DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

I will never forget my son Johnnie’s first day of middle school. We had gone through his new morning routine together, and he was going to do the afternoon on his own. As I waited excitedly for him to open the door with his new key, I was surprised by a knock at our front door. I remember opening it to find Johnnie standing with two police officers, his face wreaking of horror.

One of the men attempted to kindly explain, “Ma’am we found your son walking in the neighborhood. He got lost on his way home from school…” Before he could finish, my son plunged forward throwing himself in my arms and broke down sobbing in a manner that wouldn’t seem to make sense for what was happening. He hadn’t done anything wrong and these officers were aiming to be friendly by helping him to not get lost in the future. Despite their good intentions, interacting with police officers was terrifying to a black boy who has heard one too many stories about children, just like him, being gunned down by the very officers who are supposed to keep them safe.

Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, and Jordan Edwards are household names in our community. Black boys, perceived as threatening, and consequently killed for the color of their skin. Black parents know well that preparing our sons to do whatever they are told when they encounter officers of the law is a part of our job. Training them to remain calm , speak when spoken to, not to reach for anything, or make sudden movements is not a matter of guilt or innocence but of life and death. But these boys were not driving, they were playing in the park, walking from the store, and riding home from a party. Much like what we witnessed in the recording of George Floyd’s murder, the temperament of one police officer, can determine whether they live or die.

#BLACKLIVESMATTER

These senseless killings are a stain on our democracy. All lives do indeed matter which is exactly the premise of the mantra for this movement. It is a plea to have black lives valued like everyone else’s. We want our babies to be treated like other children. We want any man or woman who comes in contact with the law to be treated humanely and given their due process rights like every other American citizen.

The countless videos and reports publicizing a truth we have lived with since slavery failed to provoke any outrage leading to change. Watching a little boy get blown off his feet from gunfire while playing in the park did not ignite a collective outcry from our civilized society. Instead, black people have been expected to swallow their grief and bear this burden alone, lest we make anyone feel uncomfortable. Until now, the repeated heartbreak, devastation and trauma, we experience with every new case, was being comfortably ignored.

History demonstrates that black lives, young and old, simply are not valued in America. Forever etched in our memories is the “notorious” murder of fourteen year old, Emmett Till. In the summer of 1955, this young man visited his relatives in Mississippi. While there, he would encounter Roy and Carol Bryant at a local store one August afternoon. Before he could return home from his summer trip to his family in Chicago, Emmett would be kidnapped, beaten beyond recognition, tortured and shot in his head.

The mutilated body of a fourteen year old boy, bound with barbed wire to a cotton gin fan, was then thrown in the Tallahatchie River. The two white men accused of his killing were acquitted (by the all-white, all-male jury pictured below). Having never spent a day in prison, J.W. Milam and Roy Bryant, would later confess to killing Emmett, and Carol Bryant would admit that the alleged offense that resulted in his life being brutally taken, never happened.

Mamie Elizabeth Till sobbed over her baby’s mangled body with a wince that I feel in the pit of my stomach whenever I lay eyes on that photo. His mother, an educator and activist, had the strength to hold an open-casket funeral service. She chose to expose the plight of our people. By allowing Jet Magazine to photograph and publish what had happened to her son, the world was able to witness in an unforgettable way exactly what was taking place within America. Although they gasped with disbelief at the savagery then, here we are 65 years later and it is still happening to black people, to black children, in America.

Can we really judge Emmett’s murderers and the jury who failed to serve the justice due? How was it that we were content with watching this happen again… and again… and again? Why wasn’t everyone outraged? Why was it okay to see Black Americans repeatedly victimized to this day? Clearly, whatever we were doing in response has not changed anything. Isn’t there a definition of insanity involving doing the same thing repeatedly, expecting a different result? We would be crazy not to react!

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

George Floyd’s murder was our breaking point. It was becoming too common to watch live killings of black people with no promise of justice. Occasionally, someone receives a slap on the wrist but nothing tantamount to the mothers and fathers who are left aching for their children forever. And please don’t mention Dr. King. I do not condone violence, but exactly how did remaining peaceful work for MLK? Did his style of protest result in him being regarded and treated as the loving and reasonable man he strived to be? No. He was shot and killed.

While we claim to be a global “leader”, setting the example for democracy that all others should follow, we have become blind to our own self-righteousness and hypocrisy. Time and again we leverage our armed forces to storm into foreign countries and rescue others from the hands of dictators. Meanwhile, we continue to ignore the cracks in our moral compass. George Floyd’s murder was the tip of the proverbial iceberg. The 9 minute knee on his neck was our ‘shot HEARD and SEEN ‘round the world’. Enough is enough.

It is time for America to stand up and call right, right and wrong, wrong. We can no longer afford to be silent while our lives remain in jeopardy. We will not be deprioritized on America’s agenda. This is everyone’s problem. No one is safe. We have police officers serving illegal warrants to murder women asleep in their own homes. For the love of God and everything that is good in this world,

“TAKE YOUR KNEE OFF OF OUR NECKS!”

This is the peace we need, and it is our most important demand.

KEEPING THE FLAME LIT

No matter what your style(s) of protest, be it: marching; posting/tweeting; rallying; photographing (documenting); writing to inform; registering voters; lobbying elected officials with visits, calls, and emails; running for office, etc. your efforts matter! We need every kind of soldier to relentlessly make our voice heard and our position understood. It is our responsibility to keep this movement front and center until laws are enforced to stop the unlawful killing of black people.

We must continue to confront the leaders, places, and systems where we live, where we work, where we worship, where we go to school, and where we spend our money—unapologetically. Change is a non-negotiable. We can’t afford to overlook the magnitude of this issue. It is our babies, husbands, wives, brothers, fathers, and sisters who may be next to die without dignity and (God forbid) without justice.

We can let the anger subside, but our sense of urgency should not waiver. We can’t let this fire go out.

In community and solidarity,

Garland Darling

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“There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats his children.”

— Nelson Mandela

ARE YOU REGISTERED?

Chicago Peace and Equality Juneteenth March We stand in solidarity with Black communities and those on the front lines. We hope to amplify this message with actionable resources for the local community because it will take all of us looking inward + speaking outward to create change.

The Mass Poor People’s Assembly & Moral March on Washington is going digital! On June 20th, we will hold the largest digital and social media gathering of poor and low-wealth people, moral and religious leaders, advocates, and people of conscience in this nation’s history. A global pandemic is exposing even more the already existing crisis of systemic racism, poverty, ecological devastation, the war economy and militarism, and the distorted moral narrative of religious nationalism. On June 20, the 140 million poor and low-income people across this nation will be heard!

National Action Network’s: March on Washington Commitment March will take place on August 28th 2020 — the 57th anniversary of the historical March on Washington, where Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech.

Speak On It

I always remember this poem while learning and teaching about the holocaust. I felt it was a humble appeal to responsibility/accountability, as humans and global citizens, for the embarrassing evil that was permitted to happen to Jewish people for too long without intervention.

Yesterday, I learned about more crimes happening toward the Black community in front of the whole world. It is not a new thing and the crimes that have come before these are no less terrible and embarrassing. Our community hasn’t even even been given a chance to finish grieving the loss of Ahmaud Arbery. I imagine speaking for so many others who feel bombarded by the onslaught of unnecessary violence and aggression toward Black men.

Men who are already subdued, communicating an inability to breathe, calling for their mothers, and pleading for their lives. I heard my spirit asking, “Isn’t the pandemic enough for right now? Why does this keep happening? How long are we going to allow this as human-beings?” I don’t want to hear another sermon or scripture encouraging the victims to hold on for change, justice, and peace. I didn’t speak on it yesterday, and I didn’t make a status about it on social media. I couldn’t summons the audacity to tell Black people put their head down and do their best to move forward stealthily through this proverbial underground railroad to survive.

I woke up realizing that this is not about blaming the victims or expecting the targets to fix/survive something that we all KNOW is happening and KNOW is wrong. This is not about turning to God in disappointment because God is not the cause. The cause is our lack of unity in demanding this end immediately, loudly and openly as human beings. I will not allow anger to make me negate my well meaning non-Black sisters and brothers who are equally outraged. I know that these acts don’t reflect the hearts of all White people.

But We ALL need to speak on it.

We don’t need sympathy. We need to hear and see action. We need the people, who I believe outnumber the hateful, to take a visible and audible stand—out loud and upfront with us. Black people in positions of power and influence need to speak up collectively. We can’t leave it to our “representatives” to shoulder this advocacy alone. I’m tired, and I can’t be crazy (doing the same things over and over expecting a different outcome).

White people, it is not enough to make a facebook status or call your black friends on the phone to apologize. We need you to speak on it and confront it personally and professionally. Black people need to speak on it too. Too often we moan and groan to one another privately, within social circles. We make eye contact, and we vent about the racism and the evil we experience—big and small, day in and day out. We have to let go of being politically correct and trying to find reasons to make this make sense. This is happening to all of us. It’s happening to children, to hardworking men, to women in their homes, and the list goes on and on.

Those who say they love me, love black people and/or black children, need to say something beyond social media—loud and clear. I beg you to push your political dispositions aside and acknowledge to your neighbors, colleagues, employees, political leaders, and congregations that this is not okay. I want so bad to know that I won’t look up one day and find my Black sons laying in a pool of innocent blood.

Below I share the message, I communicated to our staff this morning.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

Keep Yo' Head Up

On Saturday night, I went to bed texting my team about one of our students who was involved in a shooting. Sunday morning, I woke up to this text.

“ Latest update from mom after first surgery: They said it looks like she got hit 8 times (in both legs). She’s in surgery now. Her hip bone is crushed. In her right leg, all top bones are broken. In her left leg, knee bone is broken and her butt bone was hit. She’s going to survive, but she will be out for a while because she won’t be able to walk. She will know more about the chances of full recovery after the surgery. If any one wants to come visit, she said she will have an update tomorrow. And thanks for the concerns. I will be there first thing in the morning.”

I was texted about this incident by one of my culture team members immediately after the shooting. There was a group of children involved, and we were sorting out which was ours. I then started to text my exec team (which includes campus principals) to alert them as we confirmed the identity of at least one of the students. My heart warmed in admiration of the dedication and engagement of my team faithful culture team member en route to the hospital to confirm specific details, support the family and follow up with information.

My principal for that campus responded:

“TM, I spoke to Safety and Security earlier. There was a shooting but none of our children were hurt.”

We continued our dialogue in group chat as I made it clear that this situation had just occurred. Once we sorted out the details, she connected with her team and took the reigns through the night. When I received this message the following morning, initially, I was relieved. I thought to myself she’s okay and shared that communication with my team. Sadly given our location, shootings and killings are a part of the work, and my brain was just processing that the student was still alive vs. dead.

But as I sat with my thinking, I screamed inside:

“SHE IS NOT OKAY! THIS IS NOT OKAY!”

A teen girl’s body is not meant to be riddled with bullets, and no matter what the status is of her survival and recovery, she will have significant mental and emotional trauma to overcome. I sat thinking about the statistics predicting the increased likelihood of death when a student survives a shooting. I pondered the risk of her falling into a state of depression or possibly newfound determination. There were other children with her who I was told did not survive. My heart went to her mom, understanding the plight of black womanhood is having grace under fire. When everything and everyone is falling apart, we find the strength to stand. Good or bad, fair or unfair, it’s our painful legacy. As I sought to connect with her spiritually, I was triggered.

…

In Dec of 2014, one of my students, DeMario Bailey, was killed, and it’s not that he was the first child had to bury as a leader. I regularly received emails from safety and security listing the students who were shot and had developed a routine/strategy for managing the school’s recovery as well as connecting with my families to determine the prognosis and his/her transition back to school. In retrospect, I was almost numb to it, understanding that the speed of the leader = the speed of the team. The children and the adults under my charge were taking signals from me as their leader. If I fell apart, they would fall apart. I come from a similar reality, and my students getting a solid education was the only way they would gain an options and the advantage that will make their future better. I forced myself to be focused and unemotional on the exterior as much as I could.

But there was something about that day in December. I will never forget it because it happened on my son’s birthday. There I was driving us home, having taken that Saturday off to throw him a birthday party. Nothing prepared me from the terror of answering that call on bluetooth. One of my staff members screaming sent the entire car into shock as she yelled to the top of her lungs, “Dr. T!!!! Dr. T!!!! They shot him!!!!” I listened and did my best to remain calm and explained that I would be drop my children off at home and then head straight to school. In less than five minutes, I got the next call that he was gone. I went straight to work and ubered my children home. I walked into a gym full of broken boys, his brother’s teammates and their coaches—in silence and tears.

As much as I know it is unreasonable in my natural mind, I took responsibility. While I was communicating with my team, planning to gather my children whose hearts would be reeling once this news broke, I was retracing our protocols in my mind. How did this happen? Where was the breach? Since founding Johnson College Prep, I developed systems and devoted resources to keeping my children safe—no excuses. I considered it a part of my job. My parents were trusting me/us with their most prized possessions, their babies. I’m a mother before most things, and I don’t want to hear an explanation for my child being hurt. We knew where we were and we needed to plan for it. Something went terribly wrong that day, starting with the warm day in December which we Chicagoans know is a signal for disaster…or heightened violence and body counts. Why was my kid under that viaduct alone and unprotected?!

