Feeding the Dogs Rib Tips

I enjoyed spending time with family during Christmas. While there I got some much-needed rest, ate entirely too much food, and realized that I was more than ready to put 2016 behind me and welcome 2017 with open arms.
You see, last Wednesday while at my daughter and her husband's house hanging with my 3 grandchildren, 1 of their cousins, and 2 grand-dogs, I found myself feeding the 2 grand-dogs some of the rib tips that my oldest granddaughter and I had just purchased. Yes, I refer to the dogs as grand-dogs because my daughter and family always refer to me as their nana. Since my daughter is stubborn and I don’t have time to sweat the small stuff, I just went along with it. The truth is I am not an animal person - at least I used to not be - and it was just 2 days before when I was hollering at the dogs because they were in my daughter and her husband's bed. They treat the dogs like humans and spoil them rotten. This is a blog post for another day...

While feeding my grand-dog…

In Memory of Joyce Murray

I’ve been avoiding writing this post for several days – especially since within the last year I have lost four people near and dear to my heart with my mother, Carline N. Curtis, being one of them. It is still hard for me to admit that my mother is gone. Therefore, I just couldn’t muster up the strength to write this post until now because it pains me too much to even say that Joyce Murray, Mama Joyce as I affectionately called her and who was like a second mother to me, has passed away.
Mama Joyce was a phenomenal woman with great faith, strength and love. She TRULY loved everyone she came in contact with and demonstrated that love on so many levels. When you were in Mama Joyce’s presence you walked away feeling loved and encouraged to keep pressin’ on no matter what you were going through. And, when it came to cooking, Mama Joyce was indeed one of the best cooks in the world with Monkey Bread being one of her signature desserts. I can vividly remember talking to her on a few occasio…



Women Divided Within the Church

Sitting here on this Saturday evening, I went looking through some old files on my computer and ran across a few articles that I wrote over ten years ago. After reading a few of them, I decided to post this one on Carla's Reflections. I'm still trying to figure out what prompted me to write this article in the first place so long ago -- somebody probably made me mad at church and since I have been known to snap off, more than likely I decided to come home to write an article to let off my frustrations. I do remember though that it was published in a local magazine out of Indiana, I believe. I also believe that it was posted online a few places. This is why I need to be more organized so I can put my hands on the magazine that is was printed in and the document that contains where some of my articles have been posted. Anyway, check it out...

While entering the sanctuary for Sunday service, a rather stunning woman with smooth silky skin confidently walks down the aisle in a styl…

Dealing with the Woman in the Mirror

© VisualPhotos

Since 2016 is now upon us, I’ve been thinking about some resolutions to make. Of course, the usual ones come to mind i.e. eating better, working out, making a vision board, and writing out my goals. However, something about these resolutions didn’t sit well with me – not to say that some of these won’t be included as my resolutions. The main resolution that immediately came to mind for me to accomplish in 2016 is to begin really “dealing with the woman in the mirror.”
As I look back over 2015, it was indeed one of the toughest years of my life and I truly thank God that I didn’t lose my mind. Through these tough times, I was forced to deal with myself and some of the things I discovered I didn’t like. You know, it would be easy for me to point the finger at others for treating me a certain way, rather than looking at my own decision making. And, I’ll admit that in some situations, I made some bad choices and decisions that thinking about them now makes me cringe! Before …

A Sistah's Perspective: Journeying Through the Season of Singleness

Image courtesy of Stockimages at

All too often, I have found that we single sistahs in the church seem to think that God has passed us by when it comes to being blessed with a husband. We come to church, pray, tithe, worship, serve on committees, and want to have the company of a strong African-American Christian husband. As the tears roll down our brown cheeks, we ask God, “Did you forget about blessing me with a husband?” 
Each week as the seat beside us (claimed as our husband’s) stays empty, we lose the faith.  And, when we hear the words, “Sistah, perhaps it’s not in God’s will that you marry,” makes things even worse. Then we engage in pity parties and depression sessions.
Although it gets hard at times, we have to be relentless in our pursuit for God and righteous living. If we are not seeking God’s will first, then Satan can fill our heads with negative thoughts which may cause us to doubt God. When loneliness seems to be at its peaks in our lives, we have t…

Why I Write

Wow! I was going through some files, and found this article that I wrote in September 2001 titled, "Why I Write." I can't believe that I wrote this article over fourteen years ago. Time goes by so fast.

Why I Write

I write because it allows me to dig deep into the depths of my soul to examine and express myself, which is very therapeutic. Whether I am creating an essay, nonfiction or fiction writings, I have found that writing has always been instrumental in allowing me to use my “creative juices” to stay emotionally balanced and to motivate and uplift others.
When I am going through the storms of life, writing allows me to release my anger, frustrations and fears, which keeps me centered on the blessing of life and less focused on life’s ups and downs. At the same time, writing allows me to create written recordings of my good times and milestones, which in turn, helps me to always remember that in spite of everything…”weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the …