Encouraging self-written love letters while waiting to be a Mother

One of the most encouraging yet doubtful words anyone can tell a woman who loves children and is yet to be a mother, or having difficulty with keeping her pregnancy to full term due to whatever medical reason. . . is “Oh, God has placed you as their mother on purpose.”

 

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Hmmm . . . well said with good intention, but undesirable for a heavy heart that’s bleeding.

I totally understand this might be a difficult truth to handle for some women, especially when a woman is childless not by choice. Mother’s Day can be a painful reminder of profound loss. For some it is miscarriage, for others it is infertility, and then there is also an affect called circumstances beyond their control.

Today, I am hoping we can encourage every woman still waiting to be a mother, to be called momma or be celebrated every Mother’s Day through self-written love letters that soothes, while also bolstering the joy of motherhood with them. 

Yeah, every single one of them.

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So, in the early Spring of 1999, we had just moved into a new apartment, two blocks away from Community College of Philadelphia, Spring Garden area. It was the perfect spot with the best view of The Art Museum. My job as the head teller at the community bank was fulfilling and just down the road, precisely Logan square in the bubbling heart of Center City Philly, which made my bike commute to work so easy and smooth. 

Life was simple and beautiful indeed.

One day, we had a guest who came in from New York to sit for her medical board exam, she was an old classmate from secondary school (FGGC Sagamu), a very intelligent lady. She was the first guest we entertained in our new IKEA ed-up digs! Just two minutes into our catching up on girly gists about our old party days in Lagos, my husband joined us in the kitchen as our guest abruptly exclaimed… ‘You are Pregnant Yinka’ 

Oh okay… Just like that? how? I didn’t even know I was? She continued to talk fast, as she checked my eyes, my pulse, my tongue and we all burst into one of the best heartfelt laughter. My childhood medical doctor friend, myself and my husband were elated at the good news-diagnosis inside my kitchen.

Fast forward to May of the same year, I lost that pregnancy. Drowned in a pool of my own blood, confused, I ignorantly and unconsciously drove myself to UPenn ER, clutching my tummy and expecting a miracle right there, while breaking all the traffic light codes like a crazy woman detached from reality, then called my husband to join me as he was also working in the same hospital. 

It was one of the most horrific Mother’s Day and birthday season of my life. In my grief I wrote a love letter to myself as an outlet for compassion, addressing my womb’s dilemma while also sending it on an errand to get it right the next time, and never play games with me again… today I’m overpowered with emotion, after recovering that same love letter written in pain over twenty years ago…even as I am still wrestling with the fact that the grief I experienced is still a daily challenge for other women today…

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How many women have we reached out to today, who are still struggling with the acclaimed banner of today’s celebration? those struggling with the tabloid that brings yearly memories of hurt and detachment? those with dreams pampered but now a lost opportunity to be called momma or be celebrated for 5-mins? 

May be its time we begin to teach our little girls that not only does their womb serve as the human habitat, but also: (1) The greatest power a woman possesses, (2) Their ability to establish, create or conceive on all levels (3) That there is an aspect of womanhood they need to know that is not represented by our past indigenous culture (4) Which was the absence of a platform that’s geared towards preparing our little girls’ mindset about timing (5) That this same powerful and beautiful aspect of creation can also be tapped in the birth of projects, careers, personal healing, spirituality, and relationships.

And in relationships… 

Maybe it is time we begin to: (1) Openly address one of the most common causes of strained relationships or marriages as infertility or subfertility. (2) That there is usually a cause for concern if a woman finds it difficult to conceive after two years of marriage. (3) Most people do not wait that long before seeking for help. (4) The longer it goes on the greater the pressure from both families who are desperate to see grandchildren. (5) It could be quite distressing.

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We know that the problem could either come from the woman or the man. There are many reasons why this can occur. It could be genetic or due to medical problems affecting either or both of them. It could probably be due to a spiritual affliction emanating from several sources.

Those self-love written letters to myself over twenty-years ago have helped me heal and be able to effortlessly advocate for maternal mental health, connect with other women in waiting or women in maternal distress and women detached from the reality of handling the fear of conceiving and losing it again.

Those love letters were written again after encountering two more miscarriages and have proven beneficial in my journey towards giving hope to others by encouraging self-written love letters, and also writing to others, especially during any season of grief.

Can you imagine finding joy and hope in reading someone’s unexpected handwritten words to you? maybe we should consider how we can add this ancient form of communication back into our daily lives, while helping others too.

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But guess what! starting today, we can begin drafting those self-love letters, while we are also assured nothing happens by accident on God’s watch, especially in a way only He can accomplish. We are bound to experience both free will and His grace together in this life. Even before it is fully matured, our faith will help us follow His lead as we raise every un-born or adopted child in His light. 

May the joy of motherhood be experienced, may miracle shine a beautiful light on this truth, because the passage of time does not prevent the promise of God from coming to pass. God gives children to the barren. Psalm 113:9, “He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children.

Yours in Hope as I share BLESSED by KiDi ft. Mavado

Yinka – Licensed Child and Family Psychologist, Michigan Endorsed Infant/Maternal Mental Health

Understanding a child’s temperament: Autism Awareness

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It is April, World Autism Awareness Month.

Let me begin by applauding all the great parents out there still committed and dedicated to helping with easing the acceptance of a given diagnosis, while following through with the prescribed-treatment plan for every child living with autism. I celebrate you! You did well! You are doing great!

Today, please take a 5-minute break, to look back at where you all started from, put on a happy expression, beam with gratitude or a smirk of “Just WOW” that displays your boldness, inspiring enough to tell stories of initial personal struggles, but later turned into a million little miracles of developmental victories, as you continue to surge forward in hope, for the future of your children. Remember, you are never alone.

Here I am speaking to you as a mother who has also experienced a child’s diagnosis+treatment on the home front, while my super hero cape is on and active as a licensed clinician of 20 years on the field, trust me when I say… ‘I DO understand what it is to journey through that road called… “Perhaps”

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Every child is born with his or her own individual way of approaching the world. I personally believe ‘Temperament’ stands out most as one of the unique qualities. Some will argue that, providing healthy and consistent validation on the part of the parents can help to instill a sense of worth and value in their child’s temperament as being seen and heard. While others believe that it is only critical to elevate the child’s emotional development through positive socialization, and development of a self-identity.

Hmm. To validate those emotions or not-to validate?

It is either a child’s temperament is easy-going, slow-to-warm, and active based on their environment.

Because childhood invalidation is thought to be related to many mental health issues in adulthood including an increased risk for both borderline personality disorder and narcissistic personality disorder. While invalidation may or may not include overt verbal abuse, its effects are typically longstanding and often carried with that child into their adult relationships.

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There is No Right or Wrong Temperament.

It’s very important for children to be accepted for who they are. It is true, though, that some temperaments are easier to handle than others. A parent with an intense, reactive child or a child who is very shy and slow-to-warm-up will tell you that parenting these kids can be a challenge at times.  But, how can we learn when to tune in or acknowledge the child’s mood, while anticipating how they will react in certain situations without a display of their unique characteristic attitude or mood? hear this…

Temperament is not something your child chooses, neither is it something that you created. A child’s temperament shapes the way he/she experiences the world. A child who is cautious and needs time to feel comfortable in new situations and a child who jumps right in are likely to have very different experiences going to a crowded classmate’s birthday party. While the child who can handle a lot of sensory stimulation will experience a trip to the grocery store differently from a child who has a low threshold for a lot of surrounding noise and action. Same attitude, different reaction. 

And how do we respond (rather than react) to unexpected display of affection or outburst? aka: social tantrums or reported showdown by non-family members? Do we validate affectionately or otherwise?  hear this…

Maybe it is time we consider some characteristics that can describe a child’s temperament:

  • Emotional intensity – unstable moods, impulsive behavior and relationships
  • Activity level – the rate a child uses movement and physical skills to learn and explore
  • Frustration tolerance – dealing with setbacks (frustration or everyday inconveniences)
  • Reaction to new people – is this mutism or social phobia?
  • Reaction to change – some degree of discomfort without transitional plan

Child validation is the act of understanding and recognizing a child’s needs, feelings, thoughts, emotions, and non-verbal behavior as valid. It’s based on being able to empathize with a child’s trigger point and relate to their sensory-based reality or traumatic lived experiences.

On the other hand, invalidation is ignoring the child’s non-verbal attributes or when a child is made to believe that their needs, feelings, or lived emotional experiences does not matter. In other words, if conditioned in their childhood to believe that how they perceive their world is unreasonable or insignificant, these same messages can later generalize to feelings of insecurity, deep depression, issues in trusting themselves or others, and an unstable sense of self-identity.

Aha! here is my remedy: Be Your Child’s Champion! learn to follow their lead.

Have you ever found yourself feeling isolated from or being misunderstood, possibly even put down either by family, friends, and neighbors who disapprove of or judge your child? It can be empowering to see these situations as opportunities to educate others about your child. Step up!

For example, Abel is your son on the spectrum: you can explain to his aunt who is not getting the warm reaction expected from your child, “Abel, like a lot of other kids, needs time to adjust to new people or new environment.” You then hand her Abel’s preferred toy or favorite book, helping her learn to approach Abel slowly or change her diction to sensitively say …“It’s okay, I will just sit down next to you and wait while you are ready” “I see how you worked so hard building those blocks, maybe we can re-build together while you show/teach me” “Here, take my hands or show me how to help you”

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So, understanding your child’s temperament helps you be a better parent. Recognizing patterns in your child’s behavior that are easily triggered by temperament can help you anticipate your child’s responses to certain situations. If you know that your child has a hard time making transitions, you can learn to work on visual schedule planning or gentle prompt-reminder system to ease the process of change. 

Sharing and observing your child’s strengths helps others see your child’s behavior from a different perspective, especially when derogatory names like ‘feisty nature’ are thrown carelessly around your child, take a deep breath, smile and allow the motherly instinct inside of you swell with pride and say “Hmm, Bella knows who she is and what she wants. She is loving and she is fierce. She puts her whole heart into everything.” Done.

Ordinarilly you might not be able to always control your child’s temperament, but you sure can navigate the triggers others bring around your child. Remember, the goal is not to change your child, but to help with adapting coping strategies and encouraging positive strength building.

While the month of April is dedicated to autism awareness, for me, everyday I am passionately connected to providing coping strategies+treatment for kids, providing individual personalized parent training, advocating for the importance of early detection in infant/toddlers and sharing resources with families in taking positive action… 

Conclusively, I implore all parents and caretakers to make the necessary sacrifices in understanding that autism is not solely a psychological/psychiatric disorder… … relatively it is physiological (neurological and biochemical) – meaning that there are things you can do to improve your child’s health, learning, and behavior.