After all was said and done, I decided this would be my last year as principal. I needed to take a step back. I couldn’t take the weight of it anymore. The job was too heavy, and all of the sudden I was realizing the weight of it all. Since I accepted the role, I put my head down and got the work done…many times alone, many times with unwavering expectations for results—despite dealing with challenges no one else was facing in every aspect of the work. The wear and tear on my soul seemed to come crashing down all at once, and I felt my feet slipping into these cement blocks. I couldn’t bounce back the way I normally did, and I decided that once I dug myself out of this hole of depression, I didn’t have the emotional capital to go back again. I didn’t sign up to sit in cars with broken mothers and not have answers for a pain I couldn’t begin to ease. “What do I do, Dr. T?” Sitting in her car, holding her hand, I searched for an answer “I have to do something. I can’t just let my son die.” I wanted to give her baby back so bad, and I couldn’t. I wanted answer to her question.

I didn’t want to plan anymore memorials, and I didn’t want to carry the burden of what I felt was my failure. Walking into our gym full of weeping children gathered to mourn the loss of their friend. Gathered to deal with the unfair hand life had dealt them once again. I stood before my babies and their strong momma principal broke down in despair and in anger, I looked up at them “I don’t know why everyone thinks that I know what to say. I don’t know what to say…” Before I could lift myself up, my children were rushing toward me hugging and holding me. “Don’t cry, Dr. T!”

We got through it together, but my mind was made up about taking a step back and finding another way to make this impact. I was in too deep, and whatever impenetrable bubble was shielding me from the fiery darts for all of my years as a founding principal in Englewood had lifted. It was time for a change. That change became a move to the c-suite and leading education management organizations, but somehow, I find myself back in the same place. It’s not better. Our children are still not free to be children.

What gets me most is that while parts of our city live in a perpetual state of crisis, many of us have the luxury of being unaware, unbothered, and unaffected. There are leaders and teachers being traumatized on a daily basis, and it’s just part of the job…

As I sat at the conference table this morning checking in with my assistant, the gravity of what happened and what is continuing to happen to our children, hit me once again. I told her about my reflections over the weekend as I connected my feelings to that of other courageous people who had to continue their movements amidst challenges and losses that had to seem insurmountable (i.e. the assassinations of Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., John F Kennedy). Certainly, they must have been broken and felt the defeat that I know I share with the many educators alongside me. Yet, they found the strength to continue forward with discipline and resolve.

I wrote this blog to cry out—literally and figuratively. I needed to scream for this baby, for her mother, and for everyone who is living in and working through these circumstances. IT IS NOT OKAY!!! Our children deserve to live just like all of the other ones in our great country. I don’t know why the killing of black children is being normalized and overlooked, but I can’t and won’t be quiet. I will always lift up these stories to humanize my children and all of the people doing a job that is not covered in textbooks and graduate programs. I need to validate these lives, the blood, the mothers, the teachers, the school teams, etc.

You are the real MVPs.

Even as I ride downtown to this meeting and hear Tupac’s Keep yo’ head up playing in my uber, I am strengthened by the memory and the legacy of everyone who has ever fought for anything that mattered. Education is how I/we fight. While tragic, this weekend was a reminder of why this work is so serious. It is a reminder of why we must educate with vigilance and demand the very best from and for our students. It is a matter of life and death. Let’s stay the course. They are counting on you to show up.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

Boss Up --> To Love!!

I just had one of those Aha moments that forced me to snatch my computer out—immediately! Given my work, I have adopted a lot of children in the form of students, alums, and employees. The ideas for this blog came as a result of a check-in with one of my adult sons who is in the latter years of college and transitioning into his own space as a young man. We were dialoguing, and he mentioned that he didn’t feel too good about his money management ability. I decided that was a good time to bring up some information that came to me about a sharp young lady he is now dating, “Is she good at that…money management?” I went on, “If so, that should strengthen your consideration of a future with her... You want someone who complements your weaknesses…or makes you better.”

A big wide grin spread across his face as he took in my knowing about this conquest. He is a very good boy or should I say young man, who is known for being professional and extremely gracious in his role. Up to now, I believe he thought he was keeping this relationship under wraps. As we went deeper in our discussion about his newfound love, I decided to lean in on him courting her with intention, which led us into conversation about the topic that men love to act so afraid of, settling down/committing to a real relationship—dun, dun, dun, dunnnn. He was heading out for the day, but I gave him three points to take with him until our next “check-in”.

1. It is not good for man to be alone. Genesis 2:18 reads “Then the LORD God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.” Try as we may to justify it for whatever purposes we tell ourselves (or try to tell the women you want to string along without commitment), it wasn’t in God’s plan for us to belabor or glorify being single.

2. Two are better than one. Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12 reads “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves… That’s pretty self explanatory.

3. My last point to him was, “You know son, life and and love are what we make them.” And that’s when the resounding cymbals went off in my head because of a few conversations I’ve had this week with other single men and women.

“Life and love are what we make them” are difficult words to accept when things don’t turn out the way we had in mind. The pain of losing touch with the life we thought up for ourselves can seem insurmountable and leave you reeling in feelings of hopelessness and regret. And who wants to take responsibility for creating something that resulted in their own pain? It is much easier to blame the other and then develop a new plan in reaction to whatever heartbreak life has seemingly dealt you. Right? These feelings lead us down a path to protect ourselves and prevent this kind of pain from ever happening again. We say/decide things like “Marriage is not for me” or “I will never marry again.” It sounds safe except sometimes our solution is worse than our problem and flies in the face of the divine/intimate connection we were created to truly have and desire. We could be staring God’s answer to our prayers in the face, and whether subconscious or otherwise, we find a way to sabotage or opt out. I’ve done that.

I call bullshyt.

I’m not calling bullshyt on our pain or even on the desire to protect ourselves from repeating patterns. I call bullshyt on the notion that in this one area of your life we turn into a powerless man or woman. We have to avoid accepting conclusions that are inconsistent with the man/woman we claim to be. The same people who push faith and determination in one breath, killing the game in every other area of life, abandon their powerful mindsets, affirmations, and their strength of will/character when it comes to love? That’s convenient, but it’s bs. Why should you stop being a creator when it comes to love?

If everything happens for a reason or at least for the good of the believer (Romans 8:28), why give it up around companionship? All of a sudden these titans of human beings delegate the happenings in this area of their life to some cosmic force (because it’s not God) that may or may not lend itself to allowing you to be successful in love. Dirty and clean water can’t flow from the same spring (see James 3:11-13), so which is it? Or is this the mindset that suits your desire to play…it safe? If you read my piece on love being confused, then you know how I think/feel about that. Do you!

But don’t tax love and relationships with your own decision to give up or fail at it. We fail in our professions and other areas of our lives, yet we get back up and try again. If we can be resilient in those markets, we can do it for love. Own your shyt. Do your work. Get your healing. But stop beating up on love and marriage.

He who finds a wife finds a good thing,
And obtains favor from the Lord.

Have we made mistakes? Sure. Have we made bad choices? Of course. I more than anyone. But I refuse to blame love for my errors in decision-making. There are lots of reasons why relationships go bad, but humans are behind those reasons and not the idea/institution of love and marriage. Love is good for you, and it may be the very thing that either puts you back on your feet or winning in an even bigger way.

As I’ve heard a great man say with regards to his marriage, “Find your wife, find your life.”

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

1 Corinthians 13:13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Is Love Confused or Are We?

I just finished Common’s Let Love Have the Last Word. I found it to be a worthwhile and rewarding read. His book sheds valuable light on love as a lens for reflection in our personal lives and on the state of our community. Common’s writing strengthens important causes and gives voice to real needs. He explores the layers and various contexts of love.

A few themes stood out to me:

• A man (or a woman) can choose grace and growth (vs. anger and defensiveness) when challenged by lovers/loved ones. There is strength in taking responsibility for the role you play(ed) in the pain of someone you love(d). His stories about growing in/through love with his father and his daughter are powerful testimonies.

• Counseling is good. Seeking to understand the underlying themes in our behaviors can be liberating and life-changing. Therapy can expose/disrupt broken patterns we don’t even know are there… I wonder what would happen if we all committed to do the heart work around fixing ourselves? I wish for all a community of friends and family who will encourage us in this direction when we seek to blame others for why/when things fall apart (turn out differently than expected). Blame is wasteful, and it won’t help improve your present life or future.

• The sexual abuse of boys and men needs to be excavated. The silence, shame, and stigmas around their pain is unfair. Whenever they gain the strength to share, we should embrace and empower them.

Experiencing this level of vulnerability from a man of his race, stature, and success is brave and powerful. I share my favorite quote from the book below,

“I asked myself if this world I seek, this one powered by love is even necessary or realistic. Perhaps there is little need to make one up...I realize that half the battle is learning how to carry our burdens, our suffering, with grace—discovering how to navigate our lives w/o becoming consumed by bitterness and anxiety. Perhaps there is no other way to live. Perhaps this is all we can ask of love: to restore to us our dignity when life unravels and calls us forth to reconstruct ourselves once again; to rebuild amidst deconstruction; to choose life and love every second there is breath and life in our bodies...” -Common

So what for love in modern dating?

The quote resonated deeply because I am in a state rebuilding. I’ve moved past the initial sadness and find myself excited about what God has for me in my future. I believe He is calling me to something deeper and dare I say better. So here I am navigating this path to love…single…engaging in interesting conversations with great men. Nothing serious yet. A connection may have some strengths but still may not be it. I’ve made a practice of literally checking-in with my vision—does it match or am I trying to fit a square peg in a round hole? I want to accept who people show and tell me they are vs. seeing who I believe they have the potential to be. I am ever aware of time and desire not to waste mine or anyone else’s. Love comes easy, and I believe it should for anyone claiming to have God, who is love, dwelling in their hearts and guiding them on their journey. I’m a nurturer, and I never want to lose my passion for growing and giving in love which is also why Common’s quote resonated.

But…

In modern dating, I see people creating complexities around love that can be confusing. I can’t define love for others, but I see love as a decision and a state of consciousness/existence that clashes with some of my experiences thus far. Is it love we are seeking when we:

• create obstacle courses as a precursor for authentic engagement;

• request to hide relationship;

• want to sample without sacrifice;

• take and not give back in the same manner?

• treat love as this abstract, far-off concept that remains inaccessible so long as we desire to minimize connection?

If God is not the author of confusion, then I believe the right path to love shouldn’t be either. As humans, we are complex but the decision to embark upon discovering and sharing love with another is not. True, love has levels that grow and deepen with time, but it has to start somewhere. I fear the initial limitations and guardrails we put up in dating, do more to prevent one from ever getting there.

You either want to or you don’t, and I believe you know that from the beginning. I also believe that both are okay. So long as we are open and honest about who we are and what we desire—without creating weird contracts disguised in sexy themes. I realize it may not be appealing for one to say, “I don’t want to love or to be loved. I want a beautiful person to have sex with,” but it is honest, and I think it should be put simply for your own sake and for the sake of the other person. No need to couch it in any grandiose schema because your intentions appear shallow or challenge the notion of being a “good” person. We don’t need to judge or label each other as though one is more sophisticated or mature. My intentions should not make yours bad, weak, or inferior in this arena so long as we are honest and transparent consistently and from the gate.

Permission-to-Play vs. Core Values

In business/leadership, we talk about values. Some values are minimum standards and requirements and some are core. Our core values distinguish us. For example, we might say honesty is a permission-to-play value. It’s not special. It’s what a person should be to have a seat at the table whereas your faith would be considered a core value or a differentiator in who you are as a person.

In dating, I see people confusing the two.

Are you dating just to date (to have fun and connect with sex partners)

or

dating to connect and potentially find a life partner?

Those are two different things that require different values. Clarity flows from your intentions. Regardless of where your intentions are derived from (bitterness, self-discovery, commitment avoidance, fear, etc.), you know the answer to the question. Keep it real—walk in your simple truth. You can’t ask a person to sacrifice core values as a condition for engaging in a superficial connection. And I’m not dumb enough to allow a man to flip the script as though, knowing who I am and what I want makes me demanding or high-maintenance. I know my worth. I know what I bring, and if you want a woman of my caliber, ante up. If you want a woman to sleep with, she’s out there.

As for me…

At my core, I know that I desire a deeper connection with one who exists on a similar spiritual and intellectual level and is committed to showing up for the fun and the work of love. One that ebbs and flows, authentically reciprocating our humanity, recognizing that we are a part of the same ocean. This is a part of loving and accepting myself, unapologetically. I want to share that with my future partner along with all of the other cool, crazy, and complicated parts of me.

