I have been thinking about the stages of life a lot this week and where I am mentally, spiritually, physically, emotionally, financially, and any other –lys.

In another year, I’ll hit the mid-century mark (of course, I have to get past my birthday in August this year first), but in 2017, I’ll be there.  Whew.  Can’t quite mouth the word fifty yet, but my body is most certainly making some radical changes now.  When I rushed to the doctor thinking I was pregnant or that something else major was wrong with me (and women, I’m told, who’ve been at this stage in their lives know exactly what I’m implying here but can’t fully say), my doctor sort of chuckled but assuaged my anxiety by simply stating that I’m in the perimenopausal stage of my life.  What?!

Anyway, I don’t exactly know why I started thinking about the cycles of life that people, or women especially, go through, but I most certainly have been thinking about relationships, especially the ones that have given me life over the years.

My relationship with Lillie Mae gave me life . . . but it went through its stages as well.

No, we didn’t always get along . . . as a matter of fact, we were so much alike that for many years – or at least when I thought I was “grown” – we were at odds about a number of things.  Mom didn’t bite her tongue; she meant what she said and said what she meant.  I would either get angry and silent and make myself unavailable for at least 2-3 days when we didn’t agree, or I would just ignore her and/or whatever erroneous comment she would have made, (I pretended she never said them ’cause I was grown, remember – she couldn’t talk to me like that!  Lol!).  She knew when I was being dismissive or when I felt wounded, and she would let me wallow until “enough was enough” in her words.  Then she’d swoop in and bring me into a conversation with her to reconcile my issues, my concerns, my wrongs, and so on.  And we’d talk like adults, and everything would get okay.

It was during those years/times that I would say that my mother was a mother, someone who was seemingly above reproach, sitting in judgment looking down on us lowly folks . . . but oh, how little I understood then.  As the Word says, there comes a time in our lives when we must put away childish things and grow up (1 Corinthians 13:11).

Honestly, I don’t think I really grew up until I was faced with one of the most devastating events in the life of a mother/parent. . . and that was losing a child.  Taken from the Preface of my book entitled Through Zora’s Eyes, I remarked that that period in my life was epic in that I drudged through each day merely going through the motions.  Everything was at a standstill internally – I still went to church though.  I still went to work and worked in the community.  I still tried to be a good mother to the two little girls I was blessed to have, but my children even knew their mother at that time was an impostor.  I struggled desperately with being a good wife too because in my mind I had lost a sense of what that meant; if God had not intervened, I would have lost my husband.  But thank God for grace!

Oh, God’s grace . . . His magnificent and amazing grace . . . His prevenient, justifying and sanctifying grace . . . I’m so thankful for His saving grace ~~

I got caught up right there. . . .

But anyway, I learned that my grandmother suffered the loss of an infant child, named Priscilla, and that my mother had also lost a child in between me and Rick.  I never knew that until I went through the experience myself, but knowing that meant that I wasn’t alone . . . that I wasn’t the only one who had been through tough times like that . . . that I wasn’t the only one to suffer such a devastating loss.

While grieving, my mother’s role shifted from that of a mother to a confidante . . . she became my friend, my Ace, and we would remain that way until her demise.  Again, I suppose that’s why I feel so vacant at times now when I find it difficult to let my current friends into this space of unknown – this space that was once filled with someone I could count on to help me make sense of the stuff going on in my head and heart – this space where mom, without judgment, would listen to me as I (in my adulthood) would try to figure out people and their motives, and she would always have a loving response because she too sought to understand people and their ways.  I could depend on that in her and to be heard out, so to speak.  Of course, when I was younger I fought the wisdom of my mother; as an older woman – even now – I desire/almost crave the wisdom of her friendship that helped me when I didn’t quite understand where I was mentally, physically, spiritually, financially, and all the other lys.

It’s not that no one else can fill the vacancy in my life now to help me when I need to make sense of things; that’s not it at all.  As a matter of fact, that is what I most need now.  Because I have been vacuous and very consumed at times, and I apologize for that if I have offended anyone for be unresponsive at times – it’s not on purpose, I promise.  I suppose I just need folks’ patience, especially since I’m pre-menopausal now and missing Lillie too . . . .

In love and charity,

Giselle