When Someone Steps In

Recently I was reflecting on memorable moments in my life. Actually, I was tracking backwards to when having consideration for my fellow man became so important to me. I have always felt it best to take into consideration the feelings of others. In fact, in the past I have thought on it too much, putting others before me and not really honoring myself. I knew that need to stop and think about someone else had to come from some place. That need felt more than simple manners taught to me by my family.

The journey through time started off with me screaming at a driver that cut me off in traffic a few days ago. I was furious! "How could you not even think about me or anyone else on the road!" I found myself screaming. I also called him a few choice words. Everyone was safe, no cars were damaged and I really don't think the guy even noticed me. But I was still steaming. And it was at that point that I realized I was more fixated on the point that this stranger did not think about me. How could you not think about me? That thought felt strong and rooted. It felt familiar. And I wanted to know where it came from.

I recalled the earliest time that I felt so strong about how we as people treated others and considered their feelings. I stopped on a day in high school that I stepped out of my usual character. It was on this day that I was yelling at a classmate. This classmate had a best friend who was crying. In my young, adolescent mind, having a best friend in pain was like watching your house be set on fire. You were a fool to not try to stop the damage. To see this person do absolutely nothing while her friend was crying ripped me into pieces. Although this was none of my business and I usually had nothing to say about anything, I laid into this girl. "Don't you see your friend crying? What's wrong with you? How could you just stand their and not do anything?" Almost 30 years later I still can feel the tension as I confronted this person for not considering her friend.

Ok, so if I was that upset in high school, this issue started earlier. There had to be something else that made that feeling so intense. My best friend in grade school was very kind to me. I didn't talk much at school but I would chew her ear off when we were alone. She was always nice about my private ranting. Nothing there. I remembered a time when I wasn't so shy, when I talked to everyone all the time. But that stopped at some point. My annual classroom pictures went from a big smile to no expression at all around 2nd grade. What was going on that turned me into an unhappy child?

My home life was messy but at the time, I didn't realize it was a mess. My father drank and my mother seemed stressed out. My siblings were older and we didn't relate much. The best times were when my mother's sister came to visit. She was so hip! She would come by with platform heels and cool bell-bottom outfits. She had an afro and wore make-up. And she made me laugh. She could make washing your hair a comic event. She was seven years younger than my mom. We were both the youngest child and we had a connection. I was her baby when she was in the room. Even when she had a child of her own, she still had time for me. Unfortunately her marriage fell apart when I was about 6 years old. She stayed over more at our house. At one point I think she moved in. But then she and my cousin moved to Wisconsin. It was at this point that I stopped smiling.

How could she not think of me? How could she move away? My mother was dealing with a lot from her past. It was not until months before cancer took my mother's life at age 57 that I understood that she had been abused as a teen and that she had been pulled down by the world. My dad had his burdens too and he was dealing the best he could. It was my aunt who came to the rescue and brought some joy into that home. And when she moved away, a lot of that joy got sucked out. My little 2nd grader mind just couldn't comprehend it all.

I will say my aunt sent for me in the summers and she did not abandon me despite how my soul took the situation. Reflecting on my family explained why mentoring our children of need is a passion for me. Sometimes a child just needs someone to step in and help out. I am grateful that my aunt did this for me and considered my well being. That love has carried through the years. Whenever I take a moment for another person, I'll give thanks to my aunt.

Where do I begin?

Ok, I've been gone for a long time. I have good reason. I have been busy living life.  Where do I begin?

First, I am 50 pounds lighter. Exactly 6 months ago, I realized that I had been trying to solve a lot of problems with food.   I gave up alcohol, sugar, cheese, wheat and fried foods, and I found a smaller, healthier, happier human being. My blood pressure is now normal without medication. My finances look better (people that eat compulsively without identifying the problem usually don't recognize how much money is spent on those food items). I enjoy yoga now because my smaller frame can move easier than before.  Life is good.

My spirit feels like it's a little less burdened. I still don't believe in leaving my problems on an alter.  I do however give more of those worries up to the universe and then I listen on how I should move forward. There is a plan bigger than anything I could dream up. I am directing less and listening more to what the world has for me. My actions are based on faith and not on fear. That feels graceful and full of peace.

As for mentoring, well, I have found more than ten young people to support. I go back to my old side of town monthly to tutor preschoolers. I found this opportunity through United We Serve, the nationwide service initiate dedicated to help during the economic downturn.  Twice a week I'm coaching 3rd-5th graders through the program Girls On the Run, a non-profit prevention program aimed at preteen girls to develop self-esteem and healthy lifestyles.   I am also starting work with an individual on research to support the benefits of same-race or alumni mentoring for at-risk children. There has also been discussions of working with an organization to provide flexible hours to free up volunteers to work with students after school hours. My focus is on putting ideas into action. Those baby steps are slowly adding up.

Again, life is good. Stay tuned on where this will take me next.

1, 10, 100, The World

"I want to start a mentoring program." I have been saying this for 5 years. There are notes, there were conversations, still no program.