When I feel like praying, worshiping, and vibing on God…

When I want to turn my music all the way up for trap, jazz, soul, classic, gospel—whatever the genre…

When I want to write and ask you to read it…

When I want to be held and kissed like a baby…

When I want to go to an amusement park with the kids…

When I want to skip the country…

When I need to go sit with someone who is hurting…

When I want to strategize around making our dreams a reality or growing the seeds we’ve planted for legacy…

There’s so much more…and that’s the thing. I want to be seen and accepted for ALL of who I truly am—no boxes or prisons for the “politically correct” or “socially acceptable”. This has been a part of my own “work”. Being willing to say “I matter” too and not losing myself completely for the needs/shortcomings of another. Not wanting to settle can leave me questioning whether romantic love is even meant for me. Because when I type that stuff up or say it out loud, I start thinking that my vision might be unrealistic (too much)—especially in light of all that I’ve been through, do, and desire to become. The weight and size of my womanhood is ever upon me.

Choosing to bow out and say no, thank you in marriage or in dating is not easy, but it’s about a desire for fulfillment— to have and experience real love. Provided we are equally yoked spiritually and intellectually, I want to create the same space for love and acceptance for my partner to be himself—just not at the expense of my sanity, dignity, self-worth, safety, etc. We all have our own deal breakers (permission-to-play values)…

My experiences so far have surfaced a fear, an anxiety. And that’s weird because I’m arguably one of the strongest and bravest people that I know. But even the seemingly confident, quietly struggle with the residues of rejection, insecurity, failure, pain, unworthiness, etc. I’m scared of never really getting there, and when I say that romantic love may not be for me, it’s out of fear that my desires may be so far fetched in this modern world. What if I never...

Go? See? Have? Become? Do? Create? Start? Succeed at relationships?

I’m nearing “the middle” of my life. I wonder if that’s what these feelings are, fueling a sense of urgency and focus to get after it...but simultaneously...reminding me that this is something I’ve failed at before. It’s a slippery slope...going for it...being willing to try again...requires being willing to fail again—YIKES. When I say I’m scared, I’m not saying I’m hopeless or weak...or that I don’t have faith in God. I know that God hasn’t given me a spirit of fear, but I was created with the emotion.

Even as I type these words I am reminded that the difference lies in feeling fear vs. letting fear have control. I made a deal with myself years ago to never let fear win. Scared or not, I go for it. Sometimes all the more. I floor it and push harder against the current of my fear. Ambitious Courage was a term I coined some years ago when creating my own short list of core values. I would rather live with failing than live with the regret of never trying. I can’t make the shots I don’t take. I suppose it shouldn’t be any different with romantic love. Common’s book was a good refresher on embracing love and reinforcing its existence in every area of my life while standing in/under my truth.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

That Time We Went to the Abortion Clinic...

I have to start this piece by saying I believe in a woman’s right to choose concerning her pregnancy. I want every woman to know that God’s grace is sufficient for her choice. God loves you, and you are worthy of His love no matter what.

I had my first child when I was sixteen years old. That came with its own share of shame and challenges that I would have to overcome on so many different levels of my development and layers of my being, thinking, etc. So, you can imagine my dismay when I discovered at eighteen that I was with child again. I was not married, but I was in a relationship with a man who would become my husband eventually. We were kids, and we didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. He was a senior in high school and I was a junior—behind my classmates due to dropping out with my first pregnancy. Here we sat with this huge decision to make around what we were going to do about this pending baby.

There were so many reasons that having another baby was just inconvenient as hell, and we decided that an abortion was the right way to go despite us both being raised in Christian homes where we knew that any public knowledge of our decision would add shame and stress that we couldn’t and didn’t want to afford given our current life circumstances. I remember going to my mother and seeking her wisdom, and she gave me two pieces of advice as I sought to figure out what I was going to do.

“You’re going to live with either decision for the rest of your life.” 

“Who knows?  Maybe that baby is a playmate for your daughter.” 

My mom has a way of being so plain and direct that I don’t always see the wisdom, profundity or relevance in what she is saying, but without fail, she’s usually right.

Despite that though, my boyfriend had plans to leave our hometown and go away to college. I didn’t want him to choose me because of a baby, and I didn’t want to be accused of attempting to “trap” him. So off we went to the dreaded clinic to do the deed. We made it past the gatekeepers who would stand outside and scream at patrons, “DON’T DO IT!” Their posse was armed with signs, pictures of dismantled babies and pamphlets that were enough to push you over the edge with the guilt of being a “murderer” and knowing you were directing your soul to hell if/once you came out on the other side.

We had an appointment, and we sat there quietly in the lobby waiting our turn. Internally, I was in so much turmoil and felt conflicted about what we were about to do. The hardship of being a single mom is real though, so a part of me was relieved that I was going to be piling on to what was already a very full plate. I didn’t know what his intentions really were, so I was just quiet. After a while he turned to me and said, “Let’s go.” I looked at him and responded, “If I leave here, I’m not coming back.” He listened and then looked at me and said, “Let’s go.” We got up and walked out together silently acknowledging that we were committing to the road ahead.

At the end of the summer, he did go away to school and was left with one baby and a big belly. I can remember how hard it was being alone and trying to navigate this new chapter of my life and our relationship. There were so many tears and lonely nights and prenatal experiences to boot. I can remember driving to school in an old car my grandmother gave me that broke down a lot. My belly would be tucked under the tight steering wheel poked out beneath my brother’s big shirts and unzipped jeans. That song, “I believe I can fly” would come on the radio a lot and the warm hot tears of loneliness, shame, and failure would fall every time.

There was a lot of responsibility, living on my own, being a mom, working full time, and doing my best to maintain in my second year of college as a dually enrolled student. My dreams of living out the episodes of “A Different World” completely faded away as I gave up any chance of getting to live in a dorm like Whitley and her friends at Hillman. There were times when I hated him for getting to enjoy all of the fun involved with going away to school, but he promised me that everything he was doing would be for the betterment of our future. I’m no fool though. Some of it was for our future, but there was also a lot of other bs involved that just equaled living this exciting life while I was stuck back at home baring the weight of it all--literally and figuratively <insert pregnant emoji>.

I was blessed though, and I had the help of dear friends and my younger siblings who would pitch in as much as they could. My little sisters would ride their bikes over to help me after school, and my best friend would take notes in class and do things she didn’t have to as a single young lady living her best college life. God was there, and He reassured me of His love despite the pain I was feeling. I became well acquainted with scriptures that would become anchors in my life to this day. Two of which are:

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.”

Psalm 127:3

“All things work together for the good of them who love God and are the called according to His purposes.”

Romans 8:28

The word was my silent sword when I encountered the stares, the judgment, etc. To borrow from Sade, they were my rock to swim to in the storm. No matter what I had done, God gave me my child. She was a gift and despite the peril of my errors, my life would have to work together for good. I held on to the belief and had faith that at some point, life would get easier/better.

My baby girl came bursting into the world, emerging from a complex delivery experience where they almost when in for her because she was in “distress”. From the day she was born, we fell in love and she continues to be a source of light and hope throughout the seasons of life. My mom was right. She was my daughter’s playmate, and as soon as she got her sea legs, they were thick as thieves. Their friendship actually eased the burden of parenting. She was born in the middle of a semester, and when she wasn’t with my mother, she was calmly sitting in her carrier absorbing the likes of Statistics, Child Psychology and whatever else was on my schedule at that time. My village stepped up all the more and my professors were understanding when I needed to be out for that week she was born or nurse her in class.

In this blog, I don’t have space or time to elaborate on how much value this little girl continues to add to my life. All of my children gave/give me my purpose. They are my favorite people. Their company and existence gives me a comfort, joy, and peace like nothing else. So why am I bringing this up?  Why am I all in my feelings about the second of my five heartbeats right now?  That little girl is now a woman, and this Saturday she will graduate from the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. I speak for many when I say to know her is a privilege, and I cannot think about doing this life without her. She is heart, beauty, brains, and courage wrapped in the most graceful packaging. I wish so much that her dad could be here to see it. He passed away in 2009, and every time we reach these milestones, I miss him the most. Our children were the things that we got right.

So as I think about this coming Saturday and am doing my best to offload all of the feels that I feel to avoid ruining my make-up and the pictures, I want to thank God, my mother, my best friend, my siblings, and all of the people who helped me be strong enough to get her here. I have an Isaiah 61 ministry, so I live with the level of vulnerability and authenticity that align with my calling. I know shame. I know loss. I know pain. It is these experiences that connect me to people who are hurting and empower me to walk in my truth in order to encourage, to comfort and to serve as a tangible example of God’s love and grace.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

The Revolution Is Now!

“The revolution will not be televised!” I don’t know where I was when that statement first hit my ears, but throughout my life I’ve heard it expressed in many different forums. It’s a sound bite from a period in history when black people in America sought to take their freedom through the provocative establishment of organizations like the notorious Black Panther Party for Self Defense (est. 1966) and similar pronouncements of independence/resistance. They were unapologetic and willing to take their place in society—by any means necessary. When I hear, “The revolution will not be televised,” I feel a slight jolt in my spirit as images of afros and raised fists appear on the movie screen of my mind. Relics of courage and truth like Malcolm X, Angela Davis, Nikki Giovanni and the like are not too far behind. The words represent a time when the right among us were united about demanding our God given rights as human beings. The Declaration of Independence captures it most eloquently,

“We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness...”

I grew up in a home where Black love and pride were central to our upbringing. I suppose my mother can be considered militant. She pushed us to think critically about any information related to the history and identity of black people in America. As children of the African diaspora, she made sure we knew and understood the beauty within ourselves. She taught us to love ourselves as black people despite the efforts of those who would have us believe we were born slaves and constantly seeking to hide the treasures of Africa by limiting our history lessons to one perspective and flooding us with images of naked starving children. Meanwhile gold, diamonds, and the natural riches of the continent are being siphoned to this day. She made sure that we were constantly immersed and equipped with knowledge and experiences to challenge any denial of the greatness we originate from. She wanted us to be self-aware and confident as black children in a country that remains confused about whether or not all lives “matter”.

In the past two weeks, I have continuously ran into messages that brought me back to those words, and it hit me for the first time that the revolution is now. The revolution is not a single event or a moment in time. It is a movement that is complex and ongoing. We don’t all have to meet to march, riot, protest, or burn anything down. The revolution is multi-faceted and complex. It has evolved and will forever live as long as groups of people are marginalized and systems of oppression continue to thrive. As enlightened people, those who intend to share life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness with all humans, we are to bring the movement to whatever field and body of work we are engaged in. Despite our occupational position/assignment, we can bring truth, light, and power to the causes and needs of our people.

HOW?

The beautiful thing about the epiphany I had and am sharing with you is that it is about arriving at a higher level of consciousness/intention. It doesn’t require new activity because it is already happening and so many are engaged. Revolution is simply a lens through which I have become all the more resolved and reinforced. Take Beyonce’s recent work, Homecoming, on Netflix. Unarguably, Beyonce is creating a space to love and celebrate blackness. Her fidelity to black history, love, and family is being seen and heard over and over again with every viewing. In this case, the revolution is actually being televised (lol) but it’s in a veil from one of the greatest pop stars of all time. Moreover, she has created a platform and shines light by giving other black people space on her stage, affording economic and cultural empowerment.

There are many other examples as well. Barack Obama’s election as president and his excellence in office is revolution. Oprah Winfrey and the world of things she does to empower and lift black people is revolution. As as a school/district leader in Chicago, I’ve had the good fortune to engage with so many men and women in business, medicine, etc. who are intentionally exploiting opportunities to pay their access and success forward. Their very presence in the marketplace demands respect for who we are, where we come from, and demonstrates how vital our presence is in this country. Black people have and always will be a lynchpin in the destiny of America. You can’t write this story without us, and it’s up to us to continuously give voice to this fact and to lift one another as we climb.

So what for the inequities and challenges we face in our country today? What for the murders on the streets of Chicago? What for the abuse and excessive force resulting in the skewed killings and jailing of black men? What for the persisting achievement gaps in academia? The list goes on. At times, these things cause us deep pain and defeat, but revolution is facing them head on! We are not new to standing up to the ferocious odds and injustices against us. It was John H. Johnson who said, “Survival is in my blood. It's in my nerves and muscles. For I am a descendant of people who were so tough that nothing...could destroy them." 

Whatever you do and wherever you do it, your efforts matter. There are three things I believe we can all be intentional about doing in this movement (at a minimum).

1. We can intentionally be exceptional as a symbol of black excellence in whatever we do.

2. We can love ourselves, each other and raise our children/family in love and appreciation for who they are and where they come from. They need to know and love their blackness and understand their role and responsibility in this movement.

3. Pay it forward. Help, shape, and lift others.

The scope/extent can grow or shrink based on who you are and your vantage point in society. Obviously, I am not going to be doing a concert on Netflix anytime soon like Bey, but I can model and demand excellence in service to the community I work in. As a black woman who owns and tells her story, my presence and accomplishments minister to those like me. Earlier in my career when I served in a predominately white school district, I learned that my presence was just as critical to those who are not like me in dismissing stereotypes and exposing others to positive examples of blackness. If you are a teacher serving black children, you can teach in a manner that reinforces your students about who they are and what their learning means to the integrity of black history. You too have a voice and a story, and wherever you are in the world is your platform.

