My daughter has said many times before that I looked my best when I was going to church, and she looked up to me for how I dressed and how I went to work. Fast forward to our recent photo shoot, and suddenly she wanted to wear my shoes. My blonde-straight-hair, blue-eyed, Caucasian shoes. Look, I get it, they’re great shoes. They’re the kind that have walked some wild miles.
She ended up wearing a pair of my old boots and then tried to put on the heels I wore in the last photoshoot. I was honored… and slightly terrified. I thought, “Sweetie, those size-8 heels are definitely too big for your size-7 foot, but even if they did fit, they don’t come with the bladder control and battle scars required to walk in them for an entire hour!” The truth is, my size-8, walk-in-faith shoes are just not going to fit her beautiful, unique size-7 feet. She doesn’t need to try to become me; she’s meant to be her.
🔥 Still Here, Still Sparking
Looking at our proofs last night as they came back, I couldn’t help but notice the gallery link said, “16.shootproof. gallery.”
Wink, I am still here, and with fiery purpose. The heart necklace in the photoshoot reminds me of so much love—it’s practically a family relic, worn by my mom at my dad’s funeral.
(I asked to borrow it, but then a gold bangle and a purple heart I bought at T.J. Maxx vanished into the Bermuda Triangle that is my house. Weird things happen here. Maybe they’re on a spiritual walkabout and will reappear when the lesson is learned, because they sure aren’t mine to keep!)
Our photographer asked us to bring some books. Kens grabbed a few, and you can see her holding: Loved Just As I Am, My Grandmother’s Hands, and The Racial Healing Workbook. I pointed it out and said, “Kens, how cool is that?” The Universe wasn’t subtle; it basically handed her a syllabus. She is already carrying the knowledge and perspective that took me decades to acquire. She’s starting at Chapter 3, while I was stuck on the confusing prologue for twenty years.
👑 Bolt for the Future
This morning, I woke up and saw the LA ATSA Conference Reel Kensie made. The room I was walking into is the same room where I received the text that my abuser had been arrested again, almost 30 years later. We were in the City of Angels. The video shows the sign “Find Beauty Everywhere,” playing to Ruby Amanfu’s “Show Em You are not Afraid.” “David wasn’t a big man. He only had a few rocks in his hand.”
I remember my husband’s group wisdom: “Ask God to tell you how to defeat Goliath.” My daughter is learning how to do that by not picking up my heavy, used sword, but by finding her own sling.
Makensie is moving into an office in our building that has been used for storage. It has an outside door that hasn’t been opened in years, with a bolt and a storm door full of webs and spiders. I have no idea who put that bolt on, and I never worried about it because I didn’t need to go in there. The bolt makes me think of Usain St. Leo Bolt, the famous sprinter. She isn’t just walking into the future; she’s bolting.
She may look up to me, but she’s not going to fit into my shoes. That’s the whole point. She has her own brand of shoes—probably sneakers—and she’s running on a track I never even knew existed. God is good. Thank you, Jesus.
