LISA SPEAKS

2011-05-05T07:00:00.000-04:00

No Regrets! Lisa's Letter to her 20 year old self

Featured in Brava Magazine for Women, Madison, WI, May 2011 Issue

Lisa Peyton-Caire
It’s hard to pin a single title on Lisa Peyton-Caire. A writer, educator, mother, vocalist and women’s health advocate, many of 39-year-old Peyton-Caire’s passions began to form when she moved to Madison as a bright-eyed undergraduate. After earning a master’s degree in education, she returned to her east coast roots, working in education and launching an online magazine for African-American women. Now, Peyton-Caire is circling back to Madison, this time to join husband Kaleem, who was named CEO of the Urban League of Greater Madison last year. Along with her many achievements, Peyton-Caire is bringing to our community a wisdom earned from her personal journey along the way.
***************************************************

Dearest Lisa,

I can’t believe how time has flown since I last saw you.

Right now you are a junior and an academic star in the sociology department— young, bright, beautiful and so very full of promise, dreams, plans to be the answer for your family and your community and to right all the wrongs in the world.

You are on your way to Japan for a semester of study (or so you think), newly married to a striking young man, your belly swelling with a baby as you sit in lecture halls taking professors to task, challenging your peers and crafting theories to conquer social inequalities. You are on fire in every way, confident as ever that the future will work out just the way you planned. You don’t yet understand just how heavy a load you are preparing to carry on those slim, honey-hued shoulders. But you will learn in time, Lisa Marie, just how strong those slim shoulders are, and I am writing to tell you to never forget your strength or zest for life. You will need these things for the tremendous journey ahead.

You and your husband will bring forth five beautiful children over the span of 14 years. Yes I said five! I know this must sound like a page from someone else’s biography—but it is indeed your story. Your plans to study in far-away places will wait. But be patient; the time will come. Until then, you’ll be busy learning, creating and contributing in other ways. Over many peaks and valleys, you will manage to accomplish amazing things.

The road ahead of you will take you many places; not always the places you expect. And through it all, you will learn that life is not perfect, children are not perfect, the people you love are not perfect and you are not perfect. But trust me when I say you will realize that in the imperfection comes a perfect understanding of what it is to be human, to be flawed, to accept others, and to find a way to love anyway.

You don’t know this yet, and I bear great pain in telling you, but your mother will pass away. She will leave too soon, and you will have the auspicious honor to walk those final miles with her. They will be precious and painful, difficult and beautiful. Remember her words, her loving eyes, and the determined grip of her weakening hand on your slight shoulder when she whispers into your ear for the last time. She is telling all you need to know to move forward, to get unstuck, to let go and just be. Because Lisa Marie, life is not always fair, but it is yours to live as fully and as joyfully as you can.

So go forward into the unknown, my Dearest, looking backward only to take of its wisdom, but never of its pain. And remember to always cherish each day, for time moves swiftly and life is to be lived with all of the passion you can muster. Cast your doubts aside my dear, and wait no longer for that perfect day to come along. It is already here, Lisa Marie, it is already here.

Yours Truly,

Me

2011-04-22T09:27:00.007-04:00

REMEMBERING KYLE BENNETT

A family drove home without their son yesterday. They left him at the graveyard in a steel blue casket that by now has been lowered six feet underground to its final resting place. I wondered as I drove my children home from the funeral, silently taking account of each of them beside me and behind me in my rear view mirror, how I would survive looking back to find any one of them missing. The thought was too paralyzing to continue so I stopped, and my heart grew heavy in grief for the lost life of the 17 year old young man, Kyle Bennett, who decided on April 13th, 2011 that life was too difficult to continue and put a shotgun to his chest to end what must have felt like hell...not realizing that all things pass, and that tomorrow is another chance at something better, something greater. I wish that I had known him, seen him, been there to tell him that everything was going to be all right, that I could have embraced him like every mother is compelled to do to any child she sees in pain, and to love him back into reality so that he would still be here to grace others with his laughter and playfulness that so many spoke of in describing the impact he had on their lives.

My sons were friendly acquaintances of Kyle's, though not close friends, but knew him and describe him as 'a cool kid, a good kid who everybody liked, always smiling', the kind of kid they wanted to befriend and get to know. He played soccer, he was admired for his rollerskating skills which he artfully displayed at the local skating rink on Saturday nights, he mentored kids at a local community center...he was a typical teenage boy who liked to wear fresh gear and impress the ladies. My sons won't have the chance to get to know Kyle better. Instead, they--along with nearly 400 classmates, friends, family members, and others impacted by the loss gathered yesterday to say goodbye to him--with stunned faces, tears, and an unfulfilled need to know 'why'. The answers are not there.

But I think in the loss of his life, Kyle did something miraculous. The pastor who eulogized Kyle delivered a powerful message, a message everyone needed to hear, but especially the young people there. He spoke of David and how David's many gifts and talents were not seen or understood by the people closest to him...that David's giftedness and talents as a shepard boy and harpist were played out in oblivion, his own father Jesse not fully aware or conscious of how special he was. Jesse had many other sons...David was the youngest of 8, and was sent out daily alone to tend to the sheep--not privy to the attention paid to his older brothers who were being prepped for leadership according to the customs of the times. So when the Prophet Samuel came to Jesse's house seeking a new king of Isreal among Jesse's eight sons--a king to replace King Saul who had fallen from grace in his keeping of God's commandments--Jesse did not think to present his youngest son David, the little shepard boy.

But Samuel, after sizing up the 7 older brothers and being dissatisfied, asked Jesse if he had any more sons. Jesse unenthusiastically sent for David,expecting little...but in fact, upon laying eyes on David, Samuel knew immediately that he was the chosen one. He anointed his head with oil, and thus began David's long journey to become King of Isreal. Between that time, he would slay the most formidable giant, Goliath, with only a few stones and a slingshot...and would win the heart of a nation.

The lesson...the Pastor drove home that in life few may recognize our talents, our giftedness...those closest to us may even be oblivious to who we are and what we have to offer, but that there is always One who sees us for who and what we are, that one being God our maker, and that event in our loneliest hour---like those lonely hours David spent on the pasture everyday with his sheep without the praise of his father or brothers, that God saw and knew his gift, and had an incredible plan for David's life that not even David could imagine at that time. The same is true for each of us.

The Pastor went on to say that in life we will all face giants---we will all have our Goliath to face down, but in facing it down, we must know that we need only to have faith--as David did with only a few stones and a slingshot in his hand against the most powerful foe in the land---many times his size--and that in facing that Giant--we must remember that our strength comes from a Source greater than any challenge, any situation, any circumstance. We can face down giants, and there is always a reason to get up, stand up, and confront our challenges, calling on the help of God and others for the strength and support we need to defeat them.

When he made the altar call before the funeral's end, the Pastor asked all those to come up who had ever considered taking their own lives. To our consternation, nearly 50 young people of the 200 or so gathered made their way to the alter, young men and women, most not older than 17, many in tears...all courageous and thankfully still here to speak of the feelings. The Pastor prayed a mighty prayer for them amid a congregation standing in affirmation of the prayer that God preserve their lives and assure them of their purpose, their value, and the love surrounding them at all times--and that the journey ahead of them, though not always easy, was theirs to take and to live out fully and to complete, because without them, the world would not be all that it could be or all that it should be.

Many embraces were exchanged after that, many tears of grief suddenly interspersed with tears of hope and comfort that the days ahead would be better despite the fact that Kyle was gone forever--and that each and every person in the room had a reason to live, to live our their life's calling, and to be a witness of Kyle's life and his story by living on.

I choose to believe that Kyle Bennett, in leaving us, brought light and grace to all of us gathered there on yesterday to bid him farewell, and that in the sadness of giving up his own life, was able through God's grace to save the lives of 50 others...or even more.

Thank you Kyle. We love you.

2011-04-22T08:09:00.000-04:00

Life is full of unexpected twists and turns, unforeseen events, and its share of joy and pain...reasons why our faith must be strong, our focus clear, and our minds ever aware of how precious each and every moment is. Embrace the ones you love today and 'get right' in your heart, mind, and actions toward the people that are near and dear to you. We are only here for a moment...make the best of it. --Lisa

2011-03-24T12:00:00.014-04:00

Enjoy Your Moment!

