February 5: My family watched the conclusion of The Good Place. I reveal nothing when I tell you that the show is generous, hope-speckled and very funny. Frozen yogurt is funny. The afterlife is funny. And second, third and fourth chances are funniest and most wonderful of all. Its theology resembles mine (loving, abundant and grace-filled) and I like that. If you watched the show, I’d love to know what you think.
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February 6: Collards, fried catfish, macaroni & cheese, cornbread and the most delicious whipped sweet potatoes a person could imagine. Any day you can find these delights at the aptly named Oohh’s & Aahh’s soul food restaurant in Washington DC. But today they made a feast for my office’s Black History Month celebration. And we needed the fuel for Jeopardy. Our side of the table threw wide our net of knowledge. We laughed, shared and hugged. Who is Shirley Chisholm, Frederick Douglass and Toni Morrison? What is the Emancipation Proclamation and the Harlem Renaissance? Which was the winning team? (ahem)
February 7: A cataract of water doused me as I stepped from my house this morning. I had eschewed boots, and I immediately saw my peril: a river of conjoining curb streams four feet wide and four inches deep. As I crossed, one shoe filled with water. I moaned. More bad luck coming? Then I realized that the worst was actually behind me. I tightened my umbrella grip, hoisted my skirt above my knees, and just kept going. I noticed a driver graciously giving me wide berth as I sloshed in her lane. Then the rain subsided (or my resilience rose), and I decided my shoe was merely soggy, not sodden. Heck, maybe the sun will come out too.
February 8: At Ms. Paulette’s invitation, I attended our local Black History Month celebration. You know this part already: terrific food, splendid music, 200 people making one family. But the highlight was Pastor Carl, a mix of Billy Dee Williams, Cab Calloway and my Dad. Our master of ceremonies, he was swinging, smiling and praising. Simply put, he was joy in a gold sweater. I felt joy just watching him. “Heaven belongs to you,” one choir sang. He believes it, and he made me believe it too.
February 9: Hands in prayer and knuckles pressed to my sternum, I savor the vibrations of our unison Om at the end of yoga. I like best, though, when our teacher leads us in three consecutive Oms. With each new Om starting on the yogi’s own count, the studio thrums with the rising resonance and my body floats into the air.
February 10: I dashed across the plaza to grab a bite to eat. A little girl looked at me in my black and white dress and asked, “Aren’t you cold?” I smiled and looked back at her in her black and white dress. I didn’t say, but wondered: did your mom just ask you exactly the same thing?
February 11: A friend’s brother just got home from a trip to Las Vegas. Thanks to the Nats, he’s a bit richer: during the dog days of July, he placed a bet that the Nats would win the World Series. That was crazy, so Las Vegas offered 50 to 1 odds. A ten-dollar bet now buys an awful lot of beer!
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Fashioned For Joy 