As I hinted with the last post, I’m also moving over my blog to Substack! It’ll be the same kind of posts I’ve always done, but in a platform that works really well for me.
I’ve been eyeing Substack for a while and after some research and testing, I’ve decided to move on over instead of a maintaining a separate email list and blog like I do now. It’s a perfect combination of the two and allows me the freedom to have one focusing my personal writings and one focusing on the Inklings. I truly hope to see you there! If you aren’t familiar, you can read each new post at the links or you can subscribe and automatically get them in your email!
And thank you for reading – it means so much!
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My latest piece for Black History Month is now live! Incredibly thankful for the opportunity to write about one of my favorite artists, Henry Ossawa Tanner, and his painting The Banjo Lesson (that I’ve had hanging in my house for years) for Ekstasis Magazine (part of the Christianity Today family). I wrote about what it means to me and what it means for us. Hope you enjoy!
I often wonder what the dreams of my Grandma were. When you’re young and lose someone close, understanding all that was lost comes later. Often years later. My Grandma died on December 31, 1990 when I was only 8 years old, so while I do have some concrete memories, most of my memories of her are hazy- almost dreamlike – of a quiet and sweet woman who loved all of her grandchildren.
That’s me in the top right.
I remember her smile, and the way she would often use my Grandpa’s nickname and say with a smile “Oh Red,” when my Grandpa was doing something only my Grandpa would do.
I may not have had the words in my young vocabulary when I running around causing chaos with my other young cousins, but with age comes wisdom and and looking back, I can see the ways sickness affected her body (she had open heart surgery before I was born and again when I was little), sickness that would eventually take her in the early hours of a cold California day, the last day of the year.
Did she see her dreams fulfilled? In those final months did she know her time was short and wonder what would become of her grandchildren? I have a feeling she did. I wonder too, if she knew that 8th grandchild and second granddaughter (myself) would be one of the feisty introverts and have much of the same passionate spirit as my Mama, my Grandma’s second born?
That’s my Mom my Grandma is holding in the left photo and others include my Grandpa, great Aunts and Uncles, and my Great-Grandma.
Did I get my love of Spanish music from her too? Was it both her and my Grandpa who left a legacy of music that included voices like Luis Miguel, Perry Como, Keely Smith, Eydie Gormé y Trio Los Panchos?
If she were around today, I’m sure we would chat often about these things, along with talking about our faith and how that has shaped our lives. I wonder, would we talk about favorite foods and if my albondigas tasted anything like hers? I know there would still be lots of hugs.
It’s amazing how love will always stick to a heart, to a soul, even if experienced for such a short time.
As I’ve been in California for awhile, I was hoping to explore some of her spots around L.A. with my Mom, but with all that’s going on, unfortunately I haven’t been able to. But even while the explorations are on hold, being home has included many chats, memories, and stories from both my Mom and Dad about all of my Grandparents. Many, I quickly learned, I didn’t know (or quite possibly I forgot). And even stories they heard from their parents about their Grandparents (many who sadly died young).
Seeing old photos of my Grandma with her sisters (my great Aunts), I again can’t help but wonder, what did they imagine for their future generations? Sisters doing life together, much like my sister and I.
Hortensia. That was her name, but many stories from my Mom over these past several weeks, tell me she never went by her full name. It was always Grandma from my cousins, siblings, and I, “Mimi” for others, and even other nicknames for her siblings and parents. My cousin who was born not too long after her passing is her namesake.
Even if I never called her that, I love her name. The history it encompasses, the stories it’s always ready to share.
I wish I remembered more and had more time with her, but I am thankful for the faded memories I do have and I see her legacy in my Mom, my Aunts and in my cousins. In the importance of family and the importance of love that comes with it.
I hope that if you are blessed to still have your Grandparents in your life, and, come to think of it, your parents, take time today to send them a hello and “I Love You.” The days are long, but the years are far too short.
I had the chance to write about immigration, Jesus, and Jane the Virgin for Christ and Pop Culture magazine. Would love for you to check it out!
“We’ve forgotten (or refuse to see) that we are better because of our diversity, because we are a nation of immigrants, and because our collective experiences make us stronger…”
May has sucked. Yes, the pandemic, but that’s not really why. It’s because racial injustice in America is having some kind of day.
Ahmaud Arbery. Breonna Taylor. George Floyd.
