The Empty Crib

Fam, today, I am endeavoring to be whole. I’m embracing the truth and removing the leverage the enemy of my soul has used liberally against me. (John 10:10a) Thank you, in advance, for your support, comments, love, and your prayers.

Yes, we may have Jesus as Lord. (Romans 10:9-10) We have a heritage and a promise. Still we must denounce harmful behaviors…frequently confess…..often repent, and fight for what’s been given us. Every day, that same enemy wages war against us to kill, steal, and destroy, so we must stand. (John 10:10a, Ephesians 6) So, with that being said, and in the spirit of transparency which Mirror Time strives for, I’d like to share a story of my failure for your edification and my spiritual growth.

I was living on Staten Island in a townhome with my two best friends and business partners. Barely legal but singing, songwriting, producing, trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents. Pandering in living rooms and studios of the some of the biggest names in music ever! We were consummate hustlers! We hustled everyone, even each other. We didn’t know when to pause. The line was blurred. It was as normal to us as breathing was.

I met this young woman during a ride to an appointment via the Staten Island ferry. She was with her two little sisters. I approached and they were fully hanging off every word I said. I knew I had their full attention. There was something different about her. I didn’t know what but we connected and starting calling each other. I didn’t have any expectations because I had trust and commitment issues. I was just talking and having fun and being young.

I learned she had three children from a prior relationship, and was from a very religious family, in a Christian denomination, Apostolic Pentecostal, I think. Their women wouldn’t cut their hair and wore small doilies on their heads. They wore long dresses too. She wore the same attire that first day on the ferry as well but I walked past multiple scantily clad women just to talk to her.

Within a few weeks of phone discussions, I had met her parents at her insistence and they treated me as I expected. They looked at me like I was a stray their daughter brought home. They grilled me about everything, including if I had any outside kids, then they would glance at their daughter. Dang! They could’ve, at least, told me about Jesus. LOL. That was the only “date” we went on besides a few ferry rides to the city to walk around and maybe get a bite to eat. We talked on the phone for hours at a time and began a physical relationship for several weeks. On a non-rehearsal day, I got a phone call from her. She told me she felt really sick and told me she was pregnant. I didn’t have any evidence but I accepted it.

Should I marry her and have an instant family of six? Was I raising this child Apostolic Pentecostal or Episcopal? Would I be able to live with in-laws that loathed me? Was I going to be ready to be a father when I was just barely legal a year or two ago and didn’t know what a father looked like? How could I support them with no degree and no full time job? I was on a roller coaster and I hate roller coasters. My friends offered advice and opinions as to what I should do but they didn’t want to lose their chance at a music career. I didn’t want to disappoint them if I was being honest. The dignity of regular work was respectable but I couldn’t afford to back out of everyone else’s dream.

The silence on the phone was deafening. I needed to answer but I didn’t know what to say. I really didn’t want her to have an abortion but I didn’t tell her that. I didn’t know if I wanted her to keep the baby because I didn’t have a father or a father figure and I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t screw up another life but I didn’t tell her that either. I didn’t know what I wanted so I did the most cowardly thing I have ever done in my life. I let her figure it out. I didn’t tell her what to do or what not to do. I was Switzerland in this romantic tale. I told her whatever you decide, I’m ok with it. She expressed that she would do anything for me and that she was in love with me. Those words feel empowering in some settings but that day, it was an albatross!

We hung up and I agonized over what to say. I was depressed and anxious. I couldn’t write any songs. I couldn’t even hum a melody and I couldn’t eat. My friends had definitive views but I struggled. I couldn’t sleep and for about a week, we didn’t communicate at all. (That was a lifetime for us and a huge mistake.) I was wracked with shame and decided I was going to call her. How could I explain this to my mother? I was determined to man up even if it displeased others and short circuited my goals. I knew what I was going to say. I wanted to keep our baby and continue our relationship. I wasn’t promising marriage or a home for all of her children but I was open to the idea if that was the right thing. I called her and left her a voicemail telling her not to make any decisions until we talked later. I had a busy schedule that morning so I was going to call again that evening. Before evening could come, I got another phone call from her. Good! She must’ve gotten my message. I was relieved. Yusef is going to have a baby! Wow. Then the showstopper. The mega-neutron bomb. The gut-punch!

