Ma, Mom, and Momma by Minolta White

Ma, Mom, and Momma
by Minolta White

My momma was eighteen when she had me. Daddy said I almost killed her coming into the world.  As tiny and fragile as a sunflower seed. I lay inside of an incubator prematurely fighting for my life. Daddy said momma never left my side. It was the sound of her voice, the purity of her touch, and sheer presence of God that helped us walk out of that hospital. For three days I was just the baby Walker without a first name. Daddy and Momma compromised and met in the middle. The M in my name would represent my father Marvin and C would represent Connie. From that day forward I would be known as Minolta Cherquita Walker.  School children would mimic my name for years to come and I cry in a pillow with confusion.

For two years I was the only child until my sister and two brothers would come along. Even to this day those were the two best years of my life. Connie, was just MY momma, she belonged only to me and I to her. Yes, first birthdays will always be memorized through photos and year old conversations. However, I’ll always remember the first time my momma straightened my hair with a hot comb on Easter Sunday morning. The first time I scooped the pudding out of the cake bowl as my momma baked me a pink cake for my fifth birthday. I’ll always remember the day I crossed the line and called my momma by her first name and how she hit me so hard that I saw rainbows for days. She forewarned with a firm index finger that I shall never call her anything except momma. That was a lesson I will never forget as long as I live.

Over the years I’ve watched my momma age as gracefully with time as good wine does. She was just a fresh faced young girl with olive skin, big brown eyes, a Kool-Aid smile, womanly hips, and a heart made of gold. In my eyes she was a hero that could conquer any and all things. I only knew her as momma. The world knew more.

Childhood days became vivid memories of progression into the inevitable adolescence and womanhood. I remember my first day of school like it was yesterday. Believing in my heart of hearts that school was only a temporary situation until my momma could spend more time with me. School wasn’t for me. I wanted to be at home with momma eating vanilla wafers, playing go fish, running around in the backyard barefoot, and combing momma’s hair.  Several butt whippings later my hopes of staying at home diminished. Momma went to work and these other people started showing up in our group. First my sister and two boys behind her.  I quickly learned the meaning of sharing. 

The older I became the more I wanted to be like momma. Momma wore her hair down, wore red lipstick, plum red polish, and high heeled shoes and I wanted to too. Well, over the years I quickly learned that I couldn’t do everything momma did and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t beat momma at her own game. I remember momma buying me my first bra and showing me how to put the bra on. You wouldn’t believe how many times I forgot to put a bra on. Momma would yell and I’d give her a look of confusion. After a few slaps against the head I finally figured it out. My body changed, hormones flared, and teenage adolescence became a territorial war between momma and I. Many days I’m sure she rolled her eyes and prayed to God to give her the strength to raise a woman child. Daddy was dead but I’m sure if he wasn’t, momma would’ve killed him dead many days before.  Many boyfriends, headaches, backslap, and curse words later my momma and I are like best friends again. 

In 2005, I gave birth to my first born son. During the delivery my momma held my hand, wiped my tears, and kissed my cheek as I brought my child in the world. I was scared. There was no one else in the world I wanted by my side other than my momma. We’ve laughed argued, exchanged gifts, bonded, and even shared a couple of recipes on keeping a man over the years. I love my momma because she’s a woman of strength, stature, love, resilience, and beauty. There isn’t a day that goes by that she doesn’t get on my nerves. It’s only payback.  I call often and sometimes too much because momma’s got a life too. You only get one momma and I’m glad Connie Mary Walker is mine.

A Gift that Keeps on Giving by Vanessa Davis Griggs

 A Gift that Keeps on Giving

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

To have a wonderful, loving mother is a blessing indeed. I realize not everyone is fortunate enough to be able to say this. A mother who gives birth to a child gives that child the gift of life. Then there are those mothers who may not physically carry a child in their womb, but through adoption, foster care, becoming a stepmom, or one who just steps up to take on the role without any special title, they carry that child in their hearts. No, mothers don’t always have the right answers nor will she always do every single thing right. But a good mother will strive to do her best.

I have the privilege of being on both ends of the motherhood spectrum. I am the daughter of Josephine Davis and the mother of Jeffery, Jeremy, and Johnathan. As hard as life may have appeared at times growing up, when you become a mother, you quickly learn it’s no cakewalk. But the joy that lay before you, once you give your heart away to that child is worth whatever you may have to do or go through.

From the sixth grade to the eleventh grade, I tried out for cheerleader. Mid-February in my fifth grade year, we (meaning the black children from Village Springs, Alabama and other surrounding black communities) “integrated” into the white schools under the term “busing.” It was a strange term when you consider that prior to that time we were being bused to a black school a greater distance away. In any event, we had now entered into the era of integration. Being a young child, I didn’t know what any of that meant. I never thought of black and white as being separate. I never really thought of black and white in any way. I never realized we were going in through the back door when we visited the local white doctor in Pinson. In truth, I never even knew we were (by the country’s definition) “poor.” I never knew I was supposed to be inferior to anyone else. I never knew there were things I couldn’t or shouldn’t be able to do in life. And I credit a lot of this to my wonderful mother.

You see, my mother made sure that we knew we were rich and could do anything in life if we worked hard for it (I’d also add my father, but we’re talking about mothers here). Growing up with our mother, we felt rich because, in all that ever mattered in life, we were. We had love, a mother who worked hard to be sure we had what we needed; but most of all, a mother who introduced us to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. After the introduction, she guaranteed we continued our relationship, ensuring we not only maintained Sunday visits (and I mean every Sunday, sometimes twice that same day when there were afternoon programs) to deepen our knowledge and give God praise, but to keep every day holy.

I mentioned me trying out for cheerleader because my mother was right there each and every year supporting me. Each year, I really should have made the squad, but I didn’t know (although my mother did) that the color of my skin was what kept me from being chosen. When I look back over those years, I see how each year when those in position saw I’d made it (determined they weren’t going to allow a black person to represent the school), they would take it from me, then change the rules to hopefully not have that problem the next time. 

But the next time, I still prevailed (and they knew it). Still, they never gave it to me. My mother never said or did anything to discourage me from trying out the next year. I remember one white male schoolmate coming to me (when the students were to vote) and telling me that someone said they would have voted for me, but that I was too dark. My beautiful God-given tan was too dark! That would be funny if it wasn’t sad. But my mother stood by me every step of the way. And the last time I was denied and there would be no more times for me to try out, my mother wrote me a beautiful letter telling me how proud she was of me…that I was like Moses who only got to look over into the Promised Land but had made it possible for others to reach it someday. It was true. Pinson did get a few black cheerleaders for both the high school and the middle school. And in the middle school, one of those cheerleaders turned out to be my sister.

So I conclude by saying that I wanted to be a cheerleader. But my mother has always been a cheerleader to and for me. Even today, she cheers me on. So to the mothers out there who cheer your children on, allow me to say: Thank you. It means more than you’ll ever know.  

Meet the Author
Vanessa Davis Griggs is the author of 15 novels (which includes The Blessed Trinity Series) with number 16, The Other Side of Divine, releasing July 30, 2013. She also contributed ten devotional to the Sisters in Faith Holy Bible released by Thomas Nelson. To visit her Web site: www.VanessaDavisGriggs.com

Website: www.VanessaDavisGriggs.com
MySpace: www.myspace.com/vanessadavisgriggs
Twitter: www.Twitter.com/vanessagriggs
Facebook: www.Facebook.com/vanessadavisgriggs

Life’s Special GIFT A Mother by Jamesina Greene

Life’s Special GIFT…A Mother

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed.”
Proverbs 31:28

There is NO gift like that of a Mother.  A Mother is the Voice of her children.  She is the pride and honor badge of her husband.  In many communities, a Mother is the celebrated entity that garners immeasurable respect from everyone within.  A Mother’s voice trumpets causes on the behalf of her children, whether she physically birthed them or not.  There is no greater champion than that a Mother.

As children, it is to Mother that we run when our antics have caused us to be hurt.  When we fall off of our bicycles, or tumble out of bed, we scream for our Mother.  When other children make fun of us or push us to the ground, we scream for our Mother.

