My Girl

The Song
The day we went to the doctor to find out our August baby's gender,  I was so excited. I told myself I'd be happy and ready either way. If it was a boy, he'd be the first boy grandchild on my side of the family and the first one in eight years on Alex's side.  We had a lot of people remind us of this, with "we are counting on you" types of comments. If it was a girl, she would mirror my experience, being the second girl in the family and having a big sister close in age. And I love my girl so much, I just knew I'd be thrilled with another. When the doctor told us it was another girl, I knew in my heart that God had chosen this for our family, and chosen well. I knew she was not just "another," but uniquely created by God to be something wonderful and unique. When I heard "another" girl was coming, I couldn't believe I was getting another girl- what an excessive blessing! I immediately thought of the song, "My Girl" and my heart sang out the song. Since then I have listened to the song many times, with the words and melody washing over me to produce a rich, deep joy. "I've got sooooo much hon-ey, the bees envy me." Having Della opened my heart and turned me inside out in the most wonderful way. What a blessing to get to have that times TWO. So. much. honey.

The Poem
Right away we began discussing her name. As we did with Della's name, we looked for inspiration in literature. I thought of my favorite pieces to teach and showed Alex the poem by ee cummings, "maggie and milly and molly and may." Poetry isn't everyone's cup of tea, but it is mine. I love how a few words can have such intricate meanings, illuminating the simple and complex in beautiful ways. This poem's themes speak of childhood, innocence, and getting lost in the wonder of the world. Here it is:


maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea



The sing-songy way it begins with the names and the rhyme sets the tone for a kid-like, carefree afternoon on the beach. In each stanza, it tells another story of how the child loses themselves in the wonder of the day. Maggie finds a shell that sings and makes her forget her troubles, Milly befriends a starfish,  and Molly is caught in the thrill of a chase. May's line is my favorite, maybe because it only makes sense to me sometimes, and when it does, it is beautiful. She finds something so simple ( a smooth round stone) and imagines it's possibilities and is amazed with it. To me, this poem captures the wonder of childhood and experiencing the world in ways that adults only catch glimpses of, when they force themselves to put aside their worries. I've found that I've gained moments like this back through motherhood, living vicariously and being encouraged to explore as my daughter does. It also reminds me of all the times I have stood next to the ocean, overwhelmed by the wonder and beauty and majesty in it, and felt an instant connection to God. With that connection comes the reality of His love, washing over me, wave after wave. In that way, the last stanza of the poem rings true to me, "For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)/it's always ourselves we find in the sea." For me, I find the part of myself with the ability to see the beauty in the world and feel love, absent of worry and fear. I pray for these types of moments for my children.
Immediately after discussing this poem, Alex voted we use May as a middle name. He loved the poem and its meaning, and he also mentioned that we were married in May. Beyond that, the month of May has such a wonderful connotation. Everything is warm without it making you want to melt,  and the warmth has a newness about it that is so exciting and refreshing, pointing to both the slowed down and adventurous days of summer. In that way, May symbolizes hope. Hope for better days ahead. As we thought through all these meanings, it clicked completely when I thought back to her song, My Girl. "When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May." This pregnancy has been especially hard, seemingly impossible at times. Through it all, I've found comfort in the dream of holding my girl.  It's certainly felt cold at times, yet there is so much I've found hope in, including our sweet girl.

The Name
Her first name didn't come as easily. Nothing clicked quite like May. At the time,  my students kept asking what we were going to name our baby now that we knew she was a girl. I laughed and told them her name hadn't hit me yet. They took it on as their personal mission to find her a name. After having to officially make the topic off limits for my sixth graders (they became obsessed), one asked if she could submit a list of suggestions. After I agreed, I received 9 lists within a few days, most of them group "projects" done at the lunch table and recess. The girls told me excitedly that they had their future children's names all picked out. I laughed and let them know another person would be involved that may throw their plans off course. At home, I got frustrated and basically told Alex it would be a lot easier if I could choose myself.  He was patient with my frustrations and asked what I would name her. Amelia May, I said. Surprisingly, he said he really liked it. We both started researching and discussing meanings and associations with the name, trying to make sure it fit for us.
Here is what we discussed:

Amelia with the art she made for Amelia May's room

 - It also exists in the ee cummings poem in the form of "Milly," which we love as a nickname.
-I've loved the name Amelia since I was a kid. I find it so elegant and beautiful.  I probably loved it partly because my mother did. If my brother (her fourth child) had been a girl, that was the name she had picked out. Now it will be the name of her fourth grandchild! Also, I loved it after watching The Princess Diaries (I'll be honest).
- We never considered it while naming Della because it is the name of one of my best friends, who we saw over three times on a weekly basis. She was also our neighbor, and we watched each others kids frequently. It would have been confusing. Amelia moved to Jacksonville last August, breaking my heart. Now it wouldn't be confusing, and she gave the name a wonderful association.
She is one of the friends that I most closely associate walking into motherhood with.
-  Alex and I are both wordsmiths and we care a lot about name meanings.The name Amelia means hard-working. That made it fit our requirement for being a classic name, both beautiful and strong.
- Famous people named Amelia are cool. Along with Amelia Earhart, we also found several princesses and saints named Amelia, one of whom had several children who all became saints as well. One of the Amelia saints refused Charlemagne's hand in marriage, despite his pleading. 