Before I can say anything, she uttered three simple and seemingly harmless words but every syllable drew the life out of me and I thought I was having a heart attack. I felt faint and my body went limp at the sound of her voice. I could barely stand. She was elated and excited when she said it. No, the three words weren’t “I love you!” She’s said those to me before.

“I DID IT!”

My hands started to tremble and my eyes welled up with water. I started to stammer, choking on my saliva. It was several minutes before I could speak.

“Baby? Are you there?”, she said meekly.

“What did you do?”, I asked as my knees slightly buckled and I leaned my head against the window, barely strong enough to hold onto the corded phone in my hand. I didn’t want to hear the answer. I knew she wasn’t talking about getting her hair done.

“I got the abortion.”, she slowly muttered.

I think I went into a fugue state because all I could hear was silence even though she was explaining that she made an appointment to have the abortion and it was completed yesterday. It was in the early afternoon but I swear everything went dark. I might as well have been in a black hole. I couldn’t see any light for miles. I was a cocktail of anger, rage, guilt, and remorse. I let out a prolonged scream that was so loud that my insides shook. I thought my brain was going to shut down. I could hear the feet of my friends racing to my closed bedroom door, knocking and calling out to me. I screamed and wailed in a way I never have before. I fell to my knees and dropped my head against my window pane. Within seconds, she began to scream and cry on the other line. I don’t know what she was saying but I could hear the word “sorry” here and there.

“Why, why?” I moaned. “Why, why?”

My mind was everywhere. If I was mature enough to decide in the beginning……if she told me she made an appointment…….called me before the procedure……maybe I could have, would have, might have……What if we took the time to talk about it…..??????

I don’t know how much time past on that phone call but I spent 15, 30 minutes sobbing and dry heaving. I felt like I did something really wrong. I felt so wicked and dirty. I never saw a sonogram or a pregnancy test but I felt like a murderer. I thought I didn’t deserve happiness and I would always live this uncommitted, unfulfilled life and rightly so. I hated my face in the mirror. I lost the energy to live out my dream. I had no expectations. I was a zombie in the horror movie of my life: already dead and it was the best and worst it could be. She apologized profusely and I did the same but I never blamed her. I put it all on myself. We were able to forgive each other but I knew it. We were over. I broke her heart and maybe did more damage than that to her mind. It took decades to get free of the carnage I unleashed on myself. I couldn’t trust again. I couldn’t let myself be committed.

I was starting to hear voices. Sounds of children laughing and playing and calling me “Da-Da”. I was tormented by my guilt and shame. Was it a little boy with dimples and freckles? Was it a little girl with bright brown eyes and a big smile who would love to sing? Was I having twins? Triplets? I’ll never know now. I was co-conspirator in an undertaking I was wholly unprepared for the consequences of. As tears roll down my face and my eyesight is blurried by tears, I tell you today that life is precious. These are the kind of life-changing situations that can change you in unfathomable ways. They leave a mark. They scar. But you can recover. You can be healed.

I am so sorry. I wish I could apologize to her more than I already have. If I knew this would have been, I would kept walking past her on that ride to the city. There were plenty of warning signs that said our relationship wouldn’t last. It’s not like they were hidden. I regret wounding someone because of my selfishness. I regret that this was the legacy I left behind. An empty crib. A teddy bear that will never be snuggled. A bottle that will not be filled with milk. A cry that won’t be responded to by a loving parent. A heart that won’t beat against mines. A little me that will never be.

I don’t know what you are dealing with today but whatever it is that comes in those fleeting thoughts that you just try to ignore, take those thoughts captive. Don’t allow them to take residence in your head and cause you to forfeit your bright tomorrow. We have all sinned and come short of the glory of God (Rom 3:23) but we are being offered life and life more abundantly (John 10:10b). I confess my sin right now in the name of Jesus Christ! I accept His gift today! I choose to live today for the Gift-giver! I want to be made whole!

Happy Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to all the men that have and continue to stand up when others won’t or can’t. You continue to dispel the myth about fathers in general but, in particular, men who resemble me. Let’s be honest, black and brown have been unfairly given a stigma that we aren’t faithful fathers and we don’t stay. I know fathers that didn’t stay. I know fathers that didn’t even try. And I know fathers who are doing that and then some.