A little bit of everything works! some nutritional changes, Joint-family social emotional support, traditional therapies like Sensory play therapy, ABA, speech, occupational therapy, etc.  but more important, the priceless “Cheerleader Cape’ you wear with them, and for them as they… continue to thrive.

For more information or free resources on: Infant & Maternal Mental Health/Early Childhood Education & Intervention/Autism Spectrum Diagnosis and treatment planning/Social Emotional Disorder/Advocacy for IEP with school-age children and more, visit us on our non-profit website: http://www.developmentalcarenetwork.org

Yours in HOPE as I share Mr. C Dollarz – Autistic

Yinka.

IMH-E, Licensed Infant/Maternal Mental Health Psychologist.

A reflective 25th Wedding Anniversary while addressing the pain of intergenerational trauma in the family

Last weekend marked my 25th wedding anniversary, which was celebrated in a very unique way. Having encountered series of eye opening revelation about life’s tricky games, this was indeed a perfect time to intimately engage the kids, dive into their minds and teach them how to use wisdom as the ability to learn from change.

As expected, my deep conversation about life, hope and gratitude instantly gave me the icky look from my three very outspoken generation-Z kids, which made it clear that it was indeed going to be an interesting but mediative evening of talk therapy onboard our dinner boat cruise. 

As we waited patiently for our seafood combination to be served, I was pleasantly diverted by the beautiful catchy vibes of the sound track ‘We don’t talk about Bruno’ from the movie Encanto playing in the background.

Ah, I bet the kids were relieved and saved by the bell, because they quickly changed the topic once they heard the tunes, and obviously glad to hear the song finally take over mom’s boring talk, (probably also pleased I will finally shut up and stop making this fun evening anything more like my psychology therapeutic clinic).

Thereafter, I began to notice pure display of bliss and bewilderment fill up their faces, bodies moving to the rhythm as their individual point-of-view and opinion surrounding the very controversial movie Encanto began.

Still, my husband and I made it clear to them that the real lesson behind the movie was significantly addressing the pain of Intergenerational trauma in the family, revealing mental health challenges and acknowledging that, spiritually it can be deeper than they can ever imagine.

Here we go… ‘sail with us as I take you into the storyline of ENCANTO. . .

Encanto is an American animated musical fantasy comedy film produced by Walt Disney Animation Studios. It was released on November 24, 2021  in the United States, took place in the mountains of Colombia and focuses on the Madrigals, a multigenerational family whose members were each granted magical gifts, with the exception of one, Mirabel.

In Encanto, Mirabel’s insistence on seeking out Bruno and talking about the cracks in the family eventually cause the rest of the Madrigals to examine their own issues. This enables them to deal with the impact of intergenerational trauma and move forward as a happier, more accepting, and more functional family system.

Encanto features original songs written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, whose soundtrack received widespread acclaim and topped the US Billboard 200 in 2022. A massive critical success (earning the Golden Globe for Best Animated Feature among other accolades), the film went on to become the highest-grossing animated feature of 2021.

So, there is really a lot to reflect on, learn from and love about Encanto, starting from its gorgeous animation, appealing characters, and engaging musical story (best part for my kids) but then, the theme also exposes something many of us today will find profoundly relatable and disturbing, which is:

Not talking about the Origin and Pain of Intergenerational Trauma within the family!

What is Intergenerational trauma?

This is when the effects of trauma are passed down from one generation to the next. It is also referred to as transgenerational trauma or multigenerational trauma.

Every family today must have encountered or still in denial of the pain of unspoken intergenerational trauma in their family as related to the movie, or coping with the aftermath of the deeds.

When the pain and confusion of intergenerational post traumatic events are not properly taken care of, it continues to harbor and disorient the mental well-being of the naïve generation in waiting.

When human consciences are so deeply rooted in secrets so scandalous and dangerous, it births new grounds for regrets, envy and hatred towards each other, within the same family.

Will anyone be bold enough to crush or cancel those generational carry-over curses and burdens that have been circulating within the family? Are we still nursing and sweeping those hideous and detrimental dirt from those before us, under the rug? To keep face, fame or family name?

For how long will we fold our hands and watch in reckless abandonment as our own seeds gasp in bewilderment of how crazy things were then, or laugh at our ignorance because they have chosen to be brave, and chosen the path that prevails towards the light, or even (God forbid) fall through the cracks… all because the pain of intergenerational trauma was never addressed in their family?

Are you following me?

When something happens to one person in the family system it can affect the whole system when not resolved. It can also reveal family patterns of behavior and repeated dynamics across generations that help contextualize how one set has impacted the next. Positively or negatively.

And because it is almost forbidden, it is usually never discussed. It gets hushed as the trauma from unspoken turbulence gets carried on with heavy hearts full of biases, hatred and anger.

We should talk about it to get help, closure or at least deal with it now, so the generation we are raising and thereafter are not burdened by the errs or sins of any past or burdened with…

(1) Self-blame & Depression (2) Denial & Loneliness (3) Attacking Others and seeking attention/affection (4) Withdrawal in their own time and then life-long feeling of insecurity.

Just like in the movie Encanto and our daily lives, some are still dealing with very controversial, diabolic or difficult family members far or near, without really understanding the genesis of the turbulence. 

Are we courageous enough like Mirabel in the movie, who insisted on seeking out Bruno and talking about the cracks in the family, which eventually causes the rest of the Madrigals (especially The Matriarch) to examine their own consciences, issues, deal with the impact of intergenerational trauma and move forward as a happier, more accepting, and more functional family system?

Or are you like Abuela (their grandmother) who focuses on the past hurt and miracle that kept her and the triplets alive, who believes that a certain ‘magic’ arose from experiencing deep pain, a pain so deep that it’s impacted each member of the Madrigal clan, even if they don’t know exactly how or why?

Move closer and hear me out…

Accepting deep sorrowful carry over indeed is trauma. And no matter how sweet or tender that person is or was, allowing the rest of the family to carry on their pain is toxic, dangerous and unacceptable.

Are we comfortable in our truth? Or still in denial of what could have been?

Today, in marriages or relationships, we see this same trauma still lurking in the background making our own multigenerational story the perfect lens through which understanding and exploring leftovers or carry overs of intergenerational trauma seem acceptable.

What is it? how can people cope with it?  Why is it important to seek help, step out of that circular-curse in order to move forward into greatness?

If you are reading this today, and have ever wondered, ‘why the cracks in my life or my family? Why the cracks in my relationships? can I relate to the apparent unexplained challenges I see in my family-line? Can I be excused of partaking in the trauma-party witnessed in my family? Indeed, are there still many rivers that flow into the reservoir of trauma that I need to be aware of?

Even if an individual isn’t aware of the roots of the intergenerational trauma they’re experiencing, bringing about change can happen by reframing and refocusing events and responses that an individual can control.

So, as I celebrate my 25th year of this edifying institution called marriage with my ‘ForeverDude, I pray for more Godly insight to be courageous in dissecting and discussing filling-up strategies for any situation that comes our way… praying for divine intervention regarding other relationships out there that require super connection and amendment from God. Praying that the generation after us will look back with sound minds while maintaining a Godly foundation, a coherent narrative that encompasses the whole functional family system, at least as much as possible. 

And YES! it is okay to talk about Bruno 🙂

Yours in HOPE & HEALING as I share a video clip from Encanto’s ‘We don’t talk about Bruno’

YinkaTLLP Licensed Child and Family Psychologist, Michigan Endorsed Infant Mental Health Therapist, Certified ABA Specialist & Certified Early Childhood Educator/Policy Advocate.

The Fragrance of Memories: Yinka@50

From the rising sun on a wet Wednesday morning of May 10 in the year 1972, a baby girl was delivered into the Gansallo family house, at the famous Island Maternity Hospital on Lagos Island. Indeed, a wide-eyed cry announced my landing which foretold a bewildering future. 

The astonishing resemblance of my late paternal Great-Grandmother, Lady Sophia Mori-Lewa DaSilva was so noticeable, I was instantly nicknamed “Atupa Parlor” after her (meaning the bright lantern that brightens a room) or sometimes “Emi Mama l’oke” (grandma’s breath) usually indicating the strong enduring personality of her industrious nature and philanthropy.

Today as I turn 50, I am beyond words on how many descriptive adjectives I have left in me from Professor Alo’s semantics class at Uniport, which is so unlike me. But deep inside, I can feel this colossal triumphant jubilation going on, it’s like there’s a non-stop praise gig happening! And am being invited to celebrate.

So, sometimes in life we get the chance to start again, we breathe deep to stand tall. We are offered a choice to either deal with the hiccups life throws at us, live with it or leave it behind.

We prepare to make our way without knowing whether the future will wait for us to catch up on missed opportunities… or we just brave it, with our faith, with love by relying on our reflective light. 

For me, this is the morning that I’ve dreamed of. The anniversary of all the enchanting and whimsical events I have encountered! Jubilee of unbelievable but jaw dropping testimonies! Reminiscing on all the principled life skills and platform for spirituality my Mother has instilled in me, the importance of education and values of setting goals mentoring from the most astute man I know, my late father.

I am who You say I am. I am chosen. I am Loved.

My Gratitude Runs Deep.

And my journey begins, with steps so few, that a child could count them. 

A new dawn… forged by the force of life itself.

And if I have spent a lot of my life trying to understand why and how absurd things happen, trying to have boundaries, and then trying to enforce them. Well, I’m finally understanding that I don’t need to be loud or demanding to have healthy boundaries. I don’t need to determine how other people behave around me. I just need to pre-decide how I will react when other people behave otherwise.

Setting healthy boundaries means being clear about asserting one’s mental health capability, especially when you clock an important milestone.

And with my ongoing Project 50 and beyond to mark this milestone (www.project50andbeyond.com) I pray for wisdom and ask God to determine my thoughts, words and actions.

As this is just the beginning of a potpourri of untold stories in my memoir. . . ‘The Fragrance of Memories’

Yours in HOPE, as I share one of my favorite songs “Dependable God” by Victor Thompson.

Olayinka.

Gracefully ascending to my 5th floor on purpose

Our births are, and will always be one the most profound common-place of miracles. An event deeply remarkable and phenomenal. A timeless deed that immediately but intentionally and briefly makes angels of us all.

Then life evolves as we get older, we flicker on a screen of ‘how it could have been’ by folding and unfolding upon our mind’s eye which brittle like a crushed dove’s wings. We suddenly begin to accept that our health is also another gift from God, especially after overcoming a diagnosis, but we sometimes take it for granted.

Still, it hangs for its dear life on a thin-thread as fine as a spider’s web. While the smallest err can make it snap, leaving the strongest of us helpless in an instant, as the weaker hearts wobble. And in that instant, hope is our only protector, and love our cure-all.

Life is fueled by learning new things, encountering new people, or sometimes handling challenging paths. But there will always be laughter when joy sips in… ‘tears when disappointment emerge un-invited… making exaggerated but clearer revelation a must for us, as loss or gain of mutual affection we have forged in friendships over our lifetime would only last us all the remaining days on earth. 

