Africa. So if I feel compelled to dance and sway, or rock and bop, I do so with the intent of not only praising God, but paying homage to those who have gone before me.

I encourage those who are open to it to let the music waft through your ears and your heart and praise God with whatever moves come to you.

“I’m walking in authority
Living life without apology
It’s not wrong, dear, I belong here
So you might as well get used to me” ~ Donne McClurkin

Do you remember when you graduated from high school or college? It was an exciting time full of possibilities and new journeys. People would ask about your future plans and goals. But when I graduated from college, I honestly had no idea what I would do. I had a part-time job as a praise team director at my church, a small child and I was still living at home. Those were scary times for sure. There was so much uncertainty. I was going through so much. My relationships were all over the place and so was my faith.

It wasn’t until I started working at the church full-time that I started to hear a call on my life from God. Instead of listening, I did everything to drown God out. I picked up extra singing gigs, auditioned for a play and landed the lead role, and even started writing songs again. I was intent on doing any and everything with my gifts except what I knew God was calling me to do.

A lot of my running had a lot to do with the picture at the top. T.D. Jakes’ family is full of dynamic ministers, pastors and teachers in their own right. If you do some digging on my Facebook page or if you know me well enough, you know that I come from a line of called/spiritually gifted preachers, ministers, singers, and laypersons. Both of my Maternal Great Grandmothers were praying and fasting women of God. My Grandad is a prolific Pastor and Bishop. My Grandmother has business savvy that she used to build the church I grew up in and a godly love for youth that permeates everything she does. My mother can sing, teach, and preach your socks off. My Stepdad is a pastor and my Auntie has an anointed voice that will send you into a baptist fit. But I struggled with what God was calling me to do. I didn’t think I had anything to offer to the “Family Business.” Quite frankly, I felt my singing voice was just “okay” compared to my mom and auntie. I had tried my hand at teaching youth at bible study, but that just wasn’t where I felt God pulling me. I was ministering from a place of doubt and insecurity that slowly became too overwhelming.

On Good Friday, April 20, 2019 all of those feelings changed. On that day, I stepped behind the pulpit for the first time as a Master of Divinity candidate, in the throws of midterms, final papers and projects to share what God had given me about the text “…I am thirsty…” (John 19:28-29 NRSV). God showed up. Not in the people shouting or people crying all over the place kind of way, but in a way that said, “This is where you belong and this is where I have called you.” It’s one thing to know what God wants you to do, but it’s a totally different thing to actually do it. I left the pulpit that day knowing that something inside of me had clicked. And while I am scared to step foot in that same position again, I welcome the opportunity to be obedient to the call that God has placed on my life.

Previously, I searched for a way to fulfill God’s call that would have nothing to do with the ways in which my family members walked in their individual callings not realizing that sometimes God calls entire lineages to lead in the Family Business. Just because my mother is a preacher doesn’t mean God can’t use me too. And even though my aunts a musical beast, that doesn’t mean God can’t use my voice too. I learned that there’s a unique sound, a sound of the genuine, within each of us that reaches out to God’s people in different ways. God called each of us because he placed something special in each of us that is meant for a certain set of eyes and ears.

At some point Sarah Jakes Roberts and Cora Jakes Coleman both have acknowledged those feelings of inadequacy that came from living with and in the shadows of their dad, America’s Bishop, Bishop T.D. Jakes. I can’t imagine living under that level of scrutiny and dealing with the calling that God has set on your life. At some point you have to come to terms with the fact that God knows exactly what He is doing and you just have to trust the process. You have to trust that the greatness in you comes from God and not your family members. You have to trust that God has cultivated or is cultivating something inside of you specifically for God’s people. And finally, you have to know that God’s Family Business is not complete without you; That there’s something special in you that no one else in your family has and that people out in the world are waiting on you to deliver it.

I have come to terms with these things; Some family lineages are graced, gifted and called to do ministry and that every person in the lineage is gifted and called to do something different for the body of Christ.

There’s room in God’s Family Business for you and for me.