Dr. James Whitfield

care

Blessed

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As I loaded up my truck with the gracious goodies that folks brought this Tuesday afternoon, I was filled with an immense sense of peace and gratitude. We’d made it to roughly the halfway point in the school year. And now it was time for a little rest and relaxation.

Photo Time Machine

This week I’ve had a great opportunity to slow down and reflect a lot. In my reflection I was reminded of just how very fortunate I am to be here at this moment, surrounded by a loving family and such a supportive group of friends and colleagues. One of the things I like to do in moments of reflection is go through old print photos. There’s just something about holding a photo in hand that draws me in every time.

On this occasion, several photos took me back 20 years. In one I was standing beside an Atlas Van Lines 18 wheeler, covered in snow. In others, the snow-capped mountains that seemed just outside the truck’s window, glistened. Instantly, it was as if I was back on the trip that would span the course of a little over two weeks in the winter of 2003.

On The Road Again

My college basketball playing days are over and I was still working to finish up my college degree via distance education. Then, one day, my friend, Joe, who drove for Atlas Van Lines, called me up about an opportunity to make some good money just before the holidays. Up till this point, moving furniture had largely been reserved to the summer months for me, but I couldn’t let this opportunity slip away, as I had little ones who were counting on Santa to come through.

There was a bit of apprehension, though. Not only would this mean leaving my kids for an extended period of time, I would now be away from my girlfriend, Kerrie, for longer than we’d ever been apart. In the months leading up to this trip we’d grown inseparable and I knew that she was the woman I ultimately wanted to spend my life with.

Nonetheless, I had plans, but no steady source of income yet, so I loaded up my gear, kissed them all goodbye, and headed out to traverse the country, unsure of when I may return. Life on the road is complex. The work of logistics and relocation is grueling. If you know, you know. 

Long Distance Love

Through the rumbling of those big wheels, and the sporadic cell service in various parts of the country, I’d lie in the bunk talking to Kerrie on the phone. We talked about everything, for hours at a time. While I had a PlayStation in the back to play at my leisure, talking to her was all I wanted to do.

Hearing her voice, the level of care and concern for me and the conditions we’d found ourselves in on the road. Cracking jokes and hearing her laughter filled me with warmth on those cold nights traversing the northern part of the country. She was my best friend and, though the distance, I could feel her presence.

A Proposal in the Making

I knew well before that trip that I wanted to marry this woman who lit up my life. Cracking jokes and hearing her laughter filled me with warmth on those cold nights traversing the northern part of the country. But then one night as we were talking, and I looked out into the blankets of snow falling around me, I committed to it in my mind – I’m getting a ring as soon as we get back and I’m going to ask her to marry me on Christmas Day.

That trip would span over two weeks. When I returned, it was shopping time. I went to Kerrie’s mother, Colleen, and asked for her blessing. Then, with her blessing, and by my side, Colleen and I went shopping for the perfect ring. Now, mind you, I don’t have a lot of money for this ring…but I was determined to make it work.

I secured the ring weeks before Christmas and it was a great challenge not to let it slip. I was so excited, nervous, anxious – all the feelings. 

Crazy Gary’s Blessing

Then, Christmas Day was here. We arrived at Kerrie’s mothers house where all the family had gathered. It was a small house, and it made for a very intimate setting for this occasion. I noticed Kerrie’s step-dad, affectionately known as “Crazy Gary”, slip out onto the porch and knew this was my opportunity to obtain his blessing to ask for his step-daughter’s hand in marriage.

Now, I don’t know about you, but the prospect of asking a guy named “Crazy Gary” for his step-daughter’s hand in marriage was pretty daunting. Gary was about as rough and tough of a guy as they came. A bear of a man at roughly 6’3”, 250 lbs, with a big, burly beard. He didn’t talk too much but you’d know when he did, as his voice boomed. And he was a member of the United Brothers Motorcycle Club. I’d come to know Gary as a big ole teddy bear in the days that would come but, in the moment, I was scared as HELL!

As I walked out on the porch, there he sat with a freshly popped Busch beer and cigar. He looked up at me and offered me a seat beside him and a beer. I cracked one open and we began to talk about life, work, me finishing school – all the things. At some point I’d worked up the courage to finally ask for his blessing.

“Gary”, I said, looking right at him.

As he looked back at me I asked “I’d like to ask for your blessing to ask for Kerrie to marry me.”

The next several moments felt like an eternity! 

Finally, with a steady and calm demeanor, Gary responded “are you sure you want to do that?”

In an instant, he let out a bellowing laugh that seemed to shake the porch. Then he said “of course, young man! Not that you need it but you have my full support. Now when are you gonna ask her?”

“Well, sir. I was kinda hoping to here in a few minutes’ ‘, I responded.

We laughed again, did a cheers with our Busch beers, then embraced in a hug.

Gary is no longer with us, but I will never forget the warmth he shared with me and how he took a serious moment and made it light, yet so very memorable. I carry that with me forever. Rest in peace my dear brother.

