One of the hardest people you'll ever have to tell the truth to is yourself.
I've spend several years hoping for the best, settling for less and hoping things would change.
The truth does hurt sometimes, but it is necessary.
Yes, I made some wrong choices.
I got some things dead wrong.
But I'm realizing day by day, with God's help that wrong decisions don't disqualify me from making right ones as soon as I know better.
So for the new year, I'm determined to make better decisions.
I don't have to spend the rest of my life on the wrong road.
Sure, the U-turn hurts. Look at all the time I've lost and how far I've gone.
But it's time to turn this thing around.
God is for me.
His Grace is sufficient.
I believe God for better and I receive it.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
Something Blue... (short story)
She ordered everyone out of the room.
Besides the fact that the room was way too crowded with too many women busy with last minute primping, Joy needed a moment to herself to think.
In less than one hour, she'd be walking down the aisle, saying "I do" to the love of her life.
He was a good man. No. He was a great man.
She knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt.
They were just a few short months into their relationship when her father suddenly passed away.
Derek didn't run during her darkest hour. He was there for her every night she needed him and every morning when she didn't want to get out of bed. He listened to her as she reminisced about her father and held her hands down by her sides until she stopped raging and finally collapsed in grief.
Derek was the man she thought she'd never meet but somehow, she did.
And now, with less than an hour to go before their vows, Joy was nervous.
"How do I know for sure our love will last?" she thought as she stared at her luscious curls flowing from her tiara and veil. "I didn't get to ask daddy what he thought of Derek. Derek was never able to get daddy's blessing. How can I know for sure I'm doing the right thing?"
Joy's mother had been strangely silent throughout her courtship and engagement to Derek. Whenever Joy called her to vent about what she thought Derek wasn't doing right, her mother quickly found something else to talk about or simply said, "Baby, just pray about it. God will show you the way".
The truth was that Joy had been praying. She prayed before she met Derek. She prayed after she met him. She prayed on their first date, asking God for a sign. She'd been waiting for a sign that said "HE'S THE ONE" for two years.
But that neon sign never came.
All she knew was that Derek seemed too good to be true and she was afraid that this step to become his wife may not be the right step.
There was no one to ask.
Her father was gone.
Her mother was silent.
Was God even listening?
Just then, there was a slight knock at the door. It probably would have gone unnoticed to anyone else, but Joy knew that knock anywhere. "May I come in?" Mrs. Reeves said as she cracked the door ever so slightly. "Please come in mama", Joy said as she hurried to her feet to greet her at the door.
A slight woman with flowing silver hair walked into the room, face deeply set with winkles but with eyes as warm and clear as Joy's. At seventy years old, she was still amazingly beautiful, but the years were evident in her slower, stiffened steps. "Joy, are you alright?" Mrs. Reeves asked as she slowly made her way into the room. "Mama, I'm fine. I just needed time to think". Joy did her best to put on a brave face but her mother could see through her best efforts. "Joy Ann...", her mother said lovingly, yet with firmness. "Mama, how can I know that I'm making the right decision?!" Joy exclaimed, unable to conceal her frustration any longer. "Derek is a wonderful man. I love him with all my heart and soul. But love isn't enough sometimes. I wish daddy was here so that I could ask him what he thought. He would always give me such good advice mama, you know that. I just wish there was a way to look into the future and see how this all turns out before it happens!" Joy said, with half a laugh, but completely serious. "I'm scared mama".
Mrs. Reeves made her way to a chaise to take a seat. Joy followed closely behind her mother, knowing she was about to talk with her. As the sun poured over her silver locks, Mrs Reeves reached carefully into her purse and pulled out a faded piece of paper that was a pale shade of blue.
"Joy, there's something I never told you", Mrs. Reeves said as she stared at the blue note in her hands. "I was married once before your father". Joy was speechless. "MAMA!" Joy exclaimed, half shocked and a little disappointed in her mother for waiting until her wedding day to reveal such a secret. Mrs. Reeves raised her hand and stared deeply into Joy's eyes, telling her without words to allow her to finish speaking. "When I was in graduate school, I met a young man with whom I fell deeply in love. He was everything I thought I wanted in a man at the time and all of our friends and family thought we were perfect for each other. It wasn't long before he popped the question and I accepted his proposal. Deep down inside, I knew that although he was a good man, he wasn't the right man for me. But I married him anyway, thinking that our love would conquer it all and that somehow, it would all iron itself out. Your grandmother even told me it was just wedding day jitters. But I knew standing there in that dressing room all alone that he wasn't the one for me. I knew it", she said, almost in a whisper. "About two years into our marriage, things began to take a serious turn for the worse. By year three, we were sleeping in separate rooms, By year four, he left me. Year five, he filed for divorce. I was alone. I was broke and I was back home, living with your grandparents. I was broken and I was hurting but deep down, I was angry at myself for not listening to what I knew deep within was right. I spent many years as a single, what you young people would call now an "independent" woman. I became a teacher. I bought a house. It's a miracle in itself that I met your father!" Both Joy and Mrs. Reeves shared a chuckle. "Your father was determined to make me his wife. I didn't make things easy for him, but he hung in there and just wouldn't let me go. It took him years to win my heart. I was no young bride. I got married at 23 the first time around. But the second time, I was 38. Somehow he knew that underneath my sharp tongue was a scared woman who just didn't want to get hurt again. He loved me through my pain. On the day of our wedding, I sat in a room by myself, much like you are today, with memories of my first marriage rushing through my mind. I was scared too! What if I was making the same mistake twice? Your father was NOTHING like my first husband but I'd already been wrong once. How could I be sure I wasn't wrong again about your father?" Joy looked at her mother, as she sat on the chaise next to her. She'd always known that her parents were older than most of her friends but she never knew why. The first marriage explained everything. She was the product of her mother's second life.
"Mama, you used to always give me advice and tell me if this guy or that guy was right or wrong for me but now, you don't do that anymore. Whenever I tried to ask you about Derek, you changed the subject. Now that I'm here on my wedding day and after hearing your story, you have to understand what I'm feeling".
"I do understand how you're feeling Joy", Mrs Reeves said. "That's why I came in. Sweetheart, I didn't become silent to hurt you or even to frustrate you. When you needed guidance in your twenties, I was there. But I've watched you grow over the years from your good and bad choices and become a very strong and powerful woman of God. I trust the God in you. I know that He can speak to you just like He's spoken to me all these years. And He will tell you what to do. I know He will".
Reaching for her purse, Mrs. Reeves said, "I wanted to give you something. But before I do, I want to explain to you what it means". She took the pale blue note and began to unfold it carefully. The day of our wedding, I was sitting in my dressing room praying and asking God for a sign, any sign to let me know that I wasn't making another mistake but that I heard Him clearly when I decided to marry your father. I sat in that dressing room for what felt like hours but it was probably only thirty minutes. There was a knock at the door and before I could get to the door to open it, a little note came sliding through the bottom of the door: this note right here. Your daddy loved to write me love letters so I wasn't surprised by this note but what he wrote inside was my sign. The note said, "Helen, you are my answered prayer. Love, Thomas".
"You see Joy, when a man can say that about you, then you know he's the one. Look deep in your heart. Maybe Derek didn't say those exact words like your father. But has he spent each day that he's had with you making you feel like you were the answer to his prayer? Think about that baby and when you do, I know you'll have your answer and you can stop being afraid of the future".
Joy helped her mother up off the chaise. "Thank you so much for this letter mama. It really means a lot to me and I will treasure it always", Joy said as she and her mother embraced.
"I love you Joy. And I know that you will make the right decision. And whatever decision you will ever make in this life, always remember to trust the God in you".
Joy returned to her seat in front of the vanity and gave her makeup one last glance. She was all set. Her heart was full of questions about the marriage her parents enjoyed. She looked at her father's words on the pale blue note and whispered to him, "Thank you for loving my mama like this". As she pressed the note to her heart, she prayed one last prayer, "Father, I thank you for this moment in my life. Thank you for sending Derek into my life. And Lord whatever happens from this day forward, cause me to walk in faith, not fear, just like my mama did. In your Name I pray, Amen".
No sooner than Joy said amen, her wedding coordinator walked into the dressing room. "We're about to start lining up. Before we do, Derek asked me to show you your wedding band". Joy took the box from the coordinator, expecting to see the band she picked out with Derek months before. Sure enough it was the same band. But as she looked closer, she noticed it was engraved on the inside. It read, "My Answered Prayer". With tears in her eyes, she returned the band to its box, looked at her wedding coordinator and said, "I'm ready now. Let's go!"
Besides the fact that the room was way too crowded with too many women busy with last minute primping, Joy needed a moment to herself to think.
In less than one hour, she'd be walking down the aisle, saying "I do" to the love of her life.
He was a good man. No. He was a great man.
She knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt.
They were just a few short months into their relationship when her father suddenly passed away.
Derek didn't run during her darkest hour. He was there for her every night she needed him and every morning when she didn't want to get out of bed. He listened to her as she reminisced about her father and held her hands down by her sides until she stopped raging and finally collapsed in grief.
Derek was the man she thought she'd never meet but somehow, she did.
And now, with less than an hour to go before their vows, Joy was nervous.
"How do I know for sure our love will last?" she thought as she stared at her luscious curls flowing from her tiara and veil. "I didn't get to ask daddy what he thought of Derek. Derek was never able to get daddy's blessing. How can I know for sure I'm doing the right thing?"
Joy's mother had been strangely silent throughout her courtship and engagement to Derek. Whenever Joy called her to vent about what she thought Derek wasn't doing right, her mother quickly found something else to talk about or simply said, "Baby, just pray about it. God will show you the way".
The truth was that Joy had been praying. She prayed before she met Derek. She prayed after she met him. She prayed on their first date, asking God for a sign. She'd been waiting for a sign that said "HE'S THE ONE" for two years.
But that neon sign never came.
All she knew was that Derek seemed too good to be true and she was afraid that this step to become his wife may not be the right step.
There was no one to ask.
Her father was gone.
Her mother was silent.
Was God even listening?
Just then, there was a slight knock at the door. It probably would have gone unnoticed to anyone else, but Joy knew that knock anywhere. "May I come in?" Mrs. Reeves said as she cracked the door ever so slightly. "Please come in mama", Joy said as she hurried to her feet to greet her at the door.
A slight woman with flowing silver hair walked into the room, face deeply set with winkles but with eyes as warm and clear as Joy's. At seventy years old, she was still amazingly beautiful, but the years were evident in her slower, stiffened steps. "Joy, are you alright?" Mrs. Reeves asked as she slowly made her way into the room. "Mama, I'm fine. I just needed time to think". Joy did her best to put on a brave face but her mother could see through her best efforts. "Joy Ann...", her mother said lovingly, yet with firmness. "Mama, how can I know that I'm making the right decision?!" Joy exclaimed, unable to conceal her frustration any longer. "Derek is a wonderful man. I love him with all my heart and soul. But love isn't enough sometimes. I wish daddy was here so that I could ask him what he thought. He would always give me such good advice mama, you know that. I just wish there was a way to look into the future and see how this all turns out before it happens!" Joy said, with half a laugh, but completely serious. "I'm scared mama".
Mrs. Reeves made her way to a chaise to take a seat. Joy followed closely behind her mother, knowing she was about to talk with her. As the sun poured over her silver locks, Mrs Reeves reached carefully into her purse and pulled out a faded piece of paper that was a pale shade of blue.
