Gesuschic

 It happened, didn’t it? You read the title of my blog and like most people you had a certain stereotype enter into your mind. It’s okay. I would guess from my own assumptions that a lot of upper and middle class Americans would have that same view. But what if I told you after reading about my own view point, you just might have a different opinion?
I thank God everyday I had the beautiful examples I had in life. My mom and dad were poor, piss poor if you will. But it was a known fact that Tom and Wanda Ingram never met a stranger. That old “ghetto house” over by Champion and Main were home and refuge to MANY different characters through the years. People still talk about them, that house, that time. It was magical, I know that now.
To have been able to call them mom and dad was an honor. I’m only sorry that death swooped them too soon, that my own children weren’t able to see the example from where I came from.
It was important to them, respect. To love people regardless of their race, Religion, gender or status.
As an adult I had a fairy tale life. I was a Pastor’s wife. I stayed home, cooked, cleaned, home schooled my babies and greeted my husband with kisses and had supper ready when he walked in the door. For most women now days, they would gasp at that reality. But as a Feminist, there was nothing more I took pride in then to single handily take care of my family. But life can have a cruel wind. And the season of perfection crashed and burned for us and we regrettably had to say goodbye to the suburbs of Grove City and the only church family my children had known and head to the East side with dear friends who took us in. It was hard for my then husband. As much as I loath him now, it was hard for him. However, I felt home. The corner store became a daily ritual. The friendly faces that would always greet us, the candy at the front of the store. My kids thought it was always Christmas.
Even as a writer I have no words to describe Shawn from the corner store. There’s such a familiarity about him. His comforting smile, his conversation, a gentleness follows him. Every time I walked in there it was a comfort to me.
I felt…noticed.
We managed to get it together and once again our family found ourselves back to “the burbs.” It didn’t last long. Yet this time the crashing and burning was a bit more devastating because my then husband decided to leave and the kids and I were left.
I did my best. I tread water for nearly a year until I lost my job and eventually our home. Thank God for friends. We ended up back on the East side. The corner store was still there with some new faces, but that familiar comfort…it lingered like an ocean breeze. I found myself going in there at night. Coming home from work and being completely exhausted, I’d drag myself over there. Honestly, most of the time it was just so I could feel that peace I always felt when going in there from before.
A familiar anything.
Did it matter there was a group of teenagers that would hang out in the parking lot, doing what you would probably expect them to be doing?
Not one bit.
Not to me.
Sometimes what they were doing served as medication for my numb bones and a get away from my thoughts of being a complete failure; as a wife, a mother, anything else you wanna throw in there, trust me, I thought it first. I was a mess.
The conversations were welcomed.
Sometimes laughter, silliness.
Perhaps a life that most wouldn’t give a second thought, but to someone who was only giving an appearance of being alive…the laughter was needed. There was nights those thugs kept me breathing. The compliments about my age, the goofy shenanigans, the people I began to meet. I fell in love with every single one of them man. Every time I walked in that corner store.
My first encounter with Louie almost made me shit sideways. Just keeping it real here! He had grabbed a man by his throat and “invited” him to leave the store. It wasn’t until months later I found out he had made a disgusting racial slur about their ethnicity. One thing I learned quick about Louie is the fact he takes no shit from nobody.
He’s intimidating. A “bad ass mother fucker” as some has described, hahaha
But there is something about him.
You’d have to be a complete idiot not to see it all over him.
Despite what you see with your eyes, there is something deeper. He’s a born leader. I know this. When all Hell comes crashing down and the fan full of shit begins to turn, it’s Louie people run to.
To me? When the feeling of fear hits your soul and you are the person people look to for safety and refuge, my God that speaks VOLUMES. You can look at him with physical eyes and have those stereotypes of him being a thug with a record, ink all over his body, loud, and they would all be 100% true.
Louie does have a record.
He’s served time more than once.
He is intimidating.
He hides nothing about who he is and yes, he is in fact, a bad ass mother fucker.
Yet what I don’t think he even realizes himself…as crazy as it sounds, those are gifts of a leader. Something, there is something, he is here on this earth for. Those qualities aren’t just learned. You have them for a reason, he has them for a reason.
I walk into that store and he never ceases to make me feel like a million bucks. My daughters feel safe when he’s there. I feel safe when he’s around. He makes his life no secret. What you see is exactly what you get. It’s not the prettiest picture. Louie is flawed, he’s real enough to know that.
An underdog to the Columbus Metropolitan Police Department, and any other possible government official, haha But here in our hood, our City, our neighborhood, Louie keeps order. He keeps it safe. There has been times he’s grilled out for the kids in the area in front of the store, dancing with the customers to keep a smile on their face, but there has been those times where he’s had to let everyone know this is still a place of business and people will conduct themselves accordingly.
A couple of my son’s friends asked him if he knew I was friends with a real Gangster, haha My son shrugged his shoulders and said “You mean Louie? We don’t care, we love Louie.”
The second I found out that Louie is the son of Shawn it all made complete sense to me. That same comfort, that same peace, that same gentleness…Even meeting his younger brother…the same exact feeling. It’s a fucking legacy he was born into. A legacy that doesn’t scream gangsta or thug or Doctor or lawyer, hell no, it’s a legacy of leadership.
I was finally able to introduce my youngest son to Shawn the other day, he has officially met all of my children.
We shared a few things about each of our kids and as I left that corner store the last thing I said to him was; “Shawn, you have great kids man, don’t ever let anyone tell you different.” He smiled and said “Oh I know, and I won’t.”
So the next time you forgot milk, need to make a run to the corner store in the middle of the night and as you drive up into a dark parking lot and see a big ass intimidating thug in the doorway, it’s okay to unlock your doors and get out of your car. You have my word…Louie’s got ya;)

