Whooping

I have had three whoopings in my life.  My Aunt Linda gave me one of them.  When you are as sweet as I was, they really are not necessary.  Ask my Aunt Gail.  She will tell you that I was the most well-behaved cousin in my generation.  I followed the rules.  And I also got EVERYTHING that I wanted.  No tantrums needed.  I asked.  They complied.

My soul was crushed the day that Aunt Linda whooped me.  Did she not understand that I was a sweet angel?  Maybe the family hadn’t gone over the rule book with her.  But you do not whoop sweet angels.  I know she was frustrated with me.  And I was so mad at her.  I still remember it more than thirty years later.

See, if you haven’t ever had a real whooping, you will not understand why I was so upset.  A real whooping causes you to sob.  Not cry.  No….when you get a real whooping, you do not immediately make a sound.  You are so shocked by the pain that you take a long drawn in breath.  Everybody around you knows what that means.  The only sound in the room is the whooping.  And people brace themselves for the cry that is going to come.  They KNOW it’s going to be loud.

I know I sobbed on the day that she whooped me.  I felt betrayed.  If it takes a village to raise a child, my family took that sentiment to heart.  I was raised by a village and Aunt Linda was a big part of the village.  Her home was my home.  If she had something, that meant that I had it too.  She was a teacher at the daycare center that I attended.  When we were at the daycare center, I called her Ms. Sumpter.  When we were at home, I called her mom.  She never corrected me.  Because she was one of my moms.

When Tomica died, we were all devastated.  Crushed.  Shocked.  Confused.  Handling business.  Making phone calls.  Trying to put the pieces back together.  I told her I would call her every day just like Tomica had.  Just to check in.  To see how she was doing.  To gossip about family.  Or even just to be quiet together in our grief.  Some days, she answered my calls.  Other days, she would not.

My Aunt Linda was much like her daughter, Tomica.  Well actually, Tomica was much like Aunt Linda.  They did not often verbally say that they loved you.  They just showed you.  You knew.  I was leaving Aunt Linda’s house after Tomica died.  I made sure I was out of the room before I screamed, “I love you Aunt Linda!”  Her response was, “I heard you!”  Baby, I laughed so hard.  It still makes me smile.

And I desperately need something to make me smile right now.  I retract my earlier statement.  I have had FOUR whoopings in my life.  Aunt Linda gave me TWO of them.  Right now, all you can hear is the whooping.  No sobbing.  But anybody in the room knows that it’s coming.  And it will be loud.

I am happy that she is in the arms of the Lord.  I am glad that she received her reward.  I am thankful that she has her crown.  But I am also mad.  I feel betrayed.  And I am not sure what to do with those feelings.  No tantrum will get me what I want. I know I am supposed to give it to Jesus but what does that look like?  Real talk.  Right now, for me it means that I brush my teeth and wash my body every day.  I go to work when I can.  And repeat the day. 

I have also been listening to a lot of gospel music.  One of the songs says, “The God of the mountain is still the God of the valley.”  I need that reminder.  Constantly.  I can’t wait for there to be glory AFTER this.  I need there to be glory right now.  If you have not chosen Jesus as your Savior, this moment is the BEST moment.  I know all too well that it might be the only moment that you have.  I cannot imagine being whipped like this and not having hope for better days.  #wepreach