Yes!

As we re-entered the house it was clear that those inside heard our laughter. “Something sure was funny”, Kerrie said.

We opened gifts, laughed a lot, and ate. Then, it was time for the moment of truth. Colleen and Gary knew, my two kids knew, but no one else. On this Christmas, December 25, 2003, I dropped to one knee, popped out the ring, and asked “Kerrie, will you marry me?”

It felt like time stood still. And then she responded with a resounding “Yes!” We kissed. We hugged. And we were showered with congratulations from our dear family. I immediately told the story of what Gary had told me outside and it was met with thunderous laughter. Classic Crazy Gary!

Our Journey of Love and Growth

I’ll never forget that day, and all the days that led up to it. Those days would go on to shape the next 20 years of my life in such profoundly positive ways. 

It’s quite humbling and awe-inspiring to think back on our journey together. We were just two kids who’d worked extremely hard to climb out of some pretty tough childhood experiences. We were both finishing up our schooling and trying to figure out what life held for us. And, over the years, we have built a life together that is greater than anything I could’ve ever dreamed of when we started this journey two decades ago.

I’m forever grateful for the love, encouragement, and support my wife has showered upon me over the last two decades. It is my deepest hope and prayer that she has felt all of that reciprocated. Life with you, Kerrie, is the most amazing journey and I am so grateful that you said “yes”.

Stop and Smell the Roses

Life comes at us fast. And in the hustle and bustle of the holidays, changing careers, raising kids, and all the things that pop up along the way, it can be easy to forget just how far you’ve come.  I encourage you to – whether it’s an old box of photos, past writings, or scrolling through an album on Facebook – take a long look back at your journey. Undoubtedly, there will be moments such as I describe, and more, that will absolutely blow your mind. 

You haven’t made it here by accident. All that came before laid the foundation on which you stand today. Embrace it. Celebrate. And keep writing your unique and magical story.

 

Heroes

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As I walk out of the building, I hear cheers and see dozens of my students with signs of support. It’s the end of yet another long school board meeting where many of their classmates stood up and spoke on my behalf and for each other. It’s a dark, crisp night, it’s getting late and I know this will likely be the last time I get to address this group of students face-to-face. I step to the bullhorn and deliver a brief message of appreciation, love, pride, and support, then head home so we can put my 3rd grade son, Landon, to bed. 

The Kids Are Alright

Before I go further I must note something that many may not have realized about the students who were leading protests and speaking out. Many in the crowd that night have just finished their early action applications to Harvard, Brown, MIT, Stanford, University of Texas Honors Program, and Rice. Most, if not all, of them are taking a full load of AP classes as high school seniors. They are students who have never skipped school a day in their life but quickly informed their parents that they would be walking out of school in protest because they believed so strongly in their cause. After many of them spoke on this night, they were chastised by another speaker saying “they should not get to speak – they don’t pay taxes.” 

On this day two years ago, November 17, 2021, I saw a group of young people who, despite the opposition, found their voice. A group of students who had no time to engage in protests and the likes, made time. Their courage, leadership, and conviction landed them in the headlines of The Washington Post, refusing to be silenced. They represented what so many people feared – an engaged, educated young citizen capable of critical thinking and forming their own conclusions. These young people refused to drink from the fire hydrant of what may have been traditional “community” norms, but rather, questioned it.

Winds of Change

My time had run its course in the district, yet my youngest son was still enrolled there. He’d joined me in the district years prior and it was nice to have him so close to me. I could pop over for lunch when I had a few minutes. He could come over after school and shoot hoops with me before we went home. He loved his teachers, principal, and friends. And we enjoyed our rides to and from school together. 

But at this, things have changed. For the last several months I would drive Landon to school, past my former school, drop him off, then head home where a whirlwind of media were chomping at the bits for their pound of flesh. Thankfully, I’d found a dear friend and PR Strategist throughout this process who helped screen out some of the sharks. But after the meeting on November 17, 2021, it was clear that I had to make the tough decision to withdraw Landon from the district at the Thanksgiving break and enroll him in our home district on the other side. He was sad. His friends and teachers were sad and they made him cool going away presents. We were all sad. But this was just the way it had to be.

Navigating Transitions

As I walk up to enroll Landon for his first day at his new school I’m met with the emotion that most every parent has felt at some point –

Am I doing the right thing?

Surely I could just suck it up and just make the drive, push down the emotional trigger of passing my former place of employment, and make it happen, right?

But through the mixed emotions I enrolled Landon in his new school, which is within walking distance from our house. Over the course of the next several weeks we created a new routine – walk to school, then at the end of the day pick up by the big oak tree, then walk home. We found rhythm and consistency. And, as luck would have it, one of Landon’s former teachers was good friends with one of his new teachers and they were able to discuss his progress. 