"Joy, there's something I never told you", Mrs. Reeves said as she stared at the blue note in her hands. "I was married once before your father". Joy was speechless. "MAMA!" Joy exclaimed, half shocked and a little disappointed in her mother for waiting until her wedding day to reveal such a secret. Mrs. Reeves raised her hand and stared deeply into Joy's eyes, telling her without words to allow her to finish speaking. "When I was in graduate school, I met a young man with whom I fell deeply in love. He was everything I thought I wanted in a man at the time and all of our friends and family thought we were perfect for each other. It wasn't long before he popped the question and I accepted his proposal. Deep down inside, I knew that although he was a good man, he wasn't the right man for me. But I married him anyway, thinking that our love would conquer it all and that somehow, it would all iron itself out. Your grandmother even told me it was just wedding day jitters. But I knew standing there in that dressing room all alone that he wasn't the one for me. I knew it", she said, almost in a whisper. "About two years into our marriage, things began to take a serious turn for the worse. By year three, we were sleeping in separate rooms, By year four, he left me. Year five, he filed for divorce. I was alone. I was broke and I was back home, living with your grandparents. I was broken and I was hurting but deep down, I was angry at myself for not listening to what I knew deep within was right. I spent many years as a single, what you young people would call now an "independent" woman. I became a teacher. I bought a house. It's a miracle in itself that I met your father!" Both Joy and Mrs. Reeves shared a chuckle. "Your father was determined to make me his wife. I didn't make things easy for him, but he hung in there and just wouldn't let me go. It took him years to win my heart. I was no young bride. I got married at 23 the first time around. But the second time, I was 38. Somehow he knew that underneath my sharp tongue was a scared woman who just didn't want to get hurt again. He loved me through my pain. On the day of our wedding, I sat in a room by myself, much like you are today, with memories of my first marriage rushing through my mind. I was scared too! What if I was making the same mistake twice? Your father was NOTHING like my first husband but I'd already been wrong once. How could I be sure I wasn't wrong again about your father?" Joy looked at her mother, as she sat on the chaise next to her. She'd always known that her parents were older than most of her friends but she never knew why. The first marriage explained everything. She was the product of her mother's second life.
"Mama, you used to always give me advice and tell me if this guy or that guy was right or wrong for me but now, you don't do that anymore. Whenever I tried to ask you about Derek, you changed the subject. Now that I'm here on my wedding day and after hearing your story, you have to understand what I'm feeling".
"I do understand how you're feeling Joy", Mrs Reeves said. "That's why I came in. Sweetheart, I didn't become silent to hurt you or even to frustrate you. When you needed guidance in your twenties, I was there. But I've watched you grow over the years from your good and bad choices and become a very strong and powerful woman of God. I trust the God in you. I know that He can speak to you just like He's spoken to me all these years. And He will tell you what to do. I know He will".
Reaching for her purse, Mrs. Reeves said, "I wanted to give you something. But before I do, I want to explain to you what it means". She took the pale blue note and began to unfold it carefully. The day of our wedding, I was sitting in my dressing room praying and asking God for a sign, any sign to let me know that I wasn't making another mistake but that I heard Him clearly when I decided to marry your father. I sat in that dressing room for what felt like hours but it was probably only thirty minutes. There was a knock at the door and before I could get to the door to open it, a little note came sliding through the bottom of the door: this note right here. Your daddy loved to write me love letters so I wasn't surprised by this note but what he wrote inside was my sign. The note said, "Helen, you are my answered prayer. Love, Thomas".
"You see Joy, when a man can say that about you, then you know he's the one. Look deep in your heart. Maybe Derek didn't say those exact words like your father. But has he spent each day that he's had with you making you feel like you were the answer to his prayer? Think about that baby and when you do, I know you'll have your answer and you can stop being afraid of the future".
Joy helped her mother up off the chaise. "Thank you so much for this letter mama. It really means a lot to me and I will treasure it always", Joy said as she and her mother embraced.
"I love you Joy. And I know that you will make the right decision. And whatever decision you will ever make in this life, always remember to trust the God in you".
Joy returned to her seat in front of the vanity and gave her makeup one last glance. She was all set. Her heart was full of questions about the marriage her parents enjoyed. She looked at her father's words on the pale blue note and whispered to him, "Thank you for loving my mama like this". As she pressed the note to her heart, she prayed one last prayer, "Father, I thank you for this moment in my life. Thank you for sending Derek into my life. And Lord whatever happens from this day forward, cause me to walk in faith, not fear, just like my mama did. In your Name I pray, Amen".
No sooner than Joy said amen, her wedding coordinator walked into the dressing room. "We're about to start lining up. Before we do, Derek asked me to show you your wedding band". Joy took the box from the coordinator, expecting to see the band she picked out with Derek months before. Sure enough it was the same band. But as she looked closer, she noticed it was engraved on the inside. It read, "My Answered Prayer". With tears in her eyes, she returned the band to its box, looked at her wedding coordinator and said, "I'm ready now. Let's go!"
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Your Words...
The prettiest bouquet
The most beautiful gem
The biggest and the best gift
That I've ever received
Came from the thoughts of your mind
Committed to paper.
Typed in an email.
Scribed by hand.
Spoken through your lips.
How beautiful it is to receive
The words of a man to his woman.
The words that you speak
Lead me and feed me.
Please don't starve me
Of your words.
I need them.
They are necessary.
See how I smile
Just because you said it?
Ten girlfriends said the same thing today.
I barely noticed.
You said it once and changed my whole demeanor.
See how I wear it now because you said you like it?
See how I style it now, because you said you like it?
Your words have an effect on me.
I wish you could see it.
Do you know the power of your words on me?
They can get me through the day
Or keep me in bed.
Not wanting to eat, drink or shower.
Your words.
I wish you knew the power of them.
You told me once you loved it when I smiled
And now I smile more than I ever have in my life.
Just because you said it.
You told me once to go for my dream
And I did it.
Just because you said it.
Your words changed me into something different.
Better at times, worse at times.
Like an ebbing and flowing tide.
I rise.
I fall.
At your word.
You told me it tasted good once.
So now I serve it faithfully.
Just because you said you like it.
I listen to what you say
With my eyes closed.
With my head turned.
When I'm cursing and swearing
Seemingly not caring.
I'm listening to you.
I hear every word you say.
Every word you speak
Is a seed inside of me.
I'm pregnant.
Some seed didn't make it
But some took root
And when I give birth
You'll see
Just what the words you planted
Look like inside of me.
Be careful what you sow my love.
One day, you shall reap.
Let the words of your mouth
Be gentle.
Recognize their power and significance.
I'll carry them long after you speak them.
And some day soon, I will deliver.
The most beautiful gem
The biggest and the best gift
That I've ever received
Came from the thoughts of your mind
Committed to paper.
Typed in an email.
Scribed by hand.
Spoken through your lips.
How beautiful it is to receive
The words of a man to his woman.
The words that you speak
Lead me and feed me.
Please don't starve me
Of your words.
I need them.
They are necessary.
See how I smile
Just because you said it?
Ten girlfriends said the same thing today.
I barely noticed.
You said it once and changed my whole demeanor.
See how I wear it now because you said you like it?
See how I style it now, because you said you like it?
Your words have an effect on me.
I wish you could see it.
Do you know the power of your words on me?
They can get me through the day
Or keep me in bed.
Not wanting to eat, drink or shower.
Your words.
I wish you knew the power of them.
You told me once you loved it when I smiled
And now I smile more than I ever have in my life.
Just because you said it.
You told me once to go for my dream
And I did it.
Just because you said it.
Your words changed me into something different.
Better at times, worse at times.
Like an ebbing and flowing tide.
I rise.
I fall.
At your word.
You told me it tasted good once.
So now I serve it faithfully.
Just because you said you like it.
I listen to what you say
With my eyes closed.
With my head turned.
When I'm cursing and swearing
Seemingly not caring.
I'm listening to you.
I hear every word you say.
Every word you speak
Is a seed inside of me.
I'm pregnant.
Some seed didn't make it
But some took root
And when I give birth
You'll see
Just what the words you planted
Look like inside of me.
Be careful what you sow my love.
One day, you shall reap.
Let the words of your mouth
Be gentle.
Recognize their power and significance.
I'll carry them long after you speak them.
And some day soon, I will deliver.
Love 365 (Poem)
My idea of a perfect life.
My vision of an ideal world.
Not limited to holidays.
Not restricted by traditions.
Caring and concerned
Pure in form and in its application.
Thoughtful and meaningful.
All the time.
Not just on Sundays.
Not on holiday Mondays.
Not just on birthdays and anniversaries.
But constantly.
Always good.
Always giving.
Always doing..the good.
Always showing...the good.
Living out a divine mandate and command
Showing the world how it's done
Through the power of the Son.
Wanting to be in the space and place
Where love resides and abides
Where those who live and breathe here
Show love here
365 days a year.
My vision of an ideal world.
Not limited to holidays.
Not restricted by traditions.
Caring and concerned
Pure in form and in its application.
Thoughtful and meaningful.
All the time.
Not just on Sundays.
Not on holiday Mondays.
Not just on birthdays and anniversaries.
But constantly.
Always good.
Always giving.
Always doing..the good.
Always showing...the good.
Living out a divine mandate and command
Showing the world how it's done
Through the power of the Son.
Wanting to be in the space and place
Where love resides and abides
Where those who live and breathe here
Show love here
365 days a year.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
A Good Gift...
My children are so excited about Christmas. I know exactly how they're feeling. I was once their ages and I can remember the excitement of the holiday season and all the wonderful toys on display. Ever since October, they've been telling me what they want. I've been listening.
When I was probably around 8, no older than 10 years old, I had my heart set on a cabbage patch preemie doll. My mama knew how much I wanted that one doll. She saved her money, quarters, nickels and dimes, and took my sister and I to the mall. I saw the baby doll I wanted and asked my mama could I have him. She said something to the effect of, "I don't know. I'll have to see". What didn't know was that she had already planned on getting it for me. She just wanted me to pick out the one I wanted.
Finally, Christmas day came. Under the tree was my Cabbage Patch preemie doll. I was the happiest child on earth! I loved that doll with all my heart. I played with him constantly. He even went with us on family vacation. I'm 33 years old with children of my own but I'll never forget that gift as long as I live.
Why?
Because it was just what I wanted.
The bible tells us that if we delight ourselves in the Lord that He will give us the desires of our hearts. There's a difference between something we want and something we sincerely desire.
It changes our tone of voice.
It becomes the cry of our hearts, not just the cry of our lust.
My mama knew this doll was my desire. She could sense it.
The proof of this is the fact that I still have this doll, no holes or rips.
God knows exactly what our desires are. Not those things we lust after, just waiting to get our greeding hands on it so that we can devour it quickly and forget we ever had it once it's gone.
He knows those desires that if we were to ever receive them, we'd spend the rest of our lives being grateful and cherishing it.
This holiday season, as you exchange gifts and watch family and friends respond in gratitude to your generosity and thoughtfulness, remember that your Heavenly Father is also preparing good gifts for you. Gifts that will change your life forever.
Gifts that you will treasure.
Gifts that you'll spend the rest of your life being thankful for.
When I was probably around 8, no older than 10 years old, I had my heart set on a cabbage patch preemie doll. My mama knew how much I wanted that one doll. She saved her money, quarters, nickels and dimes, and took my sister and I to the mall. I saw the baby doll I wanted and asked my mama could I have him. She said something to the effect of, "I don't know. I'll have to see". What didn't know was that she had already planned on getting it for me. She just wanted me to pick out the one I wanted.
