Dear Sara Evans:

In 2005 I went through a nasty divorce after 20+ years of marriage. The man I married, had two children with, turned in a monster, turning my kids against me, lying to close friends causing a wedge that would never be released.

The scars of that marriage ran deep. To naively love someone for over two decades, left raw emotions; some of which may never heal.

Fast forward to 2010, when I heard your song A Little Bit Stronger, the true healing began. God sent you to me through my radio. As I listened for the first time, I sobbed uncontrollably. You wrote my anthem song.

Since that time, you have been by my side like a best friend. Since I first heard it, that song has been part of my music library. When I need a little boost, there you are to remind me that each day I am a little bit stronger.

Last weekend my husband attended your concert in Hiawassee GA. I worked early that day, so I was tired, but I had to stay. I loved listening to your new songs are well as your past hits. But your last song was the one I’d come to here.

Sara, I can tell you that, although I am in a good marriage now, and at a good place in my life. That song brought me to tears, and I could feel your words infusing me with strength.

I’ve got to close for now, I’m busy today, getting stronger. Thank you for being a source of strength even on my weakest days.

A symbol of love , a reminder of warring bloodshed,
Such is the dichotomy
That lies in the power of the color red.

Red is willpower, the mind of “She”

She who is openly strong
She who is secretly kind.
Cheering from the front
But lingering 2 steps behind.

Red is bold, the exclusivity of “She”
She who is reclusive
A rare treasure to find.

Red is danger, the strength of “She”
Red is this fiery woman
The little girl has dared one day to be.

Red is desire, the passion of “She”
A shade depicting her struggles,
A sign of her unwavering, rebellious thought.
Color of the scars from all the battles she fought.

When she needed to stand out, it was her color of choice,
The color of celebration,
Color of her freedom, her will, her voice.

“The two important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why”-Mark Twain.
Life’s numerical milestones have changed .
I view 46 as 30+ 16 rather than 50-4 Mathematically and philosophically.
46 was a nameless nobody . Turning 46 just meant a step closer to the golden years and nothing more than that.
But now , this previously insignificant number has a whole glamour quotient of its own. A modern day new kinda big deal .
Feeling “ 45+1” or “almost 46” does sorta have a grounding undertone to it. A settling sense of self assuredness.
Chances are at this juncture, you are where you shall be for the rest of your life..atleast in most aspects of your life.
So it’s best to acknowledge all of it , embrace it, celebrate the done-its and get over the have-nots.
My so-called big birthday beckons me in a few days. And I feel fine. In reality, I feel more than just fine.I feel feisty and fine. Each day bringing with it an epiphany of sorts. The realization that aging gracefully means learning to detach and step back . Ironically, learning the art of detachment is not a lesson in learning to let go.
It actually involves quite the opposite. It involves recognizing and holding on to all that is relevant and enriching. And no , age is not just a number. How we wish it was! It is way more layered than that.
Physically, the 45 year old body is not and organically should not be what it used to be . Aging naturally is the sign of a life well lived. Trying to reverse age, is trying to relive a life that wasn’t done right the first time.
Mentally, growing older is freeing. With my absolute abandon and unapologetic arrogance , I sense and honestly quite like the new me emerging-subtle silver streaks, sagginess, striations , self love et all! I feel old enough to recognize my mistakes but young enough to make some more!
So bring on my birthday baby, let the wisdom grow and show! On my face, on my cake!
My dear age-Add those candles with each passing year as you wish, but you can never blow out the fire that gets fiercer every minute within me!

I am a building contractor in Central Virginia. During my fifty-plus years working in the construction industry, I have probably worked on close to a thousand projects. I have built, remodeled and renovated homes. My work includes new office buildings, new and renovated retail spaces, historic restorations, many restaurants, and three veterinarian clinics. I have renovated log homes and even added an addition onto a bus.

One reason I decided to follow a career in construction is the variety of projects out there. The nature of what I have a chance to work on challenges me in different ways every day. The one constant is constant change. The moving parts involve product, customers, technology, workforce, weather, and even locations. The goal on all our projects is to find the best combination of function, aesthetics and budget for our customers.

Another characteristic of the construction industry that attracted me was the huge and wildly diverse cast of characters I get to work around. Some of these projects take hundreds of sets of hands joining together to create something. It involves finding ways to work with people from all over the spectrum relative to construction skills, formal education, social skills, personal beliefs, political leanings, family backgrounds and financial status. We have to look past our different backgrounds and histories to create things that hopefully will last for generations. The beautiful piece of working with such a diverse group of people is that I never know what lessons I might learn from or about one of them at any moment. The key is to make sure you are paying attention because you never know not only what you might learn but also how you might be changed.

If I wasn’t paying attention, I might not know that one of the concrete truck drivers is an amazing gospel singer. If I wasn’t paying attention, I may never have learned one of my subcontractors is a minister. If I wasn’t paying attention, I may never have learned that one of our cabinetmakers is a really good bass player in a Grateful Dead tribute band. And if I wasn’t paying attention at an historic courthouse and museum renovation job we are doing, I would not have experienced one of the most powerful and moving moments of my life.

