I’m not a socialist or feminist and never thought of myself as either of these. Never found myself on a blacklist, the FBIs Most Wanted List or serving or working in a prison, though I never know what may be in store for me. I don’t advocate lesbianism or atheism, but Angela Y. Davis has been associated with all these, and she is my shero.
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We always got carded in high school, my sister, Sharon, and me, not because we were trying to buy drinks or get into the club but because of our love for each other. People couldn’t believe we were sisters so we had to show them our driver’s licenses to prove that we lived in the same home. They saw that our love was refreshing and ran deep, like ever flowing springs beyond a desert. This love quenches my thirst for laughter, a safe space, and a reality check, and makes me okay with being put in check if need be. This love is between me and the Rev. Sharon D. Moore, my biological sister and very best friend.
At one time I had a problem saying that she was my very best friend because I have a group of women who I consider my best friends. But beyond biology, when I consider our history and the constancy of our intimacy, I am compelled to show you our identification. She’s my confidante and my giggle girl; we can talk and laugh for hours and never want the time to end. She is total comfort. But this comfort has been steady coming, finally arriving as we have both grown in the Lord and long to treat each other like He does. Before this, we had a few issues. Like many siblings, there was some rivalry, never jealousy about looks or positions. All I remember is that we fought because she liked to wear my stuff and I wasn’t having that. But that period was short-lived. We became allies in 1980 when I was 11 and she was 12. We made a pact not to tell my mom that we fought, an act that would cancel our long-planned trip to California. We stopped fighting then but that’s when Sharon consistently began to fight for me.
She fought my fear: When I got my period, she counseled and coached me through, stroking my knee as she knelt next to me as I sat on the toilet. In junior high she pledged to protect me from the gangs that plagued our schools. She let me hang with her and her friends, 8th and 9th graders no one dared to mess with.
She fought my “loneliness”: I’ve always had my own group of friends and so has she, but if she thought that she was going to have more fun than I she would beg me to join her. And sometimes I just wanted to stay home, but she would choose my outfit and insist I go out with her.
She fought my obsessions and depressions: The times I wondered about my looks, wondered if I had what it took to catch a boy, she was there building me up. She told me about my beauty, what others should see and what was inside me. Sharon never let me think less of myself, only the best of myself and the best for myself.
She fought for my success: Sharon fighting my fear, loneliness, obsessions and depressions clearly helped to make me successful, but she has been on my team helping me fulfill my dreams. She was my campaign manager for my senior class secretary run, promotes my writing by telling people of my service and supports my preaching and teaching by attending and inviting me to speak at engagements. Sharon’s a prayer warrior and prophet for me, seeking God on my behalf and speaking his word to my soul. Besides my husband, she is my greatest cheerleader. Her fight for me has given us a great level of intimacy.
I love Sharon for her love for me but the greater reason is her love the Lord Jesus and people. She wants everyone to be okay. She’s always been this way, a little evangelist, converting hearts and minds from hurt. She knows how to make you feel warm and good about yourself. Sharon did this in her flesh. Now with the strength of the Holy Spirit she’s even bolder so that others know about salvation through Jesus. She’s got a lot of nerve. I love to watch her work to bring others to wholeness and healing with the power of Jesus. She’s a fighter for Him, and she is my shero.
My sister, the Rev. Sharon D. Moore (front row, 3rd from right), assistant pastor of Detroit's Ebenezer AME Church, being honored by The Michigan Chronicle in its Salute to First Ladies in 2010
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
She had long hair, gray eyes, caramel brown skin, and a lisp, and I wanted to be just like her, Gracie, my babysitter, with the hippest bell bottoms that she wore to cover her Earth Shoes. I willed my hair longer, wished for gray eyes, was happy my skin looked like hers and pulled my regular pants below my waist so I, too, could have dragging pants. Gracie was pretty and sweet and smelled good too, like the first scent of flowers in spring. I added bacon to my grits with a sprinkle of pepper because this is how Gracie, 15 years my senior, ate her grits. Every chance I got my school-girl self became Gracie, my neighbor who watched me and my siblings from infancy until we could stay home alone. But even after she stopped sitting, I longed to be like her.
I wanted Greg, the only boyfriend I remember Gracie having until she met David, who is now her husband. Greg was a tall and thin chocolate brown honey with a huge Afro and sports car. He and Gracie would take me for rides, just rides; we wouldn’t go anywhere in particular. Gracie laughed and snuggled with Greg and I snickered in the backseat. Though she was into him, she was never loud or lewd, and Greg seemed to worship her. I wanted Greg to be my boyfriend. When I went on rides with them I pretended he was; I just allowed Gracie to sit in the front seat and snuggle. But with Gracie being pretty, smart and smiley and me sitting in the back sit, I knew I didn’t have a chance with Greg. Gracie found out she didn’t either, though. I remember her and my mom talking in hushed tones and Gracie shaking her head knowingly. I don’t know what happened, but I know Gracie knew that Greg wasn’t good for her. I never saw him with Gracie again.