I don’t think my beliefs and feelings are unique or profound, but as I reflected, I decided I should capture them just in case someone needed to be anchored or reminded.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

Love Thaws

I recently watched Disney’s Frozen with my four year old son for the umpteenth time and again I felt compelled to blog about the depth of the epiphany Elsa has at end of the story. If you are not familiar with the movie, here is a quick summary of the plot. Elsa, the elder of two sisters, is born with special powers that attach her emotions to ice/winter. When she is a little girl, it is decided that it is best for her to hide her powers from others to avoid hurting or scaring people after an accident with her sister. When Elsa comes of age, she is crowned Queen. Shortly thereafter, she has an emotional outburst in a disagreement with her sister, Anna, and her secret powers are exposed. The townspeople react by accusing her of sorcery, so she flees to what she believes is the freedom to “Let It Go” (freely experience her powers). While she believes she has rid everyone of any potential danger her powers may bring about, her heightened state of fear, anger, anxiety, etc. sets off a perpetual winter. The remainder of the movie is about her sister Anna’s journey to reach her, get her to stop the snow, and attempt to restore the loving relationship they lost as children. Now, I know it’s just a children’s story, but we all know how deep Disney can get. There is a message here that I believe is worth lifting up, so I am responding to this nagging urge to capture it in writing.

LOVE THAWS

Toward the end of the movie Anna risks her life to save Elsa. Elsa becomes overwhelmed by her sister’s love and begins to reciprocate causing the eternal winter to stop. In this moment, she realizes that the antidote to controlling her powers is love. As she puts it, “Love thaws…” I see a parallel between the frozen and the broken heart. The human heart can become bitter, cold, or frozen from pain and trauma. As a woman who has experienced more than my share of heart break, I understand the difficulty in opening one’s self up to potentially being hurt again. We can then sabotage or avoid relationships as a means to protect ourselves. I don’t write this from a place of judgement because I understand very well what is at stake mentally, emotionally, spiritually, financially, etc. when we get love wrong. This is why Elsa’s epiphany struck so close to home. You too may have a frozen heart. If you can find the right one, and I think this is the key, (real) love can and will thaw your frozen heart. We must have the faith to open up and let it in though.

BUT HOW??

It occurred to me in a recent mediation that in order to overcome this fear and anxiety of a negative outcome in love, one has to trust the process. As a Type A, Alpha Female I have a hard time even typing that. I know how counter-intuitive and difficult that can be for anyone like myself. It is not my nature to be process oriented. I am outputs driven and typically backwards plan my strategy from a result. Moreover, I can be very impatient and there is value in that as a leader who continuously drives and produces exceptional results.

However, not so with love. Once again, God has turned my thinking upside down. My focus and energy has to shift from attempting to control or predict the outcome to committing to trusting and enduring the process. This isn’t exclusive to love either. It can be applied to any goal. We can get caught up reacting to whether or not something is right, to a premature decision that we already know what is going to happen, or in being frustrated with the time and energy that has to be invested/risked for the desired outcome. But as they say in investments, “The bigger the risk, the bigger the pay off.”

THERE’S MORE

Allow me to shift away from Disney and activate your faith. Four important scriptures undergird this message.

1. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. -Romans 12:21

2. Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God -1 John 4:7

3. The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." Genesis 2:18

4. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (The Love Scripture—see image below)

If you need motivation to believe or understand the rationale for love to heal or “thaw” your broken heart. Remember the bible teaches us this in Romans when we are instructed not to repay evil for evil but instead to overcome evil with good. Essentially, Elsa was just preaching—lol. Seriously though, it can be instinctual to allow negative emotions to control our thinking/actions, and sometimes we don’t realize they are negative. We typically wouldn’t consider protecting ourselves to be negative; however, I blogged before about that being the work of God. He commands us to love, so go ahead and open heart as is further reinforced in the scripture from 1 John and numerous other places throughout the word. The other piece of this is that by closing ourselves to love, we deny God’s design and intention for man and woman.

We were created to be partners in this life, and despite modern and worldly thought, God intended for us to be together. We cheat ourselves when we close ourselves up from companionship, and the word clearly says it is not good for us. The last scripture which I share in an image below is important for you to keep top of mind when God unites you with the right partner. It should be your filter for identifying the man or woman who truly understands that love is not a flimsy word or feeling you can toss out and take back cavalierly. Love is a choice and commitment. Love itself is an ongoing process or a journey. When you truly love someone, it is not about evaluating or judging the other but instead aspiring to fulfill God’s commandment and embody that which we wish to be reciprocated.

All I can say is I hear you, God. I’m picking up what you’re putting down.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

Find Your Joy, Find Your Strength

ON MY FACE

Before I went to bed last night, I decided I needed to lay down in God’s presence and seek him in the most humble way. In my upbringing, I was taught that sometimes you must lay prostrate before the Lord as act of complete surrender. With my face to the ground, expressing adoration and submission, I wept. When I feel most connected to God spiritually, I am usually overwhelmed with tears. Tears of hope, tears of gratitude, tears of faith and of anticipation were penetrating my prayer and intimacy with my heavenly father.

I wanted God to acknowledge the extent of my desire to be right with Him more than anything and to align my mind, will, and emotions to His perfect will. With everything that I have been through in my life, walking in God’s purpose for Garland is a non-negotiable. I don’t believe I have time or space for anymore foolishness. Now, I’m not saying I don’t expect controversy or persecution. I know well that those things are promised to fruitful Christians. I just need to know that I am not experiencing anything as a result of some deviation at the hand of my folly.

Whether things go the way I would like or not, whether I am enjoying where I am or not, I desire to achieve the mindset Paul spoke of in Philippians 4, “11 Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content…” If Christ is in me and I in Him, I want to reach a place of maturity in my walk where I don’t toss and turn with feelings of insecurity and uncertainty. I want to truly live in a space of self-control and the other fruits of the spirit.

Lately, I have been wrestling with discontent. To put it plainly, I have not been at peace which signals a need for me to search my heart and seek God in a deeper way to find out what is behind the shifting feelings. I know that I am in a season of change, and there are risks and decisions that are likely causing me to feel unsettled. These anxious feelings have been vexing me, and for the reasons I will share below, I know this is not of God.

First, 1 Corinthians 14: 33 For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace…

I use this scripture to filter and discern a lot. God will not send me any opportunity, decision, relationship, etc. that results in my confusion. If it is meant to be good, it will be good. That is different from always feeling good. I know that as well, but I have learned to discern between what I would call righteous pain/anger/frustration vs. that which is destructive/harmful to me in some way.

Next, Philippians 4:6 Be anxious for nothing but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

This is exactly why I was on my face. My own attempts to deal with my mental/emotional state lately have been failing. I feel like a hamster stuck on a wheel, running in circles and going nowhere. I have been unable to sustain my joy, feeling as though it is being snatched from me as quick as it comes and I find myself spinning in some sort of frustration.

Lastly, 2 Timothy 1:7 God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

I can just drop the mic on that one, and if all of this is true, this disturbance of my peace had to stop and my spirit, soul, and body must come into alignment with the word of God. I wasn’t getting there on my own or with worship and teaching, so I went face down to the throne asking God to get his child all the way together.

…

IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT

In the middle of the night, God woke me and made it plain. First he had me think about the time in my life where I felt the most joy and the most stable in my walk. I thought about going through my first divorce. During that time, my personal life was a living hell. Still, I had planted my feet and determined to guard my heart and my joy. My fellowship with God was impenetrable. Regardless of all the turmoil I was dealing with, my peace and my state of mind were intentionally guarded. I was so blessed and so full despite it all. It was as though I was in a bubble and the fiery darts of the enemy just bounced off daily. I resolved to walk in love and be a light come what may. God reminded me of a scripture I know well, the joy of the Lord is my strength (Nehemiah 8:10). The devil attacks our joy to attack our strength and once he is successful, it is all down hill from there.

Your guard has been up, Garland, but you are not guarding your joy and allowing my love to guide and sustain you. Pain and shame are in the driver seat far too much, and now you are focused on protecting yourself. You don’t want to be hurt, and you don’t want to embarrassed. You don’t want to trust, so your guard is indeed up…but now it is blocking your joy. The hamster wheel you are on is the result of your own double-mindedness, and a double-minded man is unstable in all of his ways. So now you find yourself unstable in your emotions, unable to plant your feet and experience the peace that passes all understanding.

If you trust me and you believe I am that I am, you must exhale the shame and breathe in peace. You must clear your head from all fear and doubt. They are not of me. Live and operate from a place of trust for Me, thinking, speaking, believing, and acting according to what aligns with my word/promises. You can’t protect, Garland. That is my job. Anything you have experienced has been with my permission and nothing will be in vain.

Let it go and go forward knowing that:

-All things work together for the good of them who love God…Romans 8:28.

-Instead of your shame you will receive a double portion, and instead of disgrace you will rejoice in your inheritance…Isaiah 61:7

-Delight thyself in the Lord and He shall give you the desires of your heart Psalm 37:4.

I felt it and saw it so plainly, and I repent even now. Either I am in his hand, Either he has numbered the hairs on my head, Either he knows the plans he has for me (to give me hope and a future) or I believe God is a liar. I know for sure this is not true. I know for sure he has been my faithful companion and the lifter of my head. He is Jehovah Rophe, the God who heals, and even as I laid before Him seeking answers, he heard me and met me where I was. Truly, I found the word, and I did eat of it and it was the joy and rejoicing of my soul. I’m on my way up!

As always I share to encourage in case there is anyone who might be in this place as well. As I type, I am weeping again because I know for sure God loves me and I am grateful that nothing can separate me from Him.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

The Fruits of the Spirit

Launch Out Into the Deep!

As I move along in what has to be somewhere near the middle of my life, I feel a new sense of urgency around making progress toward realizing my dreams. Now more than ever, I feel a need to put the wheels in motion to ensure the legacy I desire to leave behind is created. Among my most heartfelt prayers is not to bury any of the “talents” God has placed within me. I want to give Him a complete return on His investments.

I was listening to a recent sermon where the minister spoke about the story of Jesus urging his disciples to launch out into the deep after they reported they had caught no fish despite their efforts all day. It spurred a nostalgic reflection and I remembered one of the many amazing experiences I had as Founding Principal of Johnson College Prep. I had gone through a tumultuous process to compete against fourteen design teams who also wanted to open schools in a former elementary school located in Chicago’s Englewood neighborhood. After months of public hearings, community forums, and interviews, we did it! What I didn’t understand then, was that this was only one of the many hurdles that lied ahead on this journey.

In the six months leading up to our opening, I would interface with architects, general contractors, and engineers to plan and oversee the work necessary to create a high school in our new space. The autonomy that we were given to choose our school colors, our mascot, our schedule, and everything down to the bathroom tiles was energizing. By the time we would open, I knew more about securing permits and upgrading electrical capacity than I ever thought I would care to. Amidst the furniture and paint selections, supply orders, and technological upgrades/installations, we needed to find about 175 willful guinea pigs to join me in starting a school this school that only existed in my imagination.

There were nine other campuses in our network, so this would be one of the easier tasks…I thought. We got out their playbook and swung into action. Since we couldn’t access our school building yet, we rented space in a nearby church. My first two hires joined my team that February, and we had done a great deal of work with our graphic designers, creating our website and logos. We had packets and flyers printed and ready to inform our guests about the great opportunity in store for our founding class. I borrowed cheerleaders and a choir from one of the other campuses, and I prepared a presentation worthy of a Ted Talk—at least in my mind it was. Our excitement was palpable, and as I walked in ready to take the stage and kick off our program, I saw a room full of empty pews and three parents with their 8th graders down front.

My heart broke. I felt like I wanted to crawl into a hole, cry and then die. Where was our crowd?! I had witnessed these events time and again at other campuses. You simply chose a date for your Admissions Information Session, pub’d it on your website and then the crowd appeared—standing room only. Hundreds of kiddos would fill their auditoriums and then have to go through a lottery and a waiting list just to attend. That’s how thirsty parents were for more non-selective, quality high school options, and we were coming into a community with great need. I didn’t get it. Where were my families eager to take advantage of this great college prep education our network was becoming so well known for?

Somewhere I mustered up the strength to go out and present to those three families as though the church was full. I reminded myself of the scriptures and the need to be faithful over few for God to bless me with many. I told myself that this was just a test of my humility. The show had to go on and that it did. We executed the full plan for our three families that showed up that night, and I assured my team that we could and we would get this right in the future. We had to. Our school’s budget was driven by expenditure per pupil. No/little students meant no/little funds for operation.

We went back to the drawing board. We chose to host our next session at our campus downtown because it was easily accessible from the Red Line, and it was safe. I reached out to other principals and secured a band a choir to perform. We hit the pavement and got the word out to every elementary school on the south side of the city, and this time…ten people came. One parent even did an about face when she realized the session was for the new Englewood campus and not the campus we were hosting in downtown.