Not only was he experiencing a transition academically, but he was watching the world around him unravel. He clung closer and closer to my side. While I tried to shield him from all that was going on and hide the pain, disappointment, and frustration in his presence, he knew something was off. He knows how much his dad loves being a school principal and now dad is no longer doing that. He is now accustomed to cameras and journalists following us to school or setting up in our home. And he is thriving in his new school setting. 

I marveled at his resilience and growth, his capacity to adapt to change and pour out love. On many days where I felt my light begin to dim, he shared some of his with me to brighten the way. And over the course of the rest of the 21-22 school year and 22-23 school year it was much the same. This dude served as such an inspiration to me.

A Whole New World

As August came around, I was nearing the end of my required time outside of public education. But I knew where I would be on the first day of school for the 23-24 school year. I’d obtained my superintendent certification years ago and never thought I’d be using it. But God always has a way of making a way towards those things you once thought unattainable. For this school year I’d begin on the first day of school at a K-12 public charter school as superintendent. 

Look at God.

But now I had a decision to make. With my older two children, Jordan and Lauren, I had the opportunity to serve in a school they attended. I got to coach Jordan as a basketball player (he loved it). When Lauren went into middle school, good ole dad was starting as a first year assistant principal (and you know she loved that). And now an opportunity has presented itself for me to be at school with Landon as a 5th grader, should we choose to transfer him to the school I’m at.

Decisions

For weeks prior we went back and forth. He’d been through so much change over the last few years. Relationships were formed with friends and teachers in his current school. And this was his year to be the big dawg on campus as 5th grade is the final year in that school. With us now being at different schools I definitely couldn’t drop him off in the mornings. Sparingly I’d be able to pick him up from school. I’d still probably get to join him for lunch as much as any other year. But things would be changing, for sure. So many considerations.

I drove to school alone on August 16, 2023. This was to be Landon’s first day of school, as well. His school day was set to start several minutes after mine and we would no longer ride together. With each mile I inched in traffic closer to school my emotions were everywhere, much like the cars that zoomed around each other. We’d been so torn on whether or not I should bring Landon to my school, which promised to be an amazing place, or leave him at his current school that was also amazing.

In an instant, I asked Siri to call my wife, who I knew would be up with Landon, preparing for his first day. As she picked up the phone I said, 

“Honey, don’t send him to school today. I’m gonna bring him with me. What do you think?”

Yes. I know. I went from making a firm decision to asking a question in the same breath. That speaks to where my mind was at. But I just knew in my heart that this was the right move.

She went over to Landon with the phone on speaker and said “Hey bud, what do you think about going to school with Dad this year? Dad wants you to go with him.”

All of a sudden, the phone momentarily went silent. I thought “oh crap. Did I just mess this up? The first day of school is already stressful and now I’ve gone and made it extra stressful.”

Before I got too far along the downward spiral of my thoughts I heard Kerrie’s voice exclaim, “Oh my gosh, he’s smiling so big. Yes. He’s shaking his head, yes.”

The decision was made. Landon would join me at school for 5th grade. Our rides to and from school together would continue. He’d be in a place where he gets to learn in a small setting and enjoy the outdoors afforded at our beautiful, expansive campus.

A Day to Trot

Over the last few months we’ve both gone through transition – him, as a new student in a new space; me, in a new role in a new place. And it has been one heck of a journey navigating the winds of change. 

Today was our annual Turkey Trot at our school. For the last several weeks, students were given the opportunity to sign up by grade level clusters to run in it. The winners of each race received a turkey to take home. Over the course of that time I’ve asked Landon every day if he wanted to run in the race. The dude is a strong, fast runner. But every day, the answer was, “no dad, I’m good.” 

This morning we began as we do most Fridays with our Donuts with Dad at our favorite donut shop. Then, we had a conversation about everything from the upcoming anniversary of the JFK assassination to the conflict in the middle east. As we got to school and entered my office Landon looked at me and said, “Dad, I think I want to do the Turkey Trot”, to which I responded, “then let’s do it!”. Quickly, we went over to the sign up sheet to add his name. 

After adding his name he said, “Dad, if I win the Turkey Trot, I want to give the turkey I win to someone who needs it.”

With my heart beaming with pride I said, “that sounds like a fantastic idea son. I’m sure there is someone who needs it.”

We had a great day today at our school. I was pied in the face by those who won the drawing from our canned food drive. Families feasted on wide food spreads, picnic style, with their children on the grounds. And the races were intense. 

As I watched Landon round the last turn towards the finish line with no one in front of him I couldn’t help but smile. After so much hesitation about even running, he’d not only run the race, but won first place, thus securing that turkey to give away. After a great big hug, he was off to take his picture with the first place sign and a huge turkey in his arms. I could see the happiness in his face – the pride in his stance. He’d won the turkey he set out to win to donate to someone in need.

I stood there watching this young man with so much pride in my heart. To think about where we were two years ago on this very day. So much uncertainty, pain, grief, disappointment, and fear. Then the transitions over the course of the time from then to now. And now, this moment. Only by the grace of God.