The Meaning
   Our prayer in naming both of our children has been that we would give them names in which they can be proud. Names that they will make their own. We know that they will add to their names with their own unique personalities. We simply want to start them out with the message that they were prayed for and wanted long before they were born. God is currently creating Amelia May in her mother's womb, and I'm so honored to be a part of God bringing something new into this world- a world that has its flaws, but also its beauty. I hope she is able to get lost  in the wonder of the world, to feel God's love as she stands in awe of his creation and love for her. I hope she always knows she belongs to someone and is never alone. My girl. Our girl. I can't wait to meet her. I know everything will have been worth it. We have a new song in our house:
We've got sunshine, on a cloudy day
When it's cold outside, we've got Amelia May

We've got our girls. We've got so much honey. We've got the sweetest song.  Now, hurry up and get here, Amelia! We are all waiting.

The Problem with Silence

                                                                         

                     

                                   

"Show, don't tell" was a common theme in all my writing and literature classes, both the ones I attended and the ones I ran. I'd tell my students as I'd been told before,  "Don't just say your character is nice. Show them running to help the person who just dropped their books in the hallway or offering the friend who forgot their lunch a sandwich." The "show, don't tell" philosophy also applied when I wanted to teach my students about truly meaningful things, concepts they may have only half-formed opinions of, concepts like love, beauty, stereotypes, and racism. 

From an early age, I have been in awe of the civil rights movement and all the ideas that led to it. Perhaps it was because my hero was my fourth and fifth grade teacher, a black woman that has remained my inspiration in the classroom for years. Whatever the case, throughout my schooling years I chose the topic for projects, took elective courses on the subject in college, and couldn't wait to begin incorporating the ideas in my own classroom. I knew when I broached the topic in my classrooms in Winder, Georgia, I'd need to apply the "show, don't tell" mentality.

 In college, I took three courses within the same year: the history of the civil rights movement, the poetry of the civil rights movement, and African American literature. In my history course, I learned a myriad of facts, but in my literature classes I experienced what only good literature can produce: the ability to feel the history. As readers know, good writing sucks you in and makes you feel as though you are walking in someone else's shoes. I wrote an essay that year about my decision to teach literature over history because of this very idea. I committed to teaching these important historical concepts and having critical conversations with my students. 

        I showed them Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speeches, the poems of Langston Hughes, Gwendolyn Brooks, and Alice Walker, the Ted Talks of Chimimanda Adichi and Lupita Nyongo,  and While the World Watched, an autobiography of a survivor of the Birmingham church bombings, among many other pieces of literature. Their words often brought me to tears, and I wanted to drop them in front of my students and stand back quietly, watching fireworks go off in their minds. I watched as they expressed their rage, voiced their disbelief, wrote their own beautiful pieces of literature in response, and circle discussions that would leave them begging for more time to explore the ideas with each other. These were the days that I felt like a stellar teacher.

Then, I'd walk out of my school building into the bright light of the world and I'd find myself silent in the face of subtle racism and silent in the face of the complex issues surrounding our world today. As I woke this morning and read my Bible, every verse jumped off the page and seemed to be saying the same thing to me. It's not time to be silent. The words of Martin Luther King, Jr. came to mind, "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." I'd analyze this quote with my students and we'd ask ourselves, "Where would we stand? What would we have done if we were living during this time?" 

When my girls see these recent events in history and ask me about it, I don't want to tell them that I hid in my white privilege, not saying anything simply because I had that convenience and no one was expecting to hear anything from me. 

Part of the problem is that I have been given the opportunity to study the whole story in depth, and when white peers post silly memes or make comments about "race baiting" that simplify and attempt to invalidate the problem, I feel helpless. How can one facebook comment show them the fault in their thinking? I know telling them just won't work. So, I shake my head silently. Silently. 

This morning I read, "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves" (Romans 12). And sometimes love doesn't sound like silence. So here are some honest thoughts:

Should the confederate flag be taken down? Absolutely. Why has it taken this long? I've tackled this issue with many students in my day, explaining to them the symbolism in the flag and asking if they think it is worth it to make their black peers feel so uncomfortable. Fortunately, each has agreed it is not worth it, and discontinued their use of the symbol. In order to "show, don't tell", I encourage you to read Ben Watson's post on this issue at the end of this essay. He is so balanced, speaking from personal experience about how the flag makes him feel and how it is a struggle not to assume things about people who display this flag.