#FromAgeToAge

While a child, I mastered the act of overriding discomfort with the thoughts of accepting everything washed away as a fresh potential dawned. Eventually, in every wave of change, there comes a new beginning. To embrace strengths, tackle weaknesses and keep dreaming.

My next floor is filled with flights that’s taken many forms by relying on God’grace. It seems unfurling like feathers… tickles and enchanting… a compose of soaring upward into light… a fresh gratifying department that runs deep… A retreat from the unknown and total disconnect from pain or unprofitable bonds towards a visible joy!

Aha, approaching 50 has enabled me not-to-feel the need to be understood, included or accepted regarding worldly expectations. It’s granted me more time to sit back and observe, as I realize that literally not everything life dishes out needs a reaction as I begin to trust my intuition more.

#NaYourWay

As we begin Year 2022… ‘What’s your next flight like? A bustling or empty enterprise? Is fear keeping you tethered.. terror clipping your wings? Hey, No shaking! Hope can still lighten the sky, while Love will continue to make us courageous!

And at the end of climbing those steps, what mattered most is not what the curious monitoring-world expects, or whether we blow, hide or fly… or even where our journey takes us in life.. but what guides us home… from age to age… ‘and-where-we-come-to-land! Because in the end, we all become memories.

There are many things about life in which you have no control. Accept those things as part of the way God created you. Your ability, race, culture, language, nationality, and many attributes of your physical being are God’s choices, for a purpose.

Counting down to… #Enchanted 5.0   #Project50andBeyond #JustWOW #MsGansy@50 #CancerFREEdeclarationOfGRACE

Yours in Hope, as I share NOSA’s ‘Na Your Way’

Yinka

I called him Daddy – by Folarin Lawrence

When exemplary men pass, it is often said, ‘They left vast vacuums or huge shoes to be filled’.

This is spot on where Edward Adebisi Lawrence is concerned, it has not sunk in and it very well may never do so as I continue to reminisce about his place in my life. I can only pray that I can have half the effect he had on me with my son.

In the last few weeks, I have read and re-read several tributes written by those whose lives he touched or those he mentored from broadcasting to print media. A lot was said about his mastery of words and excellence in administration, his vast knowledge of virtually anything you wanted to talk about without unnecessary embellishments and always being able to meet you at your level of understanding. 

I did not spend as much time as I would have loved to spend with my father, and if there is anything I regret in retrospect it is this one. My father was a fantastic and extraordinary human being who although to many achieved great heights in his career, his body of work speaks for itself but I know now that he only showcased a fraction of what he was capable of which may be hard to believe for most.

He was a loving, bubbly mound of knowledge and wisdom who smiled and laughed with his whole face, the dimples on his cheeks growing ever deeper in those moments. He shone so bright and lighted up every gathering he graced with his presence. He was strong in his convictions and fiercely proud of his stances. 

Growing up in our culture, men did not really profess affection but we knew we were loved by their actions. My father was an exception as I can recall many times he told me he loved me, and his actions sometimes with tough love showed it as well. I used to tell stories of when I went to visit him when I was younger, we would have deep conversations sometimes rather unpleasant but sincere, but this became so much better as I got older and began to communicate on the same wave length; we would talk about music ranging from Yusuf Olatunji to Bob Dylan, from Fela Anikulapo-Kuti to Johann Sebastian Bach.

We also discussed world history, current affairs and everything in between, these discussions were done over a meal that he prepared himself, usually his special smoked fish pepper soup, rice that he would garnish with symmetrically sliced tomatoes and onions, while the rice steamed.

Bizlaw was not perfect, he was flawed just like any of us, but I can proudly say today that he was an exceptionally special human being who had to live his life on his own terms in many ways unbeknownst to those who were lucky enough to have spent some time with him in some capacity or another. For me he was that caterpillar who morphed into a butterfly but was not allowed to fully spread out its wings to  the full extent of its splendor even with the lofty achievements and homages paid to him.

He will always be embedded on my mind and I will never forget his reaction when he did not attend a particular occasion that he was supposed to attend on my behalf, I was angry with him and he said “Junior, it is just a ceremony laden with sentiments, I’m sure you really know how I feel about you and Yinka”.

In the past year I have come to lean on this as to what is important or necessary as opposed to what is mundane and contrived. As someone who means the world to me puts it “Be intentional with the things that are important” #movingforwardwithYinka

So, today being the 1st year memorial anniversary, I am imparting to Mofiyinfoluwa (my son)… “Grandpa’s body and bones have most likely turned into dust or in the process of doing so, but he still lives in the indelible memories of him I have safe-guarded, that I can recall at any time” – memories like my father driving me in in his yellow Mazda with the wood grain steering wheel and dashboard, then taking his hands off the steering wheel saying “Look, Junior! no hands! and then seeing the scared expression on my face and assuring me that I was safe and not to worry, I was all of seven years old at that time. 

I love and miss you man.

God’s peace. 

Your Son,

Kevin Ayofolarin Lawrence.

A Shift in Perspective for 2020!

Let me start by sincerely asking… ‘How are you doing? Are You Okay?

For many people, 2020 has proved a challenging and tedious year. If 2020 taught us anything, it’s that resiliency always wins! For some, storms of illness, financial difficulty, social unrest and depression have overwhelmingly swept upon once-peaceful lives.

