Greetings family, friends and faithful readers.
I come to you as darkness falls, wishing you and yours bountiful happiness and countless blessings.
Thank you all for allowing me the most glorious opportunity of sharing God’s fascinating world with all of you. I honestly wish that I could make it easier to love me.
So for those that don’t care, imagine me holding a baby bird and rubbing a puppy. As your shamanic Shakespearean street prophet and wandering warlock of words and witchering wizard in wisdom, I am humbly honored by the overwhelmingly awesome amount of support I’ve received from the readers of The Enterprise-Tocsin.
Over five of my columns made The E-T’s top 100 most read on the paper’s website, with Juneteenth for the Ages number 3 on E-T online. Humble hugs to my mother’s longtime dearest friend Mrs. Gloria Ball, one of the most loving and caring people to have ever lived.
Ms. Asil peace, hugs and much love to you my tantalizing teenage-looking Tinker Bell- toddler-size friend.
For this week’s column I’ve decided to share a few true glorious mixtures of melancholy memories that can’t be repeated or recaptured. It was 2016 and my mother, the late educator Marva Dillon-Hawkins-Jones, was hospitalized in the Delta Regional Hospital.
It has been said that the 3rd floor at DRH is reserved for the seriously sick, suffering and the dying. I recall spending the night in my mother’s room praying and hoping that she would get better when she’d awaken with moans and groans of pain.
When all the sudden there was a knock at the door and a short brown-skinned neatly dressed man, with a small afro walked in.
Thinking that he may have been one of my mom’s students, I spoke and let him in. He said that he was a preacher and asked “Is this your mom and is it ok that I pray for her?” I said, “yes I would be honored.”
After giving him my mother’s name, he began to pray.
“Lord in Jesus’ name I ask that you lay your holy hand on Mrs. Hawkins,” he said. Then the prayer ritual got fierce and electrifying as the pastor begin to scream, shout, wiggle and sing powerful praises. “DEVIL YOU CAN NOT HAVE THIS WOMAN!” “IN JESUS’ NAME YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO HER!” he said. Then before the preacher could continue my Mom stopped the man of the cloth’s powerful presentation while patting him on the hand saying “Pastor the Devil didn’t do this to me. I had a bad diet.” Immediately in shock I said “Momma” and apologized to the preacher and said that she was heavily sedated.
The preacher said that’s alright because God is working.
And working he was because my mom came home and we had her for 5 ½ years. Which brings me to when I was about 6 years old I would visit my grandmother, sisters, and countless family members in Holly Ridge, one of the majestic places on Earth.
I remember going to church in Holly Ridge and Reverend Jones would preach from what seemed like sunup to sundown and at the end of the day our beloved Granny, the late Elnora Johnson would cook a feast made for 50 kings.
I remember after eating my fill, there was a noise in the kitchen that sounded like the Fed Ex assembly line boxing up stuff. I ran to the kitchen and saw Granny wrapping and boxing up food.
“Hey where are you taking all that food Granny?” I asked.
She looked at me and said “Sundance gratitude is giving back for being blessed.”
Over 40 years later I’ve never forgotten those powerful words and urge each and every blessed human being to give not just financially but also give generously of your time.
To my sisters Regina Hawkins and Princess Jones I’m grateful, to Mayor Steve Rosenthal I’m honored, Bryan Davis thanks for the opportunity, to Elvis Pernell, Judge Gwendolyn Pernell, Judge Lisa Bell, and Michael S. Clark and the South Street Pharmacy family, Mrs. Debra Johnson, Aunt Linda Smith-Myles family-Reverend Edward Thomas and the entire Delta community what a blessing.
Happy New Year, Mississippi Delta