TEATIME TUESDAYS

The word harvest immediately takes me back to primary school when we had to bring canned goods and produce from home to give to the less fortunate. You knew it was a big deal because we'd have a special assembly that took weeks of preparation. Students brought their chairs from classrooms to the quadrangle, and special guests were treated like royalty. My favourite was when the choir would sing: "It's harvest, it's harvest, it's harvest time again. So bring ya pumpkin and watermelon, cassava, and peas and corn. Thank, thank, thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord, again." 

As an adult, that whole ordeal now says one thing to me: 'harvest isn't for the benefit of one person.' I was reminded how the residual income of one moment had a rippling effect—and I like it. 

I spent a lot of my Christian life reading my Bible and praying in the hopes of getting something from God. Be it for an answer, a blessing, or a colossal intervention, it was rarely, if ever, for the sake of just spending time with Him whom I (supposedly) love. 

There are things you do in your free time, and then there are things you free your time to do. I believe that planting is a hobby people "do" with the hope that it works rather than expecting it to succeed. This opinion may be skewed as it's based on observing a person's reaction to witnessing their planted seed growing. It's as if seeing what they've planted actually flourishing—is a shock. 

As for me, when I think of planting, I think of an activity that requires me to get my hands dirty—problem numero uno. Then, I think of the consistency I'd need to ensure that what I plant actually grows—let the church say, 'ain't nobody gat time fa that.'

I'm already cringing at the idea of pests and the proper way to ward them off without harming the plant. Then there's feeding the plant—on top of wondering if I've given it enough water, too little water or too much water? What if the sun is too hot, or what if the sun doesn't shine at all. Does the plant need shade, or should I leave it to nature to do its thing? Do I place it into a pot or drop the seed any ole' where and say abracadabra? Do seeds need particular soil, or will any dirt do? Finally, does this exercise require special tools, or can I use any object that comes to my hands? Gosh, I'm exhausted just thinking about it. It's perhaps me being lazy, but planting doesn't sound enjoyable—it's giving hard work and inconvenience, and I'm not about that life.

You can go ahead and release the tension in your chest, as this is not a piece where I'm focused on last wills and testaments. Well, I suppose it'll depend on which lens you view the information through. 

Honestly, before we can even get to whether one hears, "Well done or depart from me, I never knew you," we'll have experienced several other instances that might feel worse than death. But like death, these situations may be sudden, or at other times you may battle the proverbial death bed to-do. Either way, rest assured, it's always only a matter of when. 

To die (not by Webster's description) signifies time has expired or that 'a thing' has met its expected end. Basically, if you've ever had to grieve anything, you've probably had a brush with death.

I could be off base here, but I think most people who've not had the benefit of being born into wealth, if given a chance, would not choose the family they now have. Like most, what I may have opted for, would be based on affluence, privilege and geography.

When I hear the phrase 'A time to be born,' I can't help but reflect on that moment in most funerals when you're recapping the details of the deceased's life. You begin to compare it to Solomon's fourteen contrasting seasons and times—each serving a particular purpose. (see Ephesians 1-8) In fact, whenever my life seems halted in a juxtaposition, I think about these verses, wondering what phase I'm in and if I'm handling it with any grace at all. 

My physical birth occurred in the summer of 1980, amid the dreaded hurricane season. And most times, my life felt stuck in that dynamic—a period of storms brewing in rapid succession. Still, like those disturbances, I'm convinced nothing could stop my arrival; it was simply my time. 

So I used to work in a call center back in the day and ended up quitting weeks shy of my fifth anniversary. Let me tell you, though, saying that it was an eye-opening experience has to be the understatement of a lifetime. I learned in real-time during those many months that communication has nothing to do with what we say but what we hear. And while as an individual, I thought I had an excellent command of the English language, many days, I went home feeling like my elevator didn't go to the top floor.

At first, it was all kicks and giggles, as though it was curated for the newbies to be routed the colourful folks—you know, baptism by fire, I called it. Like, how were they doing this to us? How was it that every day, things I thought were standard verbiage became complex that I had to water it down? No lie, I was so excited for the opportunity to walk people through issues. Me, a problem solver. A superhero in my own right. #avengerassemble  Yet, I walked away from that experience, second-guessing everything I said before I said it, and I developed the annoying habit of over-explaining.

