Becoming a Woman of Substance

By Jennifer McKelvey

Becoming a Woman of Substance is a triumphant tale of an ugly duckling from a small town blossoming into a beautiful swan trying to survive in the big city. Most times she swims but occasionally she sinks. Either way, you know you're in store for an informative, fun-filled ride. Each chapter details the journey of being unaware to becoming aware of what is needed to grow into a woman who has real character and substance. How
we get there depends on the path we chose. It'll be easy to relate to the struggles, challenges, and triumphs. We live in a society that doesn't always encourage this kind of self-reflection. However, in this book you will learn how to take back that power and have the peace and joy you desire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469151403

Jennifer McKelvey

Jennifer was born and raised in small town Attapulgus, Georgia. She then attended and graduated Georgia Southern University with a BBA in Marketing. Jennifer began her federal government career with a four-year stint in the U. S. Army, where she served her entire career at the U. S. Army War College in Carlisle, PA. It was here that she was able to obtain her Masters’ in Public Administration MPA. She then embarked upon her federal civilian career of which she has spent the past ten years. Jennifer now resides in Maryland where she actively serves as a mentor and Foster Mom to the youth she encounters and volunteers and serves a member of the board for a homeless shelter.

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Copyright © 2012 by Jennifer McKelvey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Growing up in Attapulgus, GA

Ugly Duckling

Leaving Home

Finding My Way in the Work World

Tough but Fair

Gaining Substance: Lessons Learned

Lessons Learned

What Women of Substance

Are (and Are Not)

The Way to Free Yourself and

Become a Woman of Substance

Becoming a Woman of Substance

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I’d like to thank my Heavenly Father for life and liberty. Knowing you has freed me from some of the very demons I’ve written about. I can’t say enough about what having a relationship with you has done for me and the leadership, direction, and guidance you’ve provided in my life especially when I didn’t think I had any.

I’d like to thank my mother, Dorothy McKelvey, for raising me on her own and being such a strong, positive example of a parent. She was very careful not to let me get too influenced by the outside world and was the perfect example of selfless giving.

I’d like to thank all my brothers and sisters for not just being a part of my story and my life but also showing love in whatever broken, imperfect way we know how. No matter the distance nor the time that separates us, we’ll always be family.

To all my nephews and nieces and great-nephews and great-nieces, I hope you all realize your dreams and become that very thing you hope to be and more. You guys are talented beyond measure, and I wish you nothing but the best. I just wish you would stop outgrowing me (smile).

I’d like to thank Kenny and Gary for your encouragement to even write the book, plus, your feedback about the content. I didn’t trust many people to know about it, much less read it, so I will always appreciate your support.

Thank you to Dr. Holly Dahlman for your story. I know you’re busy but you took the time to share with me as you do even when I visit you. We’ve grown to know each other pretty well in the past few years, and I must say that you’re one of the kindest, most open-minded physicians I know.

And a special thanks to Molly McKitterick from The Word Press for her excellent edit of my words while still preserving my voice and style. Working with you was a delight.

A Woman of Substance:

•    She’s imperfect.

•    She’s humble.

•    She works hard to stay positive.

•    She’s not bitter or angry—no matter her circumstances or her past.

•    She bounces back/recovers from adversity.

•    She has a great personality/charm.

•    She maintains her character even in bad situations.

•    She doesn’t stray too far away from what she knows to be true no matter the influence or level of success.

•    She respects herself and other people.

•    She’s fiercely loyal.

—Jennifer McKelvey

Introduction

What is a woman of substance, and why should you strive to become one?

In the front of this book, I have listed the ten qualities that I think make up a woman of substance. In short, she has clarity of purpose but also peace and serenity in going about her daily business that stem from a strong sense of self and a belief in God. A woman of substance is not needy, but she understands she is far from perfect, and that every day is a new challenge that will test her steadfastness.

During my forty-plus years, I have had a series of life lessons that have led me to an understanding of these values. My experiences growing up in poor, rural Attapulgus, Georgia—attending a large university, enlisting in the army, and working my way to a pretty significant position in the federal government have taught me what a woman of substance is.

I would be lying if I said that I have succeeded completely in becoming a woman of substance. Like everyone, I am a work in progress.