Today is my 39th birthday, a milestone I cherish with open arms but with some consternation given how vividly I remember turning 28, an age I seem to remember fondly. By age 28 I had given birth to a 3rd child--a beautiful baby girl to complement two rambunctious boys--had completed my Master's Degree in Education, was gainfully employed at my alma mater doing work I truly enjoyed, and was well into my 7th year of marriage to my college sweetheart. I was a bona fide grown-up, but light years away, it seemed, from the big 4-0 which is now just an arm's reach away. That was 11 years ago. Wow, how time flies, a realization that makes the words of a childhood classmate today on my Facebook wall all the more meaningful:

Happy Birthday Lisa. Enjoy your moment.

These words brought to mind one of many lessons my Grandparents taught me when I was very young. They were both God-fearing people of deep faith and avid readers of the Bible. They'd often pull my brothers and I and our cousins aside to have us read Bible verses aloud to them, especially as their eyesight faded, and to interpret the meaning of the scriptures to us and how they applied to our lives. On at least one of these many occasions, my Grandmother explained to us that God's times was nothing like man's time. Man's time, she said, was brief, fleeting...only a blink of an eye in God's eyes. She cautioned us to use our time wisely, to do so in service to God and the greater good, and to live in such a way that we could be proud of come judgement day. We listened intently to what she said, and imagined all the things we had done earlier that day that we'd have to explain to God when he came back! (Lol)!

Beyond the Christian faith that my Grandparents embraced, this concept of time is a prominent theme in all faiths, and in the work and studies of cosmologists, astronomers, astrologists, and others who study space, time, and the mysteries of our vast universe. Just how old the Universe is, no one knows. Estimates say 12-14 billion years based on the age of the oldest stars, with human life dating back only a few million years. Truth is, we've only been here for a minute, and as individuals with a life span averaging 60-80 years, we're truly only here for a moment in time.

The lesson here is simple; moments are all we really have...precious, fleeting moments to gaze upon the faces of the people we love, to hear their laughter, enjoy their company, and to engage in those things that truly make us happy. We have only a matter of minutes on the eternal clock of our universe to leave an imprint on life, and to give back to the world and to others in a way that is meaningful and memorable if only to those closest to us. We have only seconds to look upon the trees and the flowers, and to appreciate the color and vastness of the sky, the dampness of the rain, the chill of snow and ice, the warming radiance of the sun, and the enchanting glow of the moon. And though I believe in eternal life, life beyond our existence on earth, I sure don't want to miss out on all of the experiences and lessons to be learned while here. Who knows when I'll be able to come back?!

So today, as my friend Alvin Mosby who I've known since the 4th grade instructed me to do, I'm going to enjoy my moment....and again tomorrow, and the day after that, and each day thereafter, come rain or shine. I hope you do the same.

Happy Birthday to Me!

In Wellness,

Lisa

2011-03-18T01:17:00.074-04:00

Break the Cycle of Self-Neglect...Now!
Friends!

It's been a long while since I last posted here. In fact, it's been far too long...nearly a year ago around the time of my promoting the 2nd Annual Black Women's Wellness Day last May 22nd. Well, the 3rd Annual Black Women's Wellness Day is approaching quickly on Saturday, May 21st and promises to be quite the affair. I hope you'll join us!

As I hammer out what I trust will be a life-changing set of experiences for women, I realize that the agenda I'm planning is primarily for me. I have my fair share of healing to do within and without, and though far from rock bottom, I am also far from my ideal state of optimal health and wellness. Thankfully, it's never too late to START NOW!

As a working mother of five, the nucleus of a family of seven, and presently living with the emotional, physical, and logistical complexities of a commuter marriage, I cannot express passionately enough how exhausted--and lonely--I can get at the end of a long week of drop-offs, commuting to work, meetings, presentations, deadlines, homework, projects, dinner prep, housecleaning, bill-paying...and the like. And this is my short list! There's little time in between for good rest, relaxation, exercise, pampering, or even a few moments of centering silence. I wish I could say to you, like so many of the bubbly bloggers who speak to women, that I have managed to find perfect balance, but that would be far from the truth. Fact is, I have struggled immensely at times to maintain balance between my family life, personal needs, and my professional pursuits.

Admitting my struggles with balance is tough and potentially risky, especially as the Founder of Black Women's Wellness Day. But truth is truth, and thankfully, I recognize that I need change right now. I know better than anyone what the outcome will be if I don't. I know that these life-sustaining elements that I'm largely missing in my daily routine are critical to my remaining sane and healthy, so I've taken the position TODAY that they are NON-NEGOTIABLE! My daily routine, despite my many obligations and accountabilities MUST CHANGE NOW so that I am taking care of me as a first priority rather than a last priority. I've also come to accept that this new, unwavering focus on 'wellness first' will require radical change in the way that I move and work and the kind of work I commit myself to for the second chapter of my life, and I am willing to put in the time and effort to create this new reality for the sake of my health and my longevity.

Black Women and the Culture of Self-Reliance...and Self-Neglect

All women tend to self-neglect, especially mothers, and it has been my observation that Black women are especially prone to putting the needs of others before ourselves even when it hurts or leaves us emotionally, physically, and spiritually spent. What begins as a cultural rearing and socialization toward self-reliance--a pronounced value and strength of Black women--quickly erodes to a pattern of self-neglect when one is under duress. A few recent encounters in my office with nearly a dozen mothers seeking help for their college-bound sons and daughters paints the picture.

Too Stressed to Be Blessed

One mother of an emotionally challenged 12th grader cried on a Monday morning and expressed a desire to 'just give up'. She didn't know what else to do or how to keep pushing forward in raising her special needs child alone. A naturalized U.S. citizen originally from West Africa, her husband left the U.S. nearly five years ago after more than 20 years to return to their home country. He lost his stable federal job to downsizing and succumbed to the pressure of unemployment and financial strain. She stayed behind knowing that the medical care and support services their child required could not be accessed easily or affordably in their home country. The years have been hard on her; working 2-3 jobs to make ends meet and to pay the mortgage, caring for her daughter who requires constant attention when home from school, navigating the mental health system alone attempting to get her child all that she can to ensure the highest quality of life possible, no extra money to buy a new pair of shoes, to go to the salon, or to splurge on something, anything just for herself. Though she attends church and has a few family members close by, she feels alone, isolated, overwhelmed, deeply depressed, and exhausted. The evening before coming to my office, she had been up all night in the emergency room with a sick family member after having worked the evening before, and following one of her daughter's psychotic episodes. She came straight to my office from the hospital, determined to follow through with the appointment, though dead tired--all for the sake of her daughter. She should have been home in bed. I comforted her the best I could, commended her for all she was managing on her own, insisted that she rest, seek help from family, friends, and church, and to get her blood pressure checked immediately. She hasn't been to the doctor in years. I shared a few personal experiences to assure her she was not alone, and referred her to other services to address her need for support. She hugged me tight before leaving, wiped her tears, and left after asking if she could call me some time just to talk if she needed to. I said yes.

Two days later, a widowed mother of three came in for help for her academically talented daughter. On the surface this woman seemed a bit hardened, impatient, matter-of-fact...some would even interpret her way of interacting as rude, short, curt, and impatient. She didn't have any time to waste, and she wanted us to know it! One of my staff asked me to take her on to my small caseload, as she had been 'difficult' to work with before. I welcomed her into my office, complimented her on her hair and dress to break the tension and was purposefully accommodating to her in an effort to get her to just relax. Within 30 minutes, she opened up to me that just 5 months ago she had suffered a stroke at work, had undergone months of rehabilitative therapy, and was back at work. She has a life-threatening heart condition and an implanted defibrillator in her chest for the rest of her life to shock her heart back to life in the event of cardiac arrest. She is 44 years young--attractive, statuesque, put-together by outward appearance--but running on a defibrillator, and caring for her three children and a mentally challenged adult sibling. Like me, her mother died a few years ago--of cancer. She's still quietly grieving. She lost a young daughter some years back...she didn't say how. Her husband was killed over a decade ago in an altercation. She has endured great loss, and though seemingly managing to hold it all together on the outside, she is stressed beyond her limits but still taking care of everyone. This woman with the tough veneer wept in my chair and bore her deepest secrets to me, a stranger, because she needed someone to listen, to care, and to help her bear the load if only for a moment.

