COVID-19 brings a different kind of Easter weekend for me and many others around the world. For me, because of a preexisting condition, I am unable to find myself in a church building gathered with others in a sanctuary, but I am wrapped in a wool shawl looking at a body of water as the sun rises.

The ripples that are flowing gently across Hoover Dam are much like my life right now. The pressure of life has my mind spinning, and if I’m not careful, I may find my back up against the wall.

Today is nothing like the excitement I felt crossing over from December 31, 2019, to January 1, 2020, as I sat in the back of the church praying as my husband delivered a New Year’s Eve sermon titled Help Is Already Here.

As I reflect this weekend, I laugh inwardly as I am reading through the notes of that particular sermon. I chuckle because I was standing on my feet with hands raised saying, “Amen!” and what we call in the Black church a call and response, I could be heard yelling, “Help is Already Here!” Oh, how I embraced God’s truth at that particular hour, yet four months later, I am doing all you can just to hold on.

Reading the Bible is easy when things are going well in your life. Today I struggle. I am dealing with too many emotions at this very moment.

My mom was rushed to the hospital on Wednesday before Good Friday. With COVID-19, no one can visit her. We are that family that will rotate sitting at the hospital with our immediate family members until their release. However, in this season, we have to hope and pray that the nurses and doctors are taking great care of her and will reach out to us regularly with updates on the condition of her health. I, on the other hand, am silently caving, unable to ignore that my mom is 84 with prior health challenges. I am unable to show too many emotions because my family calls me the strong one. They have no idea that I am sitting in my prayer room, silently weeping as I speak with them on the telephone to emerge when it’s my time to talk with confidence in my voice.

I am dealing with too many emotions at this very moment.

As I balance my emotions with my mom, I have someone close to me wrestling with some very unsettling health news. As I do all I can to keep my composure when speaking with this person, I have tears streaming down my face trying to withhold expressing too many emotions. Tapping into prayer, all I have is, Lord, hear our prayers, although I have not uttered one word of prayer. This person has no idea that I am sitting in my prayer room looking for something to let me know everything will be alright. I pull a book of prayers from my bookshelf flipping through the pages trying to find a prayer to pray and nothing. I have nothing.

I am dealing with too many emotions at this very moment.

If those two situations were not enough, I am looking at my finances as an entrepreneur and small business owner. What I see with my natural eye is enough to break me. The magazine I co-own with my daughter was brilliantly relaunched in February and gaining significant traction. My daughter and her team took READY Publication to another level. The day after International Women’s Day (March 8, 2020), COVID-19 hit the US at the rate of having to shut down college campuses, small businesses, and so much more if you were not essential. Although we are online in this season, our interns’ lives were disrupted, and all of us had to figure out our new normal. The very plans that were rolling out included high school and college students, teachers, and professors, along with mentorship and civic engagement. Everything came to a halt. Will we recover? Can we recover? Our teams have no idea that I am sitting in my prayer room with them on a conference call trying to speak boldly, although my voice is shaking.

I am dealing with too many emotions at this very moment.

Watching the news and reading articles written by a reputable journalist, I am learning how COVID-19 is hitting the African American community at the speed of light. I have one hand on my chest with my other hand on my smartphone, scrolling and searching the internet, hoping the news is not correct.

Albany, GA.




New York City

Just a few places, I see the stats as I sit in my prayer room doing everything I can to push back tears and the fear that is trying to take over my life. I am wrestling with God. I don’t get it. Why does it feel that Holy Week, which led me into this Easter weekend, is crushing me on every side? I have cried so much this week that I don’t know if I’m going through a detox experience cleaning out things that are not of God, or if I am being stretched for a greater purpose.

I am dealing with too many emotions at this very moment.

Let’s not forget ministry, my calling as a servant leader and intercessor, where I am at the intersection of prayer, people, and politics. I willfully serve in the trenches every day regardless of what I may face. I choose to lift mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth (Psalm 121). You cannot see me, but I am sitting in my prayer room, shedding a few tears as I look around and see hope. I smell the anointing oil I often use around the doorpost and on the floor where I circle and pray for so many people daily.

I am dealing with too many emotions at this very moment.

And yet, as I sit looking at the ripples in this body of water, I flip through my Bible, and what falls out are the sermon notes from my husband’s message dated, March 22, 2020, titled, “We Will Get Through This” from Psalm 46.

And so, this is what I will hold onto in this season. I will get through this. You will too!

Call to action. 1) Pray, 2) Sow a seed (right panel PayPal), 3) Enjoy the video below of the ripples, 4) If you are a praying person, pray for me, and 5) Leave a comment letting me know how I can pray for you in this season.

[wpvideo AwuRkwJ1]

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