I have learned first-hand that this “screaming for our Mother” doesn’t end with childhood.  Throughout our lives, we face challenges that may bring us to our knees in submission.  We face obstacles that may place us flat on our backs in pain.  Whatever the case, we want our Mother.  Even when we ourselves became Mothers, we still want our Mothers.  During the most painful experience of my life, childbirth, it was much more bearable because my Mother was present.

A real mother never ceases to protect her children.  No matter what life brings our way, we can rest in knowing that “Mom’s got my back.”  I personally believe that there is an eternal connection between a Mother and her children.  The bond that occurs in the womb continues throughout life’s Journey.  When a child is in pain, so is the Mother.  Wow!  What a precious gift!

As a Mother, I have made many sacrifices to ensure the safety and comfort of my children.  I have gone without to make sure that they did not.  I have cried in secret so that my children would only experience my smile.  I have covered my pain so that my children would not experience the same.  However, I came to understand that I was the first person to teach my children and it is my job to continue teaching them as long as I live.  I will continue to speak “life” into their lives and tell them of God’s unconditional love for them.

My faith in my God has sustained me in those times of uncertainty.  I believe that one of my jobs as a Mother is to show to my children, the God in whom I believe.  Therefore, as my children grew, I allowed them to see and know the times that we struggled and were without.  It is during these times that the God of their Mother showed up.  This allowed them to witness the Hand of God for themselves.

If you do not have a positive relationship with your Mother, you do not have to fret. Our God is so amazing that He will place in your path, women who will “mother” you according to His divine plan.  Make sure that you are open to receiving these women into your life.  They will bring with them nurturing and healing that will touch you in just the right place at the right time.

There is nothing about your life journey that the Father is not aware of.  He knows exactly who and what you need, exactly when you need it.  That includes godly mothering.

This month we have set aside a special day to honor our Mothers.  Children will make passage from all across the globe to pay homage to this phenomenal woman.  Multiple sacrifices will be made to secure her smile.  Today I encourage you not to wait for one special day to saturate your Mother with love.  Every day that you have breath, you must salute and honor this magnificent gift.  You must never allow yourself to de-value this gift and forget to appreciate it.  There is NO gift like that of a Mother.

Meet Jamesina Greene

Jamesina Greene manages more than speaking engagements as the owner of DESTNE Enterprises. Jamesina’s commitment to leading her fan-base with thought-provoking inspiration stems from her experience in helping others in transition.

Jamesina began her journey towards motivation at the age of 17. While most teens made the usual high school memories, Jamesina became an ordained minister, writer and speaker. After building an early foundation, she immediately created  a platform which allowed her to share the gospel to others.  With years of entrepreneurship already under her belt, Jamesina expanded her brand, through singing, songwriting, authoring and other avenues.  A former residential counselor and mentor, Jamesina leverages over 30 years of knowledge of Christianity to bring Destine Enterprises to God's people throughout the world – as an ordained minister.

It is Jamesina's literary work which has earned her numerous recognition: she is the author of  Help, I Don't Like Myself!, the true story of her escape from depression, and A Mother's Cry: A Mini Book for Mom, for busy mothers who could use a loving nudge.

Born in Delaware and raised in Maryland, Jamesina now resides in Virginia, where she is a devoted mother to two sons and grandmother to four children. She earned a Bachelors Degree in Theological Studies  Christian Counseling from LOGOS Bible Institute.  In addition to praising God through her talents, Jamesina is the founder of A Mother’s Cry in which she hosts an annual conference, “Gathering the Fragments” to  encourage the hurt, wounded and broken.  Her latest publication, My Journey, a daily journal, and her debut novel dedicated to her late father,  will be available this year.

Learn more about how Jamesina is leaving her mark by visiting www.jamee2001.wordpress.com, www.jamigreeneministries.com, on Facebook and Twitter @msdestne61.  To schedule an interview with Jamesina,  send an email to destne61@gmail.com.

J. E. Greene, President & Founder
Destne Enterprises/A Mother's Cry
Facebook and Twitter @msdestne61