It seems like everywhere I turn these days, the buzz word is “uncertainty.”We are uncertain of the economy, the housing market, the upcoming presidential election, the definitions of marriage and the list goes on and on and on.Admittedly, at times I am tempted to worry over everything the media is telling me could go wrong in my life.Beyond that, there are the traditional family stresses and woes that occasionally encroach upon the boundaries of what I like to consider as my usually stable mind.
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Living isn’t for the faint at heart. Existing merely takes breathing, but living…now that’s a different story. Frankly speaking, it isn’t always easy to get your stuff together and move on. In fact, sometimes it can feel like an insurmountable mountain of childhood issues, broken dreams and damaged relationships.
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What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And all that’s nice;
That’s what little girls are made of.

There is something about that nursery rhyme that always managed to strike a chord of insecurity within me, even when I was a little girl.  Its sing-song rhythm annoyed me, but even more than that I hated the message that a proper little girl is sugar and spice.  I know I’ve always resented its implications, because deep within me, I have always known that I am simply not that girl!  I have always been a little spunky, with a quick wit that can border on a sharp tongue.  (The old folks used to call it fresh.)

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Life doesn’t always work out the way we plan. I mean I’m one husband, a great career and three kids short of where I thought I would be at 36 years old. I’ve been silently hoping for my big break and so far it still hasn’t come. I’ve finally accepted the fact that my big break may never come!

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The past two weeks have been a whirlwind. After several years of trying to get pregnant and an arduous IVF cycle, my sister was finally pregnant. But last Tuesday, they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. As she navigates through her grief, I am trying to fill the spaces of what I know is heart wrenching pain. I am hopelessly inadequate in the face of this tragedy, yet I must somehow find a way to “be present” as she and my brother in-law attempt to reconstruct reality after their loss. Read the full story

If you’d asked me 15 months ago what I’d be doing today, I would have boasted that I would be celebrating my grandfather’s 100th birthday. Even then, the plans were already in the works. But suddenly, he was sick and a week later, just 6 weeks shy of his 99th birthday, he was gone. Read the full story

Blacks in America certainly have had issues with light skin versus dark skin over the decades (or should I says centuries). And I won’t even start on that age-old ‘good hair’ debate. But it seems that India and its caste system can take name calling to a whole new level. The Time of India is reporting that a woman named Syed Fathima, who was married for only two months, committed suicide when her husband called her “black”. Read the full story