I could go on and tell you about the college educated mother of three, working THREE jobs and making over $100,000 a year working 7 days a week, determined to offer her children the best that she can, compensating for her mentally disturbed husband who was in recent years diagnosed with a serious mental health disorder. His behavior has turned increasingly violent and unpredictable over the past year despite treatment. He has not worked in over 10 years, so she is the family's sole supporter. She is contemplating a divorce though deeply saddened and unprepared for it. She fears for her safety and that of the children. This well-spoken and well put-together woman was the vision of class and style, yet underneath that veneer was a woman on the brink of a break-down. I asked her when she found the time to sleep. She said she doesn't really sleep. She naps and keeps it moving. She too cried in my chair, sitting next to her beautiful, talented daughter, trying to fight the tears back, thanking me for words of encouragement and for taking the time to be of help to her family in the small way that I could. She stood at the end of our appointment, put on her expensive coat and shoulder bag, wiped her face, straightened her back, and walked out behind her daughter like the strong pillar we Black women are taught to be from girlhood.

I know her secret very well. You probably do too.

There are many more stories like these that I could share with you, but I know you get the picture. These were wake-up calls and reinforcers for me of the work I must do personally and in support of other women, as well as opportunities to be a source of inspiration and comfort, even in my own imperfection, to these women whose stories and struggles are not as uncommon as I'd wish them to be. These women, like so many of us at some time in our life, are among the walking wounded. The circumstances are not the same in every case, but the outcome often is--our physical health, sanity, spiritual fortitude, and overall well-being are tested and tried to unspeakable limits by the pressures and unexpected complexities of life. We often walk these journeys alone with little to no support, too proud or afraid to ask for help, conditioned to shoulder the responsibility and the pressure without complaint--wearing the mask of invincibility while silently bearing a weight too heavy. We feel ultimately and singularly responsible for staying the course, being the one others can lean and depend on, the one to make the way for our children, our family members, everyone...except ourselves. We give, we serve, we sacrifice, we are reliable, and accountable, but in so being, we forget to the essential fact that we must tend to our own well-being first if we are to survive, thrive, and be available for those who rely and depend on us.

All of these women I highlighted are women of faith. I know this because they spoke of their faith and of God's grace as the primary factor sustaining them through their circumstances. You know a Black woman is going to give her God the glory! These women definitely know a thing or two about prayer. But they each need far more than prayer alone. These three very different and unique Black women, one born in the U.S., and the others naturalized citizens from the Caribbean and Africa, need a break, to decompress, to lie down and take a revitalizing nap, to be fed a nourishing meal of life-sustaining foods. They need real helping hands, tangible solutions to their challenges, and more importantly, like so many of us, they need a shift in consciousness and behavior that says "put me first". They need to break the cycle of self-neglect.

Breaking the Cycle of Self-Neglect: Do I Want to Live or Do I Want to Die?

I could craft a number of comforting words and lists of steps to take to break the cycle of self-neglect, but truthfully, it's time to get serious and face facts. Breaking the cycle of self-neglect among Black women is a matter of life and death.

Statistics confirm that in every major category of illness, we are disproportionately impacted. Though Black women comprise roughly 7% of the U.S. population, we are overrepresented among those affected by heart disease, hypertenstion, diabetes, cancer, stroke, obesity, and reproductive disorders. Heart disease and related cardiovascular disorders remain the #1 killer of Black women, followed by stroke and diabetes. Though White women are more likely to be diagnosed with breast cancer, Black women are more likely, once diagnosed (and IF diagnosed at all) to die from the disease, while young Black women appear to be more susceptible to the most aggressive forms of breast cancer. I could go on.

But as I have said repeatedly, this doesn't have to be our story. In fact, in the vast majority of cases, we have COMPLETE CONTROL over whether or not we succumb to disease and illness. And even when confronted by genetic predispositions or rare disorders, prevention and a lifestyle characterized by optimal self-care, healthy eating, exercise, and mental and psychological balance can do wonders to extend our lives and the quality of our daily experience. We have the power!

Thankfully, there are more and more examples of Black women siezing control of their health and wellness every day. Black women are writing new stories, taking conscious action, adopting new behaviors, and committing with the same zeal we so freely offer our children, our spouses, our lovers, our extended families, our friends, and our employers--to make our health a priority. We all need to jump on this bandwagon!

So how do we do this? I've got a few thoughts that just crystallized while writing this!

Lisa's Five Essential ACTIONS to Breaking the Cycle of Self-Neglect and Creating the Vibrant Life We Want & Deserve: Choose, Align, Sustain, Build, LIVE!

To recap, the starting point in breaking the cycle of self-neglect after acknowledging our behavior is to ask the sobering question, "do I want to live or do I want to die". And if I want to live (and I'm sure you do), what quality of life do I want to experience in that time? Do I want to live sick, tired, exhausted, depressed, over-extended and disease-ridden, OR do I want to live a long, fruitful, fulfilling disease-free existence characterized by joy, balance, and satisfaction? Yes, Black women, we too are worthy of being SATISFIED!

So essentially, the FIRST STEP is to CHOOSE LIFE!

After choosing life, we must then move forward to ALIGN, or bring into congruence, each and every thought, action, and behavior to this fundamental commitment to putting our health and wellness first in the interest of ourselves. Then and only then can we be of any value or help to those we love and who love us back. Without alignment, we are the embodiment of internal chaos, and chaos rarely breeds anything other than more chaos and disorder--not to mention panic, anxiety, and fear. Sound familiar? So ladies, LET'S GET ALIGNED! Align your eating, thinking, speaking, feeling, sleeping and ways of moving to the principle of wellness and to reflect that which brings forward goodness, health, vitality, energy, joy, and happiness.

Once we have made the conscious choice to live an abundant life, and while doing the work to align our thoughts and actions to this commitment, we must then SUSTAIN our focus and diligence each and every day to this commitment. To sustain means to support, hold up, keep in existence or to maintain. What greater gift can we give ourselves but to sustain our bodies, our minds, our beauty, our gifts, and our promise to offer ourselves those things that honor the life we've been given?

This brings to mind a compelling quote I read recently by Sepia Green Founder Shontina Vernon:

Until a woman masters how to sustain herself, she is ill-equipped to sustain the community to which she belongs.

Indeed, women, as the caregivers, caretakers, nurturers, and the nuclei of our families and community---and not to mention the essential bearers of the feminine essence that inspires life and holds up half the sky--MUST be sustained, healthy and whole if anyone else is to be healthy and whole around us. We hold the key to everyone's survival! How powerful is that?! Let's take this power seriously!

As we continuously align and sustain, we must then work to constantly BUILD on this foundation, to make it stronger, to keep learning, seeking, and applying new ways of improving our lives and building our capacity for all things wonderful. This could include moving from inactivity to activity, from walking to jogging, from step class to Zuumba! From eating meat every day to eating it only a few times a week to allow our bodies to recover from the digestive strain and to counter the potential of high cholesterol--or considering a life without meat; from frying to baking, broiling, and grilling; from going it alone to making new friends of like-mind to join you in your self-improvement journey. It could include moving from buying organic veggies to growing our own organic veggies in our backyard or a community garden; moving from boiling our veggies to steaming them and occasionally eating them raw to gain their full nutritional value; from drinking soda and processed juice to freshly made juices blended up in our own kitchens; from reacting in anger or fear to a situation or circumstance to reacting in calm and ease, trusting that we have the answers, and asking for help if needed. These are very basic examples, but you get the picture! There's always room for improvement and growth. How exciting is that!?