Finally, Christmas day came. Under the tree was my Cabbage Patch preemie doll. I was the happiest child on earth! I loved that doll with all my heart. I played with him constantly. He even went with us on family vacation. I'm 33 years old with children of my own but I'll never forget that gift as long as I live.
Why?
Because it was just what I wanted.
The bible tells us that if we delight ourselves in the Lord that He will give us the desires of our hearts. There's a difference between something we want and something we sincerely desire.
It changes our tone of voice.
It becomes the cry of our hearts, not just the cry of our lust.
My mama knew this doll was my desire. She could sense it.
The proof of this is the fact that I still have this doll, no holes or rips.
God knows exactly what our desires are. Not those things we lust after, just waiting to get our greeding hands on it so that we can devour it quickly and forget we ever had it once it's gone.
He knows those desires that if we were to ever receive them, we'd spend the rest of our lives being grateful and cherishing it.
This holiday season, as you exchange gifts and watch family and friends respond in gratitude to your generosity and thoughtfulness, remember that your Heavenly Father is also preparing good gifts for you. Gifts that will change your life forever.
Gifts that you will treasure.
Gifts that you'll spend the rest of your life being thankful for.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Why "I'm Sorry" Just Doesn't Cut It...
It's a shame I have to say this, but it's almost as if the world is in need of an "Apology 101" course! It's inevitable that we'll one day offend or be offended by someone. That's the price we pay for living in such close quarters on planet earth. But we've all received the ubiquitous "I'm sorry" from someone and looked at them with the side eye, and wanted to yell out "Seriously?!"
Some of us did yell that out.
Well, I think it's time to find out why merely saying "I'm sorry" can actually be doing more harm than good.
There are two types of offended people in the world: those who are waiting for an apology and those who will ask you for one. The first type is a lot harder to deal with because they expect you to know what you did, name it and make the first move. We've all been in this category before. So here's why saying "I'm sorry" to someone in this state of mind never works.
First, you're almost always sorry about the wrong thing.
That's why you get that frowned up nose, stare down that says "are you serious?!" or the complete dismissal.
You can't merely say "I'm sorry" to someone you know is upset with you. You must find out why they are offended. If they're not willing to tell you, let it go.
That's right. I said LET IT GO.
There's no reason to continue to hound someone who's in this head space. What you're actually doing is proving their point. I can almost guarantee you that every time you come around with the whiny, "Did I do something wrong? Did I offend you in any way?" They're looking at you and saying, "How clueless can you be?! You are so selfish!"
That's why it's best to leave it alone until they're ready to confront you with the offense.
If they never do, then here's the next thing you should do.
Apologize only for what is truly an offense and what you're sincerely sorry for.
We've all heard the person who will say something like, "I'm sorry for whatever it is I've done to you. If I've done anything to offend you, please forgive me".
Let me tell you quickly why this sucks.
First, what exactly are you sorry for? What's "anything"? Can you be more specific? If you can't, save the blanket, form letter apologies for your deathbed. This generalized apology only presents you as being self righteous and arrogant. For starts, you refuse to name what it is you're sorry for, thus leaving space to repeat whatever it is that you did in the first place. Bad idea. Make apologies specific and sincere. Example, "I'm really sorry for calling you that name yesterday. It was disrespectful and hurtful. I'm going to work on my temper and make sure that when I'm angry, I don't go on the attack verbally".
Now, that's an apology someone MIGHT listen to,
The second person is the one who will come to you and confront you with the offense. This is really the easiest type to deal with. They're spelling it out. They're taking you back to the scene of the crime. No CSI investigation needed. THIS is what you did wrong. Here's why merely saying "I'm sorry" to this type of person gets you nowhere.
Do you acknowledge why this situation offended them?
Yes, you said "I'm sorry" but that's not an acknowledgement, that's a benediction. Everyone knows that after the words "I'm sorry" escapes someone's lips, all conversation is supposed to cease.
You've taken back the manipulative power in the situation by dismissing them with an "I'm sorry". Now, if they continue to talk, you take the seat of power as the one offended. This is usually evident in the words, "I SAID I'm sorry, ok?!"
Oh, so YOU'RE mad now? lol!
Bottom line is when it comes to an apology, pride needs to take a back seat. It's amazing how we do our best to maintain our seats of pride when confronted with an offense or our wrongdoing. Sounds similar to our parents in the Garden, doesn't it? You gotta love those folks who apologize for being human, for being themselves and for all the other things you know they're really not sorry for. Gotta appreciate those precious souls who leave you feeling like you're the one who did them wrong, example "I'm sorry that when I speak the truth it bothers you and that you can't handle it". HAHA! You gotta be kidding me!
Have a seat!
But there's a better way to live and a better way to engage one another.
As I stated earlier, planet earth can be close quarters at times, so it's only fitting that we learn the art of righting wrongs in the spirit of humility and sincerity.
The next time you find yourself about to reach for the generic "I'm sorry for whatever I could have done..." or "If there's anything that I've done to offend you..." or the "I'm sorry, ok?! Geez..." think again.
That's not an apology. That's your pride talking.
And when someone's been hurt, pride is the last voice they need to hear.
For all those folks who have ever had such a pride laced apology thrown at them like a fiery dart, I say on their behalf, you can keep those to yourself.
It's doing way more harm than good.
Learn to love.
Some of us did yell that out.
Well, I think it's time to find out why merely saying "I'm sorry" can actually be doing more harm than good.
There are two types of offended people in the world: those who are waiting for an apology and those who will ask you for one. The first type is a lot harder to deal with because they expect you to know what you did, name it and make the first move. We've all been in this category before. So here's why saying "I'm sorry" to someone in this state of mind never works.
First, you're almost always sorry about the wrong thing.
That's why you get that frowned up nose, stare down that says "are you serious?!" or the complete dismissal.
You can't merely say "I'm sorry" to someone you know is upset with you. You must find out why they are offended. If they're not willing to tell you, let it go.
That's right. I said LET IT GO.
There's no reason to continue to hound someone who's in this head space. What you're actually doing is proving their point. I can almost guarantee you that every time you come around with the whiny, "Did I do something wrong? Did I offend you in any way?" They're looking at you and saying, "How clueless can you be?! You are so selfish!"
That's why it's best to leave it alone until they're ready to confront you with the offense.
If they never do, then here's the next thing you should do.
Apologize only for what is truly an offense and what you're sincerely sorry for.
We've all heard the person who will say something like, "I'm sorry for whatever it is I've done to you. If I've done anything to offend you, please forgive me".
Let me tell you quickly why this sucks.
First, what exactly are you sorry for? What's "anything"? Can you be more specific? If you can't, save the blanket, form letter apologies for your deathbed. This generalized apology only presents you as being self righteous and arrogant. For starts, you refuse to name what it is you're sorry for, thus leaving space to repeat whatever it is that you did in the first place. Bad idea. Make apologies specific and sincere. Example, "I'm really sorry for calling you that name yesterday. It was disrespectful and hurtful. I'm going to work on my temper and make sure that when I'm angry, I don't go on the attack verbally".
Now, that's an apology someone MIGHT listen to,
The second person is the one who will come to you and confront you with the offense. This is really the easiest type to deal with. They're spelling it out. They're taking you back to the scene of the crime. No CSI investigation needed. THIS is what you did wrong. Here's why merely saying "I'm sorry" to this type of person gets you nowhere.
Do you acknowledge why this situation offended them?
Yes, you said "I'm sorry" but that's not an acknowledgement, that's a benediction. Everyone knows that after the words "I'm sorry" escapes someone's lips, all conversation is supposed to cease.
You've taken back the manipulative power in the situation by dismissing them with an "I'm sorry". Now, if they continue to talk, you take the seat of power as the one offended. This is usually evident in the words, "I SAID I'm sorry, ok?!"
Oh, so YOU'RE mad now? lol!
Bottom line is when it comes to an apology, pride needs to take a back seat. It's amazing how we do our best to maintain our seats of pride when confronted with an offense or our wrongdoing. Sounds similar to our parents in the Garden, doesn't it? You gotta love those folks who apologize for being human, for being themselves and for all the other things you know they're really not sorry for. Gotta appreciate those precious souls who leave you feeling like you're the one who did them wrong, example "I'm sorry that when I speak the truth it bothers you and that you can't handle it". HAHA! You gotta be kidding me!
Have a seat!
But there's a better way to live and a better way to engage one another.
As I stated earlier, planet earth can be close quarters at times, so it's only fitting that we learn the art of righting wrongs in the spirit of humility and sincerity.
The next time you find yourself about to reach for the generic "I'm sorry for whatever I could have done..." or "If there's anything that I've done to offend you..." or the "I'm sorry, ok?! Geez..." think again.
That's not an apology. That's your pride talking.
And when someone's been hurt, pride is the last voice they need to hear.
For all those folks who have ever had such a pride laced apology thrown at them like a fiery dart, I say on their behalf, you can keep those to yourself.
It's doing way more harm than good.
Learn to love.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Critical Thinking...
I'm not sure how I became this way.
I was lying in my bed, maybe an hour or so ago. And my mind went back to a conversation I'd had with a dear friend last week. For the sake of her privacy, I won't name her name or even give the specifics of our conversation. But I will say that as we spoke, I found myself being subtly critical of her.
Now this is someone I love, admire and respect. How could I do this?
This isn't the first time I've done it nor the first time the Holy Spirit has brought it to my attention.
I have a very bad habit of being critical.
It's not the type of criticism that feels bad initially. No. If I were that type of critical, I'd have no friends at all. That's not the bad part. The bad part about it is that the criticism that I use attempts to make people second guess themselves and their decisions.
"That's a nice purse! Why so big though?" "I like your hair! You weren't scared to cut it so short?"
See how subtle that can be?
Those are fictional examples but they describe what I do- have done.
I don't want to be critical anymore.
Have you ever seen a picture of someone in an outfit not so flattering? Maybe it was a friend or loved one. Have you ever desired to say, "She looks a hot mess!"
I think that's pretty much the immediate reaction of us all.
But what would happen if there was a pause...and instead we said, "You know, I'm glad she's wearing something that makes her happy and makes her feel good. So what I don't particularly care for it?! I'm glad she can wear what she likes"?
Wow.
Totally different vibe, huh?
Sometimes the most powerful Word from heaven can be "so what"?
So what you don't like his suit or her choice of dresses.
So what you wouldn't have done that if it were you.
Guess what? It's NOT you. Get over yourself.
If it were you, you'd probably do much worse!
I don't want to be a critical friend, sister, mom.
It's not fun when the Holy Spirit turns His spotlight on your faults but it's so necessary.
I want to be a better version of me.
When people are around me, I want them to feel better about themselves, not doubt themselves.
I want to end the legacy of criticism that was passed down to me.
I don't have to police every one's choices and help them to second guess their decisions.
Just because that's how I was treated doesn't mean that needs to be passed on to others.
It ends with me.
Love begins today.
The Holy Spirit is teaching me how to love.
We say we want to love but loving the way God does isn't easy.
It requires you to give up some things.
There's nothing wrong with giving your opinion if someone asks for it.
But that's the key...did they even ask?
Why are you standing ready to dispense your critique like a vending machine?
Who cares what you think?
Seriously?
Why would you rather someone feel insecure than self confident?
Ok, so you wouldn't come out of the house looking like that. But your brother or sister did.
Can you find a way to celebrate that?
