The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

 Something changes in you, in your generation, when you realize that the last of your familial elders has made her transition from this Earth. That was the feeling I had when I received the news a week ago that she passed away. When are we ever ready to suddenly be the grown-ups in the room? My first cousins and I all looked at each other like, wait, wait, we don't have any Aunts or Uncles anymore. The vacuum was felt, even as we believe our ancestors are a part of us and their memory remains, to suddenly be in the universe without the seven of the fourteen who were the backdrop of our lives, was shocking in ways we are still absorbing. Everyone is spread out now, no longer centrally located in the town our parents migrated up north to, we are literally around the world. Some were able to make it in, others were able to tune in via the power of technology. There is a silence that is so loud when you are sitting there.   We do as African Americans do and talk about how she look...

 I have been on a life journey for a while, but then, all of us who are in the between space of first breath to last breath are on that same travel. For me, it has been trying to become who I believe the God of the Universe created me to be. Why someone like me, fifth born, last daughter, grew up motherless, would be called into ministry and spend years figuring it out. When I was still-and-yet seeking my way, a little, tiny afro-wearing, walnut colored African American woman came into my hospital room in the week hours of the morning. She was a hospital chaplain and was assigned to visit those who were in pre-op. For me, it was an emergency surgery for a swollen gland on my neck that threatened to cut off life and voice.  So she politely asked to enter my room and sat on the window sill to just be with me while I waited. My husband was traveling for work, my daughters were early elementary school, my youngest son was away at college, so I was in the quiet spaces of being alon...

 It is scary how much I enjoy my time at home. Like really love it. I am an Introvert. A true one, that INFJ on the Myers-Briggs, the very rare three-percent.  Now, I'm in good company, they tell us that those other Advocates include President Jimmy Carter and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King. Jr. Idealists and faith-filled people who observe the world from a wholistic position to think of how it can be better. And homebodies. Even if their bodies are not at home, they are more comfortable in solitude. In my theological imagination, I've often said that the man, Jesus, was INFJ. So were some of his disciples. I believe my late father also had this personality type and when he wasn't advocating for social justice in my second hometown, he was ensconced in his home library reading. He was the one who introduced me to the love of story and the comfort of a good library. From him, I gained my awe of the local town library or bookstores. The other thing he taught me was that there is...