Preparaing...Anyway

"This Hurricane was not giving," lamenting my teen daughter as she was snuggling in her bed this Sunday morning

"Are you sure?" I asked

"yep."

"Well, better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it, " I replied

So began our discussion after I emerged from Zoom/phone church where I worship at First and Summerfield United Methodist Church.

I forecast.

I anticipate.

I warn.

I prepare.

I wait.

It is superpower, it is maybe annoying.

Every big pot is filled with water. I live in the woods and we have a well and if we lose electricity, we won't be able to have drinking water or flush the toilets or even bathe. I take two showers a day, that is such a first world privilege, but it is my thing, not being able to clean myself is one of the things I prepared for.

We have enough snacks for if all five kids were at home for the holidays and merging in and out of the kitchen. We have bottled water, sparking water, and I have lots of carafes on my dining table.

Ready.

We have non-perishable-foods and with a gas stove, could still cook. I Put four pots on the stove just for cooking, I have a bucket of water for doing dishes. My husband bought paper plates.

I did laundry.

I ironed all my clothes for the upcoming week, it is supposed to be one of my last vacations from the organization I still am affiliated with in Missouri. It is my daughter's last week before school. I wanted to get to Rhode Island and up to Vermont.

My clothes are all ironed, it reminded me of when I was a young professional living in Chicago and had to be up at 5 o'clock in the morning to make my 6 o'clock bus to another bus to take my sons to their daycare and do the same thing in reverse to make it to the Loop by my 8:30am time at work. It became a habit for me on Sunday.

So, my clothes are all ironed, everything possible has been cleaned and washed so if we lose power, at least the bathrooms are cleaned.

Anticipate.

I tried to think ahead of what my family would need. We have the cars gased up. We have batteries. Ready.

Then, my daughter told us, "this hurricane was.not.giving."

I am smiling a bit.

It is raining this afternoon. The trees are swaying. It is windy and in parts of my state, 25,000 people are without power and trees have come down. There is flooding. In my neighborhood, so far no one has lost power. It is still on my street. In Rhode Island, there are 75,000 without power.

So, Henri gave something.

Being in America, we are able to prepare, unlike my ancestral homeland in Haiti that has been hit with the earthquake and the aftereffects. There are care organizations going to help, some centering the voices of Haitians.

There are people fleeing or attempting to flee Afghanistan, understandably fearful of ignorant religious extremest terrorists who have taken over the country. Flashes of what could have happened here had January 6 delivered to them what they wanted.

I anticipate.

Much like the political climate we experienced after 2007.

But that is not what anyone wanted to hear. They couldn't feel the change in the breeze the same way I do.

Perhaps it is being rare, an INFJ - one deeply intuitive and watching the signs. One of my favorite Biblical prophets - Jeremiah - was probably the same. We have a group on IG, comparing our experiences and feeling like we are not so alone after all, even if we are only 3% of the entire world.

So, I prepare.

For what will come or what may come.

And in the end, it benefits those around me who I love, even if they look at me like I've lost a bit of my mind as I fill up buckets with water and calculate how many almonds can keep one full for a day.

It did give.

Reminding.

Renewing.

Reviewing.

What is important, what we focus on in a time of crisis, what matters most for us,

Even as we prepare for what we anticipate.

If it happens, we were ready.

Better yet if it doesn't, and we perfect our readiness for what will come for surely, it will come again.

Because that is also life.

Hannah's Song

We came together last night and sang Hannah's song. Family from California was in town, it was the night before Aunt Hannah's Home Going Celebration. We met at my house late in the evening to fellowship, remember, hug, eat, and laugh. Thom felt the love in the room and I'm sure his mom would've appreciated us doing what she did all her life - love. Aunt Hannah was a gracious woman. Her gentle spirit, sparkling eyes, and constant smile will be remembered. She has left us physically, but never spiritually. The laughter was like music in Thom's ear. For the first time in weeks I saw my cousin relax. He has been in a tornado for the past four weeks from his mother's diagnosis to her death. Even in her final stage, Aunt Hannah was granted her desire. She asked to not suffer long when it was her time to go, she had been a caregiver her whole life and I'm sure her prayer was for her son. In the last days of her life, she still greeted well wishers with a wa...

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I'm a Black woman, born of a Black woman and a Black man. When my mother died, it was my father who nurtured me and instilled in me a sense of pride of self, of my race, of my abilities to do whatever I put my mind to do. He never imposed limitations on me as a Black woman. The only caution he ever gave me was to not burn my candle at both ends and to be mindful of my health, I am an asthmatic. He never stopped me from trying anything and always encouraged me. Daddy was a strong Black man who introduced me to Shirley Chisholm when I was a little girl. He reminded me of the fortitude of my late mother's quest for gender equality in the workplace and of the namesake who marched at Selma. He is the one who gave me my pseudonym, Tayé. Daddy was a strong tower of empowerment and fought all the way to his last breath for social, gender, and racial justice. It is in remembering my father this morning that I'm asking the brothers, can we talk? What is it, especially those of my g...

Ashes to Ashes

This is Ash Wednesday. For a lot of Catholics and Anglican Christians, it begins the holy season of Lent. We remember we are but dust and to dust we return, ashes to ashes. It is a somber reminder of our humanity and the finality of life. We are a mere breath. Today, as a Hospital Chaplain Resident, I am imposing ashes on patients, family, and staff. It is a visible marker of a shared faith and belief. We look with anticipation to the finished work of salvation on the cross and in eager hope of the resurrection. As my day progressed, I noticed how much hope was in the eyes of the ones giving and receiving this reminder of our existence. It was both a somber moment and a joyful moment. Two things can exist at the same time. Like the world we find ourselves in. Even as it seems like the darkest, certainly the darkest I’ve known in my six decades on this earth. Completely imperfect as a nation, there was still a glimmer of light until the nightmare became reality. We wonder abo...

The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

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