Finally, after choosing, and in the process of aligning, sustaining, and building, we must simply LIVE. When recently asked her secret to longevity upon celebrating her 119th birthday, Ohio native Rebecca Lanier simply replied, "Just keep living". She is in good health, takes no medication (just a few vitamins) can still walk, dress herself, make her bed, has outlived her children, and has her mental faculties in tact. Clearly she knows something many of us haven't learned yet, and maybe I'll get in touch with her to ask! But to expand on this wise and beautifully simplistic advice, I would add...don't just live, but...

Live with Love...
Live with Passion...
Live with Purpose...
Live with Intention....
Live with Expectation...
Live with Beauty....
Live with Creativity...
Live with Joy...
But by all means...LIVE!

Notice that each of these five elements--CHOOSE, ALIGN, SUSTAIN, BUILD, LIVE--are actions. Breaking the cycle of self-neglect and getting and staying well, healthy and fit--mind, body & spirit--requires ACTION! This is not a passive process, and it won't take care of itself. There will never be a perfect time to get started, and it is not anybody else's responsibility to get you motivated and jump-started, though it's nice when you have this support. Our lives are our own to protect, nurture, and preserve, so let's take full responsibility for them. Don't waste too much time planning when you'll start or what your specific plan will be. Just get started TODAY, and build from there. If I can do it, trust me, you can too.

So repeat after me ladies...

Today and from this day forward I will CHOOSE, ALIGN, SUSTAIN, BUILD, AND LIVE my life fully and abundantly in the pursuit of wellness! I will permanently break the cycle of self-neglect and replace it with the diligent practice of self-care and commitment to my own well-being FIRST--because I'm worth it, and because the health of all around me depends on it.

Let's do this! I'm signed up. How about you!?

Lisa

2011-03-17T13:31:00.003-04:00

2010-04-21T01:05:00.002-04:00

Bowie, Maryland- April 2, 2010 – SisterSpeak Online Magazine is pleased to announce the 2nd Annual Black Women’s Wellness Day to be held on Saturday, May 22, 2010, 11:30am-5:00pm at Largo Community Church in Mitchellville, MD.

Following on the heels of last year’s outstanding debut, Black Women’s Wellness Day 2010 will feature dynamic speakers and presentations intended to enlighten, inspire, and motivate attendees to build healthier lifestyles and to stop the cycle of chronic disease that plagues the lives of so many Black women.

This year’s theme, Wellness Is Our Birthright, conveys the core belief of Founder Lisa Peyton-Caire who wants women to fully embrace wellness and well-being as a way of life. “We were born with the basic building blocks for wellness, self-healing, and longevity and its time that we reclaim these gifts by educating ourselves and making a commitment to choose life.”

Peyton-Caire conceived Black Women’s Wellness Day in 2008 following the untimely death of her mother Roberta W. Peyton on May 22, 2006 from congestive heart failure at the age of 64, sixteen years after experiencing a heart attack at age 48.

“My mother was vibrant, beautiful, full of life, and the center of our family. Her life was cut short by a preventable disease that quietly takes the lives of women every day, including those of my paternal aunts, Lois Peyton Alston, Barbara Peyton Jones, and Marguerite Peyton Green. I could name dozens more, and sadly, each of us knows a woman who is struggling with or has succumbed to heart disease, cancer, diabetes, or other ailments. We owe it to them, to ourselves, and to future generations to do all we can to stop this cycle and replace it with a legacy of wellness and longevity”.

Last year’s event, hosted at the Bowie Public Library, featured dynamic speakers and panelists who addressed a range of topics to promote awareness and provide practical solutions for daily living including heart disease prevention, spiritual and mental health, natural cleansing and colon hydrotherapy, fitness, Yoga, Reiki and the healing arts, and more. This year’s roster of speakers will continue the conversation on critical health issues disproportionately impacting the lives of Black women, while infusing fun, laughter, fellowship, a fitness demonstration, and great giveaways, a popular feature of the event. For speaker and agenda updates, visit http://bwwday2010.eventbrite.com orwww.sisterspeakonline.wordpress.com .

For ticket information and to register, visit http://bwwday2010.eventbrite.com. Sponsor opportunities are available.

Contact:

Lisa Peyton-Caire, Lisa@sisterspeakonline.com

2008-08-20T10:49:00.002-04:00

A Time for Clearing Out & Clearing the Way

Friends:

Recently I've felt the need to take respite, slow down the pace of my life, take stock of my priorities, and get refreshed. I've been trying hard to do just that, starting a few weekends ago, and have taken several liberties this week as well to continue in the process. I began by cleaning my surroundings from head to toe, throwing out 'junk' that has been hanging around, donating clothes to the local shelter, organizing my stacks and piles, and getting my kids' school supplies purchased in advance, among other things. I even went to bed early a few nights and caught up on some much-needed sleep, a habit I plan to continue moving forward despite my urge to work 24-7!

In the midst of my clearing out I felt an undeniable awareness that I was also clearing the way for something new. I cannot say exactly what, but at the deepest spiritual level, I know that a change is imminent in my life and that it's coming soon. Whether it be a week, a month, 6 months, a year...I don't know for certain, but a major change is on the way and I want to be ready.

While engaging in this process of clearing out and clearing the way, I recognize that I've been here before, and that life is truly cyclical and circular. New opportunities present themselves throughout the course of our lives, and we as individuals are constantly learning, growing, changing, and expanding--if we allow ourselves to, that is. I also understand more than ever before that those things that we consider losses and failures are so often opportunities for opening ourselves up to the new. This has been a hard lesson for me, but certainly one that I am embracing now.

I've also learned that in clearing out and clearing the way that we can and do control the way we use out time more than we are willing to believe. I have a constant stream of deadlines, due dates, deliverables, and 'do-nows' that command my attention every day. But as I learned in the most defining moments of my life...the birth of my children, major illness or the passing away of my mother and the months leading up to her departure--and that other loved ones, that we can and must at times pull away from the busyness of our lives to address those things that are most essentially important. We have the power, if we have the will, to stop the wheels from turning--if only for a time, to attend to the important matters of our lives--spirit, purpose, health, family; and to listen to what spirit is telling us, be it to clear out and clear the way for change in my case, or another message tailored to your unique circumstances. Emergencies and matters of life and death should not be the prerequisites for getting our attention.

As I slow my wheels down and listen more intently to spirit, I encourage you to do the same.

Be well,

Lisa

2008-08-06T09:45:00.005-04:00

A PICTURE SAYS A THOUSAND WORDS

"The Laying On of Hands"

Friends,

I could not resist sharing this picture of Barack surrounded by elders and peers in a moment of love, hope, faith, and genuine care...a moment many of us can relate to and appreciate. I'd hoped it would show up much larger, but for some reason, my blog shrank it to the size you see below. Nonetheless, this is to me a beautiful image that takes us back to the strength, substance, depth, and tremendous faith of our elders and their love for us, the Next Generation. I would go further to say that one can sense the hopes and dreams that each person in this circle has poured forth into Barack...the hopes of generations of souls; those passed on, those present, and those yet to come.

The photo also calls to mind a scripture my mother shared with me on many an occasion in her insistence that I pray with my children daily, laying hands on them as she did to my brothers and I, asking God to pave the road ahead of us; and to open a window and a door where there were none, allowing for our safe passage.

She told us often, "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matt. 18:20), and I believed her then as I do today.

I remember those mornings...every morning, that she had us stand in a circle in the midst of our humble living room in the house & home she worked so hard to keep and maintain for us, clad in her crisp white beautician's smock, or in later years, a sleek black version. She was jazzy! But never to pretty to pray. There we stood in the circle of prayer, hand in hand, while mama talked with God on our behalf as only a mother can do.

I know this is what has seen us through...what has seen ME through the trying times; what has opened the windows and doors that I have walked through, and what will do the same for my children. And I am grateful today for the laying on of hands, for a mother's prayers, and the prayers of every elder who has poured their soul's hopes into me.

I am sure Barack is grateful too.

Be Well,

Lisa

2008-07-21T11:42:00.009-04:00

Friends:

Amidst the trying events of the past 10 days, I feel incredibly grateful today to be alive and well.