Today I decided on a new approach. How many children do I really want to mentor at one time? I took a piece of paper and folded it into four sections. I labeled the sections 1, 10, 100 and The World. I wrote bullet points in section 1 for what I needed to help just one child. How many people do I need to be mentors? Where will we meet? I stayed away from theories and documentation. Next, how could I help ten children? When I got to one hundred, I found myself only able to write negatives, what could go wrong. The World section produced more negatives. OK, now I know where to start.

My first thought for mentoring one child was "what's the point?" I skipped passed it and moved to the 10 box. That seemed like a comfortable start. I began to list the requirements. I will need ten mentors. I will need a place. That's when I stopped and put my notes to the side. Baby steps. 

It was a few days later that I came back to the one-child idea. I could be that mentor. Why not? Wait, better idea. I could go mentor a child at the high school in my district (students in my school get me five days a week already and they are a bit young for what I'm envisioning). Wait! Even better idea! I could go back to my old high school and mentor a child.

The ball is now rolling, not only in my head but on paper. I could connect with some alumni and we could mentor a few kids. A few years back I had spoken to an old high school friend about mentoring. He was interested in working with young men in the community. And my old neighborhood keeps showing up on the news. This morning a 9-year-old was shot in the head only two blocks from my childhood home. Maybe this was a sign that my old neighborhood, the inspiration for this mission, needed to be first on the list. I can speak to this population. I actually lived there.

I do worry about what people might think about me for leaving the old area that I grew up and not returning for 20 years. After a few years in the dormitories, I moved to the other side of town and have stayed. I visit the old streets that I was raised rarely. I guess I will just have to include that in my story. It is true. I left because I didn't feel a part of things. I was a nerd and a lesbian in training. Life in an urban Black neighborhood was not a place of comfort for me. So I stayed away because of sour memories. But this is what haunts me. I know there are other children who are struggling with that environment that doesn't manage to embrace everyone. No neighborhood does. If those kid could just see an alternative, like I did, they could make things better for themselves. If they could bond with someone that had faced the challenges that they are dealing with, whatever those challenges are, they would not feel so alone. In any case, I will work through that scenario.

Note to self - the words "return" and"circle" need to be included in the mission statement. That's another project for another day. To me, it's a chicken situation - which comes first, the outline or the mission statement? I look forward to the challenge.

What's Wrong?

Now that I'm in my forties, I have discovered my subtle super powers. Over the years I have learned to make these skills work for me. I'm a detective in a way. I can answer the question "what's wrong?" Its great for being a teacher. I look at my six-year-old students, deep in the stages of development, and I figure out what needs more work. If "Jackie" can't read, I will identify what pieces are missing. Does Jackie know her letter sounds? Is she getting the b confused with the d? I'm a teacher. Teachers fix what's wrong.

My super powers also works with adults. I can read the tension in a person's face and I will find a way to get that person to relax. "What's wrong?", I ask. People like to share with me because of this skill. I have been told that I carry a sense of calm. It makes me feel good that I can put someone's mind to ease. This skill also helps me to identify bad guys. When people-watching, I can find that shady person in the crowd. I can see what's wrong with a picture. Its very helpful.

I acquired my skills in a way that I'm not too proud about. I grew up with an alcoholic. Having a drunk dad coming home from a drinking binge, I had to be very observant. I had to figure out if this is a babbling, fall-asleep evening or a angry throw-a-plate kind of night. I worried about upsetting the other members of my family. They were walking on eggshells and the last thing I wanted to do was make them upset. It was simply chaos. Everything was wrong but I didn't know this because I was a child. Children should be worrying about other things than intoxicated parents. So, without wanting to, I worked on constantly labeling what was wrong.

I am happy that as an adult I put my powers to good. I try to help when I know what's wrong. Yet here is where things fall apart. Life is not perfect. There is always something "wrong" with everything. I get fixated on the negative. There will always be a moment that a person will show tension. In my mind, I always need to stop and listen. If they are carrying too many problems on their sleeve, I'm overwhelmed, running for the hills because for me their discomfort glows like neon.  I meet a woman that I feel attraction and I immediately make a list of what's wrong with her. That would explain why I am single right now.  I'm on overload because I keep seeing what's wrong.

It gets worse. Not only am I focused on what's wrong, I'm thinking about what could go wrong. It is this ball-and-chain that is dragging my ideas for a mentoring program through the mud. For five years, I have dreamed of starting a mentoring program. I believe that children of color, particularly those in urban public schools, should have mentors of color that successfully have graduated from urban public schools and gone on to college. I would like to put these two groups together.  I have written notes. I have done research. I even presented my thesis in my graduate courses. But my constant worry about what could go wrong has kept me from putting my ideas into motion.

This blog is in some way a means to organize my thoughts and to put a program together. This is a way to focus on what is right and what is possible. It also lets me be a writer again. That's the journey and there's nothing wrong if it feels right.