The other day, I was in a coffee shop drinking my water, minding my business. And by the other day, I mean pre-pandemic, and by water, I mean coffee. 

In came an elderly lady who sat next to me. We exchanged pleasantries, and by pleasantries, I mean a nod and a smile. 

She, too, was drinking her water. Although, I'm not sure she was minding her business because, from my peripheral vision, I could see her staring at me—rather intently. 

After what felt like an eternity, and by eternity I mean one sip of her water, she finally said, "Wow, you have beautiful skin!" I smiled, a bit uneasy and deflected by saying, "Yes, it's the weather, doing me all levels of justice!" And my urge to over-explain was brewing; I mean ready to bubble over. She looked at me, and in a matter-of-fact tone that only comes with an elderly badge of honour, she said, "Oh, hush, could you just take the compliment?" 

Feeling a little shame, I said coyly, "Yes, ma'am, thank you!" and we continued to chat briefly. As she left, I could no longer focus on my reason for being there. I had an overwhelming urge to dig deeper. "Why did her compliment make me uncomfortable?"

I saw a homeless man sitting on the side of the road the other day. Next to him was perhaps everything he owned, covered by a tarp, in a supermarket trolley. ⁣My heart sank, and I began wondering what could have possibly happened in this man's life that landed him in this position?

⁣Far be it from my pointless curiosity, something very profound got my attention. I was no longer fixated on his condition but instead that he sat there, in his state, reading a book. You'd think he'd be there lamenting over his many woes. I know I would. I'm talking, big ole pity party on lock! But no, he was there soaking in information. ⁣

⁣I don't know what book he was reading or why. But from observation alone, I concluded that his circumstance didn't define him as it might others. I realized he wasn't waiting for the conditions to be perfect for him to do something worthwhile or productive. To me, he appeared to start with what was in his reach.

⁣⁣

It feels like yesterday that I wrote about 'new year, new me season' that seems to descend upon us like the plagues of Egypt every 12 months. Ah yes, another round of cut-offs, clearing social media friend feeds and contact lists. And lest we forget the 300,000 vision board party flyers. I mean, nothing against it but seventy-five bucks for me to use my own glue stick, glitter, and scissors to create a homemade poster while someone stands in their cute-fit to the front of the room—hmm, no thanks. (insert trapsy emoji) 

Nonetheless, I was not at all enthused by the impending possibility of yet another 365 to make any major changes, other than to ensure my words matched my actions. Still, I was reminded of the sentiment that "The more things change, the more they remain the same."  Or "There is nothing new under the sun!" Oh boy, I was about to descend into the rabbit hole of revolving thoughts.

To be completely honest, I was conflicted; you'll. On the one hand, the famous quote that says, 'the only constant in life is change,' denotes that change should happen, and if it's not, maybe something somewhere isn't growing. But then my life in Christendom echoes God doesn't change. So, do I change or nah? 

Suddenly, my thoughts of Christmases past were met with the harsh present-day reality that all things I'd hoped for to this end seemed out of reach with no end in sight. (Sigh) Bah Humbug!  The longer I pondered, the more I got irritated. The mere thought of my Christmas lather, rinse, repeat cycle was steady, giving me the heebie-jeebies.  "So, pretty girl like you een married yet?" was about to be the question I now consider more irritating than the near interrogations about my weight influxes.

In fact, any social outing where I'd face an opportunity to be grilled by all the insensitive people was gonna get me all in my feelings or force me to hurt some feelings. I wasn't interested in either parity. Believe me; I didn't need an office memo issued to remind me that I was growing older by the second. Nor did I need an update that my womb has somehow shrivelled up and become utterly useless (at least that's how they'd make you feel). While this time of year should be about togetherness, it's the pressure to 'be' that makes you wanna take a hard pass.

Disclaimer: Today's piece has nothing to do with Tyler and dem. Honestly, I've never even watched the show. Now that that's out of the way let's get to it.

I remember hearing a phrase not long ago, though I can't recall where—it was said. 'People don't want purpose; they want prizes.' As I pondered that thought, I couldn't help but look over my life and think of the motivation behind many of my so-called goals. There was no surprise there; it was more about me reaping benefits rather than pursuing the reason I was destined.