Tasmanian Tiger

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm a problem solver. I love puzzles, brain teasers, sudoku, cross words, you name it. I get them emailed or downloaded to my phone. So my teaser of the day was, "Even though the Tasmanian Tiger is classified as a carnivore, why doesn't it eat meat?" And even though I didn't know anything about the Tasmanian Tiger, the answer immediately popped into my head that if it's not doing what it's classified to do, it must be extinct. I was right.

I'm not writing that to brag about how I solved the teaser, I'm writing because it made me wonder, "How many of us could be considered extinct simply because we're not doing what we were made to do or called to do?". Whether it's ministry or a job done well or simply the role you play in a loved one's life, are you extinct? Could someone believe you must not exist because you didn't show up when they needed you? Are you missing from your post? Are you using your gifts to the fullest? Just something I'm going to ponder today and thought I'd share...

Ask. Think. Marvel.

When my girlfriends and I get together there is usually a "hairstory" among us. Sometimes we laugh sometimes we cry. I recently had the unfortunate experience of hearing about something so dreadfully soul stealing regarding a young black woman and the thoughtless words she endured over her hair. And at 3am this is what poured from my heart. So I dedicate this poem to every black woman who has a hairstory.

Ask. Think. Marvel.

When you touch a black woman's hair you touch her soul.
It is a privilege and intimacy that for now only my hairdresser has,
and only three times a year.
Ask.

When you touch a black woman's hair you are touching her strength
and her vulnerability.
Her strength which lifts her head and presses her chin to the sun,
her crown gleeming therein, and yet the vulnerability that can also
be used to hold her back when thoughtless words hurt and aim to destroy.
Think.

When you touch a black woman's hair you are touching her legacy-
the faces of the men and women which tell the story of her blood
and every curl, kink, or nap in her heritage.
Marvel.

When you touch a black woman's hair, whether with words, your hands, or your stares,
you are touching her soul.
Ask.
Think.
Marvel.