SISI

Michelle Yvette Kendrick was born on Sunday, May 27th, 1962...Sisi is African...and it means born on a Sunday. She is the only girl her parents would have together, and is the only girl out of eight brothers. If you think she was protected and adored by all these brothers, think again. They were raised with strife, and still struggle to this day to be there for one another.

"Life, sho'nuff, ain't been no crystal stair for her." She knows abuse very well. Knows what it feels like to have an older brother physically abuse her. To later have a boyfriend also abuse her. Knows what it's like to be told she would always be on welfare with a bunch of babies, by her mother. Knows what it's like to be raped. Knows what it's like to be homeless. She is more than a victim. She is more than a survivor. She is my mother. And this portion of her story occurred before she had me at the tender age of 22. She prayed for me, and knew as early as her youth that if she ever had a girl...she would name her Jasmine.

Growing up with my mom was emotionally a lot. She and my grandmother have had a contentious relationship since I can remember. Often times, if feels like I'm in the middle, even now. But I love them both, and though I will never completely understand the trauma and pain my mother's story has caused or continues to cause her; at the hands of my grandmother, she will always have my compassion and my love.

One of the earliest memories of my mother involves the time burglars broke into our home. We managed to make it out of the house, but that didn't stop them from pursuing us. She was holding me and trying to run, but mom quickly realized that wasn't going to work. She put me down, and told me to run. There we were, holding hands, and running down the middle of the street, as a car with bright headlights nearly ran us down. I still remember those headlights to this day...

Mom would later tell me that the people who broke into our home were crack addicts, who were no less our next door neighbors. Our home on Ellsworth was in a bad neighborhood, but it was never intended to be our forever home. Mom was in Nursing school working us up out of the hood. And she did. She did. #determined

As a teenager, I had a love/hate relationship with her, which may not come as a surprise. Mom cursed a lot. She still does, if I'm going to be honest! When I was growing up though, I hated when she would curse at me. It was such a blow to my self-esteem. I have since come to realize that this was done to her, and unfortunately, she didn't know how to break the cycle with me. 

My mother in general is one of the most honest persons I know. Seriously, if you don't want the truth, don't ask her!!! She's gonna give it to you straight, no chaser, period! We have two completely different communication styles. Where I prefer to be mindful of my words and be gentle; mom, is much more straight to the point, with perhaps a few choice words here or there. Sometimes, stuff just can't sound pretty, it is what it is. I have learned you cannot be afraid to call stuff out for what it is, but doing so with some tack along the way, won't hurt either!

Her strength knows no end...like fo'real. My mother is the strongest woman I know. I can count on her. No matter what. She's an even better Abuela to Zay...the way she loves on him warms my heart so...Our relationship has been to hell and back, but Michelle is still my favorite girl. And nothing will change that. Ever. This is why it never ceases to amaze me when people believe they can talk about my mother to me. I experienced that as a child, which is why when I experience it now, I am quick to shut it down. 

I don't know where people get off feeling so comfortable as to think they can ever talk about my mother to me, but it's not cool. Don't ever think you're gonna get a pass trying to blast my mother to me because I'm not here for it. You will be checked, regardless of your gender. Did you grind through Nursing school to get me out the hood? Did you feed me? Did you provide a shelter for me? Were you there when this one or that one broke my heart? Didn't think so...#longliveSisi

20644

 "May the LORD bless you and keep you, may the LORD show you his kindness, may he have mercy on you, may the LORD watch over you and give you peace." (Numbers 6:24-26)

Zay was not a planned baby, for his father and I. We were receiving revelation from God that we were going to have a baby soon, but we didn't sit down and say when we wanted it to happen. He was born on Friday, November 25, 2016, after 12 hours of labor. 

Even during pregnancy my way of thinking changed, and I began to see life differently. Still, I was not prepared when Zay arrived...emotionally or communicably. I remember sitting on our couch, a few days after giving birth, and weeping at the idea of bringing someone so precious into such a corrupt and ugly world, at times. I was overcome with dread as I considered one evil scenario after the other happening to him, and feeling defenseless to protect him from it all. 

A few months after Zay was born, I layed him in his crib. He wasn't a fan of his crib in the beginning. He was sleep, but I didn't know if he would stay asleep once I put him into his crib. I was passed being tired...I was exhausted, but I was still holding on to the idea of "keeping watch" over him. As I stubbornly tried to stay awake, God reminded me, "who is keeping watching over you and Zay?" I knew then that I needed to entrust my sleeping child into God's care.

The hardest part of having a child wasn't the late night feedings or the sporadic sleeping schedule, it was learning how to communicate and trust God with his care, especially when his dad and I were not present. The most hurtful part of having a child has been expressing my feelings and being rejected and attacked because they didn't line up with the beliefs and/or opinions of others. 

Every parent has a right to express his/her beliefs about raising his/her child. To shame a parent because you don't agree with his/her parenting style is wrong. Even when you don't agree, you can at least listen. I had to learn to listen, but also accept that just because I shared a different belief from what I heard, I was not a "bad" person.

Jasmine, pre-Zay, didn't speak up well for herself. I took whatever mostly because of my fear to speak up. I didn't care enough about myself to be honest or confront problems. I ran from problems. Suppressed my hurts and pains because I didn't want to be rejected. When God blessed us with Zay, I knew that if I didn't speak up when it came to his well being, I was still going to be held accountable. God was not going to give me a pass for being passive when it came to co-parenting. 

Fast forward to today, I can see how becoming a parent has changed me for the better. Zay is not my everything. God is. I am grateful that I don't see his existence as my sense of being. My sense of purpose. That little crumb-snatcha has his own purpose. That doesn't mean he doesn't motivate me...having him has helped me to find my voice.
I am also very grateful that his father and I are married, and that he gets an unlimited supply of love from the both of us, in a shared setting.

What continues to help me to trust God when it comes to Zay is prayer. I pray what I have come to  dub as "the Hannah prayer." Hannah was barren and wanted so desperately to bear her husband a child. She prayed that should God bless her with a child she would offer him back. When God blesses her with Samuel, she eventually "gives" him to the priest, Eli, so he can begin to carry out his service to God. (Read 1 Samuel 1)

Imagine praying for something so passionately, receiving it, and then giving it away...that's ultimately what Hannah did. Her story humbles me. It inspires me. Every day, Zay is not in the care of Hosea and I, I pray a prayer of blessing over him. It starts like this, "May the LORD bless you and keep you, may the LORD show you his kindness, may he have mercy on you, may the LORD watch over you and give you peace." (This is a blessing that Moses spoke over the Israelites.) Jesus will always protect you, Hosea. God, I ask you to cover his eyes and ears from things that he should not see or hear. I close saying, as Hannah gave Samuel back to you...so I give Zay back to you..."

20,664...that's the number of hours Zay has been on this earth. I cannot give the exact number, but I can say that many of the minutes leading up to those hours have been saturated in prayer from my husband and I praying for him collectively, and individually. I spent 12 hours in labor with Zay, but what's more important are the hours I've spent praying for him since then.

If you're a parent and you want to know how to live your best life...you should first start by praying for your children. Parents, how can we live our best lives, if we're not actively praying for the lives of our children, and their children? After all, who they grow up to be is a large reflection on how we've shaped them...

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog! I pray that my transparency encourages you and leads you closer to Christ. Everybody has a story. And everyone should be able to share that story unashamed--without fear. It is most hoped that you can share parts of your story in the same way. In Jesus Name, Amen. 

Peace & Blessings,
Jasmine