Who We Are

Kevin and I have known each other since my late teens, we dated, casually, I was so intimidated by him I eventually stopped returning his phone calls. My first memory of Kevin is inside of a common area of a church; we are both volunteers for an after-school program for under-resourced students. Kevin is standing around with a basketball cupped by his side. Exuding inspirational, coach-like leadership, in a nearly commercial like quality, I notice him, but I don't recall what our very first conversation was about. Forcing Kevin to go on romantic picnics on the lake and dinners downtown did not yield much of anything meaningful back from me. Kevin will say we were formally boyfriend and girlfriend, but my memory does not recall that formality either.  Mutual friendships kept us in onesie, twosie, every now and then contact. This contact was usually him rebuffing my inquiries and changing his attention toward another person. I didn’t blame him. Yet, my feeling for him stayed with me,...

Six years ago, I listened to a doctor tell me my baby had hydrops. But, I didn’t know what that meant really.   It meant that a writhing 48 hours later we would lose our little girl. I was seven months pregnant.  My niece and I were one week apart with our babies. I had friends who were pregnant with me.  It was my first pregnancy, and I had no idea what was happening.  So, when there were problems or differences, I just thought, I will deal with it and fix them, like I always do. There was no fixing her. The onset of knowledge of the additional fluid and the loss of Camille was ten days apart. Ten days of tragic loss, coupled with a rebounding life, when we thought she just had Down Syndrome. She would be fine and we would love her and help her live her best life.  God had other plans. She would have struggled; requiring two surgeries immediately after birth. Her tummy and her heart. I had to beg a specialist doctor to see me and ...

The most still spaces in a mind and heart often seem the most threatening; the threat of valuing hope, in spite of failure, the threat of remaining still, and at the same time, draped in vulnerability to a past that continues to knock at our door, unravels and unsettles. Yet, the still remains, inviting us to move forward, despite an overabundance of feeling like we are rather unqualified to enter that said race onward.  I sit there, in the wooden pew, allowing the hardness of the room to enter my body. I am visiting Michigan, for the first time, as Kevin has decided to take on a Youth Pastor position in Flint. We have not yet married, but we are engaged, I am in between spaces in my mind but the physical presence of the church sanctuary wallops over me with dated artifacts. Someone had invited me to sit in the front row of these impossibly wooden pews, I smile, nod and decline. I am in no way someone special, and would feel quite disingenuous if I inclined. I fold int...