There are 365 days in a year and most of the past 24 years, this celebrated day served as the worst and most bitterly painful one of the calendar year, hands down! I dreaded its arrival and celebrated its passing! I opened my eyes this morning by God’s grace and rather than declare it a bust like other years, with my first breath, I thanked my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and decided that today wouldn’t be like the others.

This year was a first. I didn’t cry or become depressed because my children didn’t text or call. This year, I remembered that in all my struggles as a parent, I did all I could do and I didn’t leave when things got rough. I didn’t compromise my faith to make my kids my best friends. I didn’t have a roadmap on how to be Dad. I didn’t know how to stay. I didn’t know how to stand while under assault so needless to say I made plenty of mistakes. But I never ceased to love and appreciate my opportunity to be a father as well as the most beautiful, humorous, and compassionate children a father could hope for. By God’s grace, I’m being privileged to father children in a different way these days and my heart is so full. I’m happy and blessed.

So if your situation is fantastic, I’m sincerely happy for you. Be grateful! You are very fortunate! If your situation isn’t so great, know you’re not alone. We hold in our hands an incredible responsibility but you’re more than up to the task! Connect with a fellow father who was knocked down and has gotten up! Build a support system of men who are okay real talking about fatherhood. Gain strength from those that have gotten to the finish line while you’re still in the race. We can’t do this alone! Today I can say I’m richer than I thought I was and much more so than I deserve. I may be estranged today but I’m victorious always.

To all the brothers that get a bad rap or are being held to an unfair standard by people with agendas and motives……to all the brothers who haven’t heard a “Thank You” in years…..to all my brothers that are expected to be happy with the little appreciation they get because other brothers that came before you didn’t care to get it right…. to all the brothers who are taking lemons and making the best lemonade their family ever tasted…….

……….Happy Father’s Day!!! I’m still very happy to be a father. Hope you are too!

For Best Results, Do Not Shake

You are a consumer. You purchase items that are necessary for your household. Do you read every label on every product before you use it, eat it, drink it, or apply it? Sadly, the answer is probably no. I’m not sure anybody does.

Shrug it off as inconsequential but it’s a big deal. Directions on how to install an appliance or assemble a children’s bike are the difference between a hefty repair cost and an injury to your child. Instructions are there for your safety. If you use a product that disclosed on its labeling that using this item will or could cause cancer should give us pause. Should.

Those labels are the ones we’ve learned to avoid paying attention to. We don’t care about allergens and toxins and harmful effects in that moment. We generally get what we think we need and worry about the other stuff later. We’re working and thinking backwards when we do that.

Can I be frank with you today? If reading labels was all this was about, we might end buying less products and spending more money on safer ones. Everyone can’t afford that reality.

My only question to you is do you want the best results in life. Do you want to be successful and effective at what you put your hands to? Do you want to see value in the time you spend doing what you do? Making sound decisions begins with having all the necessary information.

“Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, saying, ‘This person began to build and wasn’t able to finish.” (Luke 14:28-30)

I am sure you’ve already made the mistakes that you’re living with the consequences of today. I’m sure you wish you did some things differently. Before your new today starts, ask all the right questions, make all the considerations, read the “labels”, follow the instructions, think about all the ramifications before you say “Yes” or “No”, before you take that next step, think, consider, ponder, and pray.

The labels, alerts, and warnings are there for your safety. Ignoring them puts you and others in peril.

Editors Note from the MTWMY Desk

Good evening, guys.

I’m overwhelmed with gladness and joy for all that the Lord has done in my life. Some would be hard pressed to understand this joy that I speak of. Some would even question if it’s authentic. Well, if you’ve ever experienced this, nothing else can come close.

I’m grateful that you’re a part of the big things taking place. I’m excited for the gradual rebirth of Mirror Time and the arrival of “Skipping The STEP”, which should be due sometime this fall. You’ve heard some of the stories and you know some of the anecdotes but you haven’t seen anything yet.

Lots more to come. Big news may be coming soon as well. Stay tuned. Keep us on your mind. Keep sharing with others. Keep subscribing so you get our fresh articles. Thank you guys.

Mending Broken Hearts

Guys, thank you so much for all of you that support me and my vocation as an author.