I’m not sure I have the words to capture the despair I was feeling...again. Still, I gathered myself and went to speak with my team after the session. I don’t know how the story of the disciples came to me. One minute I was searching for my breath and the right words, the next minute I heard myself telling everyone to remain hopeful. Game face on! We just needed to cast our nets. I told them that we were in a place similar to the disciples who told Jesus they had toiled all day and caught nothing. Jesus told the disciples to launch out into the deep and cast their nets yet again. We would need to do the same.

The plan that had worked for the other campuses was not working for Englewood. My boss sat me down for a pep talk (that I interpreted as a loser talk). He told me the network would make up for the students I couldn’t recruit in my first year. I remember looking him square in the eye and saying “Boss (as I affectionately referred to him from the day he hired me) I’m going to get my kids.” I didn’t want any sympathy or any hand outs. I believed with all of my heart that God did not bring me to that point to not supply me with students. Growing up, my bedroom was a classroom. I was known for bullying children in the streets of Brooklyn to be my students. This school was my dream as long as I could remember, and how could it be coming true if i wasn’t going to have I have any students??

Someone from the Englewood TAC graciously arranged for me to sit down with Mr. Marv Dyson, the radio pioneer. I had never heard of him prior to our meeting at Kennedy King College, but God used him to save the day. I explained my plight, and Mr. Dyson, with no stake or gain, gave me a crash course on radio. He sat with me and explained that we needed to target the demographics for my school’s community and which stations were best for reaching parents and grandparents of 8th graders (at their peak times for listening). He had two of the most popular radio hosts, Joe Soto and Ramonski Luv, record an ad for me with a promise to make an appearance at my event. I will be forever grateful to those men for what they did. They didn’t charge us a penny for their voices or for the ads that played at peak hours seemingly all day every day.

My next session was in the library near the school, and we hosted two back to back sessions with standing room only. I did indeed get my kids, and today many of them have either graduated college or are en route to graduating college. Although I have moved on to bigger and better ways to make a positive impact in the field, Johnson College Prep is now a full high school continuing to serve students in grades 9-12 on Chicago’s south side. This was the first of many miracles I experienced in that role, but it’s not different from the faithfulness God has shown me all of my life.

As I captured what I have shared here, it reminds me of what God promises to do if we only have the faith of a mustard seed. I’m energized to go for it, and I hope you are too! I’m launching out into the deep and casting my nets in nearly every area of my life. Stay tuned!!

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

“...4 When Jesus had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” 5 “Master,” Simon replied, “we have worked through the night without catching anything. But because You say so, I will let down the nets.” 6 When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to tear. 7 So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink...”

— Luke 5, NIV

My Flowers (A 41st Birthday Reflection)

A few nights ago when I came home, I hung out downstairs with my sons. I get caught up in the rapture of their worlds from the moment I step foot in the door. I was excited to see them, kiss their faces, and relish the sounds of their laughter up close after spending some time away celebrating my birthday. It is a uniquely rewarding and affirming feeling to come home to the love of my children/family.

After catching up and getting some grub in their tummies, I began my journey upstairs toward the comfort of a hot shower. I climbed the stairs, turned the corner, and when I reached the end of the hall, I saw them. There was a vase filled with bright red baby roses. My heart melted and rejoiced. I about faced and yelled down, “You guys got me flowers?!” I imagine they could hear the smiles in my voice. I showered them with hugs and adoration and mentally marked the pinnacle of my 41st birthday celebration.

Birthday Flowers from My Boys

Their flowers spun me into a reflection. I love flowers, and I love my children, so you can imagine how special it was to receive their small token in recognition my birthday. It is among my greatest prayers and ambitions to love them wholeheartedly and then see them spill that love onto others. I want to know that the people I mothered are happy and selflessly create happiness for others. In part because I want them to be light and warmth in our world and also because it has become second nature to them or a reflection of the love they know/learned from their upbringing.

The flowers represented an affirmation of this desire becoming real. As I thought about these desires for them, it brought me to reflection about God’s desires for me as his beloved child. Without a doubt, becoming a parent gave me the clearest revelation of God’s love for us as His children. It helped me understand in a very real way what it meant to sacrifice one’s only son and digest the meaning of love as it is defined in God’s word. It brought me to a place of immense gratitude for the years I have spent in fellowship with Him and the progress he has enabled me to experience along the journey thus far.

Where/who would I be without the love and mercy of God? I can’t answer because I honestly don’t think I would be alive. His love has sustained and carried me through my greatest triumphs and my deepest sorrows. I know for sure that I have made mistakes along the way. Still it is a blessing to have the ability to recognize when I am in error and then consider the eyes/heart of God. Because of Him, I don’t have to dwell in guilt and condemnation because I have access to His unlimited forgiveness. For His word assures me that NOTHING can separate me from his love…much like I can say with all reassurance to any one of my children that I will always love them.

But in this past season of my life, I wasn’t living in that love. Instead I had fallen into a rut of self-deprecation, subconsciously cursing myself and rejecting God’s everlasting love and forgiveness. Frozen in the depths of my fears, my tears, and my pain, I was disqualifying myself from worthiness. I was was buying into the notion that love was not for me when love, real love, is the anecdote. The Disney movie Frozen captures this well. It was love that stopped the eternal winter, but it took time, agony, and self-inflicted obstacles to realize this.

So at 41, I am resting my case against Garland, against love. How can I so quickly “forgive” others while secretly harboring unforgiveness against myself. I was blaming myself for the things I “allowed” to happen or the things I didn’t get right. I wasn’t giving myself permission to be human. But Alas, I can’t be pitiful and powerful at the same time. Those are words I frequently say and yet I was not applying them to myself. Why was I foolish enough to believe that I could tear myself down and build myself at the same time? I was in denial about the bitterness overtaking me inside. I am officially surrendering the things that did not turn out the way I planned. I am letting go and giving it all to God. It was holding me down/back and almost caused me to self-destruct.

I am embracing love and trusting the God who has loved me so faithfully and has promised me hope and a future. Nothing that I have been through in my past exempts me from being used of God. Nothing in my past will prevent me from walking in purpose and in love. Nothing that I have endured exempts me from worthiness and happiness. God is a father. My love for my natural children can’t compare/compete with the love He has for his children. Just as I love, cover, and bless my children come what may. Just as I look at them with fond admiration in the midst of any/all wrong doing, I must accept that God has even greater love for me. He is not despising His own creation.

Thank you Lord for 41 years of failing forward. Thank you Lord for putting me on a path to healing. Thank you Lord for taking my eyes off of my shortcomings and resting them on your grace, reminding me that I am your favored daughter who can delight herself in her father’s glory and consequently receive every desire of her heart.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

"No Excuses, Just Results"

“No excuses, just results.” That’s what I heard my fitness instructor say tonight in her insane style cardio class that I take a couple of times a week. As a woman who could make a lot of legitimate excuses not to show up at the gym, her words resonated more deeply than usual tonight. Maybe it’s because I’m finally beginning to really see my results. And I can’t appreciate my results without reflecting on this past season of my life.

When I set out on my fitness journey last June, I was in a dark place. Standing in the mirror, I didn’t like what I saw. The weight I packed on, seemingly overnight, was just a physical manifestation of the heaviness I had been carrying in my mind, in my heart, and in my life. Although it was over long before our final day in court, my marriage had officially ended. I completed a long first year in a new phase of my career, facilitating organizational rehabilitation/restoration. I have two sets of children and my baby in the first set (who doubled as an evening nanny to her brothers) moved away to conquer her first year of college. As if I didn’t have enough to be devastated about, the only grandparent I ever knew left earth in the first month of my new job. Still, I was forced to put my game face on, and whether it was subconscious or not, I was eating my pain. Lost in my brokenness, I was packing on the pounds to numb the grief, stress, and fatigue.

Here I was failing at life, drowning in the depths of my tears yet again. I have many sources of pride and gratitude, but none of those things seem to matter when grappling with the defeat of unrequited love. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I get this right? These are the questions that repeatedly tormented my conscience. To accompany them was the resounding voice of self deprecation, “No one is ever going to love you.” “You are damaged goods.” “How many times are you going to change your last name?” “How could you be so stupid?”

Shame can haunt you. Even when you know in every rational sense that your circumstances are not entirely your fault or that you are worthy of love and belonging. Encouraging words that might offer hope seem to float away on a distant life boat that you just can’t seem to reach when your head is under water in humiliation and distress. A great career offers no comfort in the bed you’re trying to adjust to sleeping in alone. The accomplishments of your children don’t stop the endless supply of the warm salty tears that involuntarily fall from your eyes in every still moment. The overwhelming fear that you just may end up facing life alone is palpable and daunting.

Yet, my boys needed breakfast, clean clothes, homework done, emails to teachers, field trip money, rides to and from school, and dinner. Ensuring that I protect my little guy with special needs from adults who want to label him and throw away his future before age five has proven to be a job in and of itself. Sliced and spread so thin… Still, the kids need to go to the doctor for that one obscure immunization they added to the list of requirements this year. I can’t leave out the glasses, the tuition, the braces, and the bills, and on and on and on and even though I am no stranger to a single mom’s mother load of prodigious shyt that has to be done, it all seemed so much heavier than before.

I won’t bring up what it means to be a black woman and chief executive of an organization when your personal life is in shambles behind the veil. As far as anyone can see, the results are excellent and things are looking up. Some how I was finding the strength to not only hold it together, but to slay giants left and right like it was easy work. God forbid I let on that I was struggling daily to get out of bed and just show up. I don’t know if I am capturing this well or not because I can’t list all of the new and improved impossible shyt that I lived through from 2017 through 2018. It was a lot, and staring at my body growing in the wrong direction was compounding my suffering.

Something pushed me to focus forward. January would bring my 41st birthday and the start of a new year. I decided in June that I needed to do something to change what I was looking at by January. No way was I going to look up six months from now and feel sorry for myself when I had six months to do something about it. Would it fix the divorce? No. Would it repair damage from years of poor decision making and financial sacrifice? No. Would it change the loneliness I felt at the end of every day? No, but at least I was tackling something. I had to start somewhere, and they tell you on the air plane to put your mask on first right?!

Without any guarantees of support, I signed up for my first challenge at the Well . It promised to provide a community of support that journeyed together over five weeks, including group fitness workouts and accountability check points. When it was over, I wasn’t there yet, but I kept going and signed up for the next challenge which promised more of the same with added structure over a longer period of time. At the end, I certainly saw some progress, but I wasn’t where I wanted to be so I kept going. The Well had become my daily escape, a sanctuary of sorts. My time there is non-negotiable. When we started our challenges, we identified our why or our reason for pressing on and seeing our commitments through to the end.

I was my why.

So here I sit, exactly seven days from my 41st birthday. I didn’t let any of the things I’ve shared stop me. I haven’t allowed the daily balancing act and scramble for help with evening childcare to throw me off course. Some how, God makes a way and even though some days I’m feeling my way around in the dark with a blindfold on, I have resolved that I will show up for me. I almost never feel like it. I almost always have emails to check and work to do, but they have to wait. For this small block of time in my day, I’m pouring into Garland because she’s all I’ve got, and I won’t be able to be anything for the people who love and need me, personally or professionally, if I don’t take care of her…apologetically.

Top pics are the end of my second challenge. Bottom pics are from June 2017.

So next week, I’m celebrating Garland. Happy birthday to me! Still imperfect and finding my way back to myself, but I’m closer than I was before. I’ve proven to myself that I can apply the sacrifice, discipline, focus, and determination that set my health on the right track, to fix the other areas of my life.

“No excuses, just results.”

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

Today! (January 16, 2019)

New Year, New You?

I woke up this morning thinking about a dear friend. Let’s call her Chelsea. Chelsea is the kind of person who changes a space simply by walking in the room. When you are in a dark space and light is shined, it is impossible not to notice. Chelsea radiates power, energy and strength. I love it! I know that whenever I sit down with her, I am going to walk away from our interaction empowered and energized to deal with…whatever. She naturally makes those people and things around her better.

Chelsea is married to a man who so obviously dims her light. They are currently separated, and when she has interactions with him, I watch her change. Her powerful energy shifts as she becomes angry and short-tempered. All of the influence she possesses gets swallowed up by the inadequacy that their relationship imposes. Momentarily, she loses focus of her intentions, and I watch this powerful light source become a fire, burning anything that comes in her path. She becomes hyper-critical, attacking the people, programs, and things I have watched her build up. Her view becomes negative and all of a sudden, she only sees what is wrong.

The most painful thing about watching Chelsea is knowing how often I have allowed myself to do the very same thing. I watch others do it as well, hinging our worth and perception on the love of one person/circumstance that we allow to define us or determine our value. We let go of our power, and we are reduced from a flowing faucet of talent, ideas, and solutions to one drip at a time barely covering our scope of influence. I woke up thinking that I needed to tell Chelsea what I see. I need to hold up a mirror and remind her how beautiful she is inside and out. I planned to make an explicit effort to affirm the light source she is to so many and reassure her about how much her presence matters in this world. More than anything I want her to know that she is worthy of a love that reciprocates her light.