She's smiling from ear to ear in a dress you can't stand.
Can you appreciate her smile before you criticize her dress?
Hmm.
I've got a lot of work to do. Being critical runs deep with me.
I never considered myself to be a mean girl.
But just because you can be polite, doesn't say that you're not mean.
I can be polite. The Holy Spirit knows this.
Now He's teaching me how to love.
Big difference.
I was lying in my bed, maybe an hour or so ago. And my mind went back to a conversation I'd had with a dear friend last week. For the sake of her privacy, I won't name her name or even give the specifics of our conversation. But I will say that as we spoke, I found myself being subtly critical of her.
Now this is someone I love, admire and respect. How could I do this?
This isn't the first time I've done it nor the first time the Holy Spirit has brought it to my attention.
I have a very bad habit of being critical.
It's not the type of criticism that feels bad initially. No. If I were that type of critical, I'd have no friends at all. That's not the bad part. The bad part about it is that the criticism that I use attempts to make people second guess themselves and their decisions.
"That's a nice purse! Why so big though?" "I like your hair! You weren't scared to cut it so short?"
See how subtle that can be?
Those are fictional examples but they describe what I do- have done.
I don't want to be critical anymore.
Have you ever seen a picture of someone in an outfit not so flattering? Maybe it was a friend or loved one. Have you ever desired to say, "She looks a hot mess!"
I think that's pretty much the immediate reaction of us all.
But what would happen if there was a pause...and instead we said, "You know, I'm glad she's wearing something that makes her happy and makes her feel good. So what I don't particularly care for it?! I'm glad she can wear what she likes"?
Wow.
Totally different vibe, huh?
Sometimes the most powerful Word from heaven can be "so what"?
So what you don't like his suit or her choice of dresses.
So what you wouldn't have done that if it were you.
Guess what? It's NOT you. Get over yourself.
If it were you, you'd probably do much worse!
I don't want to be a critical friend, sister, mom.
It's not fun when the Holy Spirit turns His spotlight on your faults but it's so necessary.
I want to be a better version of me.
When people are around me, I want them to feel better about themselves, not doubt themselves.
I want to end the legacy of criticism that was passed down to me.
I don't have to police every one's choices and help them to second guess their decisions.
Just because that's how I was treated doesn't mean that needs to be passed on to others.
It ends with me.
Love begins today.
The Holy Spirit is teaching me how to love.
We say we want to love but loving the way God does isn't easy.
It requires you to give up some things.
There's nothing wrong with giving your opinion if someone asks for it.
But that's the key...did they even ask?
Why are you standing ready to dispense your critique like a vending machine?
Who cares what you think?
Seriously?
Why would you rather someone feel insecure than self confident?
Ok, so you wouldn't come out of the house looking like that. But your brother or sister did.
Can you find a way to celebrate that?
She's smiling from ear to ear in a dress you can't stand.
Can you appreciate her smile before you criticize her dress?
Hmm.
I've got a lot of work to do. Being critical runs deep with me.
I never considered myself to be a mean girl.
But just because you can be polite, doesn't say that you're not mean.
I can be polite. The Holy Spirit knows this.
Now He's teaching me how to love.
Big difference.
Poem: The Silent Treatment
Good morning everyone. It's exactly 4:21 a.m. and I'm feeling a creative writing flow. I just had to go with it. There's more coming.
The Silent Treatment
Yell at me.
Scream at me.
I don't like it, but I need it.
It's better than the silence escaping your lips.
It's better than what your noiseless conversation is telling me.
Say something, even in anger.
That will tell me where you are, and where I need to be.
But you give me silence.
Weighty, deafening silence.
You ignore my calls.
Leave my emails unread.
You delete my text messages.
It's starting to mess with my head.
I'm breaking my own rules, things I said I'd never do.
Just to hear from you.
Say something.
I know you're mad at me.
I know you're frustrated.
But what if you're not?
What if I'm wrong?
What if this is just how you feel now?
Neither hot, nor cold.
Just lukewarm, indifferent.
Irrelevant.
Unimportant.
Unneeded.
Say something.
Anything.
I'd rather you scream at me.
Than be silent forever.
Please talk to me.
The Silent Treatment
Yell at me.
Scream at me.
I don't like it, but I need it.
It's better than the silence escaping your lips.
It's better than what your noiseless conversation is telling me.
Say something, even in anger.
That will tell me where you are, and where I need to be.
But you give me silence.
Weighty, deafening silence.
You ignore my calls.
Leave my emails unread.
You delete my text messages.
It's starting to mess with my head.
I'm breaking my own rules, things I said I'd never do.
Just to hear from you.
Say something.
I know you're mad at me.
I know you're frustrated.
But what if you're not?
What if I'm wrong?
What if this is just how you feel now?
Neither hot, nor cold.
Just lukewarm, indifferent.
Irrelevant.
Unimportant.
Unneeded.
Say something.
Anything.
I'd rather you scream at me.
Than be silent forever.
Please talk to me.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Clutter Kills...
Yesterday, my mom asked me to drive her to the home of an elderly woman who needed her house cleaned. Mama has a "cleaning anointing", if there is such a thing. All my life, I've known mama to have the ability to make a place sparkle with even the most basic of cleaning supplies. So it's no surprise that word of her abilities sort of travels.
I dropped her off at the woman's home and returned after a couple of hours. When mama got in the car, I could tell she was frustrated. She began to tell me how the home was nothing like she anticipated and that the biggest issue was the clutter.
Hmm.
She said there was stuff everywhere, even in the bathtub. Stuff was piled on top of the kitchen table, leaving the table useless. Stuff was piled on top of the kitchen counters, leaving the counter tops useless.
There were clothes everywhere that clearly weren't being worn but were taking up space in the bedroom..
There was even a MOUSE!
Ok, that right there would have sent me running for the hills, but my mama is a good ol' country woman who's seen her fair share of rodents and other such creeping things.
After listening to my mother describe this home, I couldn't help but realize just how deadly clutter can be.
Here was an elderly woman almost entombed by clutter. She couldn't bathe in her own tub. She couldn't prepare meals in her own kitchen. Clutter had changed the original purpose and intent of her furniture and living spaces. I said to my mama, "Imagine how much better she'd feel if all that stuff was gone and her space was clean? Imagine how much brighter the house would feel and her health might even start improving".
Mama agreed.
I also agreed.
We may not live like hoarders, surrounded by piles upon piles of things we'll never get around to using in our lifetimes, but oftentimes, our hearts and minds are cluttered. We strain under the weight of past relationships, grudges, animosity and spite. We shoulder the burden of trying to maintain relationships that have stopped being mutually beneficial. We pump resources into things that take up space but change the purpose of what they're resting on. Clutter changes you. It takes away your ability to be who you are.
It's time to let some things go.
Mama mentioned how she was only able to throw away a small grocery bag full of trash because the woman was so emotionally attached to her clutter.
How sad it is when trash becomes our treasure.
How very tragic it is when we can't even see how the things we're straining to hold on to are actually the source of our unhappiness and sometimes, our poor health.
Oh, and let's not forget about dear Mr. Mouse! I told mom that the reason the woman couldn't catch him was because he had plenty of places to hide! Clutter not only makes you a prisoner of your own home, it creates a home for things you really don't want; disgusting things. Harmful things. Pests and scavenging things. Clutter keeps dirty little secrets well fortified until they erode everything around them.
I'm not telling you to spend your weekend cleaning out your closet or your garage, even though you're welcome to do that if you wish. It's a start. But I am suggesting that we all spend a little time looking at our lives and identifying the clutter. Maybe it's a job that you know pays the bills but is costing you your health and your good years with your family. Maybe it's that relationship that takes up space in your life but it's toxic and leaves you feeling like you're worthless. Maybe it's that addiction that you've tried to deny for a very long time but now, it's becoming so big, you can barely contain it. Whatever it is, think about that elderly woman my mother tried to help yesterday.
Think about how she's living in a home she can't even bathe in, a kitchen she can't cook in and a table she can't eat on. Think about how clutter is slowly choking the life out of her.
And when you do, decide that piece by piece, and bit by bit, it's time to let go of the clutter in your life...
Before it kills you.
I dropped her off at the woman's home and returned after a couple of hours. When mama got in the car, I could tell she was frustrated. She began to tell me how the home was nothing like she anticipated and that the biggest issue was the clutter.
Hmm.
She said there was stuff everywhere, even in the bathtub. Stuff was piled on top of the kitchen table, leaving the table useless. Stuff was piled on top of the kitchen counters, leaving the counter tops useless.
There were clothes everywhere that clearly weren't being worn but were taking up space in the bedroom..
There was even a MOUSE!
Ok, that right there would have sent me running for the hills, but my mama is a good ol' country woman who's seen her fair share of rodents and other such creeping things.
After listening to my mother describe this home, I couldn't help but realize just how deadly clutter can be.
Here was an elderly woman almost entombed by clutter. She couldn't bathe in her own tub. She couldn't prepare meals in her own kitchen. Clutter had changed the original purpose and intent of her furniture and living spaces. I said to my mama, "Imagine how much better she'd feel if all that stuff was gone and her space was clean? Imagine how much brighter the house would feel and her health might even start improving".
Mama agreed.
I also agreed.
We may not live like hoarders, surrounded by piles upon piles of things we'll never get around to using in our lifetimes, but oftentimes, our hearts and minds are cluttered. We strain under the weight of past relationships, grudges, animosity and spite. We shoulder the burden of trying to maintain relationships that have stopped being mutually beneficial. We pump resources into things that take up space but change the purpose of what they're resting on. Clutter changes you. It takes away your ability to be who you are.
It's time to let some things go.
Mama mentioned how she was only able to throw away a small grocery bag full of trash because the woman was so emotionally attached to her clutter.
How sad it is when trash becomes our treasure.
How very tragic it is when we can't even see how the things we're straining to hold on to are actually the source of our unhappiness and sometimes, our poor health.
Oh, and let's not forget about dear Mr. Mouse! I told mom that the reason the woman couldn't catch him was because he had plenty of places to hide! Clutter not only makes you a prisoner of your own home, it creates a home for things you really don't want; disgusting things. Harmful things. Pests and scavenging things. Clutter keeps dirty little secrets well fortified until they erode everything around them.
I'm not telling you to spend your weekend cleaning out your closet or your garage, even though you're welcome to do that if you wish. It's a start. But I am suggesting that we all spend a little time looking at our lives and identifying the clutter. Maybe it's a job that you know pays the bills but is costing you your health and your good years with your family. Maybe it's that relationship that takes up space in your life but it's toxic and leaves you feeling like you're worthless. Maybe it's that addiction that you've tried to deny for a very long time but now, it's becoming so big, you can barely contain it. Whatever it is, think about that elderly woman my mother tried to help yesterday.
Think about how she's living in a home she can't even bathe in, a kitchen she can't cook in and a table she can't eat on. Think about how clutter is slowly choking the life out of her.
And when you do, decide that piece by piece, and bit by bit, it's time to let go of the clutter in your life...
Before it kills you.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
I Forgot...
It all started with a facebook status announcing the death of an instructor at The Fine Arts Center.
Although I was not a choral student, several of my classmates were, and as small as the Fine Arts Center was, it was hard not to interface with other students and faculty at some point.
The Fine Arts Center....
Wow.
Suddenly, almost 15 years worth of memories began to rush back.
Not only did I know about this place, I was once a student there myself.
Visual arts.
