I have three amazing sons who I love dearly. And I’m certain they love me, too. While raising them, I always appreciated the difference in how they expressed their love for me. My eldest son shows his love through deeds. I could always count on him to follow the rules, do his chores, finish his homework, and help with his brothers. My middle child shows love by words. He would tell me how beautiful I was, how much he loves me, and he would ask to snuggle. My youngest, who became a part of our family at age 7, shows love by word and deed. He would compliment any subtle changes I made to things in the house, my clothes, and hair. He also followed the rules like the eldest son. Their birthdays are 5 days apart, yielding similarities in their demeanors. Now at 30, 28, and 27, respectively, they remain a constant place of joy, peace, gratitude, and love in my life.

Last week, I became a grandmother for the first time. My eldest son, Turner, is a father. I simply don’t have the words to express the feeling I have about the arrival of the new life God has blessed us with, or the words of pride I have for my son. My granddaughter’s arrival evoked a myriad of emotions that I cannot capture in their entirety. Tears of gratitude flowed as I thought about her future, her safety during the pandemic and beyond, protecting her from the pain that life brings, her faith, the incredi village she has, my faith, my mistakes, my father – who I believe threw a celebration in heaven unlike any seen before him – and Turner, whose life has changed forever in the best way imaginable.

Being a father is not an easy task. We have so many expectations of our men. Yes, I know there are many for women too, but it seems we simply don’t pause as frequently as we should to acknowledge our men – particularly, our Black men. Far too often we hear about, or share negative things when we speak of our Black men, and when we do, we tend to make sweeping comments about them as if the bad behaviors of some represent them in their entirety. It doesn’t. It’s a rare occasion to see them uplifted, bragged about, or celebrated. You’ll have to excuse me because I have strong beliefs in this space. While pursuing my master’s degree, my thesis was about the Black man. But I digressed – this is not about me, it’s about pausing to acknowledge one of the amazing black men in my life.

Turner is caring, intelligent, grounded, disciplined, helpful, hard-working, practical, good, confident, consistent, and he knows God. As much as I would like to take all of the credit for the man he has become, it simply wouldn’t be true. There have been other dynamic black men who have helped shape him into the man he is today. The good news about it is, they’re not done, and neither is God. I have no doubts he will be an awesome dad.

This special time in my life has reminded me to check myself about the fruit I’m bearing. My faith tells me the Fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, temperance, gentleness, and faithfulness. I must do better with my connection to the vine – to God. Not just for myself, but for my granddaughter.

When my dad died in 2012, my connection to the vine weakened. Not because the vine broke, or went away, but, because I did. God called my rock, my love, my daddy, home – and I was hurt, I was angry. I felt I needed more time with him. I was wrong. My dad had already given me everything I, and our family needed. It just took me a while to recognize it, to see his fruit.

What kind of fruit are you bearing? Perhaps your connection has weakened or doesn’t exist at all. Just like for me, the transformation begins inside of you. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, temperance, gentleness, and faithfulness are all yours to have and share with others. Check your tree.

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