The past two weeks have brought on news of multiple family illnesses among our elders; and the subsequent passing just last night of my husband's 92 year old grandmother, Mary B. Caire, a beautiful woman and gracious soul full of love and kindness.

Grandma Caire's life is a living lesson on love, sacrifice, duty, and strength. She was a pillar to her family and community, a patient teacher and caregiver of her many grandchildren and devoted in every way to her family--the center of her life up to the last breath. The mention of her name brings forth honor and admiration from others who remember her for her many good works, her fearlessness in speaking up for what was right, her activeness in community affairs on behalf of children and families, and her genuine concern for others. Mrs. Mary Caire was a woman of her word, a woman who led by example, a woman who was willing to lend a helping hand because it was the right thing to do, requiring no praise or reward though she was honored with a number of awards during her lifetime.

I am honored today to say that I have known her, sat with her, talked with her, learned from her, and that my children were graced with the loving presence of such an incredible human being. She was and remains the epitome of a Leading Lady in my book.

Mary B. (Thomas) Caire and husband Edgar Caire standing at far right
with three generations of the Thomas-Caire Family

My husband shared one of the many jewels of wisdom that Grandma Caire shared with him many years ago when he was just a boy, and I am now passing it on to you. It's a simple thing really, but profound in every way like so many of the lessons she taught. It simply goes like this:

God gave you your life...everything else can be replaced.

And so I leave you with that simple truth today, by way of Grandma Mary Caire, in hopes that you will recognize as I have again today that LIFE is a gift. Nothing else matters more than the time you have now to LIVE, TO LOVE, TO LEARN, TO GROW, TO BE.

Live today and everyday understanding that with your life alone, you have everything that is precious.

God bless...

Lisa

2008-06-04T14:04:00.004-04:00

Friends:

It's been a long time since I blogged here...but I'll return shortly. I've been really busy managing multiple projects and pressing forward on a few priorities.

It's hard to believe two years have gone by since Mom passed. Losing a mother is something you never get over, but you do get stronger, which is what a mother would want for the children she leaves behind.

Mom would be proud to know that SisterSpeak Online, my soul-project, is featured this month in Clutch Magazine (I'm sure she had something to do with it being my guardian angel and all :).

I'll share it with you too...here goes:

http://clutchmagonline.com/lifeculture/feature/sister-supporting-sisters-sister-speak-online-magazine/

...or just click the photo

Talk back and let me know what you think.

I'll see you soon!

2006-12-22T07:31:00.000-05:00

A PERSONAL HOLIDAY MESSAGE FROM SISTERSPEAK FOUNDING EDITOR, LISA PEYTON-CAIRE

Last year at this time I sat in my Mother’s living room, the warmth of her humble yet beautifully appointed home surrounding me. Her spirit was as beautiful and endearing as ever, and her smile as bright and gentle. She sat on the couch across from me, along with my husband, older brother and my sister-in-law listening intently to my plans to build a business as I entered the New Year. I had come to get their blessing, and perhaps most of all, Mom’s approval. I wasn’t sure what they’d say, considering I had just left a stable job—a seemingly senseless thing for a bright, highly educated young woman and mother of four to do.

I had big plans, you see, to create something new, something that truly reflected the inner-longings of my heart and that fused my childhood love of beauty, writing, and connecting with others through the sharing of stories. I’d worked in education for more than ten years and had realized that though my passions in the field were true, the work, or at least the way I was pursuing it, simply did not speak to the deepest parts of my heart, my creativity, or my desire to impact others—particularly Black women--in a more personal way.

It was time to venture into unchartered territory, and I wanted my Mom right there with me, helping me build a new vision every step of the way. We shared a few basic things in common that I knew would make our partnership work; a love of all things beautiful, a desire to see others happy, healthy & thriving, and a knack for getting things done. There was only one caveat; mom would simply advise, be my creative inspiration, and otherwise relax. More than anything, I simply wanted to be closer to her, and to have her there as I built an enterprise that I hoped would afford me the ability to take care of all of her needs. This was my plan for 2006.

I received nothing less than complete support from everyone gathered there that night. As we sat in the golden glow of holiday lights and luminous candlelight, I experienced a validation I hadn’t felt in many years. It was magical, and the feeling so incredibly empowering. What was most important to me was Mom’s vow to help me in any way she could, “God willing”. I felt renewed in that very moment. Equipped with family support and Mom’s love, I had everything I needed to move forward.

Little would I know that it would be our last Christmas together. No one could have prepared me for the reality of that…the reality of losing her only months later. She would celebrate her 64th birthday in March in a hospital bed recovering from open heart surgery; her second in 10 years. She would go on to recover for a brief period, re-enter the hospital after complications, and would pass away only weeks later on May 22nd.

I witnessed Mom’s battle from beginning to end, and often ponder how I managed to make it through such an ordeal given the weight of the walk and the subsequent loss. The experience has undoubtedly changed me forever, and although my heart & mind are filled with many warm & even rocky memories of our lives together, it’s the image of her quiet yet faithful and courageous journey back to her Maker that fills my mind every single day.

I am reminded by the words she said to me one week before she died. She whispered in my ear after pulling me close, her hands caressing my hair, “Don’t ever give up, and don’t ever stop fighting. I’m still here, and I’m still fighting. I’m not giving up”.

And she held on, for one more week, gaining the strength to talk, laugh, and simply sit with me and my brothers in silence, basking in the comfort of knowing she was not alone. She would later speak about being ready…ready to go. And she would go only when she decided in her own mind, and after commiserating with God, I’m sure, in her deep slumbers, to stop fighting.

I learned in these moments, and in reflecting on them how it is that I managed to be strong; how it is that I managed to survive an ordeal of this magnitude, how it is that I have survived many trials and challenges in my life. I survived because I am Roberta’s Daughter. I endured because she taught me the meaning of strength and grace under pressure. I persist because of the silent prayers she prayed for me; the same prayers her mother prayed for her. I persevere because her spirit and the spirits of all who came before us imbued me with the will to carry on even through what appear to be life’s darkest moments.

So I stand here today at the dawn of another Christmas, separated in body from my Mother, but not in spirit. I stand in the midst of the same golden glow of holiday lights and luminous candlelight that greeted me in her living room just 12 months ago, except the glow comes more from within than from any external source.

Most of all, I am reminded of her words as I look forward to 2007, my vision shaken for a moment but still in tact…“never give up, and don’t ever stop fighting. I’m still here, and I’m still fighting. I’m not giving up”.

Persevere my dear friends…Persevere.

Happy Holidays to you all.

In Sisterly Love,

Lisa Peyton-Caire

2006-10-02T15:01:00.000-04:00

2006-10-02T14:37:00.000-04:00

A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN SPRING

The sun was beautiful today, and the sky a perfect blue laden with fluffy white clouds. Though the wind is changing and autumn's recent arrival grows more obvious each day with the changing leaves, the sky reminded me of a beautiful day in spring...the day my Mother died.

It was 5:30am when I arrived at the hospital on Monday, May 22nd. I had slept the night at Mom's house with my husband and children. I hadn't seen them for several weeks, having returned to Richmond again to be with Mom as she fought to recover. I had urged my husband to come down quickly the day before, having noticed a change in Mom. I wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on. She was fading and talking about moving on. At times she would lift her arms towards the ceiling in a motion of praise, reaching...reaching...her eyes closed.

"What do you see?", my brother Troy and I had asked her that Friday before.

"I see birds...trees...clouds...hairstyles," she told us.

She would later add, "I'm not worried anymore. God has been good to me. He made me and He knows what's best."

We hated to hear her talk like this. We would scold her gently, reminding her to fight, to hold on just a little while longer while her body fought off the infection she had contracted in the hospital; reminding her to hold on while her heart rate settled down, while her lungs cleared up, while her liver relieved itself of excess fluids. We were certain that she would make a turn-around if we could just make it through the next few days with no set-backs. She had, after all, shown small but promising signs of improvement. And though the odds were against her, she was a fighter. She'd always been a fighter. She had pulled through before.