My high school Art teacher saw some potential in me and encouraged me to apply. He helped me to assemble a portfolio and I filled out my application. I was given an interview. Note worthy instructors reviewed my work.
I was accepted into the program.
I studied under the best in the Upstate: metal, enamel, oil, acrylic, charcoal...
My classmates were prodigies.
Almost with the same sort of "hunch", another teacher, this time, an English teacher, saw potential in me and asked me had I considered going to college.
The short answer to her question was "No".
College wasn't even on my radar. My biggest dream at the time was to be a cosmetologist.
I thought I wanted to do hair.
It seemed like a reasonable enough goal and I was more than willing to give it a try.
But she wouldn't let up.
Finally, she sweetened the deal and told me that she would personally write my letter of recommendation to the colleges of my choice and encourage other faculty members to do so for me.
I applied to colleges I'd never even heard of before: Elon, William and Mary, Columbia, Agnes Scott.
By the end of my senior year, I was accepted to two colleges, Columbia and Agnes Scott, receiving awards from both.
I was even given a letter of congratulations by the then State Senator.
Who's Who Among America's High School Students.
American Legion Award.
And I'd forgotten about all of it.
The sad part about it is that I forgot all of those accomplishments as they happened.
I was startled as the memories suddenly came flooding back to me while reading the facebook status.
I realize now that the impact of those achievements was cushioned by a heavy layer of low self esteem and an environment that could not and would not celebrate me.
I forgot that part of my life, almost completely.
What's the point of throwing a celebration party if you're the only one there?
So I stopped celebrating.
After going as far as I could at Agnes Scott on my own with little guidance and even less support, I ran out of money and returned home to South Carolina. And that's when I turned on the auto pilot.
The next 12 years of my life would be filled with almost an aimless existence, still reeling from disappointment for the college career I couldn't finish and the goals I'd never achieved.
I can't even tell you what my goal for college was.
I was there. I attended classes. I'd decided on English as my major.
But I had no idea what to do with such a major.
I declared it because it was just something to do and of all my courses, English was my strongest.
I didn't have any direction.
Two teachers in high school saw enormous promise in me.
But I couldn't see it in myself.
I didn't know how to take the ball that was given to me and run with it.
For a while, I just sort of stared at it, held it and admired it. Then after a while, I tucked it away and forgot it was there.
When I realized what I had, I took it out and saw that the ball I was given was a little flat, no bounce.
At 33 years old, I can't help but be reflective. It's unfortunate that it took the death of a very influential instructor and musician to jog my memory, but that's precisely what happened. As I read his facebook wall, I saw the countless lives he impacted with his passion for music and love for bright and talented students. I saw the heartfelt grief. I also saw an amazing legacy that will stand the test of time.
I pulled the gold and black onyx ring out of my jewelry box.
Few know I even own it.
Even less know what it truly represents.
The gold ring with the rectangle shaped onyx stone is a class ring from Agnes Scott College that spans generations. You will find women who graduated in the 1930's and 40's with this same ring on their finger. Each woman receives this ring in a ceremony her sophomore year. As hard as it is for me to believe that I achieved this honor of standing with thousands of women, young and old, the evidence is on my finger today.
No one came to my ceremony. I'm thankful I was able to plead and beg my parents enough to give me the money to purchase the ring. Maybe it was the tone of my voice. My mother heard me. She understood. I'm appreciative that she was able to help persuade my dad to buy it for me. But I stood to receive it alone. I can still remember the sound of the pipe organ as it roared in grandeur to salute our achievement. I remember walking down the side walk, back to my dorm, ring on my finger.
I didn't have a high school class ring.
But I now had a college ring.
How cool was I?
Somehow, I managed to keep up with the ring through moving from my dorm, then from my aunt's home, then back to South Carolina, and several times within my home state. Somehow, I managed to preserve this piece of my history. Last year, I took it out again, had it cleaned and sized and wore it to my first ever Alumnae Weekend.
No, I didn't graduate with a degree.
But I graduated with much more.
My return to campus last year felt like I was coming full circle. As my former classmates mixed and mingled, chatting and participating in various activities set up for alums, I took the time to wander off by myself.
I walked the sidewalk I'd walked 15 years before as a young, and clueless teenager, not even sure how she ended up where she was. I had the grades. I had the awards. I had the letters of recommendation. But inside, I didn't have the gift of knowing that I was good enough just as I was. I didn't believe any of the awards that told me I was great. I didn't hear any of the compliments that told me my work was special and significant.
I couldn't hear, and I couldn't see.
As I walked the campus grounds, as a mother of two, arms loaded with triumphs and a few tragedies, some successes and quite a few failures...
I admired the azaleas. I took off my shoes and walked on the grassy quad, something I'm not sure I'd ever done as a teenager. I walked into the bookstore and made a few purchases. I observed the new student body, casually loafing, some in jeans and pajama bottoms as I and my former classmates used to do. I talked with first year students. I marveled at their amazing sense of focus and direction. They had dreams. They had a plan. They had a vision for their lives. They had the ball and they weren't dropping it. I smiled as I left them. I realized that they would see many things in their lives, many joys, sorrows and disappointments. But I prayed that they'd never lose their ability to fight for what they believed in and when no one else would, to believe in themselves. As I walked away from the future, I understood what it feels like to be an alum for the first time, to see people walking the same path you once walked, and soon faced with the same choices and distractions you were once faced with.
That day I made peace with my past and I let my dream of returning to the campus as a student die.
Agnes Scott taught me everything I needed to know for the time I was there. The experience was a foreshadowing of the life that was to come and this was the prophecy: "You'll work very hard. There will be many mistakes and also, many achievements. This opportunity is yours to own. Some days will be hard and you'll wonder how you'll make it. But all around you, there will be beauty. There will be majestic monuments to human achievement all around you. There will be grassy places for your feet to rest. You'll see flowers bloom and for all the hard work, the pain and the sacrifice, there will be a beautiful classroom to learn all of your lessons in".
But greater still is the lesson I learned from the ring itself.
I made it to my sophomore year. I earned the ring.
There were and still are many women who do not earn their degree from Agnes Scott College and there are those who don't earn a degree at all. But this school recognizes the achievement of beginning. You started here. You made it this far. You earned the ring. No matter where I go in the United States or around the world, if I see this same ring on any woman's finger, black or white, rich or poor, young or old... you know where she started. We all started at the same place. We're a part of an elite sisterhood that only takes a ring to confirm. For the first time, I'd experienced a celebration for a good beginning and 15 years later, I'm ready to continue that tradition in my own life.
So yea, I forgot about 15 years of my life. I'm not spending a lot of time trying to remember it either.
If anything, I want to spend the next 15 trying to top it. No, everything I've started hasn't always ended well. But it's time I started celebrating the triumph that is beginning.
If God can do all of that for a young teenage girl who didn't even know what she had or how to even begin to be grateful for it, imagine what he can do for a woman who now counts her blessings and names them one by one?
I'm looking forward to my future.
It's never to late to figure out where you want to be in life and to start again.
Yes, life is hard with baggage...kids, car notes, mortgages, break up's...
But alums from the school of hard knocks used to tell me on Sunday morning when I was a little girl: "Jesus is a burden bearer and a heavy load sharer".
It's never, ever too late to be who He made you to be and who you know you can be.
Never.
Although I was not a choral student, several of my classmates were, and as small as the Fine Arts Center was, it was hard not to interface with other students and faculty at some point.
The Fine Arts Center....
Wow.
Suddenly, almost 15 years worth of memories began to rush back.
Not only did I know about this place, I was once a student there myself.
Visual arts.
My high school Art teacher saw some potential in me and encouraged me to apply. He helped me to assemble a portfolio and I filled out my application. I was given an interview. Note worthy instructors reviewed my work.
I was accepted into the program.
I studied under the best in the Upstate: metal, enamel, oil, acrylic, charcoal...
My classmates were prodigies.
Almost with the same sort of "hunch", another teacher, this time, an English teacher, saw potential in me and asked me had I considered going to college.
The short answer to her question was "No".
College wasn't even on my radar. My biggest dream at the time was to be a cosmetologist.
I thought I wanted to do hair.
It seemed like a reasonable enough goal and I was more than willing to give it a try.
But she wouldn't let up.
Finally, she sweetened the deal and told me that she would personally write my letter of recommendation to the colleges of my choice and encourage other faculty members to do so for me.
I applied to colleges I'd never even heard of before: Elon, William and Mary, Columbia, Agnes Scott.
By the end of my senior year, I was accepted to two colleges, Columbia and Agnes Scott, receiving awards from both.
I was even given a letter of congratulations by the then State Senator.
Who's Who Among America's High School Students.
American Legion Award.
And I'd forgotten about all of it.
The sad part about it is that I forgot all of those accomplishments as they happened.
I was startled as the memories suddenly came flooding back to me while reading the facebook status.
I realize now that the impact of those achievements was cushioned by a heavy layer of low self esteem and an environment that could not and would not celebrate me.
I forgot that part of my life, almost completely.
What's the point of throwing a celebration party if you're the only one there?
So I stopped celebrating.
After going as far as I could at Agnes Scott on my own with little guidance and even less support, I ran out of money and returned home to South Carolina. And that's when I turned on the auto pilot.
The next 12 years of my life would be filled with almost an aimless existence, still reeling from disappointment for the college career I couldn't finish and the goals I'd never achieved.
I can't even tell you what my goal for college was.
I was there. I attended classes. I'd decided on English as my major.
But I had no idea what to do with such a major.
I declared it because it was just something to do and of all my courses, English was my strongest.
I didn't have any direction.
Two teachers in high school saw enormous promise in me.
But I couldn't see it in myself.
I didn't know how to take the ball that was given to me and run with it.
For a while, I just sort of stared at it, held it and admired it. Then after a while, I tucked it away and forgot it was there.
When I realized what I had, I took it out and saw that the ball I was given was a little flat, no bounce.
At 33 years old, I can't help but be reflective. It's unfortunate that it took the death of a very influential instructor and musician to jog my memory, but that's precisely what happened. As I read his facebook wall, I saw the countless lives he impacted with his passion for music and love for bright and talented students. I saw the heartfelt grief. I also saw an amazing legacy that will stand the test of time.
I pulled the gold and black onyx ring out of my jewelry box.
Few know I even own it.
Even less know what it truly represents.
The gold ring with the rectangle shaped onyx stone is a class ring from Agnes Scott College that spans generations. You will find women who graduated in the 1930's and 40's with this same ring on their finger. Each woman receives this ring in a ceremony her sophomore year. As hard as it is for me to believe that I achieved this honor of standing with thousands of women, young and old, the evidence is on my finger today.
No one came to my ceremony. I'm thankful I was able to plead and beg my parents enough to give me the money to purchase the ring. Maybe it was the tone of my voice. My mother heard me. She understood. I'm appreciative that she was able to help persuade my dad to buy it for me. But I stood to receive it alone. I can still remember the sound of the pipe organ as it roared in grandeur to salute our achievement. I remember walking down the side walk, back to my dorm, ring on my finger.
I didn't have a high school class ring.
But I now had a college ring.
How cool was I?
Somehow, I managed to keep up with the ring through moving from my dorm, then from my aunt's home, then back to South Carolina, and several times within my home state. Somehow, I managed to preserve this piece of my history. Last year, I took it out again, had it cleaned and sized and wore it to my first ever Alumnae Weekend.
No, I didn't graduate with a degree.
But I graduated with much more.