Our Young People, Our Heroes

So often, we reserve the title of “hero” for adults or celebrities, but I know better. Heroes are the young folks I’ve described above. Youth who sacrificed so much of their time and energy to stand up for not only me, but their community. They were harassed online and in person, but never buckled under the pressure. They shook up things and made folks aware of what was going on in their community. 

And my son, Landon. He is truly one of my heroes. He inspires me with his courage and resilience. The last couple years have been tough but he mets every challenge, head-on, and conquering them. I’m proud of his huge heart, empathy, and sense of compassion for others. His compassion knows no bounds, a beacon of light in a world that sometimes feels dim. I’m uplifted by his constant encouragement and love. 

Landon. My son. Our little champion. My heart. My hero.

Perserverance

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Throughout life, there are moments that, indeed, take us higher. One such moment – the Texas Rangers securing their first World Series Championship this week. A team that so many counted out, standing alone as the standard for baseball around the world. For the countless fans who have followed this team through thick and thin, drops and whiffs, and everything in-between, this achievement is more than just a sports victory; it’s a testament to the unwavering human spirit and the ties that bind generations. And with this, I can’t help but think about how proud my Ma would be.

Fond Memories with “Ma”

My Grandmother, Mintha Doris Sumner, affectionately known as “Ma”, was an avid sports enthusiast. I can vividly recall the countless hours we spent watching Mavs, Cowboys, and Rangers games together. She was a force to be reckoned with. You couldn’t tell her she was not the coach. She expected nothing less than excellence from the athletes on the screen. The only exception to her unwavering commitment was Dirk Nowitzki, who she adored. Rarely – even when that dude messed up – did she get upset with him. Oh, and Jose Canseco. She LOVED her some Jose Conseco – ball bouncing off his head and all. But I digress…

As I sat in the stands at Globe Life Field on Wednesday evening, I couldn’t help but think about all these moments with Ma. And as the fireworks shot off after the Sborz called 3rd strike, I had a bit of a mist in my eye. I was transported back to Ma’s living room where we watched so many games – all the ups and downs. I was transported to the various dollar hot-dog nights we went to at the old stadium. In the moment, I was reminded that this game was really about so much more. So many core memories. So many lessons that sports teach us.

A Legacy of Strength and Selflessness

When I think about Ma, I find solace in these vivid memories, knowing that her legacy lives on through our lives. It’s a testament to the beautiful story that the Lord painted with her life. A life that was anything but easy. 

Her life was not without challenges, and she faced them with unwavering strength. Losing Grandaddy, the love of her life, shortly after they were supposed to embark on a journey to enjoy the fruits of their hard work was a heart-wrenching blow. Yet, she continued to serve her beloved Itasca community, from volunteering at the church to delivering meals on wheels, always there for those in need.

A decade later, her life took another devastating and unexpected turn when she had to care for my mother, Beverly Jan Whitfield, who was fighting a cancer that proved to be incurable. Ma’s life shifted from the quiet streets of Itasca to the bustling metro of Downtown Houston to be by her daughter’s side every step of the way. Despite her own heartache, she provided love, care, and unwavering support to her daughter, who left this world far too soon.

And then with the loss of my mother, Ma took on the responsibility of guiding me, a 19-year-old on the brink of going off the rails, and raising my younger brother, Michael. All of this happened less than a decade after she and Grandaddy had planned to explore the country together and enjoy their hard-earned retirement. Her life had taken a dramatically different course.

Lessons from Life’s Challenges

Ma’s love was a selfless love, passionately committed to the well-being of others, born not of emotions but of choice. She never judged or condemned me, even when I faltered. Instead, she saw the best in me, believed in me, and offered a safe harbor in the tumultuous seas of the times. I often wonder how different my life would have been without Ma’s presence. That thought frightens me. Ma’s love, her pride in us, and her selfless spirit are the most significant gifts she left behind. They form a legacy that cannot be diminished or lost, ensuring that she continues to live on in our lives.

Celebration – Life and Sport

As I watched the Texas Rangers celebrate becoming World Series Champions, I could feel her presence. I could imagine her jubilation. Their ability to overcome, echoed the spirit of Ma. I’m reminded that that sorts often mimic life, and it’s more than just a game. It’s about enduring and triumphing through the challenges that come our way. Ma’s legacy taught me that, even in the face of adversity, we can lean into love – a love that believes in the best, endures through all trials, and asks for nothing in return.

Ma, we thank you for your humor, compassion, wisdom, patience, and, above all, your unwavering love. Your legacy is a testament to a life well-lived, and we can only imagine the celebration that’s taking place in Heaven. You are our joy, and we rejoice in honoring your memory. Your love continues to live on in each of us, and for that, we are forever grateful. 

Go Rangers!

Imagine

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Early this week I noticed that a John Lennon poster had flown into my front yard.