Yet even in our desperate hoping, wishing, praying, expecting, we were deeply aware that Mom was fighting an uphill battle. And she was getting tired. Though our minds wanted to fight what our eyes could see and our hearts could feel, my brother and I began to summon family and friends early Sunday morning to say what we feared would be their last goodbyes.

It had hurt me deeply to leave her Sunday night. I had slept in her room for most of that last week, afraid to leave her side, afraid to take my eyes off of her vital signs, watching every second to ensure that she was getting enough oxygen; that her heart rate was stable, and to assure her that she wasn't alone. We held hands, fell asleep together, talked as much as her body would allow, smiled, and sat in silence at times satisfied just to be together. My brothers and I would exchange phone calls by the hour. They had to work and depended on my calls to assure them that she was o.k. until they could arrive to see for themselves. The thought of leaving her overnight, even just for one night; even to be with my children who had called daily to ask when I was coming home, was unbearable.

The nurses had tried all week to get me to go home, to get a good night's sleep in a comfortable bed. They insisted that Mom was fine in my absence and that they were doing everything to ensure her comfort. What they didn't understand was that there would be no comfort for me until the day she walked out of the hospital with my brothers and I, headed home to her own bed, her own house, her own food, and later on to Maryland with me to get back to living.

I gave in to the nurse's advice only because of my children. My youngest refused to leave the hospital without me. My eldest daughter had left a tearful message on my cell phone just days before. And my sons could not stop showering me with kisses and hugs urging me stay with them for one evening. I reluctantly succumbed to their pleadings. They had all seen Mom, bringing a smile to her face. She could not speak to them, but she could see them, touch them, hear them. We had to force them away from her bedside. They wanted Grandma to stay forever. I left with them, unsure of the decision I had made, stricken with worry. Would she awaken in search of me? Would she awake afraid and alone? Would she pass on suddenly in the night? I was a nervous wreck.

It was a sleepless night. I tossed and turned. I called the hospital every hour for an update. She was o.k. I would eventually fall asleep only to awake at 2am as I had for several nights in a row. I called again. She was ok. This was the time Mom would typically awaken each night. I would hear her stir, her legs moving in slow motion to reposition themselves under the weight of her sheets and blanket. She would whisper to the nurse, "Where is Lisa?"

"She's right there in the chair Ms. Peyton," the nurse would reply.

"I'm right here mom...I'm right here."

"Oh...ok," mom would whisper back.

"Where is Patrick?"

"He's at work. He'll be back tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Where's Troy?"

"He was just here a little while ago, remember? He'll be back in the morning."

"Alright."

She wanted nothing else than to know where her children were. She would soon drift back to sleep.

The extended stay in the hospital and the nature of her condition had interrupted Mom's sense of space and time. Her sleep was sporadic and she had no idea of the day or time. There were no windows in her room. She had been placed in isolation in the intensive care unit because of the infection. I'd tell her every hour what time it was and describe the weather outside. It had been unusually beautiful for several days. I would describe the blue sky, how bright the sun was, how beautiful her yard looked when I'd run home to take a shower. How Troy had mowed the lawn perfectly, and how the trees were blooming. Mom loved her yard.

"Really?", she would ask me with a gentle smile of such innocent amazement.

"Yes mama. It's beautiful. Wait 'til you see it."

"Hmmh", she would sigh back.
I made it through the night rising instinctively at 5am. I called the hospital to check on mom, and rushed to awaken my family. It was time to get back to the hospital. My brothers would be meeting me there no later than 6am. Mom had taken a turn in the early morning. Her heart rate was unstable, her breathing more belabored, and her white cell count rising--a sign that the infection was not responding to treatment. She was unable to breathe on her own. She was tired.

We didn't know what else to do but to pray and to hold on to each other. We surrounded Mom's bed that morning, clasping her hands for dear life, whispering words of love in her ear, praying prayers, reading her favorite scriptures and waiting for something, any small sign of hope; hoping for a miracle. Family members called; some, congregated in the waiting room breathlessly awaiting word. Any word. The hospital Chaplain was called by the Supervising Physician. We knew what this meant. We were paralyzed with fear and disbelief at the thought of losing Mom, holding on to hope.

The hours passed. The morning reached noonday. A perfect peace had overtaken Mom's room despite the agony that we were experiencing. I sensed that there were others present in the room; others that we could not see. I envisioned heavenly hosts that I had read of in the Bible, and my grandmother, and great-grandmother, and my Uncle Charles, Mom's beloved brother who had passed years before, were all present, and standing around us encircling her bed. I had felt this for several days, having seen Mom stare with eager prolonged glances into the corner of her room as though she had seen a familiar face.

"What do you see?", I had asked her only days before. She would continue to look, but did not answer me.

What would happen over the next 20 minutes would change me forever. I stood next to Mom in the stillness of her room holding her hand in mine. My brothers had left the room; my younger brother Patrick overtaken by grief; my older brother to go after him and to console my niece and sister-in-law who were overwhelmed with the thought of the inevitable.

All of the loud, invasive beeps and clicks of the various machines surrounding her bed seemed to fall silent. I had heard them for weeks, months, often to great frustration. But I could hear nothing now. Nothing but the sound of Mom's soft breathing. It was calmer today than it had been for weeks. Amazingly, she could still hear me, though unable to speak back, unable to open her eyes. It was as though she was suspended in a semi-conscious sleep, a dream state. I asked her if she could hear me. She moved her head ever so slightly to indicate yes.

I told her how much I loved her. How much Patrick & Troy loved her. How each of her sisters and brother loved her. I rubbed her arms and face. I kissed her forehead and cheeks. I told her everything was going to be all right. My brother walked in to say something...I cannot remember. He stayed for a few moments, and said that he would be right back. He went to find Patrick. We knew the end was near.

I leaned close to mom's ear and began to sing to her. She had begged me for years to join a church choir and sing again as I had as a child and teen in our home church. She loved two songs the most; "I'm Still Holding On", and "Amazing Grace"--her ultimate favorite. I sang the first. I noticed that her breathing slowed. I then began to sing Amazing Grace. The nurse entered when I was halfway through. She was saying something to me, with alarm in her eyes. I realized seconds later that she was asking if she should call my brothers back to the room. Mom was leaving us. I hadn't noticed the tumbling vital signs on the monitor over her bed. I kept singing. I said my last "I love you", and kissed my last kiss.

A moment later Mom released her last breath. I could almost see it--like a translucent ball--as it blew softly and squarely into my face like a sweet caress. I was startled at what I had seen, and immediately overcome by wells of tears and cries that I could no longer silence. I had tried hard not to cry loudly in Mom's presence in fear of upsetting or scaring her. But I had no more control. The sobs came, and came, and came as Troy ran into the room. We stood there beside her holding one another up--keeping the other from caving in. The pain was overwhelming, the sadness insurmountable.

My brothers and I stood there for a long while consoling one another, trying to grasp what had happened. Even in her lifelessness, she was our mother, our teacher, our protector, our source. We didn't want to leave her. We didn't want her to leave us. We didn't know what to do next but to stand and keep breathing.

My eldest sister Gisele joined us. She had come quickly after receiving my father's call just an hour earlier. We had exchanged calls and prayers daily. She had come by on several occasions to check on mom. We had all been hopeful together. Though she was Mom’s step-daughter, she too loved Mom deeply. Their relationship had grown over the years, and Mom would secretly tell her to look out for me, for Patrick, and to check in on Troy from time to time. Not one of us could believe that she was gone.

We stood there until the nurses made us leave. We uttered a few words...nurses handed us paperwork...the questions began to come about final arrangements. We were exhausted, but there were logistics to think of...plans to be made...people to call...things to do. We dispersed with plans to meet again later at Mom's house to grapple with what had happened and what needed to happen next.

When I left the hospital that day, I was amazed even in my grief. There was movement, sound, life all around. There were beautiful clouds in the crystal blue sky, the green leaves of beautiful trees rustling in the breeze, and birds singing in flight...perhaps like the ones Mom had seen and spoke of in the stillness of her room.I sat on a bench in silence for a while in my husband's embrace, our children surrounding me, aware of a beauty and a grace even in this moment of unbearable loss. I wondered if others could sense it. I wondered if others knew that a great woman had passed on; if they knew of the gift she had been to the world; if they knew that God had opened up heaven's gates to receive her beautiful soul. I wondered if they knew that she was responsible for the beauty of this day.