My return to campus last year felt like I was coming full circle. As my former classmates mixed and mingled, chatting and participating in various activities set up for alums, I took the time to wander off by myself.
I walked the sidewalk I'd walked 15 years before as a young, and clueless teenager, not even sure how she ended up where she was. I had the grades. I had the awards. I had the letters of recommendation. But inside, I didn't have the gift of knowing that I was good enough just as I was. I didn't believe any of the awards that told me I was great. I didn't hear any of the compliments that told me my work was special and significant.
I couldn't hear, and I couldn't see.
 |
| The McCain Library, Agnes Scott College |
As I walked the campus grounds, as a mother of two, arms loaded with triumphs and a few tragedies, some successes and quite a few failures...
I admired the azaleas. I took off my shoes and walked on the grassy quad, something I'm not sure I'd ever done as a teenager. I walked into the bookstore and made a few purchases. I observed the new student body, casually loafing, some in jeans and pajama bottoms as I and my former classmates used to do. I talked with first year students. I marveled at their amazing sense of focus and direction. They had dreams. They had a plan. They had a vision for their lives. They had the ball and they weren't dropping it. I smiled as I left them. I realized that they would see many things in their lives, many joys, sorrows and disappointments. But I prayed that they'd never lose their ability to fight for what they believed in and when no one else would, to believe in themselves. As I walked away from the future, I understood what it feels like to be an alum for the first time, to see people walking the same path you once walked, and soon faced with the same choices and distractions you were once faced with.
That day I made peace with my past and I let my dream of returning to the campus as a student die.
Agnes Scott taught me everything I needed to know for the time I was there. The experience was a foreshadowing of the life that was to come and this was the prophecy: "You'll work very hard. There will be many mistakes and also, many achievements. This opportunity is yours to own. Some days will be hard and you'll wonder how you'll make it. But all around you, there will be beauty. There will be majestic monuments to human achievement all around you. There will be grassy places for your feet to rest. You'll see flowers bloom and for all the hard work, the pain and the sacrifice, there will be a beautiful classroom to learn all of your lessons in".
But greater still is the lesson I learned from the ring itself.
I made it to my sophomore year. I earned the ring.
There were and still are many women who do not earn their degree from Agnes Scott College and there are those who don't earn a degree at all. But this school recognizes the achievement of beginning. You started here. You made it this far. You earned the ring. No matter where I go in the United States or around the world, if I see this same ring on any woman's finger, black or white, rich or poor, young or old... you know where she started. We all started at the same place. We're a part of an elite sisterhood that only takes a ring to confirm. For the first time, I'd experienced a celebration for a good beginning and 15 years later, I'm ready to continue that tradition in my own life.
So yea, I forgot about 15 years of my life. I'm not spending a lot of time trying to remember it either.
If anything, I want to spend the next 15 trying to top it. No, everything I've started hasn't always ended well. But it's time I started celebrating the triumph that is beginning.
If God can do all of that for a young teenage girl who didn't even know what she had or how to even begin to be grateful for it, imagine what he can do for a woman who now counts her blessings and names them one by one?
I'm looking forward to my future.
It's never to late to figure out where you want to be in life and to start again.
Yes, life is hard with baggage...kids, car notes, mortgages, break up's...
But alums from the school of hard knocks used to tell me on Sunday morning when I was a little girl: "Jesus is a burden bearer and a heavy load sharer".
It's never, ever too late to be who He made you to be and who you know you can be.
Never.
Monday, December 12, 2011
I Need Him...
I can't emphasize the importance of prayer to a mother's life.
There are so many things that we face emotionally and circumstantially that without His guidance, we will never see which way to go.
We need Him to direct us and help us to focus on things that matter most.
We need Him to show us those hidden little issues that are just waiting to become greater ones.
We need Him to show us who to trust around our children and who to avoid.
We need Him for everything, including our own sanity when all of the children are sick and we are too.
We need Him when the money's spent and all of the bills are due!
We need Him when the gas light comes on in the car and we've used the last diaper in the bag.
We need Him when husband or boyfriend walks out on his responsibilities.
We need Him when we want to love again.
We need Him when we're ready to start over again.
We need Him to help make sense of everything we've ever been through.
Without Him....
We moms can do nothing.
He's the only reason I'm standing today.
I pray that you'll find Him to be everything that you need.
There are so many things that we face emotionally and circumstantially that without His guidance, we will never see which way to go.
We need Him to direct us and help us to focus on things that matter most.
We need Him to show us those hidden little issues that are just waiting to become greater ones.
We need Him to show us who to trust around our children and who to avoid.
We need Him for everything, including our own sanity when all of the children are sick and we are too.
We need Him when the money's spent and all of the bills are due!
We need Him when the gas light comes on in the car and we've used the last diaper in the bag.
We need Him when husband or boyfriend walks out on his responsibilities.
We need Him when we want to love again.
We need Him when we're ready to start over again.
We need Him to help make sense of everything we've ever been through.
Without Him....
We moms can do nothing.
He's the only reason I'm standing today.
I pray that you'll find Him to be everything that you need.
Monday, December 05, 2011
Where's My Christmas Spirit?
Is it really December and are we really staring Christmas in the face?!
I typically love this time of year but honestly, the last two or three years haven't felt that "Christmasy".
For starts, the WEATHER. I do live in the South but even my area experiences cold weather. We've only seen a couple of near freezing temperatures and a couple of mornings of frost.
I'm not used to the sunny Florida temps we've been blessed with lately but I'm thankful for them..It's just hard to associate Christmas with warm weather.
And then there's this business of decorating. It seems like I'm the only one in my house inclined to haul the tree out of the garage and start the task of assembling the tree and hanging decorations.
Now do you see why it's still in the garage?
But the kiddies want a tree. I wouldn't mind a tree, I just mind the WORK involved in putting it up and taking it down. I think last year, it was almost February before it came down.
Let's not forget the shopping for Christmas gifts.
I haven't even started.
I don't know what's wrong!
I'm not a scrooge or anything of the sort. I just don't feel all the holiday cheer. It seems too soon and contrived. I wince at Christmas music. It feels out of season.
I wouldn't mind celebrating if it actually felt like Christmas to me.
But it doesn't.
Most likely, I'll bite the bullet and haul that tree out of the garage and start my work. I love making my babies smile and seeing their faces light up with all things Christmas. I loved Christmas lights as a child and honestly, I still do to an extent.
I'll be getting into the swing of Christmas soon, even if I am a couple of weeks late.
Basically, we're all just trying to hang on until Christmas break when the children are out of school for two weeks. Matt and Cait are super excited about Christmas and the older they get, the greater their anticipation grows. The Sunday paper causes mayhem in my house! Toy ads lay strewn all over the house while they each chirp, "Mommy, I want this, ok? Ok mommy?"
And while I love gift giving and buying gifts for my children, I also haven't overly emphasized it.
I'm not anti gift giving at all. I think we can go to the extreme sometimes as believers and folks who are anti holidays. But I believe there's nothing wrong with giving gifts. The true joy comes not in quantity but when you get just what you wanted. And that's what I've been listening out to hear. My children's desires change CONSTANTLY but as they chatter among themselves, I occasionally hear them say to each other the things they really want for Christmas. Those will be under the tree.
So I guess I'll get myself pumped up and ready to haul this tree out tomorrow.
At least if I don't put it up, we can trip over the box all week long. :)
I typically love this time of year but honestly, the last two or three years haven't felt that "Christmasy".
For starts, the WEATHER. I do live in the South but even my area experiences cold weather. We've only seen a couple of near freezing temperatures and a couple of mornings of frost.
I'm not used to the sunny Florida temps we've been blessed with lately but I'm thankful for them..It's just hard to associate Christmas with warm weather.
And then there's this business of decorating. It seems like I'm the only one in my house inclined to haul the tree out of the garage and start the task of assembling the tree and hanging decorations.
Now do you see why it's still in the garage?
But the kiddies want a tree. I wouldn't mind a tree, I just mind the WORK involved in putting it up and taking it down. I think last year, it was almost February before it came down.
Let's not forget the shopping for Christmas gifts.
I haven't even started.
I don't know what's wrong!
I'm not a scrooge or anything of the sort. I just don't feel all the holiday cheer. It seems too soon and contrived. I wince at Christmas music. It feels out of season.
I wouldn't mind celebrating if it actually felt like Christmas to me.
But it doesn't.
Most likely, I'll bite the bullet and haul that tree out of the garage and start my work. I love making my babies smile and seeing their faces light up with all things Christmas. I loved Christmas lights as a child and honestly, I still do to an extent.
I'll be getting into the swing of Christmas soon, even if I am a couple of weeks late.
Basically, we're all just trying to hang on until Christmas break when the children are out of school for two weeks. Matt and Cait are super excited about Christmas and the older they get, the greater their anticipation grows. The Sunday paper causes mayhem in my house! Toy ads lay strewn all over the house while they each chirp, "Mommy, I want this, ok? Ok mommy?"
And while I love gift giving and buying gifts for my children, I also haven't overly emphasized it.
I'm not anti gift giving at all. I think we can go to the extreme sometimes as believers and folks who are anti holidays. But I believe there's nothing wrong with giving gifts. The true joy comes not in quantity but when you get just what you wanted. And that's what I've been listening out to hear. My children's desires change CONSTANTLY but as they chatter among themselves, I occasionally hear them say to each other the things they really want for Christmas. Those will be under the tree.
So I guess I'll get myself pumped up and ready to haul this tree out tomorrow.
At least if I don't put it up, we can trip over the box all week long. :)
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Accepted...
I didn't know that religion wouldn't and couldn't be a cure for the need to feel accepted.
It's been a lifelong struggle of mine.
I did everything my young mind could think of to be accepted by the ones whose opinions mattered most to me.
They didn't seem to notice.
He never really seemed to accept me at face value.
There was always something I had to do or to change.
Something I needed to say or stop saying.
I just wanted to be accepted.
I didn't know that religion, which promised to bring me acceptance into the brotherhood of fellow religious followers would ultimately leave me feeling even more alone.
When I didn't make it to all of the scheduled services...
When my tithes and offerings fell short...
When I didn't say, do or perform up to expectations...
I was no longer accepted.
When I entered relationships, I kept waiting to hear him say, "I approve. I accept you".
Guy.
After guy.
After guy.
They liked my curves, my smile, my cooking...
But I never felt accepted.
There have been some emotional battles that I've had to fight these past couple of years. Some I've fought valiantly and others, I felt as if I barely escaped with my sanity.
I tried repeatedly to get him to tell me he accepted me.
And then the Holy Spirit whispered to me...
"You are accepted by Me".
Maybe that doesn't mean much to you, but to me, it's like a prison door swinging open on rusty hinges.
I don't have to continue looking for acceptance.
I AM accepted.
In Him...
The Beloved.
And so are You.
Accept His acceptance today.
It's been a lifelong struggle of mine.
I did everything my young mind could think of to be accepted by the ones whose opinions mattered most to me.
They didn't seem to notice.
He never really seemed to accept me at face value.
There was always something I had to do or to change.
Something I needed to say or stop saying.
I just wanted to be accepted.
I didn't know that religion, which promised to bring me acceptance into the brotherhood of fellow religious followers would ultimately leave me feeling even more alone.
When I didn't make it to all of the scheduled services...
When my tithes and offerings fell short...
When I didn't say, do or perform up to expectations...
I was no longer accepted.
When I entered relationships, I kept waiting to hear him say, "I approve. I accept you".
Guy.
After guy.
After guy.