How was this all in one month? All these stories out for the world to know about in four short weeks?
Not only is it horrific, exhausting, maddening, sad, and awful, but the silence of so many, especially fellow believers, is deafening.
DEAFENING.
Not one lament.
Not one tweet.
Not even a thought or a prayer.
(Yes, I know there are people who care, who aren’t or don’t post on social media. Of course I know that.)
Yet, when the pushback came, many of these same silent people had plenty to say about the riots that broke out. No one wants riots, but what does this tell me? They care more about inanimate things than human life.
I have plenty of more thoughts on this, but I’ll stick with someone y’all may have heard of:
(Please read more about the speech here. It was given in front of a predominately white audience. You can find the full speech here)
Please stop asking for “more context.” Please stop the whataboutisms or black on black crime. Please stop making excuses. Please stop saying “well, I have a Black friend.” Please stop. Just stop.
Weep and mourn with your fellow brothers and sisters. Then be moved to action.
Until the hard work of looking inside and looking at the history of America and race is done, people cannot fully understand all the dynamics of the protests or the “isolated” incidents that actually happen all the time, and change will never happen. It’s not a partisan issue.
Yes, pray. Pray, pray, pray, pray. Pray God changes hearts and that people’s eyes would open. But also do the work. Hard issues will never change without people doing the hard work. MLK Jr. (who was hated when he was alive by many in the church) and so many others absolutely prayed, but they also did work.
Read books.
Watch movies.
Follow voices of people who don’t look like you.
But please stop making excuses or ignoring the truth. Humans who are made in God’s image are dying because of racism.
That alone should be reason enough to stop, listen, and learn.
If you are wondering where to start, here’s a list of books and movies.
In Avengers: Infinity War, Vision says this to Wanda as she is about to destroy the Mind Stone (which will ultimately kill Vision, who she loves) before Thanos can get it; and thus allowing him to complete his quest for all the Infinity Stones and his mission to snap away half of life across the universe.
After she is able to destroy the stone with her powers, Thanos uses the Time Stone to undo what she just did and take the stone for himself. If you’ve seen the movie, you know that Thanos is able to complete the snap and people start disappearing.
After everyone disappears, Cap only manages to say “oh, God.”
Isn’t that how so many of us feel right now? Watching and reading updates on COVID-19 and worrying about health, jobs, life. I know I do. And it isn’t fair. It’s awful. While there have been some inspiring stories that have come out of this time (and incredible humans!), there are still many (too many) that are heartbreaking. On top of that, here in America there continues to be so much division. Sometimes the only words I have are “oh, God.”
But then comes Avengers: End Game. One thing that struck me this time around (I watched both this weekend) was that each person had a different reaction.
Thor decided to not care, or at least tried his best to convince himself of that. Nat worked nonstop because to pause would mean she would have to accept what happened. Clint, unable to accept that his family was gone, dared not to hope (“Don’t do that. Don’t give me hope”), and instead turned to his own sense of grief-filled justice to fill the void.
Each reaction was valid, because grief is like that. Like our current time, grief is something millions are experiencing in new, strange, and different ways. Each one is valid.
But then comes the ending. As Cap looked upon Thanos and his army approaching, maybe thinking this would be his last stand, he gets a small static of hope. Then it becomes clearer and clearer. And then…the mystic circles of Dr. Strange brings that long awaited hope. Hope in the forms of hundreds of people joining the fight to save Earth. To save humanity.
Watching it again, I cried. Granted, I cried in the theater, but with everything going on right now, it hit a little differently. True, we aren’t fighting a Titan bent on destroying half of the universe, but we are going through a time many of us have never experienced. We feel helpless. We’re tired (for staying at home all the time, I’m exhausted). We’re stressed (how many of us worry, among many things, about our parents and grandparents?). And many have already experienced the grief of losing loved ones.
How we fight will look much different than the Avengers (staying home, helping those around us in any way we can, sharing good news, checking in on loved ones, praying, comforting, loving), but this too will pass. It won’t last forever, so hold on. I say this for myself as much as for you. We’ll look different after this to be sure. Our way of life will have new pieces it didn’t before, much like life changed after 9/11, but we will get through this. Together.
“Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”
(If you want to cry at one of the scenes from End Game, check this out)
The Musings of Jamie 