Many of you know the story but the short of it is my first book, “The Heart of A Stepfather” was published by a company that not only didn’t honor the commitments in their publishing package but they also kept all my royalties. I am not asking for any pity, just want you to understand why this post is being shared with you.

 

I was blessed to enter into partnership with another publishing company, Cooke House Publishing, and they have promised to do things much differently and better than what I had experienced. I believe that and my next book, Skipping the STEP, should be out this fall.

 

In the interim, I need to break free of the “old” so I can embrace the “new”. My first book, from your reviews, has been inspirational and therapeutic. I have been selling the book sparingly and have even donated some to families in need. I have about seventeen books left. They’re selling for $10 but I’m willing to help you if you need it. Reach out to me privately and I will try to help get the books into your hands.

This isn’t a book I’m hocking to get famous. There is a sincere point to all the blood, sweat, and tears. I have actual testimonials from people who have been touched by this book and it has radically changed their family life. At the very least, their approach to their family life. Writing this book mended my heart and it seems to be doing the same for others.

I would really appreciate your help making that dream a reality. Thank you all very much.

wE, ThE hUMaNs

I’m now part of a community of authors and publishers who love to write and love the literary world. They love the idea of a hard or softcover book in their hands more than a tablet or laptop. They respect what it takes to put out the kind of content that we do. They fully understand the cost to do what they do and to put their hearts on paper for the world to see. That may not be as critical for a fictional writer but they still work a great deal to make their work relevant and to offer quality for those that love the written word like we do.

As some of you know, I published my first book through Tate Publishing called “The Heart of A Stepfather”. It was one of the most fulfilling and the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I wrote the book not to be known as a best selling author or to be rich. First and foremost, it was therapeutic. I felt like I was literally set free when I put the period on the last sentence in the book. I removed the huge load of bricks that was on my shoulders. The guilt. The shame. The anger. The wisdom. The humbling set of events that spanned more than twenty years. I laid my heart out onto 194 pages and it felt incredible. But along with the therapy that I personally received as well as some members of my family, I also wrote the book to start a dialogue and to be a support for members of the blended family and step-families alike. I was hopeful that people would look at the struggles that I shared and it would encourage them that although it felt like that most of the time, they were not alone. Many people around us have similar struggles. Many of us have some really good situations in step-parenting and may not even be able to relate to the kind of drama that I described in the book. They may think I’m some strange anomaly that rarely happens. I’m not and it does happen. Often. A friend of mines, who in my mind, is one of the most beautiful people I have ever met, ran into a situation  that broke her heart and broke mines hearing about it from her. I asked her permission to share it today with you. Just an example of what happens every day in our world. Even if you don’t read my book or the books to follow, maybe just maybe it might expand your thinking and open your heart to others even if you don’t think you can relate to them. Try to, at least, listen to and understand them. Another friend of mines loves to tell me that she trusts her cats more than she trusts humans because they hurt people. This is a great example of why I maintain an alternative viewpoint than hers.

 

“Yesterday, I saw a step-parent be cold to her stepson, she practically ignored him and ordered him to sit  down to the side alone. I was appalled as he cried and wanted to talk to his mom. When I sat next to him, he asked me through tears for me to ask his stepmom if he could call his mom. I asked but I knew the answer. She, of course, refused with an eye roll and then started fussing at him. She completely ignored him but treated her own son like gold. I tried reading to him but he was silent. I even snapped at her when she went to fuss at him when my son took a book they were sharing, correcting her.

This made me think of my own stepmom and how she never was like this woman. I thought of Yusef Marshall, a man who writes about the struggles of being a stepfather but is an amazing loving dad. Being a step-parent isn’t easy, I know I was a handful to my own stepmom and we both had our moments of anger, fighting, and immaturity but you can’t shun a child because he is your partner’s child. You just can’t. Next week, I’ll have a special bag to give him. He may not feel love from his stepmom but he can feel the love from us.”

What my friend is doing touched me more than words can express. We don’t have to be psychologists and we don’t have to be expert analyzers of anyone. I shared my story and it inspired my friend. It connected us when we first met because she was able to relate specifically to what I was writing about. And it made her feel empowered to act and do something rather than just talk or think about doing something. I have a greater respect for my friend and I am excited that my small story helps anyone.