But I want to share my path of discovery with you with the hopes that you not only enjoy it but also benefit from it. I have met quite a few of you in the workplace, and sometimes I have even counseled you when you have problems so I think you’ll have an appreciation for what I’ve learned throughout my life experiences.

I don’t know if I will ever emerge as a complete woman of substance, but I do know that it is a goal well worth the effort. Even if I do not hit every one of my ten qualities all the time, I will continue striving to become a woman of substance because in doing so, I know that I cut a path of peace, joy, and kindness in the world; and it will be, in however small a way, a better place.

Growing up in Attapulgus, GA

My mother told me my father held me as a newborn a couple of times, and then… he never came back. I believe it. You see, he probably had a family of his own. My mother said she didn’t know, and I accept that. I accept his leaving. As a matter of fact, I’ve never really felt sad or cried over it a day in my life. I’ve always been an accepting person, and maybe this is why I didn’t develop a lot of issues over it.

My mother never told me the identity of my father until I needed his name for a form at school, and even then, she whispered it. That is how it is in the Deep South; people don’t talk about sensitive issues like this until it is too late. Children are almost forbidden to ask or talk about absent birth parents because the families are ashamed of the sex that brought them into the world. It doesn’t stop them from having it; it just stops everyone from talking about. You see, the South is still the Bible Belt, and you really just don’t have those kinds of talks. A lot of kids in my generation grew up in fear and shame, never really knowing their roots or origins.

I used to joke with a few of my friends in elementary school that I hatched from an egg! If you knew me, you’d know that sounds just like me. I just thought that having one parent was pretty much the way it was, and that was the norm. But as time went on, and I saw that some people did have two parents, I remember being a little surprised and would be asking, "You got a Mama and a Daddy? How’d you do that?"

People would always laugh and say, Girl, you’re so silly. Too bad they didn’t know I was serious.

I grew up in a small town, named Attapulgus, in the far southwestern corner of Georgia, very close to the Florida panhandle. With its population around five hundred, Attapulgus’s big claim to fame is a mineral found in its clay soil and named after the town: the attapulgite mineral, also known as Fuller’s Earth. Outside of Georgia and Florida, attapulgite is found only in three other places, Spain, Russia, and China. Used medically for digestive problems, it is surface mined in the area and shipped out on railroad hopper cars. Until 2003, attapulgite was the active ingredient in Kaopectate and is still featured in the Canadian version of the product.

Attapulgus, though, is an Indian word for dogwood; and in the spring, my hometown was always alight with the big white blossoms of these native trees. When I was growing up, there was an annual Dogwood Festival on the last Saturday in March that attracted hundreds of visitors. It was kicked off with a parade of bands, vintage cars, local beauty queens, school groups, and horses. The festival grounds in front of the Methodist church with its big Greek columns, and across the street from the Baptist church were filled with booths offering food and crafts.

The festival was entertaining for outsiders with absolutely nothing else to do but plenty of fun for those of us who lived there. I can’t say that it played a huge role in my development, but the festival was one of those interesting things that made growing up in small-town Georgia great. It was cancelled in 2009 because of the bad economy resulting from the recession. Many of the vendors could no longer afford the trip to Attapulgus.

A local festival that I never attended was the Rattlesnake Roundup in nearby Whigham, Georgia. About forty-thousand people go to the roundup every January mostly to see venom milked from an eastern diamondback. Anyone who really knows me knows how great my fear of snakes is. So great that I can’t watch them on TV, look at them in a book, or especially not see them in real life. It’s sad, I know.

At least one famous person was born in Attapulgus. Rev. Hosea Williams was a famous civil rights leader and field lieutenant to Martin Luther King in the 1960s. Both of his teenage parents were blind and working at a trade institute in Macon, Georgia, when they met. His mother was so afraid of what her parents would say to her being an unwed mother, she ran away from the institute. He was raised by her parents in Attapulgus and left home at age fourteen.

In 1970, Rev. Williams began feeding homeless men on Thanksgiving in Atlanta. The practice grew into an organization now run by his daughter—the Hosea Feed the Hungry and Homeless, which serves 160,000 poor and homeless people per year.

He ran into his birth father, Willie Blind Wiggins, by accident in Florida when he was twenty-eight years old. I wonder how that went. Interestingly enough, he died on my birthday, November 16 in 2000.

Number 7 of eight children, I was born in 1970 with the assistance of a midwife in a small wooden house. The only child