Quarantines and social distancing have prohibited many from joining with family and close friends for nearly a year, and as Year 2021 approaches that will likely still remain the case for many.

More than ever all the small things have become bigger.

We’ve gone to bed puzzled and perplexed at night, woken up with uncertainties of what could be… not knowing what the next day, week or month would bring.

From eating in a restaurant to seeing a movie, to physically being able to hug a friend, or embracing outrageous political differences with little space to vent, to just listening to each other’s heartbeat when anxiety sets in, unveiling heartaches when headlines deliver sour news, or proclaim happy-thoughts when sudden glimpse of hope comes with the morning dew! we no longer discount the small aspects of life that were once so accessible.

2020 has shifted us to recognize those small things, and the large impact they have: More time alone with our conscience!

What has more time spent alone taught you?

Are we still holding back on circumstantial boundaries? Do we see only difficulty in every trial we’ve encountered this year? or forge ahead like an optimist, see the opportunity in every difficulty?

How can we evaluate these things and come back to God with a grateful heart for such revelations or new ideas?

Hmmm… ‘This year has brought so many of us to our breaking and emerging points. Family bonds once trusted are now tested, trashed or tremendously treasured! friendship values once secured are re-evaluated for sincerity or lack of depth to fill the void and empitness we now face. Loss and pain have plagued every one of us in 2020, in moments both fraught and debilitating.

From sympathizing with friends, families and clients who’ve lost loved ones to giving mental health support and encouragement about the after effects and lifelong scars of losing a baby, a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, grandparents, all alone… in a-cold isolated pandemic period.. that literally steals the comfort of a warm embrace… ‘an unbearable grief, experienced by many but talked about by few but riddled with (unwarranted) shame, and perpetuating a cycle of solitary mourning.

We have comforted each other over virtual platforms as though we were there in person! burial rites are performed in a swift due to gathering restrictions, saving the tears to swell up behind face marks or allowing some to run freely on our screens, behind the walls of isolation.

Some of us were bold enough to celebrate milestones, weddings, birthdays or graduations in very restrictive gathering! Some, grateful for an opportunity to start afresh, rebuild broken relationships or mingle again without knowing it would probably be their last in October… #RIPMrsPatriciaEwetuya-Daramola.

A shift in perspective can take us from complacency to content.

Uncertainty can be powerfully intimidating, yet we must make decisions.

Perspective is key in finding joy despite the circumstances this season.

So, like my 9-year-old daughter would explain after going through her scheduled social stories without wearing her prescription glasses, “My perspective on events is much like wearing a pair of glasses. Certain lens will help me see the blur of fear, unknown things approaching or confusion, where another lens can provide me with much needed clarity”

More quality time spent with my 3 kids and Husband of 23-years in 2020 has taught us all Calmness & Clarity.

The perspective that some of the difficulties we face now perhaps are growing us in new and exciting ways. As scary as they look now, we have no idea what kind of good God is spinning out of it.

So, as we approach Year 2021, ditching all the uproar of 2020 behind, it can be easy to feel hopeless, anxious, or even bitter, however we can choose to not fall prey to these feelings.

We can partner with God to give thanks, despite the circumstances… and continue to look up to Him!

This past holiday probably looked different around the dining room table, but connection can still occur. Video chats and phone calls will be a resource to utilize well, but real connection can still occur from such unlikely platforms.

Perhaps gratitude can be found in using these options, and we can have authentic communications of where we all are in heart and mind. This is something to be thankful for, to have exchanges beyond the weather or superficialities, but to dive deeper into outlooks, our state of mental health!

We are all struggling, but we are not struggling alone. Because there is Hope.

Again, whether you find yourself celebrating or grieving these days, feeling hopeful or hopeless, actively choose to trust God to set you free of past battles. For His ways will surely prevail in the end.

We should not discount the faith He is building in us during this time either, for through these hard times He is revealing more of the character being born in us. Birth is painful, but it results in new life.

Perhaps these hardships are birthing a new vibrancy of life for us as we approach 2021.

Happy New Year, Stay Safe as we move forward into 2021.

Yours in HOPE as I share Whitney Houston’s ‘I LOOK TO YOU’

OlaYinka

May the coming months be merrier.

It started with a single picture. Then collection of old blurry birthday pictures all taken in May of 1991, 1992 & 1993. Some had the lustrous backdrop of the beautiful SB Bakare’s Mansion on Queensdrive Ikoyi, others the bustling Maxi Class restaurant on Olu Obasanjo at D-Line in Port Harcourt and some, inside the glossy emerald green walled-dinning room of my Lagos Island residence. Boxes of pictures I came across during early spring Covid19 Lockdown while decluttering my garage.

Oh, I could tell it was a festive period and my yearly impromptu birthday celebrations, as it had several young adults mostly dressed in jeans and colorful t-shirts, either on break from various Universities or recovering from the Jamb rejection letter and had gathered at my place on the Island or in Port Harcourt, at a chosen venue to celebrate my birthday.

My face lit up with joy, as I remembered the faces, then immediately was replaced with pain and sorrow.. amidst the depressing pandemic going on, I’d realized that several of the happy faces radiating warmth and youthful outbursts from the pictures were either so far away or just…No More. 

They’d passed away.

Good, Young, Cordial, Vibrant, Dear Friends: Gone! at their prime!

Even as their memories live on in the pile of pictures I carry with me, or with their immediate family members that were almost impossible to reconnect with, a feeling of despair resonated deeply within me!

How do I want to be remembered when I become just a memory in someone’s pile of picture collection?

