CHAPTER 1

Origins of My Becoming

My Relations with the Numeral One

No single life event holds sole responsibility for the entirebeing into which a person develops. Various experiencesoccurring at particular times eventually mold all of us intopeople we admire or loathe. The writing of this book is anexample of an experience that evolved me, expanded me,and brought forth more personal self- appreciation than Ithought possible. Its first chapter sets the precedence; theeight that follow merely add more detail to round things out.Therefore, a proper understanding concerning the numberone is definitely in order. Dr. Bullinger writes the followingabout the numeral one:

... in all languages, it is the symbol of unity. As acardinal number, it denotes unity; as an ordinal, itdenotes primacy ...

Being a flesh and blood person, all parts connect togetherto reflect more than just who I appear as now, but also definethe many characteristics of my ancestry. Lightness of myskin complexion, color of my eyes, shape of my lips, nose,thighs, roundness and height of my behind, even the soundof my voice relates me to the women and men from whom Idescended. As all physical parts unify and become the whole,so also the flow of all chapters in harmony and unity with theprimary beliefs taught to me during childhood. These primarybeliefs originated through the love and unity of my parents.

Though forever busy with endless task to make ends meet,John Miles and Estella found ways to stretch time, whichallowed for the giving of personal attention within the lives ofseven children. They taught us to have faith and trust inour Creator and that by doing so, nothing would be impossiblefor us. They taught us to be proud of our African Americanheritage; the struggle we were involved in during those daysof racial segregation; and to maintain self-respect and dignityno matter the situation at hand. These primary beliefs formeda spiritual backbone within me that made all the difference inhow I perceived myself; chose the man I married, and raisedthe children I birthed.

On the surface, John Miles and Estella were not people ofrecognized social status, nor were they blessed with a greateducation, nor presently remembered for the contributionthey made to social changes that affected my small hometownin middle Tennessee during the early 1960s. Nevertheless,this book will reveal much about the part they- and others-playedin helping me acquire much Wisdom for a life journeythat began a lot sooner than I had expected.

Estella in the Early Days

What I remember best about Estella was her love for herheavenly Father and her intense desire to make certain webelieved in Him too. This she reflected in the Saturday evening/Sunday morning preparations' ritual for Sunday school. Alengthy ordeal, that began on Saturday afternoon and lastedall the way up to Sunday morning- finally concluding withus walking out the front door for Sunday school. Four of ussix girls still were living at home and we provided Estellawith plenty to do. The ritual would begin Saturday afternoonwith the washing and towel drying of our hair; followed bykinky hair straightening with a metal comb heated on aburner of the kitchen stove. Sometime when your hair wasnot completely dry, you would hear a sizzling sound, followedquickly by a sharp pain as your brain registered the realitythat you had just got burnt! This part of the ritual would goon late into the night as Estella closely pressed (and curledwe were older) the hair of all her daughters. Duringthe process of hair prep, she also would begin the duty ofbathing us in the tin tub. She would heat tub, after tub, aftertub of water on the old wood/coal burning stove so that eachof her girls could be cleaned and ready for Sunday service.Sometime before dawn, Estella would finally care for her ownhair, take her own bath, and finally lay her head on her pillow,only to awaken within a few hours to start a pan of scratchbiscuits with heated molasses; in addition to fixing the meatand vegetables for Sunday dinner. As she got everyone up,she would begin pressing our dresses, shortly stopping tolay out white ruffled panties alongside white under slips shehad bleached and line dried days before. Still ironing anotherdress, she would match socks or tights, at the same timepausing to rub Vaseline on black patent leather shoes untilthey gleamed in the sunlight. Once dresses and shoes werefinished, she would commence shining us up with Vaselineand Jergens lotion until we too resembled new shiny pennies!She faithfully did this ritual for us until she figured we wereolder enough to do for ourselves, which for me turned out tobe around ten. For well over twenty-something years, Estellaquietly and loyally performed this ritual of love for her Godand the children she home-birthed and breastfeed.

John Miles in the Early Days

My most fond early memories of John Miles involved playing"horsey". I remember him singing silly songs and laughing,bouncing and swaying me on his knee, while his tongue madeclopping sounds. Although very young, I recognized a good-lookingman when I saw him- and John Miles was a really,good-looking man! I remember him as "elegantly easy", onethat made others feel relaxed in his presence. Consideringthe number of folks who would drop by to discuss a thing ortwo with him, I also would say he was a very good listener.However, he was no push over! When the occasion called for it,would bring out his belt to take care of matters that hadworn poor Estella's patience down to a thread. This did notoccur often for Estella usually handled her own battles witha long keen switch from a nearby shrub bush. Nevertheless,it happened often enough that we knew if Estella uttered thewords "just wait till your Daddy gets home", we were in for truebackside fireworks! Within his presence were an abundanceof love, strength and calm. Knowing he was around to listenand care established a spiritual wholeness within all hischildren- the same wholeness I passed on to mine.

