Weeping May Endure For A Night

Wow! Yes, that my word. It's hard to believe what I see and hear with my ears what I hear. For instance, on this this bright, bright sunshiny day, cars lining the curb waiting for Christmas assistance for another agency, I walked into the Emancipation Station and there was this lady and sitting with her, one I assumed to be her daughter. The lady introduced me to the young one as a new client at the shelter. Teasingly, I asked her age and was astonished to find this one was only 17 years old--sexually molested--one of three siblings. Grandma could only take two and one so young was left to fend for herself. I felt like crying!

She walked into the Station. I don't know her age. Black women wear their age well. A staff member approached and said, "I'm sorry about your loss and tears--big tears rolled down her face. I wished that, perhaps, she had been allowed time to sit and adjust. It was her brother's passing and his death had left a big hole in her heart. He was the one who held the family together. What can one say to grief of that sort? I remembered my mama and the dream I'd had after her death. So I told her the dream. "I dreamed that I was walking down the beach. I lived in Gary, Indiana and once you pass the steel mills there is Lake Michigan and beach. While I walked, I saw two people walking toward me. As I got closer, I saw the two were my oldest brother and Lola, my friend who had helped me care for my ailing mother as if she was her own.
My brother handed me my mother's shoes." Me, the one who saw herself as not capable--competent--was handed my mother's shoes. My mother was a giant--a strong women, soft and feminine with a fist of iron. How could I fill her shoes? In time, my siblings began to call me for counsel, prayer and I began to grow. I'm more like mama than I ever wanted to be and daddy too. Sometimes I sound like him. "Do you know why I'm saying this to you," I said. "The mantle is always passed and maybe you are the one who will receive it and become the cement of your family like your brother." "Weeping may endure for a night but joy comes...." Experience the pain and lay on the breast of the Master; He can hold you. The sun will shine again.

She sat on the sofa watching a "judge" show. I sat down and she began to share. " Going to get an apartment soon. My case manager is helping me. Can't get into section 8. Got an eviction and it takes 10 years to get into another section 8." I didn't know that. "My boyfriend busted up stuff and got me kicked out. He got killed right in front of me and I have flashbacks."

Wow, the sun is bright on 31st Street even though the fog of pain lays heavy inside the Station. As I have experienced fog, I know that the sunshine always prevails, if we let it.