As I was accepting a delivery at this historic museum job, I shared a moment with a young black man probably in his mid-twenties that I will never forget. He was assisting the driver with the delivery when he noticed an artifact in the side yard of the museum. In the side yard of this museum there is a 16”x 16” x 24” high block of stone sticking out of the ground. A small sign identifies this stone as a Slave Auction Block. I can not wrap my head around the fact that slaves once stood on top of this stone as people bid to purchase them. I had seen this piece of pre-civil war history many times before, but little did I know that on the day of this delivery my view of the auction block would change dramatically.

Right before getting back on the truck, this young black man walked over to the auction block and bowed his head in prayer. I didn’t invade his space but I stood close by and bowed my head as well. As we stood there in silence for a minute that seemed like an eternity, I could only think what his prayer might be. I tried to picture what took place on that block. The reality of it made my heart sink. In these times of such racial strife and division, I wish more people could have shared that moment with me. As he raised his head and I raised mine, I simply said “Amen”. Nothing more was said. He just nodded and walked back to the truck.

What is the point in hating one another?
For do we not all share the same mother?
Do we not all come from the same origin?
So why then do we divide ourselves by the color of our skin?
Why have we allowed ourselves to buy into this insanity,
Of thinking there are multiple races, instead of just humanity?
And then turn it around and use it as a means to cause calamity
For nothing more than to feed our own vanity…
Yet there’s thousands of sick and poor
Who are left picking scraps up off the floor
Families who are torn asunder
Suffering the sound of gun shots as they echo like thunder
So many hearts that have been broken
Over hurtful words which have been spoken
Are we unable see that solving hatred with wrath only continues to feed the bloodbath?
Why is it so hard for us to love one another?
To look at our neighbor as tho he is our brother?
Why are we so concerned with who is better, and who is best?
Should our value not begin with the fact that there’s a heart beating within our chest?
Why do we cling to a dividing love that is traditional,
Instead of clinging to a holy love that is unconditional?
For is that not the meaning of agape?
Is that not the beauty of the Way?
In order to love someone, do we really need a reason?
And why should our love change as quickly as the seasons?
Is life itself not a precious gift?
Why then do we seek to further the rift?
Why then do we seek to further the divide?
For nothing more than our own foolish pride?

Dear Unsealers,
I don’t ever want to be empowered. Please don’t.
If you give me power, you can take it back.
If you find me in a place where I can’t find my power, help me search.
If you find me in a place where I lack courage, teach me something I couldn’t do before.
If you find me in a place where I have more reasons why I can’t, help me discover why I can.
If you see me sitting with boxes of self doubt, with bags of trauma, with a cart full of other’s opinions of me, don’t tell me what you think.
If you stay along side me, ask me what I can do, ask me how I triumphed over my trauma, what I think of myself.
If I understand what I think of myself, what I can do, and how experiences have created in me a richness of strength and emotion that is uniquely mine.
I will know these things are the rich colors in the tapestry of my life.
I will understand the knowledge of myself is far more accurate and important than the things i am told about me.
I will exercise and give strength to knowledge and the skills, confidence to be myself, in every way.
I will know the power that comes from within. I will give myself permission.
When I know the power of myself it cannot be taken.
Please don’t empower me.

At one point in my life I lived in my safe comfort zone, it was a great space at lease I thought it was, it was a fortress it even came with guard that kept a vigilant watch over my thoughts that occupied my brain telling me constantly that failure would come to me if I tried anything new and my best bet was to stay within the confides of the comfort zone don’t dream don’t envision anything outside the zone.

But I knew that I did not want to live a mediocre life but I wanted a life full of extraordinary things a purposeful life staying in the comfort zone became harder to do when there was much I wanted to do and become. Until one beautiful day I decided to take the leap of faith and drown out the voices that kept me bound stuck in time not moving forward at all. I enrolled in classes at an online university and took he leap to get my Bachelor’s degree in healthcare management, I first enrolled in classes not even having a working lap top computer, I knew I had time to figure that out later the classes were not going to start for another few weeks, but the first step was made I had left the comfort zone. I realized that nothing ventured nothing gained the first step is always the hardest. For the next two years I took my online classes toward my degree. It was an arduous journey faced with obstacles along the way so much happened in those two years, I learned many things about myself it tested my resolve and stretch me to capacity. I thank God for his grace I thanked God that he always sent me to help me with assignments when I have confused he sprinkled help along the way, I received support from family and friends that encouraged me when I wanted to quit and give up when the hills where to high and valleys were too low, they kept on track when I wanted to retreat and run back to the comfy zone closer to the shore, not out the middle where the tides and the currents where not always in my favor. Last year I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in healthcare management class of 2023,

What I learned along my educational journey and leaving my comfort zone: is the first step is absolutely the hardest and that no matter what I have something that nobody can take from me, and that knowledge in myself knowing that I can be anything I want to be and move forward no matter how small the step that I can have a purposeful life where I can help other people along this journey and that the next chapter of my story will be better than my first. To God is the glory the author and finisher of my fate.