I know, pretty random, right? (Any of my neighbors reading this – y’all missin’ a poster?)

As I went to grab it I couldn’t help but think about his hit song, “Imagine”. That song always has a way of calming my soul. And as I watched the news surrounding the horrific terrorist attacks in Israel unfold each night this week, I couldn’t help but imagine a world where folks could attend an outdoor music festival without being slaughtered.

I truly believe that we all have much more in common than many would have us believe. Yet here we stand at another critical crossroad in our world’s history with war unfolding by the day. It always seems like when I catch a glimpse of the good in the world – whether it be at school, local community, or some far off land – it’s met with a firm and resistant evil. 

Pure Evil

What we have watched unfold over the last several days in Israel and Gaza is unconscionable. In Israel, friends and families gathered at a music festival to celebrate peace, love, and unity. Then, in a matter of minutes, a horrific, terrorist attack by Hamas turned that joyful festival into a living hell for the concert-goers and their loved ones. 

It’s hard to imagine the fear, pain, distress, and trauma that was inflicted on those poor, innocent souls. The accounts from survivors speak to a pure nightmare scenario, the likes of which we have rarely seen. In Gaza, millions of innocent citizens are left to suffer the consequences of Hamas’ diabolical actions. Hospitals overrun, homes and businesses in ruins, innocent lives taken. They, too, are now stuck in a living hell.

Finding the “Right” Words

In the aftermath, I’ve watched so many try to signal their compassion, empathy, and support for these innocent souls in Israel and Gaza, only to be met with a lot of vitriol. It’s been quite astonishing and disappointing to watch. 

What we must understand is that this is not a zero-sum game – love never is. This is literally people’s lives we’re talking about. Two things can be true:

  • You can condemn Hamas’ pure, unadulterated evil AND
  • You can have compassion and empathy for the citizens of both nations who are simply just trying to live their lives in peace who are caught in the crosshairs.

One does not diminish the other. Quite the contrary. It illuminates our humanity.

Forward

It is my deepest hope and prayer for a swift and peaceful resolution to the current war that has been waged by Hamas, and countered by Israel. Without such a resolution, I fear the outcome for so many innocent people in the region.

I have Israeli friends who I love dearly. I have Palestinian friends who I love dearly. And I have Israeli and Palestinian friends who love each other dearly. 

I urge you – please do not allow your humanity to be compromised to an extent to which you believe various people of the world are your enemy simply because of where they’re from. When we do that, evil wins. And we create the conditions for further bloodshed as we build up hate and intolerance in our hearts. 

Quiet as it’s kept, our capacity to love, show empathy and compassion, and unite towards basic human decency is the greatest weapon we have to create a more safe, loving, and peaceful world. 

You may say I’m a dreamer. But I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us. And the world will be as one

Imagine!

Weekly With Whitfield – Legacy

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I love my kids. The impact they’ve made on my life can’t be quantified. Daily, I’m reminded of the great privilege it is to be their father. I feel the deep pride that comes with looking at all the great things they’re each doing in the various stages of their lives. There is a profound power that rises up in my soul when I think of the lengths I would go to protect them. My love for them knows no bounds.

With this week encompassing National Daughter’s Day and National Son’s Day, I couldn’t help but scroll through old photos. It’s crazy how technology has changed this aspect of reminiscing for me. Not too long ago, I would’ve been pouring over physical photo albums. Now, I have them on my phone. The process of selecting a handful of photos to share on a Happy National Daughter’s/Son’s Day was quite complex. Years upon years of so many beautiful memories. 

A Precious Stroll Down Memory Lane

During my stroll down memory lane, I came across a picture of my mother holding my oldest son, Jordan. And I sit with this photo, in deep thought, for a good while. Nearly two years before this photo, she’d been diagnosed with Leukemia. From the moment of diagnosis to the time of this picture (July of 1996) she’d undergone several rounds of chemotherapy, a bone marrow transplant at M.D. Anderson in Houston, TX, gone in and out of remission, watched her eldest son (me) graduate high school, and, now, was able to hold her first grandchild.

This would be the only time she ever got to hold him. And it was as if she knew that this would be her final opportunity. My mother was not feeling well, at all, but was able to leave M.D. Anderson and she return to my grandmother’s house in Itasca, TX to celebrate my 18th birthday. My mother was one of the strongest women I’ve ever known, if not the strongest. But Leukemia doesn’t care how strong you are…neither does the chemo…it devours and denies.

And, while that is so true, on this day I saw my mother transcend the pain and absolutely glow as she held this beautiful baby boy in her arms. Most will agree that, rarely, do pictures fully capture the beauty of these moments. But as I look back on this picture it’s about as close to a true reflection as I’ve ever seen. The way she held him. My arm around her. My baby brother, Michael, just over her right shoulder with a bright smile. One would never guess that poison was running through her body. The immense pride in her smile still speaks to me. She was glowing.