And then I realized that I and many others likely need the same. It’s the most wonderful time of the year and in the next few days many of us will go about making new years resolutions in one form or another. We will join gyms and weight loss programs, vowing to create a new and better version of ourselves than has ever existed in our lifetimes. I think it’s great, and it is something I personally look forward to as a time to assess what I have accomplished and examine how close I did/did not come to realizing everything I set out to in the previous year. it’s a time I cherish spending with my children and any of my friends and family who decide to take us up on our invitation to join in.

As we/you endeavor though, I want you to remember to protect your energy. Your mental health and fitness is the vehicle by which you will or won’t do the things you aspire to. We must surround ourselves with people who lift, push, and encourage our best in all of the right ways. It is critical to whether or not you are mentally able to do, be, or have it. Dear I say to take stock of those who are closest to you as well. Often this is the energy that carries the most influence on your assessment of your worth and efficacy. It’s not that I think you should start evicting people from your life, but you may need to take a stand around how you allow them to impact who you are , who you become and consequently what you accomplish. Moreover, they influence the energy you bring to your spaces and circles of influence.

In 2019, I wish you all of what your heart desires. I personally aim to never lose hope in having every single thing Jesus died to give me access to—regardless of my mistakes and trials. I trust always and even more so now that God sees me, He loves me, and as long as I keep sticking this thing out with Him, He will make the desires of my heart real. His love is perfect and never waivers. I hope to love myself the way he commands me to in His word and as I situate myself in the right energy space, it spills over onto those I encounter.

I hope we/you will endeavor to find and protect YOU, your best YOU. The world needs YOU.

Keeping it real, true, and free…in 2019…and forever more,

Garland Darling

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Distracted From Greatness and Gratitude

As I sat down to digest and reflect my day, God met me in a state of self-pity and overwhelmed me with recognizing the manifestation of His GLORY, GRACE, and MERCY in my life. I opened my bible to Psalm 8 and found myself singing a praise song that stilled my soul, comforted my heart, and moved me to tears simultaneously.

Lord if I Find favor in Your sight, Lord please, Hear my hearts cry. I'm desperately waiting, To be where You are, I'll cross the hottest desert, I'll travel near or far. For Your glory. I will do anything. Just to see You. To behold You as my King…I want to be where you are…Peace is where you are…Joy is where you are…and Love is who you are…Everything I need is where you are… —Tasha Cobbs

Last night I stayed up late prepping for important meetings. I got no sleep, tossing and turning in anticipation of these two critical conversations. Consequently, I woke up in hives. I took some Benadryl and asked my cousin, Errol to drive me to take my boys to their respective schools and then drive me to work. I had a car accident last week, and I was afraid of being tired and getting groggy on the road (sleep deprived and on meds). I knew still had to show up and hold it down…in life…as always. This week I have been reflecting on the need to be positive and grateful despite my circumstances, yet it seemed, the more I focused there, the more my joy/peace was being attacked. Just to anchor myself in the magnitude of God’s goodness, I am going to blog on critical triumphs I am thankful to be experiencing.

My Cousin, Errol

Two weeks ago, I found myself listening to a message about TD Jakes about being Open to Better. In the message, Bishop Jakes talks about recognizing our humanity amidst our giftedness and the weight of the crosses we have to bear. I typically try to juggle it all with a smile while sometimes breaking down under the weight of it all privately, I could feel myself reaching a point of exhaustion and defeat in seeking to work to restore my health and manage my world of professional and personal responsibilities. The message convicted me to ask for help.

I expressed this to my cousin (without much detail) and within a week, he was on a plane from NYC. With the most humility and a servant’s heart, he has shown up to help me through this season. My words may fail to capture the blessing his presence and support has meant to me and my sons. In the message, Jakes encourages us to hold on. His words were, “Help is on the way!” Errol is a manifestation of God’s mindfulness of me. Because of him, I am no longer alone. Indeed, He made a way! Cousin, I love you as always, and I am thankful that God positioned you to be with me. Thank you for being there, for the laughs, the love, and the support. You are one of a kind.

Greatness, For His Glory

Since I was driven to work, I was without transportation. I couldn’t make it to the gym and my personal agenda was thrown for the day. This is where the beating myself up started. Despite all that I have been sacrificing long before the current challenge to reset/restore my physical health, I started self-deprecating about letting my team down. Lord knows, it was out of my control, so I had to accept this small defeat and not allow this to distract me from two amazing meetings.

One meeting was with district level leadership and one with a foundation. In both cases we reviewed the year and the ambitious/daunting goals we were faced with last year as well as this year’s strategy. In both cases we were showered with praise for climbing the mountains and defeating the giants that threatened the vitality of our organization successfully. I can’t count how many times I was told how critical my leadership. Why was I so quickly forgetting the power of what we accomplished last year?! In the first meeting, I was told that we were a model for materializing results through meaningful strategy. In the second, the founder/Patriarch of the foundation kissed my hand and told me, “We are so grateful for you. You are doing the Lord’s work…I’m here to help make this easier on you.” Truly, God has favored me yet again.

This man is an elder and a philanthropic giant. His act was completely endearing, genuine and encouraging. Initially, I was told he would not be in the meeting. One can visibly see his health changing, He is aging, but there he was with his cane and cheerful spirit telling me he made his way there because the progress of the school means so much to him. My respect and gratitude toward him continues to abound. The work his family does is heartfelt and humbling. God gifted me with his presence today. Watching him made me think of my grandmother, who I lost last year when I started the work. I was blessed by the opportunity to share time with him, choosing to endure with concern for others above the challenges of his physical limitations.

God has saw fit to surround me with a community of support as I walked through divorce, feeling like I was yet again in the valley of the shadow of death. He walked with me, keeping his word and showing up so powerfully in my work and our results—against EVERY ODD. In all that I do, I invite God to glorify himself. I want to always acknowledge that it is indeed in Him that I have my being. He continues to see and bring about the best in me. Apart from His grace, I am nothing. To God be the glory for his faithfulness.

It is impossible to know where I come from, what I have been through and not weep at the wonder of every victory he uses me to pull off. I’m a ghetto girl who had three children before I turned twenty-one. If you name the social program or “WELFARE”, I have been on it. I have lived in poverty as a child and as a mother, but it was only for a season. I want to always connect with that young girl in my past who was insecure, carrying shame and a low self-esteem as I climbed with hope for a better future. He is mine, and I am completely His. Faith is the substance of things hoped for and while I may not be where I want to be, I am FAR from where I used to be. I know what it feels like to be broken, to be written off, over-looked, and counted out.

So, before I walk forward and leave this harvest behind me, I want to stop and smell these roses. We frequently rush past the compliments and good things to downplay the giftedness he has instilled in us. Tonight I am lifting and glorifying my Father for staying married to me in every stage/season of my life. If it had not been for the Lord on my side, I would be telling a different story. Because of Him, I am not a statistic. Because of Him, I am determined to encourage and serve others. He holds me, lifts my head, and catches every tear. In Him, I am assured that better days are ahead, and the desires of my heart will be fulfilled.

There is so much to my story and even more I could say. However, I want to focus on the blessings I have been endowed with and allowed to experience. I will not allow the enemy to distract me from the overwhelming hand of God on my life. I go forth choosing and declaring that THIS IS MY SEASON!!! I want to encourage YOU to continue to speak life, health, and prosperity over yourself and your situation. More importantly, don’t you dare give up!!!

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

Why Is Everyone So Angry?! (At Work)

Today a leader asked me, “Why is everyone so angry?!” in reference to her team. After thinking on it, I decided to remind her that the staff’s morale/countenance is a reflection of her leadership. They are reflecting what they perceive/receive from leadership. I don’t think she has negative intentions toward her team, so how does it happen that your staff is not as happy as you would like them to be?

In some cases, this happens because leaders at the top are passive/indifferent about taking authority for the climate in their organization. There may be adult bullies who negatively impact morale and go unchecked. This can mask itself in the most seemingly dedicated and well-meaning professionals. Sometimes it happens because leaders, whether knowingly or otherwise, comfortably limit their communication and interactions to a select group of folks who feed/reinforce them and generally agree with whatever they say. It can be a tough pill to swallow that health flows from the top down or that there are no such thing as bad teams, only bad leaders.

 Whatever you want to see in those you lead, should be modeled and positively reinforced by their leader. Equally important is dealing with behaviors that you don’t want to see. Through explicit expectations on behavior and fair performance management systems, it should be crystal clear to people what kind of behaviors/attitudes are welcomed to thrive on your team. Your hiring processes need to ensure that interview questions and activities, examine character. Good results and impressive credentials should score a big fat zero if a person negative, nasty, and doesn’t play nicely with others. It’s a drain on the energy and effort that your organization/team needs to be great.

 In sum, protecting your people and your climate are vital to your success. Include them at the forefront of your strategy.

Keeping it real true and free,

Garland Darling

Get Up Ten! →

One of my favorite songs out right now from the artist, Cardi B., has a line in it that goes, "When life knocks you down nine times, get up ten!" God knows I have been knocked down by life since I came into this world, but to God be the glory. He has put a fighting spirit in this Brooklyn girl. Every time I get up from the pavement, I'm stronger and more determined. 

As a leader, I have been asked whether I am a visionary or a strategist. My answer is always both. I can see where I need to go, draw the road map, and execute a winning strategy to get there. I prove this again and again professionally, but most importantly, I have lived this. My God given and ignited talent has carried me on a journey that is hard to believe myself at times. Growing up on the impoverished streets of East New York, continuing through the struggles of overcoming the odds against a teen mom and high school dropout, and arriving where I am today, took His gifts of vision, strategy, and an indomitable spirit. 

Self-reflection and awareness have been critical on my journey. I'm an INTJ (MBTI Personality Type...google it), so I do a lot of thinking and talking in my head. My biggest point of reflection and lever as a leader is holding up a mirror. It is the truth about yourself that sets you free. I have to ask Garland, "Who are you being?" on a regular basis. Are the words of your mouth (the content, not the diction--my God is bigger than cuss words) and the meditations of your heart acceptable to the God who has created, loved, and brought you where you are?  How and in who are you investing your time? Are you making a positive difference and being a good shepherd/steward to the people God has placed in your life?  Are you equally happy to give as you are to receive?

These questions are a gut check, and I have found that they become most necessary when I am betrayed; when people repay me evil for good, and when those I have poured into make time to laugh and mock my pain. My mother told me all my childhood, "Revenge belongs to God." And my bible reassures me no weapon that is formed against me shall prosper and every tongue that rises against me will be proven wrong. This inheritance of God's servants reflects an unconditional love and favor. t's not about me. It's about the God IN me.

Judge me according to my fruit. I have lots. I am gifted in ways I cannot measure. In all things, my prayer is and has been for God to glorify Himself in whatever I lay my hands to. Whether I am at a speaking engagement, talking to students, or mentoring leaders, I invite him to increase in all of His might and perfection, as I decrease. I don't seek the stage, it finds me. This too aligns with His word that says, "Do good in secret and I will reward you openly." My God is real. He sustains me. Nothing that I go through is in vain. Every fall  has lessons and prepares me for higher heights.

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So how do you respond to hate?  How do you respond to people who speak Jesus and wear their own robe of righteousness (judging and condemning others while blind to themselves)?  You give them to God. You pray for them, and you turn that bright light that you shine up just little bit brighter. That's right. One of my best big sister girlfriends schooled me long ago, "The best revenge is living well." You choose to smile anyway.

We live in a society where people regularly engage in hateful activity (gossiping and devising the hurt/loss/pain of others--one of the very behaviors that God proclaimed to hate and is an abomination unto him) and expect to be blessed. We live in a world where people are ungrateful and justify their sin in glass houses while throwing stones at their brethren. We are amidst a time when the leader of the free world mocks a woman's right to live and work in the peace, respect, and security of her body and sexuality. But Glory to God, we overcome evil with GOOD!

People will smile in your face and drink in celebration of what they perceive to be a downfall. Meanwhile, you are being set up for your NEXT come up. Join me as a Sky Walker, and commit to living your best life. Be grateful for all of the love God has surrounded you with. I am met with love, support, and reassurance at every turn. My children are well, and they are blessed. I'm dreaming up Chapter 41 and the blessings ahead with the eager anticipation of a child waiting to open their gifts on Christmas morning.

Real friends share a foundation of love. You want the best for one another, and you make each other better. It's like Bey and Jay, "What would I be without my friends?!" They do indeed pray for me, and I for them. I'm realizing more and more that the healing is in love and service to others. I can close my eyes completely assured that I am burying no talents. I'm leaving no dreams deferred. He promised us that even when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, he is with us. Whether you are in a season of humility or abundance, you are STILL his. 