         I've been shocked and appalled by some of the comments on this issue. People saying, "What next, remove it from the history books just so that no one is offended?" Of course not, but can we please remove it as a source of pride when it makes so many people feel so uncomfortable and hated? It offends me, too, and makes me feel ashamed. It can certainly remain in the history books next to pictures of lynchings in the south and the Ku Klux Klan, or maybe even next to the swatstika. 

 Many will say it symbolizes the civil war by way of states rights and that slavery was not the only issue. However, we know that slavery is the heart of the issue. Don't believe me? Do the research and look into the founders of the flag and their viewpoints

To my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, I have to ask, is the flag an image we should really take pride in? As a wise pastor I know recently posted, the call of Christ is to lay down our very lives for our brothers. Shouldn't you be able to simply change your mind about a symbol that means hate from a racist heritage? I think we can love our Southern roots. Southerners have awesome idioms, hospitality skills like no others, sweet tea, and homegrown tomatoes you can buy on the side of the road- and whites and blacks alike can celebrate the awesomeness of those things. I also think we can look realistically at the hate in our history's past and be ashamed, desiring reconciliation. 

Racism still exists. I know this in part because of my sometimes reserved personality. I have been put in awkward situations multiple times where racist jokes have been told, and by observation I saw that the social norm was to laugh. I have furrowed my brows and felt sick in these circumstances- always thinking of the perfect thing to say too late. Growing up, I definitely overheard occasional racist conversations because "the coast was clear" and I was white. And there are times when I have spoken out, but have been haunted because I know it wasn't enough. Like the time I was asked by a woman I was working with if teaching in Athens was rough because the kids are "all black." To which I promptly responded "absolutely not," but am still wondering what else I should have said. From an early age, I knew comments like these where wrong. My mama raised me right. Still though, I pray for more courage and effective things to say as I am faced with these situations in the future.

       I am reminded of a powerful portion of MLK's "I Have a Dream Speech," in which he says "many of our white brothers...have come to realize that their destiny is tied up in our destiny." As a white person in America, I know I have privilege because I can look the other way and not be affected by racism, but for others it is a daily reality. However, I do care. And it saddens my heart daily to think about what many of my beloved students have to face in this society, and to hear their stories in my classroom and on the news. We can pretend to be colorblind all we want, but it's not helping anybody, and we are not all the same. Some struggle much more and have an ancestry that we can't and shouldn't wipe away. As white people who seek unity, we have to see the struggle as real, to validate it because it exists, and work toward peace. For those that say "not everything is about race" or "we experience racism, too," just stop. It's not the same. People don't clutch their purse tight to their chest when you get on the UGA bus. You have the convenience of looking at these issues only when they are blowing up your newsfeed. 

This country has made so much progress and we still have farther to go. Be a peacemaker. Educate yourself. Speak out when a racist joke is told at a family reunion. Abandon your stereotypes and biases because they don't look like love. Be transformed by the renewing of your minds. In addition to Ben Watson's post, I encourage you to check out just these few pieces of literature, a great starting point that I have used in my classroom for years. Don't dismiss the experience of such an important portion of our population. Look at these issues with a soft and reflective heart. They show the story of the African American experience in our country and have been essential for developing empathy. I know that through this post I probably didn't say everything right- but that fear has kept me silent for too long. In honor of the lives that were lost in Charleston and the conversations people are having on race, I wanted to simply offer the little I know and be an advocate for change.

Resources:

Ben Watson's facebook post: 

https://www.facebook.com/BenjaminWatsonOfficial/posts/718321871628280

"The Danger of a Single Story"- If you've never seen this, take the time to watch. I began all my conversations about race with my students with this video, having them write responses and having a circle discussion about the things she brings up. It evoked common experiences for everyone, and I think it brought us to a place of empathy and understanding before jumping into history. 

http://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story?language=en

Langston Hughes' poetry is some of my favorite. I particularly love "I, Too" where he speaks as a slave being sent from the table when company comes. He envisions a future where people see his beauty and are ashamed of their actions. "Harlem" helps us understand the possible outcomes of generations of men and women who are told to put their dreams on hold.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/langston-hughes#about

Lupita Nyongo's speech, in which she discusses overcoming her issues with self image. Very relatable for any girl, and yet you can see the added challenge of having no one in the popular media that looks like you. As a mom of girls, this one breaks my heart a little and I love the conclusion. Only 5 minutes.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPCkfARH2eE

While the World Watched by Carolyn Maull McKinstry. I read this novel in maybe two sittings and was thrilled to have a class set to read with my students. It is about the church bombing in Birmingham in 1963 in which some of her best friends were killed. Filled with anecdotes about growing up in the south during this time, you can't help but walk away understanding the African American struggle in our country more and more. As a mother, I'll never forget her confusion as a child as to why she was not ever going to be allowed to go to the theme park they passed frequently simply because of the color of her skin. 

http://www.amazon.com/While-World-Watched-Birmingham-Survivor-ebook/dp/B004JZYB20