It had been dim in Mom's room in those last and final hours.But the sun was beautiful that afternoon--like today--and the sky a perfect blue laden with fluffy white clouds. This was the day my Mother died, and the day she breathed new life into me and into the lives of all she touched.

2006-08-30T16:13:00.000-04:00

HEALTH WATCH: OUR HEALTH IS OUR WEALTH

The woman in the photo to the left is my mother, Roberta Ann Peyton standing with my brothers and I in the summer of 1980. She is the most beautiful person I have ever known both inside and out. Her smile was the most honest and genuine smile one could encounter, and her home a place of perpetual warmth and welcome. To know her was to love her, and to be loved by her was a precious gift.

Never would I have thought at that time as an idealistic 10 year old that mom would be gone 24 years later at the young age of 64. You see, we had big plans. She was to see her grandchildren grow up, graduate from high school and college, and start their careers and their families. She was to join me in my budding business ventures, and to move in with my husband and I to experience the beauty of being taken care of in her latter years.

Instead, she passed away on May 22nd from complications related to coronary artery disease and a host of subsequent ailments that ravaged her body. We had hoped that heart valve replacement surgery would set her on a road to recovery. But it wasn't to be. She fought bravely with uncommon courage and faith up until her last moment, still managing to smile her beautiful smile, thanking God all the while for His amazing grace. Nonetheless, her departure has left an incredible void that can only be filled by the memories of the person she was and remains to be in spirit; and by the little I can do to spread the message to as many women as I can that our health is our greatest asset. We must protect it, cherish it, and guard it as we would a rare and precious jewel.

My mother's story is significant to all of us. Her life was one of hard work, great accomplishment, deep sacrifice, tremendous love, unfailing perseverance, and selfless generosity. The legacy she left behind is one of strength, courage, faith, and deep family love. She raised her children well and managed to carve out a life from the humblest of beginnings.

But her story is also one of struggle with poor health in the prime of her life. And she wasn't alone. She and I have said goodbye prematurely to many loved ones over the years; family and dear friends, neighbors, and customers. Most were 65 or younger; sometimes much younger. Many were women. All left children, grandchildren, siblings, friends, and loved ones behind to grapple with the aftermath of their unexpected departure.

I will never forget the many women whose hair I shampooed on any given Saturday who were dead only days later. Hazel, 48, from a stroke, a single mother with a teenaged son. She'd come to the shop on her lunch hour in her crisp white nurse's uniform. Barbara, 57, divorced with grown kids, youthful, outgoing, and a hard worker at the cigarette factory she'd worked at for 25 years; cancer. Eva, 60, a tall, elegant woman with the most beautiful head of thick black hair one could imagine. Mom loved doing her hair. It was the perfect hair for a good haircut, she said. Eva had complained of not feeling well. Days later mom got the call. Eva had lay down one evening to soothe a nagging headache. She never woke up; stroke.

Within the last seven years I have also lost 3 aunts, all victims of heart disease. Lois (Peyton) Alston, Marguerite (Peyton) Green, and Barbara (Peyton) Jones, all three of my father's sisters. The youngest of them, Marguerite, was in her late 50's. The others in their mid-to-late 60's. None were elderly. All were the center of their families. And this, unfortunately, is the short list. There are many more. Before and since my mother's passing, a number of SisterSpeak readers have revealed as well that their mothers, all young and in the prime of their lives, are no longer with us. Something is very wrong.

In a time where sickness and illness seem more prevalent than ever, even in the midst of great medical and technological advancement, it behooves us to place our health at the top of our list of priorities--above the job, the career, above the daily rat-race of life, above our tendency to self-neglect. Women are increasingly more at risk for all major diseases including heart disease, stroke, diabetes, cancers of all types, and the ever-growing epidemic of HIV/AIDS. The risks for women of color, particularly Black women, are further compounded to rates so alarming that we must ask, what is happening to us? What is going on, and for God's sake, what are we going to do about it?

The answer lies with us and in our willingness to do things differently; to learn from our mothers' experiences and to chart a different course where necessary that leads to vitality and longevity. We must adopt better habits, ones that sustain us rather than drain us of energy; abandon eating habits that place us at risk, adopt a fitness regimen that gets us up and moving out of sedentary lifestyles where work dominates our lives and becomes our only form of exercise. We must put down the cigarettes, the alcohol, the drugs, the unsafe sex, the unhealthy relationships, the stress and anxiety---whatever it may be that stands between us and the life of abundance we are entitled to. We've got to act, and act fast and decisively. Our lives depend on it.

There is also knowledge to be gained, research to be done, questions to be asked of our doctors. There is wisdom to uncover in non-traditional medicine, in the old ways of our grandmothers and great grandmothers, many of whom despite their toils in a harsher, colder society managed to live longer than their daughters. There are annual check-ups to schedule and show up for, and annual self-exams to administer from the privacy of our bedrooms. We've got to do this.

And yet, this is only the beginning. The answer also lies in our willingness to speak up and say something, do something to demand better and more affordable health care for the common person, the poor and working poor--for everyone. To demand stricter environmental laws, to insist on knowing what's in our food, our water, and our air that is making us sick--and to make our politicians do something about it. We must ensure that a better, safer, cleaner earth is left behind for our children, and that we model a healthy lifestyle that our children will mimic well into their adulthood. We must also fight more diligently for racial and economic parity, and for a world where a low-income single Black mother with broken English and little education is treated as well as the next citizen in any setting, in any circumstance. The same applies to poor women (men & children) of every race, color, and creed.

I am tired of losing the people I love. I am tired of reading the bleak statistics, and tired of the ever-increasing indifference to the loss of human life that pervades our modern world. We can no longer afford to do anything less than honor life, honor health, honor our bodies. Our health is our wealth. Let's begin today to protect our greatest asset.

2006-08-16T11:58:00.000-04:00

SISTERSPEAK READER NEEDS YOUR HELP IN THE
RACE AGAINST HIV & AIDS

SisterSpeak Reader Felicia D'Haiti (shown in the photo to your left) needs your help. An avid runner and supporter of the movement to fight HIV & AIDS, Felicia will participate in the AIDS Marathon being held in Florence, Italy on November 26, 2006. Her efforts are a part of the National AIDS Marathon Training Program which raises money for the Whitman-Walker Clinic, the leading provider of AIDS services in the metropolitan Washington, DC area. Felicia will run a total of 26.2 miles.

Visit http://www.aidsmarathon.com/participant.asp?runner=DC-4016&EventCode=FL06 to learn how you can support Felicia in the race against HIV & AIDS. And be sure to continue reading below for Felicia's original message explaining why this race is so important to her.

Felicia says:

Hello! I hope you are well. As you will soon read, once wasn’t enough! As you may know, I ran the Miami Half-Marathon in January. With the generous assistance of my sponsors, I was able to raise $2,841 for the Whitman-Walker Clinic. Now, I’ve decided to challenge myself even further and participate in my first full marathon: the AIDS Marathon being held in Florence, Italy on November 26, 2006. That’s 26.2 miles! I have already begun training and plan to log in more than 600 miles. It’s all part of the National AIDS Marathon Training Program which raises money for the Whitman-Walker Clinic, the leading provider of AIDS services in the metropolitan Washington, DC area.

Despite recent advances in the treatment of AIDS, the epidemic is far from over. Currently, more than 450,000 Americans have died from AIDS and more than a MILLION more are living with HIV. Worldwide, more than 60 million adults and children are currently living with HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. AIDS is now the leading cause of death among people 15-59 years of age. This is no longer what was once believed to be an isolated killer but a non-discriminating destroyer of innocent lives that bears no conscience.

Established in 1973, the Whitman-Walker Clinic is the largest provider of HIV/AIDS services in the Washington metropolitan area. The demand for services in the DC area is quite high as it is currently estimated that 1 in 20 adults are infected with HIV. The rate of new AIDS cases in Washington, DC is 12 times the national average. The Clinic provides a number of services, such as housing assistance, medical, counseling and legal services. Now, more than ever, Whitman-Walker Clinic needs the support of the community to be able to continue providing the life saving services that are needed in this area.