So, let's make this toast to Him preparing a table before us in the presence of our enemies and our frenemies. Cheers to Him anointing our heads with oil and our cups running over--despite our haters! Work hard, have fun, and LIVE!!! This is His gift to us! He is the joy and rejoicing of our souls, and he has empowered us to fellowship and help each other up--whether by words, means, or example. 

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

“Those too lazy to plow in the right season will have no food at the harvest. Though good advice lies deep within the heart, a person with understanding will draw it out. Many will say they are loyal friends, but who can find one who is truly reliable?”

— ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭20:4-6‬ ‭NLT‬‬ http://bible.com/116/pro.20.4-6.nlt

Go For It, Mommy!

I remember sitting in the office with my boss as I shared my decision to resign after being passed over for a position in leadership I believed I had earned. Ultimately, it was not my company to run, and I was not their choice, which left me with a decision to make, according to my values, my worth, and the professional investment I made in the seven years I contributed to the development, growth, and success of their institution. My words were, “I have to act with the courage that I would want my daughters to act with if/when they find themselves in this situation. I need to be their example of self-worth and faith.”

It wasn’t easy to walk away. There was time, relationships, and the credibility of working for an organization that had now become considered a leader of excellence in my field, and I would lose them with the choice to leave. However, I knew in my heart that I busted my ass like none other in my role. Maybe I didn’t market my success enough. Perhaps, I was too quiet about the constant hurdles I encountered and overcame. Didn’t they see the blood, sweat, and tears it required for me to compete with peers who seemed to have nearly every aspect of their operations so much easier?  Founding that institution pushed and tried me to be strategic and tactical in ways I didn’t know I could, but I was foolish enough to think that my merit and my performance would be enough when it was time to be considered for “moving up”. They were not, and I was heartbroken. Still, I had no choice about choosing to be brave…once again.

…

My advancement in the field of education was born out of necessity. I was in the classroom for three years before taking steps to pursue a position in administration. I was born a leader, and I was enrolled in an excellent graduate program to support my education and advancement. That said, my pace was very much a personal and financially motivated decision. There I was newly divorced, earning a teaching salary, and depending on child support from my ex-husband. I needed that support to survive and pay our bills. It wasn’t extra, and it only took one time for me to experience the good old “the check is in the mail” (that never came), resulting in my rent check bouncing, before I realized that I needed a plan to increase my income and enable me to take care of my girls.

I wasn’t like most young professionals. I had my first child at 16, married at 19, and graduated from college with three little ducklings waddling behind me as I set out on this adventure to become “successful”. I quickly learned that I would not be able to depend on anyone but myself if we were going to make it. I needed more money and fast. The program I was in allowed us to take courses at our own pace, so I structured my schedule to knock out the classes I would need to obtain a “Type 75” or administrative license which would make me eligible for higher paying jobs. Jumping on the expressway immediately after work and making treks to Chicago for evening classes made me absent most nights as my girls were left to fend for themselves though their evening routine. I sat them down and had a mature conversation with them, “Mommy is not going to be here every day after school anymore…we are making a sacrifice over the short term for a long-term gain.”

My girls have always been my biggest cheerleaders and we worked together to communicate and ensure that their homework and chores were executed in my absence. They were responsible and supportive, and just like I had in college, I would share with them about what I was learning and my grades to set a standard for growth and excellence. After completing the courses and an administrative internship with my current principal, I was ready. I went on a string of interviews that would teach me quickly about how easy it was not to move up the ladder in administration. My first interview for an Assistant Principal job turned out to be a disaster. I mean, I didn’t think so, but I quickly learned that the Principals who were hiring were not in search of any innovative genius. “Garland!”, my mentor said as though he was dismayed and exasperated by the feedback he received from one of his colleagues I interviewed with.

He chuckled to himself as he struggled to find the right words to coach me without destroying my confidence, “I get it that you’re going to be my boss one day. They said you interviewed like it was for the superintendent position! He said you were like Oprah unchained! They just want a work horse!” I could tell he was frustrated, but he was still very supportive. I realize how fucked up that exchange was coming from a white male who was relaying feedback from another white male, but I won’t digress. I was on a mission, and I was going to achieve it. If dumbing it down was going to get me the money I needed to take care of my family, I was going to figure it out. He continued to leverage his connections to get me in the door for interviews and eventually I landed a gig as an Assistant Principal.

Now it was time to go to my girls with the news that I had gotten the job that was going to be our first step off the struggle bus. We were sitting in our kitchen and their eyes beamed with excitement for me as I shared my newfound success. The bad news was having to explain that this meant we would be moving. They would have to change schools, leave their friends, and learn a new community and routine. They were un-jolted, “Go for it, mommy!” One by one they proclaimed their unwavering support and let me know that they were down for me come what may.

That was our first, but as my success increased, there would be more tough talks and decisions to come. Administration was more demanding of my time and required me to be missing in action. We had a pact about school functions and events that I would normally be present at without question, “I won’t always be able to come to everything your school has, but I will always be there when it counts.” There have been many times in my career when I have felt pressure or guilt about being a working mom and believed I was failing to satisfy their need of my presence, but every time I approached my girls with these feelings, they pushed me. “You have to be who you were meant to be, Mom! I am proud of you and everything you do, and I brag about my mom to my friends. You show me that I can do anything I put my mind to, and I would never want you not to do something because you feel bad about us,” my oldest daughter led the pack with that mindset.

…

More than being a mother, I have learned over the years that I am their example as a (black) woman. My drive is not just an inspiration to my children but to many women I know. The leaps of faith and seemingly impossible feats I have taken on encourage other women that they too can be whatever their heart desires in their respective fields and endeavors. It has been nearly twenty years since I entered my field, and my girls are in college now. I watch them taking on life, pursuing their heart’s desires, and making things happen. Now, they make me proud and they give me more courage and reassurance that I did the right thing that day and throughout their childhood journey.

I had a responsibility to them and to myself to say, “No, thank you.” I will not stick around for a job that is willing to overlook me after I have slayed dragon after dragon in their honor. I will decide my own fate, and I believe that the ability and the talent God has given me to succeed here will work where ever I go. So…to any woman who might be stuck at an impasse, deciding whether or not to believe in herself, I give you the advice my daughters gave to me. The advice that has become my professional mantra, Go for it! Believe in yourself. Take the leap.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

Photo Credit from Rita Williams-Garcia's Book "One Crazy Summer"

Run For Your Life!!!!

So I was texting with a friend today and she informed me that a mutual acquaintance had recently died. As our conversation went on she shared about some letters this woman left behind to a man (she devoted years of her life to). The letters were about the ways he let her down. She shared, "He really hurt her. The letters she wrote were written so well. She described what he promised and what he did not deliver..." Of course, I feel sadness for her, but it made me reflect about the state of my life and the recent end of my third marriage. That is correct. I have been married and divorced a whopping THREE TIMES, and stories like this reinforce my decisions to walk away.

This woman was once a star athlete who got entangled with the wrong guy, and five children later, he married another woman--one of the many women he cheated with and had a dozen other children with during their courtship. Their ongoing interactions lowered her to a drug addiction and domestic violence arrests among a world of other events and circumstances I care not to go into further detail about. As I went on to think about her and this experience, I realized that while it is undoubtedly a sad story, no man is responsible for the hell you allow him to take you to/through.

Sure there is the initial shock of learning that someone you have opened your heart to is not who you thought they were; however, once someone shows you who they are, if you continue on with the relationship, you are not their victim. You are a victim of yourself. Like her, I too invited men in my life who hurt me, and I am responsible for the time that I allowed their lies, deceit, and abuse to continue. We have to take responsibility for the pain we cause ourselves when we choose not to let go and move on. I can not reasonably be mad at any man for the time I wasted.

In order to prevent the repetition of this cycle of brokenness, I had to own the fact that I undervalued myself and made poor decisions. I now know for sure that I had no business marrying those men. I ignored the warning signs and stayed in the bad relationships anyway. It was my choice to marry men who had demonstrated that they were liars and cheaters. The best predictor of future behavior is current/past behavior. They did not trick me. They behaved in a manner that was consistent with who they always were. I will not deny anyone the right to change for the better or improve in the future but this is who they were at that time.

I was a victim of my own low self esteem and lack of self worth--period. When I took myself to counseling demanding to know, "What is wrong with me?!" I was looking for answers around why I continued to perpetuate this destructive pattern in my life with unworthy men, so we did the work.

Here are some of the lessons I learned.

-I'm a visionary. I look at most people and situations and see potential. This character trait does not work with dating and marriage. You must accept people for who they are. If they grow and change for the better, great, but if they never change a single behavior in the now, they are not worthy. I will no longer date/marry for potential. No more projects.

-My coding/definition/understanding of love was broken. I have a wonderful father. He loves and adores me to this day; however, when I was growing up, he had some personal struggles that impacted his behavior toward his family. I grew up in a very toxic environment. While he did say and send messages of how beautiful, smart, and brilliant I was almost daily. There were days and times where I was physically, emotionally, and verbally violated in ways that no little girl should ever experience. It taught me that love hurts and sends mixed messages.

-In addition to these traumatic and volatile experiences, I learned from my mother to tolerate it and stick around well past the expiration date. Abuse and disrespect were standard in our home, When I grew up, I allowed men to treat me as though my own needs for love, belonging, and well-being did not matter. I continued her pattern. I too stayed in relationships when I should have cancelled Christmas on those ninjas as soon as they showed their asses. 

Hurting people hurt people. I am not mad at my dad or my mom. They both have/had their issues of childhood trauma to overcome that contributed to their dysfunction, and I know with every fiber of my being that they never intended to do harm. Despite the tragedy of my childhood experiences, they are not responsible for any of what I went through. In order to heal and break the cycle though, I had to find the root causes of the mess I was creating in my life. The same is true for the men who have hurt me. They likely had bad coding and issues that impact(ed)/perpetuate(d) their behaviors. 

I learned the hard way through some costly lessons that there are financial, emotional, and physical consequences for not heading for the hills at the first sign of foolishness. Do I have regret?  Of course, but I also have wins. I have five beautiful children who anchor me and bring me the greatest joy and pride I have ever known. There is no love like being a mother, and I am grateful to have wonderful children despite past pain. We love each other unconditionally, and I pray that despite any dysfunction they may have witnessed, they have also watched me choose me, dust myself off and keep moving forward. They know that I am human, and I make mistakes. We have long since adopted Brene Brown's Parenting Manifesto.

Have I felt shame?  Yes, indeed. I have heard the jokes and talk about how many times I have changed my last name. I have had "friends" say hurtful things like, "Garland, you must be crazy...you know people don't know when they're crazy!" Yeah, I'm crazy...like a fox ;o). My clap back for that is I've been married three times. You need to figure out why you can't seem to do it once--with the side eye and head tilt we love to give when saying "I was waitin' on you at the door!" Don't come for me--lol.

I have no hard feelings toward love and marriage. I'm a grown ass woman, and love and marriage are not to blame for my circumstances. Like Celie said in the Color Purple, "...Dear God, I'm here!" I'm determined to live my best life, and I hope you are too. Shame and fear will not rule or ruin me. I have learned to choose my pain. I can choose the pain of remaining in a dead situation or choose the pain of leaving . One of them heals with time. When I leave this world, I will not be writing any letters that give a man credit for the state of my health and affairs.

Real love does not hurt. As Oprah put it in her book What I Know For Sure, "Real love feels good. Not just some of the time but most of the time. It should involve bringing all of who you are to the table and walking away with even more." Whoever has the honor of loving me in the future and having me as his wife, will do right by me because I now know that it is my responsibility to require it--no exceptions. I wish you healing and wholehearted love, starting with that which you give yourself. Choose to forgive and live.

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

The Dirty "D" Word

I was checking out at Wal-Mart this week, and this magazine caught my eye. I purchased a copy because I feel connected to the title and the people on the cover. I too struggle with depression. I am no expert on the subject. I just live with it, and I battle with the weight that it carries sometimes daily. I am undoubtedly blessed and no where near as known or successful as Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain were, but I can imagine that the burden to hide your pain becomes heavier with their degree of success. 

Contrary to what some may believe, success is not an eraser for your human condition. Achievement can be a mask that gets forced upon you by people who admire you and mean well. However, a great career or a lucrative financial position does not change the fact that depression is still there and its affects very real. I am not sure why sadness gets such a bad rap. Disney Pixar nailed this in their movie "Inside Out". It is a must see--even (maybe especially) for adults. Sadness is a legitimate human emotion, and it serves a purpose. Perhaps creating safe(r) spaces for people to be honest will prevent their suffering from lasting in ways that take them to such detrimental extremes. Our ignorance about the reality and intensity of the pain caused by depression has to end to prevent sadness from deepening into despair and isolation.

It has taken me some years to get to the place I am now. A place where I tell the truth about my pain regardless of the judgement that can follow when you answer questions like, "How are you..." honestly. I thank God for the courage that enables me to let those around me know when I am not doing okay. Still, there are spaces where being guarded and pretending to have everything under control are prerequisites for being considered respectable and sane.  I am not mentally ill because of my depression, and I reject that label. That label may be responsible for the negative stigmas we have recently begun to challenge as a society in response to the tremendous losses we are undergoing. Robin Williams' suicide had to be one of the hardest for me to swallow.

