Where I’ve Been, Where I Stand

I went to Chicago over the weekend to be with my friend as she laid her mother to rest. The Rev. Janis A. Sharpe lived 89 years rooted in service, community, and care. The homegoing was beautiful, not because it avoided grief, but because it honored a life that showed up for others.

Being there mattered to me because she was my friend’s mother. Mothers are the source. We are shaped by their sacrifices and carried forward by their dreams. Watching my friend honor her mother turned my attention inward. I am thankful to still have my mother. The time with her is intentional. Listening to her stories while I can. What brings her joy? What disappointed her. What moments made her proud of me? It is our elders who carry the legacy, and part of our responsibility is to learn it, honor it, and carry it forward.

That sense of legacy was present throughout the service. Rev. Sharpe was deeply committed to community and political activism, and she mothered beyond biology. She also understood presence. The minister joked that it was the first time he had ever seen her wear the same outfit twice, referencing the musical celebration the day before and the homegoing service itself. Everyone laughed, but the meaning landed. She showed up with care every time. Style, for her, was about respect.

That thought stayed with me as I moved through the city afterward. Chicago has always been my favorite city I lived in, so returning is never a question. Still, this visit felt different. I moved through it as a guest now. The places I once knew have evolved, and so have I. We stayed at the Nobu Hotel, located in Fulton Market (West Loop), which feels polished and intentional, shaped by design and development. Even in 14 degree weather, the city moved with energy. People dressed for the cold and kept it moving.

My husband and I were bundled up, goose down zipped tight, scarves wrapped, moving from one place to the next. Riding through the city, memories surfaced. I was born in Tulsa, but I grew up in Chicago. It’s where I became an adult. Where I learned what I wanted and what I didn’t. Where I learned how to be a friend, not just collect them. Where gratitude stopped being theoretical and became necessary.

That season shaped me, but it was never meant to hold me forever. There was a time when I chased an image and tried to force life to happen before it was ready. I confused motion with progress and stayed caught between where I wanted to be and where I needed to be. Leaving was hard. Accepting that my life was meant to unfold somewhere else took honesty. I knew I wasn’t meant to watch others live fully while standing on the sidelines of my own life.

Returning now brought that clarity into focus. This trip confirmed something steady. Showing up for the people you love matters. It is love in action. Life is made up of how we are loved, how we show up for others, the experiences that shape us, our willingness to grow as life shifts, and the legacy we leave behind.

Nine years later, I’m grateful. For family. For friendships that feel like sisters. For the clarity that time gives. Life keeps moving when we loosen our grip and trust the unfolding.

That, too, is legacy.

This is what feels worth holding onto.

 Looking out from where I stand.

Style, Without Judgment

In Season Practice: Dress with care for the moment you’re in and the people you’re with.

Gently Living, Without Performing

In Season Practice: Give time to the conversations and moments that won’t come back.

Agency, Without the Noise

In Season Practice: Choose movement that aligns with your values, not pressure.

Some seasons clarify what deserves our attention.

This one has.

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