Monday, July 29, 2013

Pillow Talk~Static Cling Edition

Just for future reference it is much easier to have hard conversations on soft pillows. Defenses are down in this neutral zone.

Last Thursday...
Surrounded by cotton, down and the Bounce-aroma of static-free sheets, James and I finished a conversation on race that began earlier that afternoon. Like I have said before, some of these conversations are avoidable and most are not. We have become quite shrewd at determining which is which. I am grateful for James who will diffuse what could be a heated discourse by reminding me that in OUR house we love each other in spite of skin color and we also love & honor each other because what our skin color means.

These are the Hoskins' House~House Rules

I do not think it is necessary to offer the world a verbatim because honestly I do not want to build divided platform and stir up the temptation to take a side...Know this...I will always take James' side even if I, wholeheartedly (my stake is firmly in the ground) disagree with him. You'll get it when you get home.

I will, however, offer you the take-away. They are the kind that can be read in any color. Trust me.


Marriage doesn't mean agreement...it may rarely mean seeing eye to eye...

A lack of agreement DOES NOT mean a lack of love or respect. I repeat, a lack of agreement DOES NOT mean a lack of love and respect.

Outwardly, James and I are as different as different can get...(hello Capt. Obvious). Of all of the places in the world our home must be a safe place to disagree, to process, to be right, to be wrong and to learn. It just has to be. We cannot berate, demean and bully the other into submission because there are a line of people waiting outside our door to do so.

James is not a black woman and I am not a white man. We never will be and that is OKAY.

This is not as easy to remember as you may think but whatever your differences are you must accept them while becoming a student of them and the black community has met no better pupil than Mr. James Hoskins....ha! Lemme teeelllllll you! My color represents my culture. It is more than just a conversation piece in the month of February. I love my blackness. I love to talk about it. I love to study it. I love to boast about it. I'm so glad James does too. But it ain't all about me so I listen to my man and hear what it's like for him to be a white man from Texas...and my eyes are opening up to something brand new that I thought I already knew. What a gift. You want to know how to "do" race relations in an edifying way?...come sup with the Hoskins' one evening. 

James' heart for me is LOVE and he is a GOOD man who fears God.

During our talk my emotions ebbed and flowed. I would like to say that I controlled them but I was lazy so I found myself just riding the wave in danger, at times, of getting swept away...until I heard the voice of God (which sounds a lot like Mattie) saying, "Remember his heart for you...remember his heart for me...remember his heart." The hair that had bristled up on the back of my neck would soften and smooth out as I relaxed and unclenched my jaw saying, "Help me remember...Thank you, Lord, for his heart." Conversation continued and the process would start all over again. 

Another take-away...if you are doing it right you become a prayerful schizophrenic. There was a lot going on in my head. I'm talking to him and talking to the Lord all at the same time. Giving up my need for control. Stripping off my desire to not only be understood but be right. Realizing that I don't need these things, I need Jesus. 

I NEED JESUS.

Pillow talk is precious to me. I believe it to be vital for a marriage to survive, wherever your pillow may be. Soooo many dreams are formulated there. Soooo many things are discovered and worked out. When hard conversations hit soft pillows I find myself clinging to Jesus desperately because he is the ONLY one who can change me....make me over...soothe me...truly understand me...He is the only one who can bring understanding to us newlyweds. He is the one who gives me kind words to say. He is the one who urges James to speak up and speak truth. He is the one we follow together. Hand in hand. Life happens everyday. We cannot run from the stresses of the world even in the safety of our home so we cling to Christ like static on sheets and Bounce doesn't stand a chance. 

Oh yeah...and...

We have miles to go before we sleep.
(no, I'm not trying to cop and twist the rhythmic words of Robert Frost)

For the love!...we are still learning. It took me four years to earn my MDiv and I am no where near being a Master of all things Divine. So,why in the world should we know how to do marriage by now? I simply mean we made vows for the LONG haul so if things don't get fully unfurled on some random Thursday in the 5th month of our marriage...psssst...it's ok...we have a long way to go and a lot of time to figure things out. 



Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Repeat After Me...

I talk to mom a lot these days and her pain is definitely my gain...My dad is an angel, but let's be real. They both did their fair share or pouting and growing up over the past 43+ years. When people notice the glimmer in my dad's eye and the pep in mom's step when she is with her man they nudge their spouse for some reciprocity and tell mom she's got it easy and couldn't possibly understand....Her response: "I have the marriage I have because of prayer. And I prayed because I HAD too." Guess who is not about to just figure things out on my own...This chick here. There is no shame in my game so I ask questions and sunbath in wisdom.

Here is what I love about Mattie Criddell:
1. She is completely disarming because of her honesty and transparency.
2. She honors my father by not sharing it all for the sake of bonding with her newlywed babygirl.
3. She TELLS me NOT to tell her everything because our business is not her business and she will always be inclined to take my side.
4. She doesn't always take my side. (That makes James a happy hubby.)

It's funny, a part of me doesn't want to continue to nitty-gritty of this post because it will reveal some of my mess. After all, you clean up before you invite company over, right? We, married and single alike, are under this ridiculous delusion that if every day isn't smiles, smooches and sweet-nothings then we are doing something terribly wrong. So we hide, pretend and make sure our blogs are Disney approved. We gossip about those we have vowed our lives to in some kind of passive-aggressive attempt at a plea for help or just advice. The truth of the matter is this relationship is a full-speed-ahead transformational journey where we find ourselves shredded of self-aggrandizement and righteousness and looking, acting and talking like Christ...our core, our rock, our true essence.

That is NOT a clean process, there may be wreckage and there SHOULD be carnage as we die to self...and self won't go down without a fight.

Walk into any marital living room and you will find stains of offense on the carpet under the rug, the dust of selfishness that has settled on everything, and a looming stench of pride, thick in the air, because someone forgot to take out old trash.

Thank God for Jesus and His place in marriage....He holds alllllllllll things together....He redeems the mess....He speaks through really good moms who care enough to tell it like it T. I. tis!

I talked to mom about an argument one of my friends had with her husband....small, laughable and resolved but an argument nonetheless (and it's the small ones that catch you off-guard)...and it really was a friend.

On not letting the sun go down on your anger, mom said this in her black-mama, "honey chile" voice,
and I quote,

"The wedding is so nice because someone gives you the words to say and you repeat it and then you smile and say, 'Oh, look what we just did!' But in the marriage no one is around to say, Repeat after me except for Jesus and if you don't say what he tells you to say you'll be in biiiiiig trouble."

I love that woman.

I'm sorry...I love you (feeling pissy)...I was wrong...You were right...Let's start over...

Not as fun to say as, "I, ___________ take thee, __________to be my lawfully wedded...." but they sure do clean up the mess. Like bleach and apple cider, Like a Brillo pad on old grease.

Everyday I am learning to pause, pray and repeat what the Lord says to say (or do). I'm new to this so my first reaction is usually visceral and very wrong. Mom also reminded me that marriage is spiritual warfare...Lemme break it on down. Satan, the enemy, attacks marriages. He wants us to take a stance in our right to be offended. He wants us to wake up with calloused hearts because anger was our bedfellow. But God is in our marriage and on our side.

Whatever YOU want to do, don't. Whatever YOU want to say, wait....How are you to humble yourself, stay in your lane and look like Him? What is Christ asking of you?

He is speaking...

Repeat after Him...


Saturday, July 13, 2013

How Does Saturday Smell?

Pancake Syrup, burnt cooking oil, hot blow dryer, fresh laundry and Comet Cleaner.

When I was little deep cleaning our house was reserved for Saturday mornings. The day flowed something like this...I was the first up to take in a few private, meditative, reflective hours of Saturday morning cartoons (ahem, still do). It was my elementary quiet time (if you will). During this time I also made myself pancakes just like my mom taught me. Although, mine looked more like greasy splatter art. I used way too much cooking oil and milk. The fire was always turned up too hot...they were good nonetheless and I was fed while the parentals got some rest.