After that she smiled a bit less for a while, but she didn’t stop. She never let anything stop her. Not an unstable family life. Not skipping college to work so she could live on her own. Not challenges in her own family. Whether job loss, house loss, or loved one loss, she has remained focused and hopeful. Though I first loved Gracie because she was pretty and smelled good, I began to love her more for her strength to make the hard decisions, to go forward when others would have walked away. This determination sprang from her human spirit but has been sustained by the Holy Spirit, who came to reside in her when she accepted Jesus Christ as her savior. Still I long to be like her, now because of her determination to please God, no matter what the cost. Janet “Gracie” Hector, with her sweet smiling saved self, is my lifetime shero.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
A Tribute to My Grandmother, Verlenia Thomas
For her homegoing service—February 22, 2005
She’s a star
Shining real bright
Beyond celestial clouds
Penetrating life
Making light from darkness.
She is there
Watching, waiting, hoping, praying that we get it
Understand the seasons of things:
A time to live and a time to die
A time to build up and a time to break down
A time to straighten up and fly
Fly right
Fly right
Get it right to meet her in glory.
She’s watching, waiting, hoping, praying
Beyond celestial clouds
Penetrating life
Making light from darkness
Waiting to be that angel who rejoices when a sinner becomes a saint.
She doesn’t just want you happy you knew her.
She wants you to know him.
She wants you to know Jesus.
Not a said faith. Not a going to church faith. Not an unsure faith.
A real faith. An intimate faith.
A faith like I know my career.
A faith like I know how to shop.
A faith like I know how to negotiate.
A faith like I know how to hustle.
She wants you to get to know him in the pardoning of your sins
To help you do away with your sins
To walk like her
To walk like Christ.
You’re not too young to do it
Not too old to change
You’re not all right just because you tithe or your name is on the roll.
She wants you to get to know him in the pardoning of your sins
To help you do away with your sins
To walk like her
To walk like Christ.
She was a classy lady, full of grace, a sage, organized, an administrator, great storyteller, a clown, recycler, dollar stretcher, fancy hat and shoe wearer, cook extraordinaire, loyal friend, full of common sense, a tower of physical, mental and spiritual strength. She was all that through God’s grace.
You want some
Come and get some.
Come to Jesus while you still have time.
And when it’s your time you will see her and all her watching, waiting, hoping and praying won’t be in vain.
Copyright 2005-2010 by Rhonda J. Smith
Over the weekend I took my friend, Kim, to see A Song for Coretta by Pearl Cleage. We agreed that the play, about the convergence of the lives of five women paying their respects to the deceased civil rights leader, was wonderfully complex, funny and thought-provoking. Kim thought, however, that a part that highlighted rapes in the Superdome after Hurricane Katrina may have been exaggerated. I wondered the same, but I had another exception to the play: the deification of Coretta Scott King.
The goddess talk, though little, bothered me. As the women discussed unresolved issues in their lives, one woman would say something like, “Ask Coretta. Maybe she can tell you what to do.” And I’m thinking, “But she’s dead. She ain’t saying nothing to you.” As I think about it, what they said, their attitude toward King, was more than deification but also suggested divination. I never mentioned this to Kim and am only saying it now because as I pay tribute to the women in my life this month, I recognize how easy it is to give God-status to someone who has inspired your life and not be able to let them go when they die. This my entire family did for my maternal grandmother, Verlenia Thomas.
My Sister Sharon & Grandma Thomas
Yes, she was on her church’s steward board and missionary society and taught Sunday school, was her block club secretary, kept in touch with everybody, cooked meals for the needy and visited the sick. But these weren’t things she did to look good. She felt them her Christian duty. And I knew this because her 80-year-old knees would hit the floor every night and her shaky hand would hold a stubby pencil to write the notes throughout the pages of her Bible what the Lord spoke to her. She was in God’s presence, not just around His people. My grandma communed with God, not just fellowshipped with His people. She had a great reputation among people because of how she lived her life in public. She had a great reputation with me because how she lived in public was also how she lived in private. Verlenia Thomas was a holy woman and my great example of a model Christian.
Her life reflected “follow me as I follow Christ,” and as I remember her life I will indeed remember that she could love me because she first loved Jesus Christ and obeyed Him. Her life always pointed everyone to God. We often missed her direction because once we got to her, we felt like we were in heaven; everything seemed like it would be all right for eternity. But I know she wouldn’t want me to glorify her, just the one who she worked so hard to glorify. We must give honor to whom honor is due but always recognize that God is the reason anybody can do anything good.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith