Leaving a Legacy

My father was a quiet man of action. I never heard him say that he wanted to be an example of a man with a strong work ethic who provided for his family and comforted his children, but that’s what I saw, and that’s the type of man I wanted. Though my father had strong character that I sought in men I dated, I wished my father had given me clear dos and don’ts when deciding who’s company I would keep. He didn’t get involved because he said he didn’t want to be judgmental. I embraced a legacy that he, intentionally or unintentionally, left me that was good and challenging for me. I have a husband with a strong work ethic who is a provider and comforter, but trying to recognize someone like him without major character flaws took me on a journey due, in part, to my father’s hands-off, “non-judgmental” approach with my dating.

As I thought about my dad’s legacy, my strong black woman one, especially in light of trying to impart a non-Jezebel-like response to my sons, and how I have been challenging my discipleship group to meet their goals, I began to ask “What type of legacy do you want to leave?” For me this question caused me to think beyond the “I want to be a good wife and a mother” response that we typically say. This question forced me to delve into what attitudes and actions I have and if they lead to my being presently known as a supportive and submissive wife, a selfless and sacrificing mother, a wise spiritual leader and a penetrating writer. For the most part, according to others, I have a solid reputation in these areas. But without planning, not purposing to engage in certain behaviors and attitudes, I could easily leave a legacy I don’t intend. I don’t want to teach my sons to court a woman whose mantra seems to be “accept what I say and not what I do.” She says she is a Christian and goes to church, but she is the aggressor and constantly asserts her way. I don’t want them to see Jezebel in me and think she belongs in women so they pick a Jezebel. As I seek to leave a legacy, I am loosing and losing Jezebel so she has no intentional or unintentional part of me.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Mean Mama No More

This weekend I was not the mean mommy though I wondered if I would be when Joshua asked me why I said “Oh My Gosh” in a church parking lot and reminded me not to exceed the speed limit. Instead, I listened to his voice shaking with confusion and fright for me “because God might be mad at you for using his name in vain in the church parking lot.” Most of us know that a mama’s first response is simply reflexive, responding to a child stepping out of his place. At least that’s the case with most strong black women I know. But in light of my mean mama self examination, I was extra careful with my responses to clarify for and comfort Joshua.

Before Joshua said that I used the Lord’s name in vain (right), he said that “Oh My Gosh” was cursing (not really). I re-explained that Gosh is a substitute for God, and he’s right that we shouldn’t say it because doing so is a way of calling out to God for no good reason at all. I apologized for saying “Oh My Gosh,” but Joshua continued to fret, repeating over and over what I had done and what he thought would be God’s response.

“Joshua, I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to do?”
“You can pray about it.”
“What should I pray?”
“You can ask God to help you not to say ‘Oh My Gosh’ anymore.”
“You are right, Joshua. I can pray.”

So I asked God to forgive me and help me not to say “Oh My Gosh,” which comes out at times I don’t even realize. And not realizing that I had said it was really frustrating for Joshua. If he could express himself, he’d probably want to know “How could you so freely say something that you teach me not to say?” But he didn’t have to say that. He was quite clear with his telling me that I was in the church parking lot.

Though my son conducted a lesson in humility for me, I was not the mean mama but the proud mama. He has learned and knows how to apply The 10 Commandments and is recognizing what displeases God. His 7-year-old ways may not yet be the most gracious, but we’re working on the “not what you say but how you say it.” He did pretty well this day. So on the expressway when he said, “Mama don’t forget,” his respectful way of reminding me not to speed, I said, “You’re right,” and I simply decelerated from 58 to get to the 55 limit. He knows laws and is working on the love, and in the process I truly am the proud mama.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Mean Mama

Sunday mornings have always been a test of patience for me, from when I was a little girl and my mama was satisfied to get to church in time to “hear one song and the sermon,” to me agonizing over what to wear to match my required head covering at my previous church to now having the bulk of the job of getting my three sons and me ready for church. With my mama, I wanted to rebel but couldn’t because I couldn’t make her get up on time nor could I drive. At my previous church, I wanted to rebel but I knew the spiritual cost would be too high. Now that I have autonomy over the children and me these Sunday mornings, I have been determined to get us to church on time. In doing so, I see myself as a drill sergeant. Joshua sees me as mean. Continue reading

Day 14: Strong's in the Bones?

Some years ago I read a book that seemed to suggest that the strong black woman was inevitable because black women have always had to take the lead, starting in West Africa. In The Black Woman, edited by La Frances Rodgers-Rose, the editor says Continue reading

Day 11: One of Those Days

I kept hearing another tune about her, one that would prompt me to compose a poem but the rhythm was stilted; it just wouldn’t come. There would be ebbs and flows and then I had to let go because the poem about the strong black woman just wouldn’t come. I was examining her history, seeing how she came to be, even be me, but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe they stayed away because they didn’t want to add to my already crowded day. As I kept inviting them in, their refusal helped me to see that my day is what I should share. Yeah, it’s been one of those days. Continue reading