This is why I am committed to raising at least $3,700 by September 25th. I’m asking for your support. Any donation you can make to help me meet my goal would be most appreciated! You may visit the Training Program’s web site at http://www.aidsmarathon.com (Runner #DC-4016) to make a donation on my behalf. If you are unable to make a donation at this time, won’t you please help me spread the word by telling 5 to 10 of your friends. In addition, please check with your Human Resources Department to see if your company has a matching gift program. It’s an easy way to double your contribution.

Thank you for supporting me in this incredible undertaking. I truly appreciate your kindness and generosity! When I hit the road on November 26th to complete the 2006 Florence Marathon, I’ll know that you helped me and many others along the way making each mile that much more rewarding.

My sincerest thanks,
Felicia D’Haiti
http://www.aidsmarathon.com/participant.asp?runner=DC-4016&EventCode=FL06

2006-08-10T21:33:00.000-04:00

"The highest expression of love is to give without expecting..."
--India Arie (Learning, from Testimony)

Reflections on Mom

While rummaging through my closet this morning looking for old photos, I came across an old birthday card that Mom sent me last year to acknowledge my 33rd birthday. She honored birthdays, though she was never satisfied with the gifts she gave.

You see, my Mom was a giver; one of those rare individuals who knew better how to care for others than for themselves. If she had something...anything, she had to share it whether it was money, food, an extra coat, a pair of shoes, or simply a friendly, encouraging word. This was just her way.

In her latter years, after decades of financial independence and prosperity in her beauty business, ailing health cut into Mom's ability to work, ultimately forcing her to live a very conservative lifestyle on a fixed income. But this reality didn't curb her insatiable desire to give...to make others happy.

"I wish I could give you more", she would say, frustrated that she was unable to deliver the world to me on a platter...literally. I was tickled by her frustration more than anything, and the sincerity of her lamentations was gift enough for me. She was, after all, so comical when she complained!

I insisted every year that she not worry about any gifts for me. I understood the magnitude of the sacrifices she had made for me, for my brothers, for our extended family and community. She had spent her life making a way for others, helping family & friends out of tough spots, buying clothes for nieces and nephews whose parents were in a pinch; helping girlfriends financially through a tough time; outfitting my grandmother's old house with modern conveniences; doing hair for free for customers who came upon hard times; faithfully tithing 10% of her income to church; and managing to be the stronghold of our family. Mom did these things in times of prosperity, and continued to do them in times of scarcity. As a single mother and sole bread-winner raising three children on her own, she managed somehow to make her own way and still make a way for others--reluctant ever to be on the receiving end.

Our home --Roberta's house-- was in fact the "mothership". This tiny three bedroom one bath "bungalow" (as she called it) was the place where family gathered on special occasions; where college graduates came back to hug "Aunt Roberta" for her love and encouragement, and to thank her for the occasional $20 she stuck in their hands on summer visits home; where her former customers would find their way to sit & visit with her even after she stopped working; where out-of-town guests came first to greet, rest, eat, and catch-up on family affairs. Her home and the life she built with her two gifted hands was the center of the universe for so many.

When the money got tight, Mom still found ways to give, even if at a smaller scale. My brothers and I would chastise her often, insisting that she think of herself first, be selfish for a change, and worry about her own well-being. We were puzzled by her seemingly incurable need to give everything away! Did she not fully understand how little she had? Did she not realize that she had only enough to care for herself?

I would later learn that she did understand. I asked Mom once--very seriously--after lecturing her about taking in a family member who had become more of a liability than an asset why it was that she had to help others often at her own expense.

She simply replied with all of the genuine innocence of a child, "I don't know why I'm like this. I just like to give. If I see someone in need, I feel like I have to do something to help them. God saw fit to bless me, and I like to help people if I can. I've always been this way for as long as I can remember, even as a child. It's just the way I'm made I guess. I can't help it. And I won't see anybody outside, especially family, if I have a house that I can share with them. Now leave me alone and let me do something to your hair. It looks terrible! Get the curlers and the mousse".

And so I left it alone, and my brothers and I pulled together to help mom live as comfortably as we could while managing our own families, though looking back I wish we had done so much more.

So when I found her card this morning and began to read the words, yet another gift to my spirit--I lost all composure at the wonder and the beauty of this little woman, who barely stood five feet two inches tall, in awe of the depth of her love, her grace, and her unselfish heart...

Happy Birthday Daughter...Celebrating the Gift of You...
Imagine a candle for each person touched by your genuine spirit, your generous heart.
Imagine a candle for each person helped by the strength and compassion that sets you apart.
Imagine a candle for each of your smiles, for each time you've given my spirits a lift...
That's how much light that you bring to the world...
your bright and shining talent, your own unique gift.

I love you,
Mom

I think these words were written for Mom rather than for me.

2006-07-12T23:19:00.000-04:00

Greetings Sisters & Friends!

And welcome to the SisterSpeak Online Newsletter Blogspot! We are happy to extend the SisterSpeak experience into this venue which we hope you, our readers, will use as a vehicle to talk directly to us, to share personal stories, comments, and feedback, to inform us of events & happenings of interest in your town, or simply to get inspired!

SisterSpeak is more than a Newsletter, but a community of "sisters" (and a few brothers who love what we do too) where our voices, our lives, our experiences, our stories, our struggles, and our achievements can be shared in a spirit of love, support, understanding, and affirmation. Indeed, to be in the company of sisters can be a healing, comforting, and rejuvenating experience.

I first learned of the healing nature of sisterhood as a little girl growing up in the midst of a loving matriarchy comprised of my grandmother, mother, and aunts. My mother was one of four sisters, the eldest a registered nurse, and the other three (including mom) were cosmetologists, or beauticians as they called it. In the days of my fondest memories (70's-80's), nearly every beauty shop in Richmond, Virginia was closed on Mondays. So my mother and her sisters would gather every Monday in my Grandmother's living room to talk, laugh, gossip, recount the events of the last week, and to re-charge for the busy week ahead.

They each worked long, grueling hours requiring that they stand and engage clients for up to 12 hours a day...sometimes more. But all were at ease in Grandma's living room. On occasion there would be tears, sometimes of joy, other times of sadness. Each woman experienced her own victories and moments of personal triumph and acheivement. Likewise, each endured her measure of financial strain, marriage strife, health challenges, and other trials over the years. But whatever the circumstances, whatever the occasion, they all left Grandma's house rejuvenated having laid their burdens down in a circle of unconditional sisterly love.

I remember sitting at my mother's knees, she gently running her fingers through my pressed-and-curled hair, talking in her familiarly sweet southern drawl, the scent of her perfume lulling me to a state of perfect peace. She and her sisters would banter back and forth, almost melodically, laughing hysterically at times, then lowering to a near whisper in a moment's notice. This meant the conversation had suddenly gotten serious. They all seemed to speak at the same time yet still managing to catch one another's every word. They would talk of births, deaths, marriages, divorces, cheating husbands, taxes, hairstyles, choir rehearsal, politics, and the new dresses they bought for Easter Sunday. Absolutely nothing was off limits. And though I was occasionally sent out of the room, I always managed to quietly manuever my way back to my rightful place at my mother's knee...back into the warmth of this melodic "sisterspeak".

It is in the spirit of these early life experiences that I conceived SisterSpeak more than 8 years ago and published the first e-newsletter over 4 years ago sharing it with a small group of family, friends, colleagues, and associates. Since that time, SisterSpeak has gone through a few transformations and has quadrupled in its readership which continues to grow daily. What hasn't changed is the sincere love and enjoyment I get from pulling together each issue, often with the help of a few committed sisterfriends; and the homage I feel I ultimately pay to the women who so deeply and eternally impacted me with their love, their wisdom, their spirit, and their beauty.

I am pleased to invite you into the warmth of this community, and hope that you too find within this space a place of comfort, joy, rejuvenation & healing.

In Sisterly Love,
Lisa Peyton-Caire