Cherish the Day

I remember never wanting that moment to end. I sat by her side the whole time. Although weak from treatment, she did not want to let Jordan go. She held him. And held him. And sang to him. And played the piano for him. And sang to him some more. Soon, it was time to gather in my grandmother’s kitchen for them to sing “Happy Birthday” to me. Time stood still. It seemed like those candles were lit forever. I didn’t want to blow them out. Not for any dramatic symbolism or anything like that. I just didn’t want that moment to end. Eventually, I blew them out. My family did that ceremonial applause. And then we enjoyed the chocolate cake my grandmother had baked and enjoyed the rest of our visit. I’m so very grateful God gave us that day.

A Painful Farewell

Over the next 5 months my mother’s condition would worsen. We spent Christmas down in Houston at my grandmother’s apartment, as she’d refinanced her house to relocate to be with my mother throughout this time. This visit would not be as joyous. My dad, brother, put on our hospital gowns and face coverings and entered my mother’s room. She lay there, resting, her eyes closed, as they’d given her medication to ease the pain. As we approached, her eyes slowly began to open. While I fully knew the pain she was in, I still felt as though she was going to jump out of the bed. 

But this is not the movies – that didn’t happen. Instead, she slowly began to try to nudge her way up in her bed to sit up. She was alert and coherent, and that made me smile. I grabbed her frail hand and just sat by her side. We talked and tried to sing a few Christmas carols, as Christmas was my mother’s favorite time of the year. Through the pain, she smiled and even cracked a few jokes. The prognosis was looking worse than it had before, but I didn’t want to believe it. 

Heartbroken

I can’t describe the feeling that came over me when I left that hospital room that December evening. My mom, Beverly Jan Whitfield, turned 40 on December 30, 1996. Then on January 17, 1997, she passed from this earth. To this day, I remember, vividly, each detail of that day. My whole world flipped upside down. I lost my best friend, my everything, on that day. And it would take me years to see past the anger and pain and towards the possibility of brighter days.

Over time it started to hit me, just how lucky I was to have her as an example of how a parent should love their kids. As I sit here at 45 years old – a whole 5 years older than my mother was when she passed away – I’m reminded of just how strong my mother was in those final years and in that final Christmas with my brother and I. To look out into your children’s eyes and love them so deeply, yet know that you will likely miss all the key moments of their lives. While I know my mother knew she’d be with her Heavenly Father when she left this earth, I also know that she was a human and that must have caused such pain deep in her soul. But she never let it show. I cannot begin to imagine such pain.

An Enduring Legacy

The journey from then to now has been quite an adventure. And that adventure has included the three amazing young people I’m so proud to call my own. It’s hard to imagine what life would be like without each of their unique presence in my life. I praise God for each day I get to be with them. I know, all too well, that every single day is a special gift and I do my best to cherish it. Not a day passes that I don’t think about my mother and what life would be like with her physical presence.

But her powerful presence lives within me. She nudges me in moments of uncertainty or fear. I can feel her pride when I accomplish something I set out to do. Her strength props me up when I’m faced with things that seem impossible. I feel her in moments of joy. She is my ultimate guide along this journey of parenthood, as she left such an amazing blueprint. Throughout the days of my life I commit to building upon the legacy my beloved mother left us.

Weekly With Whitfield – Conflicted

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This week has been filled with conflicting emotions. Generally, it’s been positive and productive. But I’d be lying if I told you positivity stayed throughout the week. Thankfully, joy has outweighed pain, but as I searched for what to write about today I’ve been very, very conflicted.

Family Pool Days

We had the chance to have a backyard full of friends and family this past Sunday afternoon. I spent the day sweltering over the grill in the 100 plus degree Texas heat. But, man, was it worth it. In the hustle and bustle of daily life it is hard to nail down the whole extended family but, on this day, we did. Through my sweat-stinging eyes, I looked around that backyard and just took it in. I didn’t even get any pictures, that’s how tuned in I was. Like so many things of beauty, the image captured in real life – in the moment – is so much more powerful than any picture. The pictures simply don’t do it justice. My heart was filled with so much pride, joy, and contentment. 

Processing Loss

We are still reeling over the loss of our dear friend, Kim. Over the course of the last two weeks we’ve cycled through the stages of grief many times. While our faith is very strong, our human nature still kicks in from time to time. We try to make sense of something so tragic – something we’ll never be able to do. Then, we have moments of remembrance and joy that seem to push back the pain. And, soon thereafter, moments of anger well up in our souls. To anyone out there experiencing such loss, I hope you know that whatever you’re feeling is completely normal. Don’t beat yourself up as you navigate the emotions that come with these tragedies that crop up in your life. Allow yourself to feel in order to heal.