Who did not love Robin Williams?!  In my eyes, he will remain among the best to ever do this life. The laughs and the hope his work brings about will live in infamy. Still, he died broken and alone. How does this happen?  But for my faith and my personal coping mechanisms, sadly, I know exactly how... A 1-800 number should not be the only place where we allow people to tell the truth--without judgement.

The worst part about the condemnation that can follow speaking truth is that it typically comes from people who believe they care about you. No matter how low I may find myself, I know how important it is to watch my mouth about the extent of the torture I may be experiencing mentally and emotionally. Whether it is in a doctor's office where they stop in the middle of a rushed triage to awkwardly recite their lines, "I have to ask you this...have you had thoughts of hurting yourself..." Sometimes it seems unclear whether or not they truly give a damn, but we all know why we hesitate to answer those question honestly--for fear of being slammed with serious repercussions--the freedom snatching, institutionalizing kind. The silencing is not much different when you are chatting with a friend who claps back with an audible sigh and eye roll that you can see through the phone, seeming to say, "Get over it already..." Even worst is the well-meaning person of faith who insists that "This too shall pass..." 

As a person who lives and battles with this condition, I beg to differ. Certainly there are times when the load is much easier to carry, and there are any number of ways you can distract yourself from emotional pain (some healthy...others not so much), but clinical depression does not just pass. You can't work it off or pray it away.  I liken the looming cloud of sadness that can sometimes follow you to the tormenting of John Nash, a man experiencing schizophrenia, in the movie "A Beautiful Mind". Despite the agony, I have learned to put a number of things and people in play in an effort to keep the waves of depression from overwhelming me. That said, there are times when I need to feel my sadness to heal through some hurtful season or event in my life.

Let's face it, some shyt is just sad and it is healthy (not ill) to process your pain. Losing loved ones, divorcing, being rejected, betrayal, failing, or facing an illness that is attacking your body and limiting your quality life hurts. It just does. These things can leave us broken in ways that only time will make bearable. I am so over people acting like there is something wrong with acknowledging your wounds. Do you have to let them own you, name you, or control you?  No, but one should not be expected to pretend to be all fixed up despite being ran over by a proverbial 16 wheeler, when try as they may, they will never be exactly the same again.

It is unfair to tell people that they are unworthy of happiness and belonging UNTIL/UNLESS they go somewhere and get perfect. Is it possible that the connection they would receive from unconditional love will help them heal?   Even if you choose not to believe the latter for yourself, you don't have the right to judge/reject people who do and force them into being deemed incomplete, unhealthy, wrong, or bad. Their belief is just different than yours, and aren't we entitled to our own?  Brene Brown has a cartoon on how to empathize with people that everyone should watch. Rather than making one another feel ashamed or inadequate, we can learn how to empathize, sincerely. Loving and accepting one another as we are might just be the answer to realizing the peace we are searching for.

I have decided to share some of the ways I navigate my depression. First and foremost, I own it. Denial benefits no one. I have theories about the root of my depression (childhood trauma, abuse, etc.). Figuring out how or where negative coding may have taken place, can help with reprogramming and silencing internal negativity. But you don't have to feel guilty if you don't know, and you should not be compelled to lie about any part of who you are. Everybody has a story, and everybody is dealing with something. Pay attention to the channel you are on, and when things get gloomy and doomy, depending on the severity, you can borrow any/all of these strategies to change the station.

-The people who love me know I battle depression. My children know, my family knows, and my close friends know. They don't judge. They listen. They check on me, and they come around to help me feel better. You have to tell the people who love you what you are struggling with so that they can recognize your smoke signals and respond when necessary. 

-I have a group of prayer partners I can text on a whim (without explanation or nosey questioning). I feel their prayers lifting me almost immediately when I make a request, but I have to be willing to communicate. My text may be as simple as, "Hey, I'm feeling low. Will you pray for me?" 

-I watch funny movies and comedians who help me laugh at my pain. Laughter is medicine.

-I exercise in ways that I enjoy. No matter how sluggish or rebellious I may feel at the start of a workout. I always feel better in the end. When you exercise, your body releases endorphins. Endorphins interact with the receptors in your brain that reduce your perception of pain. They also trigger a positive feeling within the body. It helps to find something you actually like doing. There is something, find it.

-At work, I turn on Pandora's Motown Station in my office (insert any upbeat genre of music that gives you good feels).

-Sometimes I cry it out and talk about my feelings with trusted folks. You can do this with a therapist or a life coach. A dear friend's grandmother used to tell us when we were much younger, you get 24 hours to feel bad and then we need to come up with a plan/solution together. Having another person to help you process and plan is critical when your mind/emotions can mislead you in the wrong state.

-I have a friend who is gentle, yet firm, and she is great at telling me the truth if/when I am processing my feelings the wrong way or just getting carried away in a storm of negativity, entitlement or self pity. She helps me see myself and what I may be contributing to a relationship or situation I am deeming negative.

-Slowing down helps when you need to. There are days/seasons when I deliberately take things one day at a time or one moment at a time. Do your best, rest, and start over when you need to. 

-I have a list of audio books saved on my phone that I can play in the car or listen to anywhere with uplifting messages (Oprah's What I Know for Sure;  Brene's The Gifts of Imperfection; and the list goes on). There are great podcasts, Ted Talks, and ministries that can do the trick as well. Bishop TD Jakes has a two part series on dealing with depression. I'm sure it's on you tube by now--lol. Faith comes by hearing...

-I go to my doctor and get a prescription when I feel stuck and I need help to get going or take the edge off things.  There is nothing wrong with seeking medical intervention. Don't give in to stereotypes about taking medication. They can find something that works for you, and it usually doesn't take much.

-I make time to express my truth creatively, read books for pleasure, and do other things I enjoy. Puppies and babies are cute, but they are also a lot of work. If you need a fix, visit a pet shop or a nursery in need of volunteers.

-I worship, pray, and meditate.

-I rest when I am tired.

-I say no to things I don't enjoy doing or just don't want to do. 

-I avoid negative people and situations like the plague. Protecting your space and the energy you allow in is not optional. I remove myself from environments that drain or hurt me.

-I post written messages to myself in my car, in my bedroom, and in my office. One of my favorites this past year is a quote and important reminder from Alexandra Elle:

"You deserve to be in spaces and relationships that make you happy; that feed your soul and help you grow. You are worthy of connections that are loving, nourishing and genuine. Before you settle for anything less than, remind yourself that the places you visit and people you journey through life with should make you feel safe, loved, and enough."

-I watch "The Secret". It's on Netflix, and I have it on audio book as well.

-I hold myself accountable for communicating my feelings, and I invite others to repair any damage they may have caused when it makes sense. I strive to be reflective and take responsibility for the role I play(ed) in any given circumstance. However, I no longer believe that being abused, undervalued, or overlooked is an ask from God. If it is, it is not my ministry. I have can and do freely forgive, but forgiving someone does not mean they get a license to keep hurting me and recycling pain that demeans my self worth. Some people have to be loved from a distance, so I ask God to bless them...away from me.

-When I see someone struggling with depression. I address it. I will never forget inviting a teacher into my office as a principal and closing the door for a "check-in". She sat before me weeping, and it was obvious that she was not in a good place. Before leaving, I had her call her doctor and make an appointment. Despite the obvious emotional meltdown she was having in front of her boss, she initially resisted and wanted me to accept the okie doke "I'm okay." Which, I refused. Clearly, she was not okay, and we both knew it. Years later, she thanked me and shared about how that day was a positive turning point in her life and career. She was beaming and presenting as a whole new woman. We have to make time to care about people, and sometimes those of us who know this pain are best suited to recognize it and extend a hand that says, "It's okay that you're not okay. I love you, and we can do something about this together."

Some of these things may seem simple, but they have the potential to be life-altering. Through all of them, I practice and affirm love toward Garland (myself). There are no magic bullets for depression, but I hope these things can help a person in need. Even when I am depressed, I know for sure that I am enough. I am a whole person, and I am worthy of having love reciprocated. I know that God loves me as I am because of who He is, and I will allow no one to take His love and acceptance from me. The same is true for you! You are a divine creation, beautifully and wonderfully made. You are not alone, and you are worth it (it= whatever you need to do, spend, or invest to feel better and journey forward)! 

Keeping it real, true, and free,

Garland Darling 

What is the best way to ease someone's pain and suffering? In this beautifully animated RSA Short, Dr Brené Brown reminds us that we can only create a genuine empathic connection if we are brave enough to really get in touch with our own fragilities.

Gone But Not 4Gotten...For A Little While Anyway...

There's this place I go to when I find out that another child/young adult has been gunned down in the streets of Chicago. Time and experience have taught me to take myself into a pattern of deep slow breathing and allow the tears to fall slowly. I have to pace myself to avoid falling into a black hole of grief that I can't climb out of. It's my way of not letting my feet slip into the cement blocks of depression from being blindsided by the pain of suffering another loss. I chose this title because it's true. After the vigils, after the tears, and after the brief mentions in the Chicago newspapers, everyone returns to their routines. Whether it's Parkland or Chicago, the noise eventually dies down and life seems to turn to business as usual...for some. Yesterday a member of a family I hold dear was murdered. It hurts, and I'm trying to make sense of it. Making a post on social media helped to express what I was feeling, but it doesn't change the reality that more... will die... this weekend and even more this summer. We know it, but are we really doing anything about it?  My opinion is that we are not.

Don't get me wrong. I realize that this may come off as a sweeping indictment. I expect it to anger the people who believe they truly care for "these/those kids".  It's just that I want us to care enough to stop it. I mean like end it. I want us to care as if our own babies are at risk for having their life snuffed out at any moment. I have high expectations for this city, our state, and our country. I applaud those people who are taking on the issues in real time and working to create meaningful solutions that address the myriad of layers here. Still, for the life of me, I can't understand how we have the resources to dig men out of hidden caves in foreign countries in the middle of the night, but as it relates to the little black bodies piling up in the city morgue, expressing sadness and apologizing is somehow sufficient. The sense of urgency that would make us take swift and aggressive action to take these guns out of the hands of senseless killers is missing. 

There are a wealth of other issues crying out in the communities that are afflicted with these tragedies; however, the time it will take to ease the affects of mental illness, failing schools, absent fathers, unemployment, etc. does not address the crises happening in North Lawndale, Englewood, and the like. Even the "data-driven" policing I heard about recently does not deal with the root cause of the climbing death toll. Did you know Chicago's murder rates/numbers exceed New York's and LA's combined?  It's jolting right?  BUT if "the actual proves the possible", then it may also be promising. If we did something about it there, we can do something about it here in Chicago. I do wonder if Chicago's sophisticated segregation of the haves from the have nots (which also compartmentalizes racial groups), is what contributes to the lack of movement to end this?

You know where the guns and the shooters are. You know who is delivering them. Stop all of it. I tend to be extreme in my thinking. I will acknowledge that up front. America needs to get her house in order before we spend another dime/minute sweeping around other peoples' front doors. We all know these global interventions (aka hostile take overs) are just a  disguise for our interests in controlling natural resources in other countries, but I digress... Charity begins at home, and while I applaud our efforts to be leaders in global citizenship, I also think it's time out for acting crazy. We've all heard that definition of insanity about doing the same thing repeatedly...

Newsflash:

It's not working.

The horse is dead.

The emperor is naked.

Not one of us would voluntarily commit the life of our child while we waited for local officials to figure things out, so let's stop asking poor black people to do it. It's bull shit, and y'all know how I feel about bull shit. One more child IS too many. I don't want to hold another mother weeping over the senseless murder of her son. There is no comfort for her. How do you answer a mother who expresses that she doesn't want to let her baby be forgotten in her helpless state of despair? Grappling with this is a part of the job description for many educators and leaders in the city of Chicago, and I know I can speak for many in saying we are tired and in over our heads. 

In 2014, I buried one of my babies, an upstanding student at a high school I founded. Our school community was left devastated and robbed. In my state of grief, I expressed that I did not care if it took martial law to avoid another mother/father having to put their baby in the ground. I was attacked in the media which is fair. We live in a free country where everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but come on now. There is a time and a place for everything. I bring that up to ask though. How many more children have been murdered since December 2014?  I just wonder how all of the parents and families of those who have had to see their loved one carted off in a black bag might feel about that. I'm not saying martial law is the solution, but cool out if you don't have one that is going to immediately eradicate this issue. 

Those of us with the resources may very well have our children tucked away safely in neighborhoods or suburbs that significantly decrease the likelihood of them being shot down in the streets--infants and toddlers are not exempt. However, that does not change our civic duty and responsibility to solve this problem. We are too smart and too capable to continue pretending that we can't figure out a way to change these murder trends. Let's just pretend your child was at risk and could be next...

Keeping real, true, and free,

Garland Darling

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