When I was younger, I was enthusiastic about becoming an adult. I remember accompanying my mother to the stores and appreciating the attractiveness of women, notably those wearing high heels. I couldn’t wait to wear high heels someday, seeing them as a mark of elegance and maturity. However, as I grew older, being a woman quickly became a maze of anxiety and doubts. High heels went from emblems of grace to traps, rendering me too unstable to flee from danger.

I used to love happy meals with colourful boxes and amusing toys, but now every meal feels like a battlefield, with each mouthful swallowing every single thought in my mind.
I used to refrain from applying makeup because I felt desirable without it, but now I pile it on like a cheesecake, with each layer acting as a mask to conceal my actual nature.
As a child, I used to fall asleep at night fantasising about becoming an adult and falling in love, but I soon realised that love is unexpected and frequently chaotic.
The clothing I’m wearing now seems like chains, and I wish I could burn off my skin to relieve the misery.
My lips never feel full enough, my brows never look right, and the scars on my body convey things I’d rather forget.
My small love handles, once a source of innocence, now seem like anchors dragging me down.

Being a woman seems like walking a tightrope, with each step posing the risk of falling.
It’s a dance in a hall of mirrors, and each reflection changes my perception of myself.
I’m always balancing expectations, attempting to come to terms with who I want to be with and who society expects me to be.
My body feels like a battleground, and I’m fatigued from fighting.

The transition from childhood to maturity can be compared to traversing a deserted space, where the illusion of who I believed I would become vanishes with each step. My childhood dreams have faded into shadows under the harsh light of reality. I’m just tired of navigating this maze, where every path appears to lead to a dead end.

I am the girl that can come off a bit clingy
Often scaring those who cross my path.
My thoughts may seem a bit stringy
Coming off to one like a bloodbath.
I will shoot for the stars
Providing those I love with my support.
Depending who looks you can see the scars
This makes some want to abort.
Giving my all with folks that let her through
As they becoming a part of the life.
There are pieces only few knew
I will occasionally show it all within a rife.
No one can tell me who I am
I do not follow a diagram.

There is no resolution without first a solution
An awakening, a calling from whence we first knew it

To clear the path before us
From war and destruction and all those who grew it

Let them hear you now

For I am the poet who stands tall

Arm and Arm with the ancestors, sisters, brothers, enbys
I love them all

You cannot take out OUR pride and OUR joy

Your hands are bloody and they constantly toy
With the hate of many, it plagues us all

& We sleep with one eye open now
But the sun will rise again

Because we see you
And we feel you from when you were small

This life you’ve chose was NOT the one you called

Just a mere thorn in your knee that made you fall

From GODs own eyes
Turned to dirty spies

But we are here to help you

Lift you from your broken path

To wipe away your years of endless wrath
That the child inside you has had to carry

Alone and tired and just barely…

Able to breathe a breath of newness
Filled with flowers of love
And their sweet dewness

It is safe to be now
In a place of family

We reach our hands out
Our hearts out
When you are finally ready

…to be as one
Like we’ve only just begun

Dear Tay,

Two disclaimers about this piece before I shoot my shot: actually, three. This is not a letter to Taylor Swift, not a ploy to be your man, and I am not calling you Tay to embarrass you!

So, who am I talking about? Two people, Taylor Rooks and Joy Taylor, both of whom are Black women in sports.

When thinking of these women, I won’t lie, they are very physically attractive and some may claim that this is why they are on TV.

They recently collaborated, co-hosting their podcast called Two Personal. Rooks and Taylor do a great job at their “daily job”(talking about sports) and giving a voice to others to express themselves.

In this joint venture, the duo are unfiltered, authentically highlighting the ups and downs of being a minority, especially in the sports world where being judged for superficial characteristics is the norm.

In the first few episodes, they have discussed topics that are, well… personal.

The episodes have included subjects such as pregnancy.

The theme of each episode is not why I am attracted to it, it’s that my personal takeaway is:

No matter what sport they are covering, the leading story about Tayx2 is not about the work the women do in the sports arena, to me, they portray that being a proud Black woman is what they want people to talk about when the conversation about them starts.

I’ve stated this before: sports was a way for me to hold my emotions in, and yes, you would be pretty hard-pressed to convince me that the final seconds of a game where the 16 seed has a chance to push off the 1 seed from “the dance floor” (March Madness pun) is not more heart-throbbing than when the final rose is given out in the Bachelor series.

But the two can co-exist.

So, thank you Joy and Taylor for showing that talking about the final few seconds of the game does not have to be substituted for talking about the first few seconds of my life. They can be on the same team “dancing” together!

Much Love & Respect,

Jake April

Photo credit: Two Personal Instagram Page

Outward beauty is fleeting

Taken away by the years

Like waves brushing sand back into the sea

But a beautiful souls never fades

It shines brighter, like a perennial diamond, as the years progress

When our outward mask fades away

The beautiful soul can be seen, fully, in all its splendor

Why do we confuse physical beauty with permanence,

When we know full well its ephemeral nature?

Why not, instead, seek to make ourselves beautiful on the inside,

And have that live forever?