Let me close with this: I don’t have a lot of friends although I am very friendly with a lot of people throughout the country in some parts of the world. I urge everyone that’s listening to really step back and look at our responsibility as human beings. Not our jobs or our circle of friends or family values but just simple, common decency. When we see a wrong, it’s been way easy for us to quiet about it. That can no longer be the standard.

Forget my book. Even if you never share it or even read it, please be open to the idea of doing everything you can to support the things that matter and use your sphere of influence to shine a light where darkness may be. Stepfamilies and blended families are issues that are underserved and that’s only one. We live in a world with many more. Let’s do our part. Shine a light! Great first step to being the best human beings we can be.

 

 

TicK tOck

Good Morning, Peeps.

So let’s jump right in…….you have the question in your hands but what does that mean? What do we have in common? Who is “we” and what is the “what” we have or should have in common? In the current social climate, we are rife with anger, tension, strife, conflict, differences of opinion, hatred, and a number of other things that flood your local and national new sites in epic proportions.  If we are really aware, it might appear as though all this negativity has eclipsed all the good things that are taking place around us, in our neighborhoods, in our communities, in our cities, in our state, in our nation, and ultimately, in our world. What do we have in common? I’m not trying to offer answers as much as I’d like us to consider the question a little more closely. It’s not hard to find bad things about people. That’s easy. It requires more effort to find valuable, worthwhile things about someone.

What does the Greek have in common with the Roman? What does the rich have in common with the poor or the debutante with a child in a Third World country? We are all victims of the inability to “see”. We all have eyes but we do not see. We all have ears but we cannot hear. Does the man in the high tower hear the cries of the little girl with no clean water? Does the war-monger see the tears of the homeless man on the city street without a meal to eat or place to lay his head? Remember the movie, “My Fair Lady”? Henry Higgins considered Eliza Doolittle, her father, and those of that sort “common” because of their use of the English language, the vulgarity of their speech, the clothes they wore, and how they lived. One word, many different meanings and a great deal more applications.

The clock ticks for us all and a precious opportunity ticks away with it! Each passing moment that we spend hating another for the hue of their skin or their accent cheats us the chance to truly experience what the power of love looks like. We think we got it down just because we love our children or our parents but it runs much deeper. Love is the primary reason we still have a chance to fix what we messed up and get back on track. It’s love that opens the door wide for the grace we currently live under.

It reminds me of my four year service to an international ministry out of Tampa, Florida several years back. We went into local inner city communities offering mobile Sunday schools, trips to the local foods banks, community feedings for those down on their luck, and back to school bashes. The director and I would do much of this work with bright, hot pink-colored trucks. The one we would use frequently had a broken gas gauge that, for some inexplicable reason, had never been fixed. So we would go to the gas station and fill the truck with gas, not knowing how much it would take and how long before we would run out of gas. Driving day or night in places where alligators were prevalent and native thinking and we could run out of gas made me uptight! (I’m not a hypocrite. I don’t like gator shoes, belts, or handbags either.) But that’s kind of where we are as a people. We have gas but our fuel gauge is broken. We can’t determine when the gas will run out so the wise among us fill up often and do the best we can with what we have while we have it. Grace by definition is for a specific period then it runs out.

 

I’d be misleading you if I implied there was only one thing we have in common. Everything from our physical makeup to our home lives to our financial situations are all things relatable to the human condition. A personal example is what I discovered after recently writing my first book, “The Heart of the Stepfather”. The responses I got from around the nation prove emphatically that people from different walks of life, varied upbringings, other cultures, etc., share the trials and joys of parenting as well. I am more convinced than ever we have more similarities than we were led to believe.

Listen to all the voices talking and analyzing, debating and theorizing, arguing and advising, and you’ll see the one and most important commonality at work: The very breath that we breathe. It’s arguably the most vital thing we share. Take away that essence of life in us and we are all reduced to merely an empty shell! That breath is a reminder of the love we were fashioned with. It reminds us that we are all human and we share a connection that is bigger than us and for a greater purpose than just to rail against each other and demean one another. We can’t see it or contain it but we sorely need it and can’t do without it. Hmm.. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. Can you “see” it?