Ahead to New Beginnings

I can see light at the end of the tunnel. While we’re still engaged in a form of litigation, one chapter of that sage comes to a close next Tuesday. While the last couple years have been some of the hardest in my life, I am still encouraged by the road ahead. I am so grateful for all the love, support, and encouragement that so many people extended our family throughout this time. I’ll never forget your kindness. My faith tells me that this road has prepared me for something far greater than I could ever imagine – such has been the case for my entire life. I’m excited to see what God’s hands will lay out for our family in the days to come. And I vow to give my very best to glorify His name through it all.

Wedding Bells

I get to officiate my first wedding this weekend in beautiful Cancun, Mexico.

That’s right, your boy is officially an ordained minister.

I’m so honored that my sister-in-law, my wife’s twin sister, Sandy, and her fiancé, Ricardo, have asked me to be part of their special day in such a way. My heart is so happy that they have found each other. 

Sandy is so much more than an “in-law” to me – she is the sister I never had and I love her dearly. To witness her pure joy and happiness means the world to me. As she will attest, I am very protective of her. She is a phenomenal human and deserves nothing but the very best in life. And, in Ricardo, I can see that she has found that. 

The same goes to Ricardo – he is such a wonderful human with a heart of gold, deserving of the very best in life. And, with Sandy, he’s found that. I’m so excited for them to begin this journey together. 

Rollercoaster of Life

Y’all, isn’t that real life? It’s never really in a straight line. Each day can carry its own unique opportunities and feelings. But I think it is key for us to remember to stand in each of those moments, granting us the space to simply be. So, while this week has been a bit more conflicting than normal…such is life. Understand that life brings with it conflicting emotions and contradictions, but you were made for these moments. We’re not guaranteed that this thing will be smooth and scripted. And, quite honestly, I’m glad…because that would be a pretty boring existence. Feel the pain, but don’t get stuck in it. Embrace the joy and don’t be afraid to share it with others. Love yourself and grant yourself the grace to be.

Weekly With Whitfield – Stories

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As humans, we are drawn to stories. We crave the emotional connection, understanding, and inspiration that a good story offers. Sharing our own stories holds the power to provide these benefits and so more. In fact, storytelling can have positive effects on mental health, social connections, and even physical health.

Recognizing the beauty in, and sharing of, our stories is crucial to personal and collective growth. As James Baldwin once said, “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive or who had ever been alive.” There is a dynamic power in our ability to recognize and share our stories.

Over the past week, I’ve had the chance to listen to a wide range of people’s stories and experiences. The diversity of these tales has been truly fascinating, highlighting the complexity of the human experience. Each story is like a thread in a rich tapestry, weaving together to create a beautiful and intricate pattern of life.

Human Connection

As social beings, humans have an innate desire for connection and belonging. By sharing our stories, we can find common ground and bridge the gaps between individuals from different backgrounds. The power of personal storytelling lies in its ability to create a sense of empathy and understanding, deepening our relationships with others.

Furthermore, when we embrace and celebrate our differences, we can work towards a more unified and collaborative world. Our stories offer a unique perspective and can inspire new ways of thinking, leading to greater innovation and progress.

In today’s increasingly diverse and interconnected world, it is more important than ever to recognize the value of personal storytelling. Our stories have the power to break down barriers, build bridges, and foster a sense of community among all people. Through sharing our experiences and listening to others, we can create a more compassionate and inclusive society.

Healing

Sharing our stories of trauma, grief, or loss can be a powerful tool for emotional healing and personal growth. When we open up about our experiences, we allow ourselves to release the emotional pain that we carry inside. Vocalizing our emotions and thoughts can help us process our feelings, and gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and our experiences.

Sharing our stories can also help us feel validated and heard, giving us a sense of comfort and support. Hearing the stories of others can be just as impactful in the healing process, providing a sense of shared experience and understanding. By sharing our vulnerabilities, we create a space for empathy and compassion, and encourage others to be open and honest about their own struggles.

Moreover, the act of sharing our stories can help reduce feelings of isolation and shame. By speaking out about our experiences, we show others that they are not alone in their struggles, and that there is no shame in seeking help or support. Ultimately, sharing our stories can be a transformative experience, helping us heal and grow as individuals, while also fostering deeper connections and understanding within our communities.

Inspiration

When we share our stories, we open up a window into our lives, providing a glimpse of our personal struggles, experiences, and triumphs. These stories have the power to inspire and motivate others, igniting a spark of hope that can lead to positive change. By shining a light on important issues and challenges, we can start important conversations and mobilize efforts towards change.

Additionally, our stories can serve as a source of inspiration for those facing similar challenges. Seeing others overcome adversity can provide a sense of hope and encouragement, showing that success is possible even in the face of adversity. Our stories can also provide valuable insights and lessons learned, helping others navigate their own struggles with greater understanding and resilience.

Power

Our stories are powerful tools that hold the capacity to connect us to others, promote healing and growth, and inspire positive change. These stories serve as a testament to the resilience and diversity of the human experience, holding the potential to create a more compassionate world. 