Until Next Time…Selah,
Gesuschic

 My breakdowns are starting to become fewer and fewer as of late. I’m not quite sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps that’ll be another day for a different blog. I never know, hahaha
A few weeks ago I broke down at church with an amazing word from, not only my Pastor but one of our worship Pastor’s. I received it, believed it. I still do. But something has gone terribly wrong.
I lost it.
I just…lost it.
I have this thing where I can gain the craziest of momentum in my out of the ordinary chaotic life, then all of a sudden, literally out of the blue, a huge boulder made of the strongest of concrete comes flying through life and bitch smacks me right in the face and I fall.
And fall, and fall, and fall….I’m still falling. There is no end. Just a big dark bottomless pit of nothing. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear I think I get ahead but in all actuality I’m just dangling forever and never truly getting anywhere.
I do everything right man. Or at least I think I do. I have this attitude like Dory from “Finding Nemo” that no matter what happens I “just keep swimming…” but damn, my arms are tired. My face is tired from smiling. I have been on this journey now for over two and a half years and honestly, this is the longest season of my life. I’m constantly struggling between what’s right and wrong, I struggle with those grey areas that nobody ever wants to talk about because they would rather pretend to themselves and everyone else, that they don’t exist.
Well, I’m not a pretender. I can’t do that. I have approximately three billion emotions and I show and tell every single one at any given moment. The blessings I get on a daily from God are just amazing. They blow me away all of the time. God and His glory are of no match to anything bad that has happened to me. I have no complaints.
Well, maybe a few.
I get pissy with God a lot. In spite of me throwing Him my broken pieces, He covers me.
He covers my babies.
God is so faithful.
But I want more. I deserve more.
Don’t I?
I think I’ve paid a few dues that weren’t even mine to pay. However, so has He.
I sound so selfish. But hey, it’s what it is and it’s how I feel. I’m sick and fucking tired of one thing after another happening to me and I take these giant leaps forward…only to get bungee corded back even further. This roller coaster of life and my emotions are taking a hard ass toll on me.
I have to lay it all out here in my words. Writing is my escape. So let me just keep it absolutely  one hundred and say, I’m about to break. My mind is starting to wonder and my momentum is fading quicker than people’s loyalty. (yeah I threw that out there too).
My faith is it. That’s all I have left. I don’t want to live the life of Job. I wanna go to work, pay my bills, laugh with my children and just be.
WHEN does THAT get to happen?
It sounds so bizarre but I see these people, these loser father’s, fair weathered friends, and they are just moving along in their day-to-day life and I’m just…here.
I know I have purpose.
I get that.
I have to be an example, a strong example but again, man, I’m getting worn out. People running their mouth’s, assumptions flying everywhere and only a select few stand true and know me better than rumors. The past few weeks I’ve seen things I could have gone my ENTIRE life without seeing. But I didn’t break. I kept on. I’ve had temptation of every single nasty thing laid at my feet and I passed on all of them, well, almost all of them. (yet another blog for another day). I’m still here. Crying in my shower to God at least every other day. It may be by a string but I’m still holding on to the things that ground me. I praise God He blessed me with parents that kept my roots deep in faith. I don’t know how people do it without Him.
Because of that I’ll take a deep breath, turn on some music, light an incense and be to myself. The only thing I hold tight is never forgetting where I came from…in faith. I can’t shake this feeling though, the past 17 years being an illusion. The only good from it was my babies. My beautiful, selfless babies. Damn, my kids are so good. Understanding to the point it hurts my heart not to be able to give them so much more.
Will I ever get my shit together?
Maybe I’m not supposed too?
These two questions linger in my head day to day.
I thought I had that happily ever after…but it was an illusion. I’m a constant “to be continued” in the sitcom known as my life.
Is that my destiny?
This shameful rut I’ve gotten myself into is overwhelming. Being the player left in the dugout not even reaching the bench, let alone the field. I feel all by myself at times even though I know I’m not. But people have lives to live and I’ve more than over extended my “cry baby friend time…” But I’m not done boo hooing yet dammit. I have such a way to go in my journey. I can take that as a glass half empty in the fact I have time to still get it together, or I can look at that as a glass that should have been emptied, refilled, shaken and stirred a few times over…The good, the bad and the honest. That’s me.
Not one of my best inspirational blogs but when I started writing way back in middle school I promised myself I would always say exactly how I felt and never hide anything.
My heart is still on my sleeve.
Life, as cruel as it is, hasn’t stolen my ability to keep it real.
I can’t say I’m angry, sad…I’m confused. I’m so freakin’ confused. Why am I here in this rut man? I’m doing good…I thought. What is left of me that needs emptied for God to give me my life changing miracle???? I’ve purged everything. EVERYTHING…I have nothing left in me.
Or is that the actual point?

To Be Continued,
Cheryl