They liked my curves, my smile, my cooking...
But I never felt accepted.
There have been some emotional battles that I've had to fight these past couple of years. Some I've fought valiantly and others, I felt as if I barely escaped with my sanity.
I tried repeatedly to get him to tell me he accepted me.
And then the Holy Spirit whispered to me...
"You are accepted by Me".
Maybe that doesn't mean much to you, but to me, it's like a prison door swinging open on rusty hinges.
I don't have to continue looking for acceptance.
I AM accepted.
In Him...
The Beloved.
And so are You.
Accept His acceptance today.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Free Falling...
In 2009, I could feel the world beneath my feet starting to reel and shake.
By 2010, that world that I knew was beginning to crumble and I started to fall.
This year, I felt the Lord catch me and carry me.
As I stare at a new year emerging like a dawning day...
I want to whisper in His ear, as He carries me...
Jesus, where are you taking me?
-Mel
By 2010, that world that I knew was beginning to crumble and I started to fall.
This year, I felt the Lord catch me and carry me.
As I stare at a new year emerging like a dawning day...
I want to whisper in His ear, as He carries me...
Jesus, where are you taking me?
-Mel
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Un-Traditional Thanksgiving...
For the first time since they've been alive, my children are waking up in their daddy's home for Thanksgiving.
He picked them up yesterday evening when he got off work.
For the first time since they've been alive, I'm 100% ok with it.
There was a time I would have been a puddle of tears and given him a hard time for thinking he could take our children and spend time with them and not me.
Things are different now.
I'm so in love with "ME" that I've been looking forward to the alone time.
My mom works everything Thanksgiving so I'll have the house ALL TO MYSELF for a few hours!
Any mom can tell you that it's rare to ever be alone. The closet thing most of us get is a trip to the bathroom and even then, there are little fingers and toes under the door, asking, "Mommy, what are you doing?"
My sister, who has always been my biggest supporter has been encouraging me to really take in and enjoy this time to myself and to tap into what really makes me happy and enjoy that.
Can I be honest?
It's been so long since I've had the chance to think only about myself that I literally drew a blank.
I thought about some chores I could finish up while the kids were away.
Thought about re-organizing the junk drawer. <<< RIGHT! lol!
Thought about doing some shopping and I may go to the store and prepare a nice meal for myself.
My first idea was Chinese, but after watching the 700 lbs woman on Dr. Phil and then the Biggest Loser Thanksgiving Special, I decided that might not be the smartest thing to do. Sheesh. lol!
I am currently doing one of my life's greatest loves, which is writing and finding a great deal of contentment in that.
I realize that there are a lot of people who are having to celebrate traditional holidays in un-traditional ways. Maybe you're like me. Your parents are divorced and now things are tense and awkward. Or maybe you're a single parent and you have to share holidays with the father of your children. Maybe you're single with no children and your family just doesn't seem to have the "get together" spirit like they used to. Or maybe still, maybe you're the one who does all the holiday cooking and planning, keeping the family together. Wherever you fit, be sure to put yourself on the list and celebrate you.
I could spend an entire blog entry naming the things I'm most thankful for this year but if you've been following my blog, I think you already know. Out of all the things on a "thankful" list, how many ever say, "I'm thankful for ME"?
Are you thankful for YOU?
Do you really appreciate the person you are, the strength you've shown and the gift that you are to the world?
Something to think about.
I've come a long way this year in more ways than one and it's only by God's grace.
Just the fact that I'm sitting here with an empty house and a smile on my face is proof to me of the change!
We don't always get what we want in life. I would have liked the marriage, the formal dining room and the husband who carves the turkey and plays games with the children. But that's not what I have. I have something that is different but beautiful and blessed. What I have today is the result of Grace.
So today, I'm going to try to listen to my heart and do everything it tells me to do.
I may watch a little tv.
I may do some cleaning because that's just what I do when I like to think.
I may do some more writing.
But no matter what, I'm thankful for this place that I'm in.
Un-traditional doesn't have to be sad. Some traditions should be broken anyway because they don't truly honor you and those that you love. So I raise my glass to all of you strong and courageous ones who are defining your holiday in a new way. Make it beautiful by celebrating all the Lord has done for YOU. He wants you happy. Whatever makes you smile, He'll approve of, even if it's watching "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" in furry slippers.
I'm thankful for you today and I appreciate you sharing my world with me.
With God's Love and A Heart of Thanksgiving,
-Mel
He picked them up yesterday evening when he got off work.
For the first time since they've been alive, I'm 100% ok with it.
There was a time I would have been a puddle of tears and given him a hard time for thinking he could take our children and spend time with them and not me.
Things are different now.
I'm so in love with "ME" that I've been looking forward to the alone time.
My mom works everything Thanksgiving so I'll have the house ALL TO MYSELF for a few hours!
Any mom can tell you that it's rare to ever be alone. The closet thing most of us get is a trip to the bathroom and even then, there are little fingers and toes under the door, asking, "Mommy, what are you doing?"
My sister, who has always been my biggest supporter has been encouraging me to really take in and enjoy this time to myself and to tap into what really makes me happy and enjoy that.
Can I be honest?
It's been so long since I've had the chance to think only about myself that I literally drew a blank.
I thought about some chores I could finish up while the kids were away.
Thought about re-organizing the junk drawer. <<< RIGHT! lol!
Thought about doing some shopping and I may go to the store and prepare a nice meal for myself.
My first idea was Chinese, but after watching the 700 lbs woman on Dr. Phil and then the Biggest Loser Thanksgiving Special, I decided that might not be the smartest thing to do. Sheesh. lol!
I am currently doing one of my life's greatest loves, which is writing and finding a great deal of contentment in that.
I realize that there are a lot of people who are having to celebrate traditional holidays in un-traditional ways. Maybe you're like me. Your parents are divorced and now things are tense and awkward. Or maybe you're a single parent and you have to share holidays with the father of your children. Maybe you're single with no children and your family just doesn't seem to have the "get together" spirit like they used to. Or maybe still, maybe you're the one who does all the holiday cooking and planning, keeping the family together. Wherever you fit, be sure to put yourself on the list and celebrate you.
I could spend an entire blog entry naming the things I'm most thankful for this year but if you've been following my blog, I think you already know. Out of all the things on a "thankful" list, how many ever say, "I'm thankful for ME"?
Are you thankful for YOU?
Do you really appreciate the person you are, the strength you've shown and the gift that you are to the world?
Something to think about.
I've come a long way this year in more ways than one and it's only by God's grace.
Just the fact that I'm sitting here with an empty house and a smile on my face is proof to me of the change!
We don't always get what we want in life. I would have liked the marriage, the formal dining room and the husband who carves the turkey and plays games with the children. But that's not what I have. I have something that is different but beautiful and blessed. What I have today is the result of Grace.
So today, I'm going to try to listen to my heart and do everything it tells me to do.
I may watch a little tv.
I may do some cleaning because that's just what I do when I like to think.
I may do some more writing.
But no matter what, I'm thankful for this place that I'm in.
Un-traditional doesn't have to be sad. Some traditions should be broken anyway because they don't truly honor you and those that you love. So I raise my glass to all of you strong and courageous ones who are defining your holiday in a new way. Make it beautiful by celebrating all the Lord has done for YOU. He wants you happy. Whatever makes you smile, He'll approve of, even if it's watching "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" in furry slippers.
I'm thankful for you today and I appreciate you sharing my world with me.
With God's Love and A Heart of Thanksgiving,
-Mel
Monday, November 21, 2011
Honor Among Women...
The word "honor" means "High respect, as that shown for special merit; esteem".
Back in the day, I was one of those women who claimed to be more comfortable with my male friends than any of my female friends.
Women made me uncomfortable.
I didn't like to be around women much but in the company of men, I felt right at home.
I was even known to say that men made better friends than women because women were catty, untrustworthy and full of drama.
Hmm.
But my attitude began to change when I found myself being given a helping hand by woman...after woman..
After woman.
The nurse who came to my room when I was a brand new mom, scared senseless, who reassured me and cheerfully doted over my beautiful son.
The stay-at-home mom who offered to watch an infant Matthew for $50 a week because that was all I could afford at the time.
The friend who bought baby clothes and planned my baby shower.
The friends who came to birthday party after birthday party.
All women.
I had a choice to make.
It was time I ended my beef with women.
When I sat down and talked to these various women that I met, they weren't very different than me.
They were just as busy as I was, if not busier, although some had husbands and I did not.
But yet and still, although our circumstances weren't exactly the same, they knew what it felt like to be tired from a life with a new baby and working full time. They honored me.
They respected me even though at one time in my life, I'd dishonored them with my terrible attitude.
There's a lot going on in our society today and relationship related issues are hot topics and best sellers.
But what about the topic of honor among women?
Could it be that after years of pain and disrespect we ourselves have taken on the attributes of the hurt and pain we despise the most?
We turn a blind eye to the plight of other women.
We scorn and criticize.
We blame.
We justify our callousness.
We close up the doors of our compassion.
But I'm reminded that in my darkest hours it wasn't the arms of a man or the ears of a man that brought wisdom, comfort and strength to me.
It was a woman.
It was a woman who showed me how to quiet my crying infant son.
It was a woman who took care of my children for virtual pennies so that I could continue to work and earn a living.
It is women who support my goals, dreams, and aspirations today.
It is women who pray that I'll succeed because I speak for and to them.
I want honor among women to return.
I want the days of making sure a fellow woman always had a helping hand because we know what it feels like to hurt and struggle to return.
I want the days of women honoring women to return because we know the pain of broken families, ripped apart by infidelity.
We know.
We've lived it.
We've witnessed it.
And sometimes, we've even been the cause.
But just like one day, I looked up and realized that the women I hated were not "those" women, but that "She:" was "Me"
I pray that all who read will have such an awakening in their own lives.
Honestly, when I said I preferred friendships with men over women, I was speaking from a place of brokenness.
Instead of saying, "I don't like them", I should have said, "I don't like me".
I bring drama.
I'm catty.
I'm not easy to talk to or be around.
That would have been the truth.
Since I became a mom, I have been blessed to meet a variety of women from all walks of life, married, single, young and old, rich and not-so-rich...right and wrong side of the tracks. Religious and non religious. Christian and Muslim. Divorced and single.
All kinds.
And the one thing I appreciate most about all of these connections is this:
There is honor among us because to be a woman requires a strength a man will never know.
But all women will.
We cannot expect for any man to respect a woman we ourselves disrespect, whether that woman is your neighbor, coworker, or the woman in the mirror.
This isn't about being classy.
This is about being honorable.
This about remembering that She is Me and loving her.
Back in the day, I was one of those women who claimed to be more comfortable with my male friends than any of my female friends.
Women made me uncomfortable.
I didn't like to be around women much but in the company of men, I felt right at home.
I was even known to say that men made better friends than women because women were catty, untrustworthy and full of drama.
Hmm.
But my attitude began to change when I found myself being given a helping hand by woman...after woman..
After woman.
The nurse who came to my room when I was a brand new mom, scared senseless, who reassured me and cheerfully doted over my beautiful son.
The stay-at-home mom who offered to watch an infant Matthew for $50 a week because that was all I could afford at the time.
The friend who bought baby clothes and planned my baby shower.
The friends who came to birthday party after birthday party.
All women.
I had a choice to make.
It was time I ended my beef with women.
When I sat down and talked to these various women that I met, they weren't very different than me.
They were just as busy as I was, if not busier, although some had husbands and I did not.
