🎶This joy I have…the world didn’t give it and the world can’t take it way…🎶
This joy is not contingent on ideal circumstances or life without trial. This joy is rooted in a heart surrendered and trusting the God who sees, knows and loves me. I’m not taking for granted His daily mercies, second chances and plentiful patience (because Lord knows, sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake).
Today I’m welcoming my 48th year with gratitude and anticipation. And thank you, friends and readers, for continuing this journey with me.
There’s a lot of talk about hope this season as we reflect on the year and holidays past; counting blessings, lamenting losses and anticipating better for the future. We have hopes, great and small, from the unspoken flickers of our heart to the health & wholeness of our families and communities. Yet hope can be a precarious thing when deferred or unfulfilled. So how do we hold onto the thrill of hope? All of our hopes, every single one, must be anchored to the hope of the world, Jesus Christ. He was born, died and rose again to give us a living hope.
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because of his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead ” -1 Peter 1:3 CSB
In this truth we can be confident of His love and His plans for us.
“For I know the plans I have for you” —this is the LORD’s declaration—“plans for your well-being, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” -Jeremiah 29:11 CSB
“This hope will not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” – Romans 5:5 CSB
🎶”My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name
On Christ the solid rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand”🎶
May the hope of Christ be yours this season and beyond ! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays & Happy New Year!
God loves you. He’s calling you. Come back. Draw near. Surrender it all to Him.
“…I pray that you, being rooted and firmly established in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the length and width, height and depth of God’s love, and to know Christ’s love that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”
I’d always known my grandfather as a man of few words, a great cook, a lover of jazz, westerns & good food with a hearty laugh and an impeccable sense of style. He was a retired Marine, whose three sons followed in his footsteps of military service (my Dad in the Air Force and my uncles in the Navy and Marines). But what I didn’t know until recently was my grandfather, Alfonzo Jones, was also an original Montford Point Marine.
If you’re asking who is a Montford Point Marine? You’re not alone. Until last year, I was clueless to this vital chapter of American history. This group of African American men enlisted to serve a branch and country that were hostile towards them. With World War II raging, the U.S. needed their manpower but viewed them as less than men.
They are the first African-Americans to enlist in the U.S. Marine Corps after President Franklin Roosevelt issues an Executive Order establishing the Fair Employment Practices Commission in June 1941. The recruits trained at Camp Montford Point in Jacksonville, NC from August 26, 1942 until the camp was decommissioned on September 9, 1949.
The largest number of black Marines to serve in combat during WW II took part in the seizure of Okinawa, with approximately 2,000 seeing action.”
From the Jacksonville, North Carolina Government Facebook page:
“The Montford Pointers faced discrimination at Montford Point from their commanding officers and outside the base gates. They arrived at Montford Point to an unwilling and unwelcoming Marine Corps which initially paired them up with white training officers. Accounts from original Montford Point Marines recall extremely primitive living conditions on the base, they did not have barracks but they lived in cardboard huts that were painted green. They also remember strict segregation rules at Montford Point; where they were forbidden to enter Camp LeJeune without a white Marine accompanying them; they could not cross the railroad tracks into Jacksonville. Despite these challenges, the Montford Pointers rose to the occasion and trained harder than their white counterparts, serving as ammunition carriers and then frontline fighters.
In 2012, The Montford Pointers were first recognized when those known to have served were awarded with a Congressional Gold Medal for their honor, courage and commitment. Since then the search for these brave men and/or their families has continued in order to bestow upon them the honor they are due.
On August 25, 2023 my grandfather was recognized and honored for his service. Our family gathered in Camp Lejeune, NC to witness him receive a Congressional Gold Medal. At 95 years old, he was one of few still alive to receive the honor.
Note: Everything written above has been sitting in my drafts for over a year. I wanted to tell the world about my grandfather and the Montford Point Marines but life happened….and there it lingered not quite ready to be published…
On August 29, 2024, at the age of 96, my grandfather, Alfonzo “Jazz” Jones, passed away. And the world still needs to know…
Jazz
They called him Jazz
A Semper Fi recruit, Alabama born and bred
One of the few and proud
Breaking barriers and surviving so others could thrive
But jazz was more than the complex chords he enjoyed
It was the way he moved, quiet and steady
It was the way he smiled, the rhythm of his laugh
It was his style, clean and classic
It was the love in the dishes he prepared and sweet treats he shared
It was his westerns appreciation and pop culture hipness,
Yes he was Jazz with a groove all his own
He was Husband, Dad, Grandad, Great-Grandpa also known as GGP
He was Son, Brother, Uncle, Cousin, Friend
A soulful harmony that will echo in our hearts forever
Grandaddy, you are loved and honored. Until we meet again…
Last summer I released my first book Barnabas Blessings. It was a major accomplishment and still feels a bit surreal.