A Short Amount of Time

Looking back, I had no idea that this sweet period withthe two most important people in my life would become sotemporary. Had I a clue, perhaps I would have expressed myappreciations to them more often. Their early deaths becamequite a shock to me in every respect of the words. Twelveyears with John Miles and fourteen with Estella were all thetime allotted before their deaths. From teen years and wellinto my twenty's, I was resentful about the short amountof time allowed to spend with either of them. Now knowingall I have been through and accomplished, I praise themfor the phenomenal work they did in this brief period. Theyamazingly prepared their youngest girl to deal with varioussituations and life challenges that began shortly thereafterand continued onward for many years.

Yes, for a long while I carried deep resentment and nervousanxiety about different unknowns happening within mylife. I was not so much angry with the Father, but ratheruncertain about trusting anything or anyone as being solidand dependable. It took several years to realize that life wouldbe full of happenings- some wanted, others not so much.However, memories of the Great I Am's faithfulness and thepromise that answers always exist as we seek to find them hasdeveloped greater spiritual clarity within my heart and soul.

John Miles and Estella

Reverend John Miles Andrew Lee Batton was the formalname of my father. He was an evangelical, civil rights activist,southern Baptist preacher who was a true entertainer in thepulpit. Estelle Palmer Batton, my mother, was a self-taught`jack-of-all-trades and master of many' homemaker who easilycould have competed with the Martha Stewarts of today. Theywere precious honorable folks who grew up during the timesof the Great Depression. "Having just enough to get by- buttrusting the Almighty it would be enough to share", is a goodsummation for the way they went through life. Both loved theLord their God (and each other!) with all their hearts, souls,mind and strength and labored endlessly to instill the samein my five sisters, my brother and me. Both believed in leadingby example- but neither of them were perfect parents. Nowlooking back on how short a time they actually walked thisearth with any of us; I proudly say that I believe they did amighty fine job raising all seven of us.

John Miles, usually called `Huney' or `Reb'um Batton' byEstella; was originally born in Portugal and came to Americaduring the 1920's. His Portuguese father and Native Americanmother had served as slaves sometime before the turn of thecentury. This information was a thing he had never publiclyconfessed. Estella revealed this during the time she wasplanning his funeral. He was the youngest of eight siblings;most of whom had passed away by the time of my birth.

I remember him as handsome and tall; with dark caramel-brownskin and Pomenade greased wavy black hair. Hewas well spoken and very audacious on the concept of civilrights. Though he never physically marched along side Dr.King, in our small southern town of Columbia, Tennessee,he was an outspoken activist concerning the wrongs of oursegregated school district. An avid student of the Bible, hedelighted in preaching God's Word in small country churchesacross Middle Tennessee and eastern Alabama. In fact, onany Saturday afternoon, he loved preaching his high-spiritedsermons to the trees in our backyard!

Estella, always called either `Stella' or `Mama' by JohnMiles, was a gentle, medium caramel-brown complexionedwoman who possessed large beautiful majorette-thighs, widehips, a small waist and an easy smile. She was the only girland the youngest of three children. Her Mama had passedaway when she was only 13- a subject of which she rarelyspoke. Her family was so poor that she had to drop out ofschool during her eighth grade year to assist her father andtwo older brothers in the sharecropping. Her life would neverreflect abundant financial success- but you would never knowit by the smile on her face and constant songs she oftenhummed and quietly sang around the house.

Estella was the mother of nine children she birthed at home,two that were still- born. She was a self-taught woman- onewho develops skills through many trial and error situations.Mama had taught herself to do many household tasks such assew clothing, upholster furniture and make window drapery.To me, one of her most inspiring qualities was her ability tobring forth the unusual out of the ordinary. She would lookthrough magazines for ideas and then re-create her ownversion so that our old rented home was one of simple beauty.Even now, I marvel at her ability to turn a drafty woodenplanked attic into a comfortable roomy bedroom for us sixgirls. I believe others remember her best for her easy smileand warm hospitality to everyone in our neighborhood.

When They Passed Away

John Miles was 51 when he lost his two-year battle withlung cancer and died four months before my 12th birthday.Estella, at age 47, followed him 2 years later, suddenly dyingfrom a stroke the week before Christmas. I had just turned14 and never imagined anything so awful happening to me.Not that John Miles' death was any easier; but the swiftnessof Estella's death sent me into a true mental tailspin thattook years to recover. In fact, her death began my lifelongfriendship with the personal Source of my being, my Creatorand all that abundant Wisdom.

