My Son Is Mama's BABY...Poppa's MAYBE

   Every man dreams of that day when he produces a male heir to eventually assume his father's throne. That moment when he welcomes his young son into the world and holds him in his arms for the first time. I was excited beyond measure when my wife told me she was pregnant. I went to every OB-GYN appointment. I attended every class. I read every book that I could find on becoming a new father. I made ever effort to be prepared. Then the day arrived when my wife's water broke, my little man was on his way! I held his mother's hand as he passed through her birth canal. I smiled as they held him up for us to see. I shed tears when I heard his first cries. One of my greatest dreams had finally come true. I was the father of a healthy beautiful baby boy. But the glory of my dreams would be short lived. A few weeks later when my own father was visiting us he asked me something that would shake the foundations of my spirit. My father was never one to mince words or pull punches so when he spoke his question I knew he truly felt a strong cause for it. He leaned in close to me and said "Son are you sure that he is YOUR son?!"

   My first reaction was controlled rage. How could the man who had raised me even have the heart to ask me something like that. And if he was reading my mind he then says,  "I know that isn't what you were expecting. But I KNOW what you looked like when you were a baby and I my gut feelings are telling me that you are not your son's father." "You are not your son's father" The statement was so ridiculous that my rage turned to pure amusement. So I laughed off my father's opinion and question. It wasn't until years later that I would begin to question my son's parentage. The more he grew up the more my father's words begin to ring louder in my head. At ten years old it still bothered that my boy shared none of my dominate physical traits nor did he display any of my character traits. Eventually the suspicions that he may not be my son burned on mind on a daily basis. I figured asking my wife flat out would damage our marriage so I didn't because I would basically be accusing her of infidelity without proof, so instead I made the decision to secretly have a DNA test done on our son.

  The test took a couple of weeks to return which made the event even more excruciating. When I did finally go to retrieve the results I didn't even open the envelope. I was so fearful of what they would reveal. What they would mean for both my life and my son's life. If I was his father did that mean I had wasted precious time questioning our relation. If I wasn't his father would I be able to tell his mother that I know she was unfaithful and an habitual liar. I guess what prevented me from opening that envelope the most was that I loved my son. In my heart and soul I was his father and I truly believed the test results wouldn't change those feelings. So I sat in my car with my hands trembling as I held the envelope. I kept trying to summon the courage to open it and finally answer the questions that had plagued me for over a decade. As much as I wanted to know...I didn't want to know. But I owed it to myself. More importantly I owed it to the relationship I shared with my son and wife to put that dreaded thought to rest. The thought that my son is mama's baby but poppa's maybe.

Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL

GUNS Don't Kill People. PEOPLE...KILL PEOPLE

   I have protected police officers and soldiers. I have saved the lives of those that would have become victims of violent and brutal crimes. I have also ended as many wars as I have started. I have been used under the disguise of protection and also as a tool of intimidation. But the truth is that I was created with one purpose...to wound and to kill. I am the true definition of what a weapon of mass destruction is. I have watched grown men beg for their lives. I have seen women uncontrollably shed tears. I have destroyed families and stolen the lives of innocent people. Since my birth in the 12th century I have been at the center of many a gruesome scene. After being exposed to so much bloodshed one would think I would be use to this carnage. And I actually thought that I was...but time has a way of making you realize things aren't as good as they should or could be. Here I stand nine centuries later in the year 2045 witnessing something that finally makes me question the purpose of my creation.

   I am laying on a cold floor. My trigger is sore from the last round of shots that I just fired. As I survey my surroundings I first hear the eerie silence that always immediately follows after I have filled my appetite for destruction. After the sounds of nothingness penetrate my barrel I look around. I see the scene that I have become so accustomed to seeing...death. But on this day the images of death cannot be ignored. As far as I can see are bodies of men, women and children. Their clothing is littered with holes and permanently stained with blood. My current owner is slumped against the stairs of a pulpit. As I look up I see the image of a man wearing a crown of thrones on his head stretched across a large cross. I have seen this image many times before. I have seen it hanging on necklaces, seen it in the inside of cars and have also seen them tattooed on the bodies of both my shooters and their victims. As I look at the image towering over me I see the face of the man who represents eternal life staring out at all the death laid out before him.

   He appears as if he is crying. I can't blame him if he is. Perhaps he is sad because he has seen this scene too many times before too. As we stare at each other I begin to question why I don't do more to control my actions. I start to think that I have grown tired of this life. Sick of hearing the terrified screams and sorrowful cries. Weary of meeting people on their last days of life. I start to believe that I am finally disgusted with being the source of so much misery and pain. I yearn for a better purpose. I no longer want to be the bringer of death. As a wallow in my own self hate I remember I am just doing what my my creator designed me to do. I remember I am not the cause of all this madness. I am only a tool. How I am used is not my choice or request. I know that even though my handles are constantly stained with the blood of many I am not at fault. I am not the problem. I am a gun and I know the truth. Guns don't kill people. People...kill people.

*This chapter was inspired by the song "I Gave You Power" featured on the 1996 masterpiece album entitled "It Was Written" by Nas

Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL

WHY Did YOU Say YES?!

   After all this time he finally asked you to be his wife! You were so caught up in the moment that you didn't even ponder the seriousness of his question and in turn the answer you gave him. That was Friday night. But as you stare in horror at the engagement ring snugly hugging your finger on this Monday morning you realize the magical event that you have dreamed about has given way to a harsh but true reality. You don't know if you want to marry him. As the years past without him popping the question you had grown accustomed to all the excuses he gave for why he was "not buying the cow, but getting the milk for free". You believed him when he told you he needed more time. You supported him when he said he wanted to wait for his career to blossom. You trusted him when he told you he would do right by you. And to his credit he did do everything he said he would but did it have to take damn near ten years.

   You waited patiently holding back your true feelings on the subject because you didn't want to pressure and scare him away because he was a good guy. He had treated you better than any other man had. He was always there when you needed him and most importantly when you didn't. You always thought he had the makings to be a good husband because he was such a great boyfriend. So why now after you have the ring on your hand are YOU the one having doubts about marriage. Had the time passed so far along that you had decided it was better to just remain where you were than to take a chance and go where neither of you had went before? Where you just scared of what being a wife, his wife meant? Was the idea of suddenly being fully committed to one man by law too much to take? Was it trust? Was it his finances? Was it the sex?

What is it now that is keeping you from being as excited now as were then when he got down on his bended knee, opened the little purple (your favorite color) ring box and asked you to make his life better by accepting his proposal of marriage? You do love him...don't you?! YES!!! OF COURSE YOU LOVE HIM!!! But is love enough to become his wife? You are actually thinking about telling him you need more time to re-think your answer. You want to tell him your first response was made with pure emotions devoid of practical thinking. But will he take your request for more time as a sign that you don't want to marry him? Will he rescind the proposal? Will he think you're ungrateful or worse think you don't love him? You are in a full state of confusion and panic as you weigh the pros and cons of becoming his "MRS". Your heart is telling you to marry him. Your mind is telling you to take the time to decide. As you stare at the ring on your finger you are mentally beating yourself up. Now you are the one asking yourself...why did you say yes?!


Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL