Joy Comes In The Morning

I woke up this morning after having a wonderful dream. I dreamed about my parents, Susie Mae and Arthur Lee. Although Susie and Arthur are my grandparents, they are the ones that raised me. I'm usually referring to Susie and Arthur when I'm talking about my parents. Susie and Arthur have both passed away and I miss them, especially during this time of year.

I don't dream of them very often so when I do it's always bitter sweet. I often wonder if I'm doing things that are pleasing to them and that bring honor to our family name. Most of time I feel that I am, especially at this time in my life, however, memories although funny now are somewhat painful. It wasn't very often that both parents were disappointed in me. Nevertheless there were occasions that I know that both parents were, even though they were never able to express their disappointment. One occasion was shortly after my father passed away, and my mother had just gotten out of the hospital, after suffering a debilitating stroke 6 months earlier.

I'm sure that these feeling aren't unique to me alone. I do know that I will see them again, at that time in my life, I'm hopeful that the reunion of our family will overshadow my moment of stupidity. If in this life we could have do overs, I would use one of my several to re-do Arthur's and Susie's funerals.

Arthur's funeral came during a difficult time in my life. The Bishop of my parents ward at that time stopped by our home with the Missionaries. I had flown in from Utah, and arrived at my parents home shortly after the Bishop and Missionaries. A few months prior to my dad's funeral there had been a family feud, and I wasn't and hadn't spoken to most of my family. Many of them didn't know that I had moved to Utah and they most certainly didn't know that I was expecting my first child.

All were excited to see me and willing to let bygones be bygones. I on the other hand refused to let things go. As my family members approached me with their hand extended toward my stomach I would quickly divert their hands away from my basketball shaped stomach. I would not allow the usual playful belly rub, touch, and nobody was talking to the baby that was still leasing space in my stomach. I didn't want anyone that I didn't like at the time (which was probably 90% of the people in the house at that time) to say or do anything pertaining to me and my unborn child.

Most people would have stopped right there, not me. I had to express right there in front of the Bishop, Missionaries and my Mom, my dislike for whom ever I didn't like at that time. Talk about putting family business in the streets, it was out there. It was horrible! My mind was telling my mouth to stop, shut-up! Not only was my mouth not listening to my mind it went into cruise control! I couldn't stop, if eye contact was made, and we were at odds, it was on! There...business out there. My mom kept pleading with me to stop, and I really wanted to, I just couldn't. My mouth kept going.

Our Bishop and family friend was mortified! There was a look of fear on his face that I will never forget. Not fear for himself, fear for me, and how he was going to explain to my husband how and why I was beat to death. He tried to say something, I believe I told him that the only thing he could do was start blessing folks with his consecrated oil and if he wasn't going to do that then he needed to save his words. My mouth still wouldn't stop moving. I'm sure he wondered who I was and where Sista Beehive went, I wish I knew the answer to that unasked question myself.

"Where is Sista Beehive? I don't know, I don't know. Where is Sista Beehive? I don't know,"!
Mouth kept moving...The Missionaries, just kept staring at me. They didn't even know me. I know they thought I had lost my mind and I had lost it! I know that I should have cared but I didn't. By the time my mouth stopped, there were only five people in the room. Your guess is correct. One Bishop, two Missionaries, one Mother, and me. There wasn't even a trace of the Holy Ghost, shameful, just shameful! We all sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity!...Finally the Bishop said, "Well, it sounds to me like this home could use a prayer". Needless to say, not one family member spoke to me during the rest of my stay in Fresno (which was a whole two days), except my Mom. I'd love a do over please!

At Susie's funeral I was a totally different person (she passed away 4 years later). I was more helpful and I wasn't pregnant. (I would like to blame the outburst at Arthur's funeral on my impending situation... I said I'd like to say that, but I know better than that. I was bitter about more then a few things). At Susie's funeral, my guilt comes from not dressing her, which I'm sure she would have forgiven me. All I needed to do was take care of other responsibilities, her hair and make-up. Susie was always put together! She always looked sharp! If she didn't do her hair no one ever knew it 'cause always she had the finest wigs. She wouldn't go anywhere without having her nails and hair did. I couldn't even bring myself to do her hair and/or makeup. The person who did do my mom's hair and makeup (a family member), fixed Susie up the way she saw Susie through her eyes. Pink lip-stick, bright red finger nails, an red-auburn wig, shoulder length, and way too much makeup. I know that I'm in trouble the next time I see Susie!

The woman who fixed Susie's hair is Pentecostal (not that being Pentecostal is a bad thing), and they don't really do flashy. They don't really wear makeup, and if makeup is warn you can't tell it just by looking at them. I'm sure that to my Pentecostal family members we (everyone not Pentecostal) wear way too much makeup and probably do look over made. Anyway, I'd really like a do over for that one!!

I probably still wouldn't do it, but I would hire someone who could do an amazing job! I would also get her a different wig, one that's more brown than red, and a little shorter. Yes, I'd like a do over for 600, Alex.

Side note: Place in my will: Do not let a Pentecostal woman/man do my hair/makeup when I die. Unless they have already been pre~approved or they are currently (at the time) back sliding.

I don't want ya'll to think it's all about guilt and do overs. I do laugh when I think of those moments. I'm sure that's the gift that was left to me, because only God knows the sorrow I felt having lost them. Now instead of crying when I think of losing them, I can't help but laugh, I'm grateful for having their influence of love and laughter in my life. I'm happy that I have better relationships with those family members that I embarrassed, and that today we are able to laugh about my "uncontrollable mouth".

I know that there are several people who have anxiety when it comes to participating in family events especially during this time of year. Hopefully as you read my story and the story of some of our brothas and sistas comments you will be able to create a buffer for yourself and your immediate family. One of Susie's favorite songs was "Joy Comes In The Morning"! I do look forward to the morning that my family will be reunited! May joy and love for family help you usher in this holiday season.

Brothas and Sistas, tell us what you'd like a do over in and why?

Sista Beehive