One of the reasons I carried so much resentment wasthe fact that I felt so alone in a world that was changingall the time. Recent attendance and school events at our`just a while ago' integrated white junior high, left me feelingacutely aware of their absence and caused a longing withinme that, at times, felt unbearable. Numerous occasions,where parental presence was expected, became pure tortureepisodes to attend because I would be one of the few kidsdropped off or showed up solo. I missed them helping me getready for prom, admiring my escort and me as they took toomany pictures of us. I truly missed their guidance on whichuniversity to attend and their input with all the financial aidpapers I submitted. I dearly yearned for them the day I leftfor college, shedding tears of emptiness for the pride I couldnot see on their faces. Since all my siblings were at their jobs,there was no one to wave good-bye to me as the Trailways buspulled away from the station, taking me to the University ofTennessee 4 hours away.

A few years later, I met and married the most wonderfulman in the world; but there was no Estella to giggle and laughwith while we shopped for white satin to make my weddingdress. There was no John Miles on my wedding day- huggingme and whispering how beautiful I was, what a great wife Iwas going to make for Tommy as he proudly walked me downthe aisle. I missed them not having the opportunity to knowthe wonderful man I married and the two unique childrenthat later made us a family.

Yes indeed, it took several years of conscientious anddetermined spiritual growth before I could hear Wisdom'sremind me that my life had evolved exactly as it wasdestined; and absolutely nothing was lacking due to thingsbeing different than I had desired. John Miles and Estellahad shared Wisdom principles that offered an abundant life,free from worries and fears. They had given the most preciousgift that any parent could and should give all their offspring-thegift of faith and trust in the Source of all Beings and anunderstanding regarding the topic of Wisdom.

CHAPTER 2

The Strength of My Foundation

The Importance of a Well-EstablishedFoundation in Artistic Creation

The foundational aspects of my life, I chose to place underthe chapter heading of numeral two. Regarding this numeral,Dr. Bullinger writes:

"... We have seen that One excludes all difference, anddenotes that which is sovereign. But Two affirms thatthere is a difference ... This difference may be for goodor for evil. A thing may differ from evil and be good,or it may differ from good, and be evil. Hence, thenumber Two takes a two-fold colouring, according toits context."

A thing may seem bad, but eventually bring forth goodresults, or vice versa. Life is full of contrasting situationswhose ends cannot be prejudged in the heat of the moment.I feel much of the same is true regarding my life. Thoughmy parents' early passing caused great grief, I believe it wasthe foundation of faith they instilled that gave me what Ineeded to move forward just the same. Outwardly, manypeople expressed their sadness at realizing that I had lost bothparents at such a young age. Yet I believe it is because I lostboth of them while so young that established my friendshipwith the Great I Am in such a dynamic way. All of thesethoughts led me to place this primary aspect of my life underthe banner of Chapter 2.

As an artist who works through the perspective ofsymbolism, I know that my creations must begin with a wellthought-through foundation. Doing so keeps focus intactand gives purpose and clarity to the work. Within art basedon symbolism, the foundation is essential to provide strongsupport and balance to the overall meaning and messageof the piece. Such infrastructure also allows the addition ofnewer thoughts, ideas and concepts that will supply greaterdepth in understanding and enjoyment of the work. Thesesame principles are true when working in the realm of thespiritual. A life established with spiritual principles ensuresone being prepared, happy, balanced and supported forgrowth under all circumstances.

The symbolism in this bowl/story represents people andconcepts that laid the foundation for my present life. Colorsharmoniously balance with other symbolic aspects for reasonsthat far exceed aesthetics. Physical beauty is a priority withinall designs, however the real attraction occurs within themessage each imparts. Within this particular bowl design,all aspects serve to illustrate my appreciation for my solidfoundation of Wisdom and all those who helped me receive itspriceless presence into my life.

My Foundation Is Black

At first glance, you might think that the basic colorunderlying this creative design is solely brown- but that isnot true. Enlarging the background allows you to see thatthere are actually two colors, which share credit for who Ihave become. Understanding the symbolic qualities of bothcolors allows focused appreciation for situations that offeredguidance and sowed character in my young life.

Symbolic black begins the actual groundwork for our bowldue to the intricate nature of its specific characteristics. Now youmay think I am referring to the death of John Miles and Estella,and the years I felt totally lost and disconnected from the peoplein my life, and the fears that I would never again be happy. Thisis partially right. However, my affinity with black also carries aconcealed relationship to Wisdom and all characters- real andsymbolic- portrayed throughout this story.