How do we create memories? Will I be defined by my character on a good day? or be shamed by my weakness?

While happiness can be temporary, and so easily stolen by the circumstances in which we live in now, joy cannot be stolen; it can only be handed away. It is our decision to either live in joy or walk in constant disappointment.

I’ve always picked joy, sometimes it finds its way in the crowd to nominate me, I guess, ‘while been hopeful. How about you?

To fully wrap our heads around this precept, we must first understand the difference between happiness and joy. 

Happiness depends on outside circumstances. Joy, on the other hand, is an internal decision we make based on the conviction of things we believe will come about, but that our eyes have yet to behold.

Even as this rogue and ruthless virus has swiftly stolen so many pre-planned joy-filled events and people robbed us of very special occasions and memories we hoped to have. Disappointed doesn’t begin to describe what we were all feeling, but we shouldn’t give up.

But I’m sure you could relate your own story of loss which occurred within the first few months of this pandemic. Graduation ceremonies, weddings, birthdays and vacations were cancelled, sports championships were sidelined, jobs were lost, businesses failed, money vanished from retirement accounts. 

Relationships are rebranded! Sex life for married couples received an instant memo of resuscitations for detour! Marriages once on eggs shells are either cracked-up fried or nurtured by test of time!

Close to my heart, there’s an uproar and alarming rate of isolation for families with special needs children while healthcare disparity tightens hopes for families awaiting conception. I’ve had to counsel and give hope to those who’ve gone through miscarriages, a topic that has always been surrounded by silence and pain, while COVID-19 has made the experience feel even more isolating.

Aha, all these trials, those very ones which ruthlessly steal our joy, they can act as maturing agents in our lives, if we manage to hold onto our faith through them. 

So, even in the midst of it all, Is it still possible that one more brutality piled on, like so many before it was finally too much?

Is it possible that this is a turning point in understanding and addressing the ways in which racism eats away at an entire society while ravaging some far more than others?

Is it possible that the past week is the beginning of real change?

 That, this is a struggle with a long history, but a struggle that must succeed.

Is this our new NORMAL?

Adaptability and Hope.

No matter where you are. No matter what you are facing. Step out in faith! May your next month, and the month after, and the one after be full of cheerfulness, gaiety and laughter; to cause or raise happiness and unspeakable joy.

In Memory of All We Lost Along The Way. . .

Yours in HOPE

OlaYinka

What is it about Black Men?

What is it about the black male? man or child that evokes an unexplainable aura especially in the mindset of white men; for as long as we can remember? Why does his presence stoke threat, fear and for lack of other words, envy? Why is he continually marginalized, discriminated against and blatantly hated?

I have delved deep and really find it difficult to understand in-as-much as I have heard, read and experienced the bitter truths of being a black man, I still struggle to accept the perception the average ignorant white person has of me and the first thing they perceive when they see me and behold the color of my skin. 

The “blackness” of my skin, the melanin that makes up my pigmentation is not akin to the darkness and light that evil and good are depicted by, neither is it inherent in the thoughts in my mind either way.

Just like every other race – black men have dreams, ideals, ambition, aspirations, intellect, wisdom and any other lofty attributes under the sun, and yes, just as white men have every other negative attributes that exist depending on the orientation of the individual and regardless of race or creed.

When we examine slavery and all its machinations, slaves were traded commodities that were put towards hard labor without pay. This arrangement warped the thinking of the black man for a long time as he was helpless, and at the mercy of the his owners.

We have come a long way since then, but with every discriminate newsflash of injustice on the black body we recede even further away from whatever progress we may have made.

What changed the narrative after the abolition of slavery?

Simple: The former commodities or work animals- realized they possess various latent qualities. They were not just “machines” to run plantations, they were living, breathing and vibrant human beings who had been ripped from their ancestral lands and everything they ever knew and held dear to their hearts. Liberation brought clarity. These “machines” possess much more than brute force, they could reason, they could organize and lead.

A great example of the ingenuity of African Americans post slavery is the Greenwood District in Tulsa Oklahoma also known as “Black Wall Street” where fine, bright and vibrant black men established a burgeoning financial district. Greenwood was sadly destroyed in one of the worst racial tragedies recorded in American history.

The Greenwood tragedy revealed that the black man had to be contained in such a manner that they were no more slaves but continued to be dominated in ways that they will never be fully emancipated. How is this achievable? Systemic racism is insidiously embedded within every system to protect the status quo. 

In a situation where black lives are snuffed out periodically and only make it to the mainstream when it is captured on tape then, what progress have we made from slavery through Jim Crowe to Civil Rights till the present day?

I have had to explain to my 14 year old son over the years why he should pull his hood down in public and why he needs to understand that when he is out in public not everyone sees him as my son whom his mother and I will give our lives for, and that he is presumed a potential threat to any white person depending on the circumstances and perspective of who is concerned. 

The average black boy has several serious responsibilities that his white counterparts do not even think about when they step out into the world. Many of them are already disadvantaged from their first cry even before the umbilical cord is snipped, they are already labelled.

He is taught to be ten steps ahead of the next white boy in all positive spheres of life if he has aspirations of being successful. He is told especially if he happens to be a big lad to be always cautious and courteous when expressing himself especially when white people are involved, in other words “curtail his God-given talents, perspective and true feelings”.

There is an aura and an inexplicable spirituality that surrounds a black man! it is not tangible, it is not taught and it cannot be bottled, it is innate and God-given and it cannot be hidden or ignored regardless of how hard you try.