As we embrace each others’ stories, we begin to break down barriers. And on that foundation we can begin to build bridges, fostering deeper connections and understanding. I want to encourage you –  tell your stories with courage, vulnerability, and authenticity. And listen to the stories of others with empathy, compassion, and an open mind and heart. We’re in this together. I can’t wait to hear your story.

Weekly With Whitfield – Love

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There’s no way I could let the week of Valentine’s Day pass and not reflect on love. Believe me, I tried. I didn’t want to be cliche’. But love, as it so often does, captured the essence of the week. That said, Valentine’s Day has generally just been another day for me. Sure, it’s cool to do all the little extra things – the chocolates, flowers, sweet cards, and the likes – but I think most of us know that love can’t be confined to one day or material things. It surrounds us every day.

Love is a beautiful, dynamic force.

Dynamic Love

Speaking of a beautiful, dynamic force, this week we returned from the gorgeous shores of Punta Cana, Dominican Republic, where we were able to celebrate my stunning wife, Kerrie, and her twin sister. We had an amazing time strolling the lush, tropical, expansive spaces of our resort and the magnificent beaches. Along those paths I’d find myself gazing intently at this woman by my side – the love of my life. She is absolutely captivating.

To be loved by such a person is indescribable. Her love is so pure and deep. It wraps me in hope in moments of despair. And brings me unlimited moments of smile-til-your-face-hurts joy. Her love is all encompassing. I love the way it feels to be loved by her. I love her so much. 

On many occasions during our trip we discussed our upcoming milestone anniversary. This year marks 20 years that we’ve been together – 19 married. And in August of 2024 we will be married for 20 years. We chuckled as we reminisced about how much we’ve grown over the course of all those years. Love did that.

We were just two kids in our early 20’s, trying to find our way. I’ll never forget the moment I met her. It was absolutely love at first sight. She has continued to mesmerize me ever since. I am so fortunate to get to share my life with such a beautiful soul. The way she loves is the inspiration for today’s message. 

Love is such a powerful force. To be loved, and to share love, is one of the greatest gifts we can give. It serves, heals, inspires, connects, and transforms. While my example is that of the love of my wife, we know that love has the ability to take on many forms, whether that be romantic, familial, or the love between friends. Regardless of the form, the power of love is undeniable. 

Service

Love leads us to serve. When we feel loved we are more inclined to serve. Service is one of the greatest, most pure, expressions of love. Love calls us to operate with a heart of service to those we encounter throughout our days. 

And it’s reciprocal. Some days you will be the one with the energy and ability to be of service to someone in your space. Then, there will be days when it feels like you have nothing left to give, and someone comes through for you. Love nudges us to be of service to others, without an expectation of anything in return.

Healing

Love heals. When we feel loved, we experience a sense of safety and belonging that allows us to heal from emotional pain and trauma. And if we’re real about it, much of that emotional pain and trauma manifested because of our love for those who inflicted it. I won’t deny that. Love can, most definitely hurt.

But love’s healing powers are strong enough to help us overcome the hurt. Love stands ready to help us defeat feelings of isolation, anxiety, and depression. It wraps us up in comfort as we face the challenges that life may throw our way.

Inspiration

Love inspires. In love, we feel inspired to be our best selves. It pushes us to take risks and wildly pursue our dreams. The love of those around us sparks inspiration for things to come. 

It helps us see beyond our immediate circumstances and on to what may lay ahead for us. And armed with that inspiration, we tend to be  more generous and compassionate towards others. We pay it forward, sparking inspiration in the lives we touch on a daily basis. 

Connection

Love connects. According to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, besides food, water, and safety, belonging and love stand as two of the most powerful needs we must fulfill. Human connection is paramount to our overall well being. When we experience love, we form deep, meaningful connections with those around us. 

Love allows us to see beyond the differences that seek to divide us and pushes us to connect with each other on a deeper level. This connective power of love can bring people together in a way that nothing else can. All too often it takes tragedy for us to embrace how connected we really are in this experiment called life. We must allow the connective tissue of love to weave its way into our relationships with our families, friends, communities, and the world at large. 

Transformation

Love transforms. The transformative nature of love shifts the way we see ourselves and the world around us. Love contains the essential ingredients to transform our communities, helping us create a more loving, just, and compassionate world. 

When we allow ourselves to embrace love over the alternative, we are able to see past societal-imposed differences. We become transformers – more than meets the eye. Powerful, transformative figures, ready to combat evil and injustice to create a better, brighter world. 

The Power of Love

Love serves, heals, inspires, connects, and transforms. It’s foundational to our relationships with others. And critical to our personal and collective well-being. In a world that can, oftentimes, feel grim and unforgiving, love shines through, lighting our path to brighter days. We simply must continue to reach for it.

Every chance you get, spread love. Especially on the days that may feel darkest. It can be as simple as a phone call or a text expressing how much a loved one means to you. It doesn’t have to be anything extravagant. Chances are, a simple, heartfelt message of love will mean more than any material thing. Sending love and light to you all in the days ahead. Go out and BE LOVE.