So What’s Happening

Lessons From Pops

Pops’ birthday would have been November 9th.  Although I think of him often, this time of year pulls me deeper into reflection. Afterall, my dad’s birthday and Pops’ death are within a two month span.  I replay those final moments—spiritual, peaceful—the rhythm of his breathing before he was gone.  I realized then that even in death, there was teaching.  Watching him take his last breaths reminded me that life is not about control, it’s about surrender.

I had been around death before, as a pharmacist.  Watching patients slip away.  But never like this. Never this personal.  Never this still.

Being there for his transition felt almost like witnessing a birth—sacred, powerful, beyond words.   I could feel the presence of God filling the room.  It was just the two of us, and aside from the faint smile that followed my whispered, “I love you, Pops,” he didn’t even seem to notice I was there.

Watching Pops in this state of vulnerability and surrender eased, ever so slightly, my fear of death.  It gave me an exuberance for life.  Pops is one of my heroes, and his last breaths only solidified his place in my heart and mind.

Wrapping Up Fall Soccer Season

This fall marked the end of another season with my boys—the Cobras.  I’ve been coaching this team since 2023, and every year has taught me something new about patience, competition,  leadership, and joy.  This season, we made it to the semifinals before falling short of the championship.  I won’t lie—that loss stung a little.  But even in that disappointment, I felt something else rising up:  a quiet knowing that it’s time to pass the torch.

I’ve taken this team as far as I can—especially considering my soccer experience is next to none.  What started as a mom just trying to make sure her son’s team had a coach, turned into something much bigger than I ever expected.  I love those twelve knucklehead boys like my own, but I know they need someone who can really develop their skills and help them grow as players.

Stepping back is an act of love—for them, and for myself.  If needed, I’d happily serve as an assistant or help wherever I can.  Being around young people keeps me young, keeps me connected to this generation that’s both wildly unpredictable and beautifully honest.

I’ve already been in touch with one of the fathers, hoping he has the time and desire to take the lead next season.  Arrington loves soccer, and I love that this is something we get to experience together.  The next season doesn’t start until spring, so there’s still time.  Time to breathe, time to reset, and maybe even time to just be a soccer mom again.

What I’m Watching: Indian Matchmaking

Lately, I’ve been caught up in the Netflix series Indian Matchmaking.  What started as casual curiosity has turned into genuine fascination.  The show follows matchmaker Sima Taparia as she helps families in India, and around the world, navigate the tradition of arranged marriage.  Blending old customs with modern expectations.  What’s interesting is that, on this show, the matches have a say in their partnership.

It’s easy to watch from the outside and think, I could never.  That was definitely me twenty-something years ago  The younger version of myself believed love had to be spontaneous and “natural.”  But now, having lived, loved, and learned, I find myself watching through a different lens.

There’s something to be said about the intention behind an arranged match—the focus on shared values, family alignment, and long-term partnership.  It’s not about perfection or spark alone, but about building something steady and sustained.  I enjoy seeing the couples that have been married for decades who underwent a similar traditional process, and their dynamic.  They have evolved.  They have endured.

It’s made me think about how relationships form and what really keeps them together. Would I ever trust someone else to help me find a partner?  The me from years ago would’ve laughed at the idea.  But the woman I am now…hmm.  Maybe because now, I  understand more than ever, that love, like life, is a mix of choice, faith, and surrender.

The Idea of Sacrifice

I’ve been thinking a lot about sacrifice lately—what it really means, especially in the state of our country.  Sacrifice isn’t a word we like to sit with.  It’s uncomfortable.  It means giving up something, often without the guarantee of seeing what your giving makes possible.  Yet, that’s exactly what the moment we’re living in requires.

For us—for the Black community—sacrifice isn’t new.  It’s stitched into our story.  Our ancestors sacrificed everything:  safety, comfort, even freedom, for the chance that we might stand taller.  And still, the need continues.  The work continues.  Because if we don’t move together, we’ll keep accepting whatever scraps the system decides to toss our way.

I’ll be honest—I’m not always doing my best.  Some days I get caught up in the noise and the convenience of it all.  But then I remember that change has never come easy or cheap.  It cost time, effort, courage, and sometimes our comfort.

Sacrifice today might look like choosing differently—where we spend our dollars, how we show up for each other, what we teach our children, and what we refuse to let slide.  It might mean slowing down, standing firm, or standing alone.

And while we may not always get to see the fruits of those sacrifices, I have to believe they matter.  That they ripple forward.  That someone, somewhere down the line, will get to live freer because we were willing to be uncomfortable now.

BTW: “The axe forgets, the tree remembers.” – African Proverb

What does sacrifice look like for you in this season, and how are you choosing to show up for the greater good?

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