Mom  or my sister, Mardi, would blow dry my freshly washed hair, think Rudy Huxatable circa 1989.

Dad hand-washed the car in the driveway (wax on wax off), and ran errands to the store and dry cleaners.

Mom and dad's room was downstairs and mom sang old school and contemporary gospel while cleaning her bathroom.

Our upstair rooms were filled with the newest R&B hits 97.9 The BOX had to offer. We wopped it out while mopping it out.

Then after the house was spit-shine clean off to the movies we went. Parents would turn on jazz or classical music while the three of us sat shoulder to shoulder in the backseat of our Plymouth Acclaim guessing which instruments were playing.

Lunch at Marco's Mexican Restaurant...I got an authentic cheeseburger kid's meal. Then back to home central.

My Saturdays have changed a bit but the new Hoskins home is developing a smell all its own.

Saturdays begin with a little pillow-talk.

James goes into his room to pray for a while.

I listen to him play the guitar and sing while I sing to various songs on my Pandora stations. I fluff my curls and do the bathroom boogie to the R&B of my youth...not quite as holy as my hubby.

He offers to make breakfast...I offer to make breakfast...I cook breakfast tacos. I win? (wait a minute).


We promised that we would "do" marriage by attempting to out-serve one another. So far so good. We serve each other with creativity and gladness, really, don't gag at my newly-wedness...We are loving this season cuz it's just us and being a grown up on a Saturday is a lot of fun...New recipes, new back rub techniques, new adventures in kayaking.


Now Saturdays smell like eggs and olive oil, Lake Waco, fresh laundry and Shipley's...sometimes we both win.



Tuesday, July 9, 2013

I'm Milk Chocolate

My two childhood best friends are bi-lingual Spanish and English. They took it all through high school and college. They both have taught it in school at one point or another. It's hard not to pick up a little Spanish if you live in Houston for any length of time. I've picked up enough to impress people who don't know any. My dad tells people I am fluent but the only sentence that flows, is..."Yo se muy pocito pero todavia estoy apprendiendo." This means, "I know a little but I am still learning." Yeah, I have been riding that lame train for a decade now. I really need to buy Rosetta Stone and soon. 

James is bilingual too. He is fluent in Country and Modern-Jive. The sing-songy 'tude in his voice and his impressions of my dad soon morphed into a language all his own. If you close your eyes and listen closely you might think I'm talking to my sister...because my husband talks like a black woman...yes, it is weird. It's weird because he isn't mocking me; (most times) his cadence and phraseology is on point and relevant. 

The other day James tells me about a conversation he and his co-workers were having about a young black woman. During this conversation James asked his white counterparts a very common and appropriate question concerning the exact shade of her blackness.
 "What kind of chocolate is she?...like candy"
Ha!

Sweet bi-lingual James...they don't understand you.

He continues...
"You know...Hershey's, caramel, special dark...?"

So here is a language lesson for all. We black folks refer to our own color and the colors of our brethren in colorful, confectionery ways. It's a Willy Wonka (I've got the golden ticket) type of nomenclature. Easy to remember, up-for-debate and sensible. 

Halle Berry and Beyonce: Caramel~prounounced "Care-uh-mel"

Phylicia Rashad and my hot mama: Cafe Mocha (it's a smoother milk chocolate)








Djimon Hounsou (Blood Diamond)  and Seal: Special Dark or just Dark Chocolate
Tisha Campbell-Martin and Sade: Bright or Light skinned...there is a distinction, however, that only a trained eye may notice

                                                     Jasmine Guy: definitely Light Skinned
                                                     
Cree Summer and Tamia: Red or Red Bone...these individuals will often have a natural reddish tint to their hair. 

And I, my friends, am Milk Chocolate.

Before we were together my baby was living in a black and white, rabbit-eared world and now the hubs is seeing it all live in HD technicolor, asking questions about candy and making eyebrows raise in confusion. I am so proud. This kid gets an  "A".