This summer I’m working on another major release…my first born into adulthood. There are documents and releases to sign declaring his new legal status. There are checklists and deadlines preparing to send him off to college. There’s the shift of authority as he asserts his independence.
There are other releases too. There’s the pruning necessary to remain, fruitful and connected to the Vine (John 15:5). There’s the shedding of weights that bound and distract (Hebrews 12:1). There are trust falls into the arms of Jesus instead of my limited understanding (Proverbs 3:5).
This is a season of joy and the bittersweet, fear and courage, hope and tinges of regret, answered prayers and not yets, hard questions and some hard answers. This season testifies to the power of Christ at work to sustain, transform and renew.
I’m reminded that a hand and heart open to release are also open to receive. As I release, I’m receiving the blessings of a present Father who proves Himself faithful over and over again.
What are you releasing and receiving today?
“I am convinced and confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will [continue to] perfect and complete it until the day of Christ Jesus [the time of His return].” – Philippians 1:6 AMP
The sun’s energizing vitamin D. A vibrant tapestry of color. The promise of renewal. What was dormant is revived. What is dead is alive. All the things I love about Spring. The season also marked the celebration of my birthday (a little closer to the half century mark) and the celebration of Jesus’ Resurrection (He got up!). It’s all put me in a (more than usual) reflective mood the past few weeks. Just a few musings…
Aging is a gift. Gray hair, wrinkles, menopausal mom bod and the like means I’m alive. Having the choice and resources to “fight” it or just let it do what it do is a blessing. I will see beauty at every stage.
There’s a difference between being nice and being kind. Too often I’ve been nice when I should have been kind enough to rock the boat. How often do we prioritize our comfort over someone’s need for the truth?
Most people just want to be seen and heard. Good, bad or indifferent- to see and to be seen is a mercy. It’s so easy to get caught up in our own stuff and miss it. Grace is a gift we can continually give and receive.
Less is more but extra isn’t bad. We can treasure simplicity but also find joy in the complex.
Jesus really is the Way, the Truth and the Life. I’ve questioned my faith. I’ve questioned the church. But the answer has remained the same- He is faithful and He is trustworthy. This is the Good News, ” For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16).”
I couldn’t have imagined I would call Baltimore home for the past 20 years. Yet here I am. I’ve worked downtown for over a decade now and the cityscape never gets old. Yes, I know this is just a small part of the city. Yes, I know the city has its ills. But Baltimore has grown on me in ways I didn’t expect and I find my soul irritated by the consistently negative narratives. Can anything good come out of Baltimore? Yes, everyday. I see the ugly but I also see the beauty and I choose to seek the good.
What are you seeing? What are you seeking? Here’s a reminder to FIND A NEW ANGLE.
It’s been a month of Barnabas Blessings!🎉 So grateful for the support, the pics and the messages sharing how the book is blessing you. Favorite poem? A moment of inspiration? Please share! Amazon reviews are also greatly appreciated.
Are you familiar with that phrase? Spoken with complete confidence that whatever it is, there is no question of truth or certainty. But what if there is a shadow of doubt. What do you do with it? What do you do with doubt?
Some bulldoze through with a “just do it” attitude. Doubt is a dirty word and a near heretical thought.
Some are paralyzed, unable to take a step forward, backwards or sideways. Doubt leaves them at a complete loss for what to do next.
I have found myself at both extremes and somewhere in between. But with time I’ve learned to view doubt as an invitation.
Doubt is an invitation. An invitation to check my motives. An invitation to dig at the roots of what triggers me and makes me tick. An invitation to seek wisdom and guidance. An invitation to stop and re-evaluate. An invitation to draw nearer to God.
The shadow of doubt is an invitation to rest in the shadow of the Almighty (Psalm 91:1 NIV).