The black man’s indelible mark is etched into history from great ancient African kings to fiery Afroamerican preachers and orators, in the world of sports and entertainment, to science and technology, this is the particular sector where our “hidden figures” abound and have been historically shrouded, their intellectual properties stolen and rebranded some of which will never be recovered. 

Again I ask, What is it about the Black Male?

He is just all round special and enigmatic, charismatic yet misunderstood stylish with a killer swag yet gentle enough if just given the opportunity to exhibit that attribute, but how are you able to show that when all you chronically experienced is hatred and dominance mostly from those that are supposed to have your back.

Your neck has had the collective knees of haters and envious white counterparts wedged into it for centuries some of them not even knowing it or understanding why as this has always been the norm. The average white person who feels superiority towards a black person could not even tell you exactly why or make any sense of their stance or beliefs. 

The black family fabric in America has been continuously decimated in a viscous cycle, fathers have been torn away from their families through the fledgling prison system business that the white man has continued to profit and build a billion dollar business on the sorrow, sweat, tears and blood of the black family.

Where do we start?

There is systemic disputes in every sphere of African American life, health, education, security, employment; all designed just to keep a “brother” down, to make sure that although slavery was abolished over a hundred years ago, the slaves emancipated on paper will not be liberated mentally or emotionally. The worst thing a “free” human being can live with is an imprisoned mind.

In all of this though, I am encouraged and very much hopeful with many of the young black men coming up in the world. The current generation of youth, black or white are a movement comprised of freethinkers, they do not generally need a leader and do not readily conform with the status quo.

They are ready to make their own reality if we like it or not, they will question every move we make and will break every rule, culture, tradition that may have been written in stone, they are not here to only rock the boat, they will look to risk everything, sink the boat and swim for the shore without us and our antiquated ways.

These young generation of black brothers are on a mission and we need to get out of their way or be crushed by the momentum. 

God’s Peace.

Written by,

Folarin Lawrence.

Essential Mrs. Gansy!

It is not often you come across a guy who has a whole lot of great things to say about his mother in law, but I beg to differ as I am one of the few.

Many years ago when I was courting my wife I visited her house on Lagos Island in the Popo Aguda Quarters, (Brazilian Quarters) she wasn’t home but her mother asked me to wait that she will soon be back. 

In retrospect, I still wonder what she saw in me at that time, that I was always welcomed to sit with her and just have great conversations on the front porch of their Brazilian style house while her husband was just in the living room behind us paying us no mind.

On this particular day after getting off the bus and taking the walk under the hot Lagos sun from City hall bus stop to #37 Oil Mill street, I met Mrs. as she is so fondly called, sitting on her front porch and after the usual pleasantries she asks one of the kids to get me a chair and some chilled water.

As we picked our topic for the day she also said she was just about to make some of her famous Delta state native soups that require very hard to find spices and vegetables and she was still trying to decide what would accompany the soup, yam flour or pounded yam? hmmm…

I said “whichever is fastest and most convenient” she decides on pounded yam and proceeds to start the preparation, all the while checking to see if her daughter was back and if I were okay seating on the porch. A little while later I could perceive the wonderful aroma of different spices, stock and smoked fish all sizzling and mingling together and sending my bowels through a tsunami of growls anticipating the taste in real time. 

I could also hear the thunderous sound of the pestle bashing the yams in the mortar and being an Ekiti man I was already rejoicing in my mind just imagining the mussels of pounded yam and sumptuous pieces of assorted meat and fish that will be paired in this meal fit for a king. 

Alas, the time came and I was called in by one the kids to come into the dining area, as I walked by the living room I could see Mr. Gansy (Her husband/Yinka’s Dad) as we secretly called him dissecting a mound on his plate paying me no mind whatsoever. 

I took my seat at the table and proceeded to deal with the meal, just as I was about to send the first soup covered mussel into my watering mouth, Mrs. walks in from the kitchen with a calm but direct demeanor and said in Yoruba; and I recal verbatim “I rarely pound yam for visitors,  but you carry a heavy weight on my hands”.

For what seemed like an eternity I didn’t know if to proceed or drop the fork in my hand. When I came to I replied “I will not forget this day”, because I already knew what I wanted and why I was waiting this long and getting offered pounded yam anyway. 

I enjoyed that meal and many more after that day and had even many more conversations with Mrs. Virginia Egogo Gansallo. She never mince words with me and corrected me with tough love whenever I erred and with time I came to realize that she treated everyone young or old the same way. 

Years after Yinka and I were married and we had our little issues here and there, she never took sides but made sure to let us understand that as long as we let peace prevail by being on the same page, making decisions together by always communicating mutually and most importantly putting God first then we can withstand any storm.

She is always the first to call to wish everyone well on birthdays complete with her very own rendition of the Happy Birthday song and also every other week just to check on you. 

There were times where I messed up, rather than chastise me she sat me down and talked some sense into me like any loving mother should and there were times she even took my side over Yinka. 

We would sit and talk about anything from current affairs to life in general, we also talked about deep spiritual issues and her insights were always very much enlightening. She talked about spiritual boldness, being prayerful and always standing in the gap for your family.

Mrs. always talks about creating memories and building a legacy by always being prepared in life and death. 

I pray that the Almighty will grant her years of great health that she may enjoy the fruits of her labor and always have the cause to celebrate and be celebrated. 

To all mothers out there and mothers in waiting we celebrate you today and always.

Happy Mother’s Day.

God’s Peace

KayLaw.