But yet and still, although our circumstances weren't exactly the same, they knew what it felt like to be tired from a life with a new baby and working full time. They honored me.
They respected me even though at one time in my life, I'd dishonored them with my terrible attitude.
There's a lot going on in our society today and relationship related issues are hot topics and best sellers.
But what about the topic of honor among women?
Could it be that after years of pain and disrespect we ourselves have taken on the attributes of the hurt and pain we despise the most?
We turn a blind eye to the plight of other women.
We scorn and criticize.
We blame.
We justify our callousness.
We close up the doors of our compassion.
But I'm reminded that in my darkest hours it wasn't the arms of a man or the ears of a man that brought wisdom, comfort and strength to me.
It was a woman.
It was a woman who showed me how to quiet my crying infant son.
It was a woman who took care of my children for virtual pennies so that I could continue to work and earn a living.
It is women who support my goals, dreams, and aspirations today.
It is women who pray that I'll succeed because I speak for and to them.
I want honor among women to return.
I want the days of making sure a fellow woman always had a helping hand because we know what it feels like to hurt and struggle to return.
I want the days of women honoring women to return because we know the pain of broken families, ripped apart by infidelity.
We know.
We've lived it.
We've witnessed it.
And sometimes, we've even been the cause.
But just like one day, I looked up and realized that the women I hated were not "those" women, but that "She:" was "Me"
I pray that all who read will have such an awakening in their own lives.
Honestly, when I said I preferred friendships with men over women, I was speaking from a place of brokenness.
Instead of saying, "I don't like them", I should have said, "I don't like me".
I bring drama.
I'm catty.
I'm not easy to talk to or be around.
That would have been the truth.
Since I became a mom, I have been blessed to meet a variety of women from all walks of life, married, single, young and old, rich and not-so-rich...right and wrong side of the tracks. Religious and non religious. Christian and Muslim. Divorced and single.
All kinds.
And the one thing I appreciate most about all of these connections is this:
There is honor among us because to be a woman requires a strength a man will never know.
But all women will.
We cannot expect for any man to respect a woman we ourselves disrespect, whether that woman is your neighbor, coworker, or the woman in the mirror.
This isn't about being classy.
This is about being honorable.
This about remembering that She is Me and loving her.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Can A Woman Raise A Man?
Here's a question that often comes up when discussing single parent households. There's this question of, "Is it possible for a woman to raise a man" as if manhood is foreign to women.
Let me tell you what I think...
Femininity may be foreign to men, but masculinity isn't foreign to women.
The bible is clear in Genesis that the woman was created for and FROM the man.
Also, she didn't come into existence by man's request but per God's observation of man's need.
God observed man and created woman as a suitable help meet. I'm not even sure if Adam was aware of what he was missing until he saw it standing right in front of him!
So to answer the question: Not only can women raise men...
THEY SHOULD.
I have no intention of turning out anything short of a grown man in this house.
While I respect his father tremendously and acknowledge his weighty contribution to the growth and development of our son, I also realize that 95% of my son's time is spent with ME.
From the moment he came into this world, mine was the first face his eyes saw.
My voice was the first voice he recognized.
My correction was the first discipline he received.
And for all those men out there who may be sighing and rolling their eyes...particularly you good men...
Ask yourself honestly...
Would you be the man you are if it wasn't for your mother?
I'm no walk in the park when it comes to discipline and high standards of excellence.
I insist on respect in my house and I expect both my children to function ABOVE the norm at all times.
I expect them to be thoughtful, courteous, compassionate, responsible, forward thinking.
All of these characteristics lay the foundation of manhood and adulthood.
If that foundation is shaky or laid improperly, the whole building (man) will be flawed.
I take my job seriously.
Masculinity and femininity are not overly emphasized in my home. Sure, there's a clear difference between the sexes but more importantly, my children are learning to respect PEOPLE. Not just girls respecting boys. Not just boys respect girls. Respect for all and everyone, regardless of race and gender.
Eve's name means "the mother of all living", and that includes men.
I'm not just an influence to my daughter but to my son also.
He's learning responsibility, accountability and maturity from me.
He's learning the fear of the Lord (which is the beginning of wisdom) from me.
He's learning that when he makes choices, he is expected by me to own his consequences.
Tell the truth.
Think about your fellow man.
When he takes a woman's hand in marriage many years from now, I guarantee you, she'll be glad THIS woman realized that she could and SHOULD raise a man.
After my dating and relationship experience, I wish more women had possessed that same assurance.
Let me tell you what I think...
Femininity may be foreign to men, but masculinity isn't foreign to women.
The bible is clear in Genesis that the woman was created for and FROM the man.
Also, she didn't come into existence by man's request but per God's observation of man's need.
God observed man and created woman as a suitable help meet. I'm not even sure if Adam was aware of what he was missing until he saw it standing right in front of him!
So to answer the question: Not only can women raise men...
THEY SHOULD.
I have no intention of turning out anything short of a grown man in this house.
While I respect his father tremendously and acknowledge his weighty contribution to the growth and development of our son, I also realize that 95% of my son's time is spent with ME.
From the moment he came into this world, mine was the first face his eyes saw.
My voice was the first voice he recognized.
My correction was the first discipline he received.
And for all those men out there who may be sighing and rolling their eyes...particularly you good men...
Ask yourself honestly...
Would you be the man you are if it wasn't for your mother?
I'm no walk in the park when it comes to discipline and high standards of excellence.
I insist on respect in my house and I expect both my children to function ABOVE the norm at all times.
I expect them to be thoughtful, courteous, compassionate, responsible, forward thinking.
All of these characteristics lay the foundation of manhood and adulthood.
If that foundation is shaky or laid improperly, the whole building (man) will be flawed.
I take my job seriously.
Masculinity and femininity are not overly emphasized in my home. Sure, there's a clear difference between the sexes but more importantly, my children are learning to respect PEOPLE. Not just girls respecting boys. Not just boys respect girls. Respect for all and everyone, regardless of race and gender.
Eve's name means "the mother of all living", and that includes men.
I'm not just an influence to my daughter but to my son also.
He's learning responsibility, accountability and maturity from me.
He's learning the fear of the Lord (which is the beginning of wisdom) from me.
He's learning that when he makes choices, he is expected by me to own his consequences.
Tell the truth.
Think about your fellow man.
When he takes a woman's hand in marriage many years from now, I guarantee you, she'll be glad THIS woman realized that she could and SHOULD raise a man.
After my dating and relationship experience, I wish more women had possessed that same assurance.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
I Paid The Cost To Be Here!
We've all dealt with jealousy a time or two but what happens when that jealousy is between baby mamas and children?
Been there and done it.
My children have an older sister who has them by 10 years. About three years ago, her mother made the decision to move out of state. But before the move, I already saw signs of jealousy creeping up.
When she would come up for visits, I noticed her taking inventory of Matt and Cait's clothes and shoes. She would make little comments like, "Must be nice", or something to that effect.
Blah.
More recently, I've heard rumors of their being jealousy concerning their father doing more for my two children than for his oldest child.
It is true that he does spend more time with his children by me than his oldest. Any judge and jury can try and convict him on those charges but really, I'm not trying to feel it.
Why?
People can make judgments and assumptions all they want from the outside looking in.
But only those involved know the facts.
Here's what I know for a fact.
I paid the cost to be here in this place with their father.
It did not come easy. It involved a lot of pride being swallowed, a lot of tears being shed and a lot of conversations with God and close family and friends. I didn't get here waiting on him to do or be the man I thought he could or should be.
I got here by deciding I was going to deal with the man he IS and make the most of it for the sake of our children.
I made a lot of mistakes along the way and so did he but ultimately, I decided that no matter what, I was going to give my children a fighting chance at having a relationship with their dad.
There's nothing "fair" about parenting. Go ahead and wipe that notion of fairness right on out of your head. There's nothing convenient or self serving about it. I've made plenty of decisions not for my sake, but for theirs. And one decision I made was to do everything within my power to facilitate their relationship with their dad.
Not every woman is willing to do what I did and make the sacrifices I've made to make that happen and I understand that.
I also understand that's the difference between my children's relationship with their father and other children's relationship to their fathers dealing with similar circumstances.
You can't hate on me or the relationship my children enjoy with their dad if you're not willing to do the work it takes to make that happen.
Even if you're not married to the man you've made children with and are no longer in a romantic relationship with him, that doesn't mean the work stops. For many it does, but for the ones who are serious about doing what's necessary to have the father of their children around, the work doesn't stop when two people call the relationship done. What happens is that a NEW relationship begins.
It takes just as much work, just as much sacrifice and just as much determination as a romantic relationship.
What keeps me motivated?
My children.
It was my decision to get with their dad so why should I punk out on them just because things got a little tough? Why do I get to get off the hook so easily at their expense? I owed it to them to figure out a way to make the best of a situation I chose and they inherited.
There are some days when it feels like I'm doing all the work. It feels like I'm doing all the bending, making all the concessions, making all of the effort.
And then there are those days when I realize that all of my sacrificing isn't in vain and it's paying off.
What day is that?
Birthdays.
Holidays.
When their father and I can play with our children together in a public place, share memories, exchange gifts with our children, snap pictures, share hugs and love on our babies TOGETHER; you don't get moments like that for free.
You don't just luck up on those type of moments.
That takes real, honest effort and a heart willing to forgive.
A heart willing to stop keeping a running tab of wrongdoing.
A heart willing to let the past go.
A heart willing to accept an apology even if you know he'll probably do it again later on.
A heart willing to give him a second, third and fourth chance to do right by his children.
You don't get there for free.
So yea, people may look in with jealousy, thinking this or that... but they don't see the work that has gone into making this relationship with my children's father what it is today.
That's my message to single mothers. Sure, there are some raggedy men out there, no doubt. But there are also some men of well intentions that although they want to do right, just can't seem to do so. They love their children with all their hearts but for one reason or another, they can't seem to translate this love to the world in an acceptable way.
I know my children's father loves them. It's this understanding that fuels me when things get tough. He can be inconsiderate and absent minded. He's not the best at prioritizing. There are some things he considers to be "important" that I would have made a different choice regarding. He still frustrates me.
But we keep trying.
When he apologizes, I accept it.
When he reschedules, I allow it.
I show respect now and I'm starting to get it back.
We can share memorable moments with our children without the cops being called.
Did that happen by accident?
No ma'am.
No sir.
I paid the cost.
And watching my children laugh and play with their dad at birthday parties and holidays is well worth the price tag.
You have to ask yourself what matters most to you. Does it matter how you look to your girlfriends and family or does it matter how your children get to grow up? For what it's worth, I grew up knowing my father and he was a fixture in my life. But that too came with a price tag. My mother made a decision long ago that the preservation of her family meant more to her than her own need to get even.
Everything has a cost and you have to decide what worthy of your payment.
In my opinion, anything that insures your children grow up happy, healthy and loved by two parents is a no-brainer.
At least from me, you won't be judged and I certainly won't be jealous.
After all, you paid the cost to be there.
Been there and done it.
My children have an older sister who has them by 10 years. About three years ago, her mother made the decision to move out of state. But before the move, I already saw signs of jealousy creeping up.
When she would come up for visits, I noticed her taking inventory of Matt and Cait's clothes and shoes. She would make little comments like, "Must be nice", or something to that effect.
Blah.
More recently, I've heard rumors of their being jealousy concerning their father doing more for my two children than for his oldest child.
It is true that he does spend more time with his children by me than his oldest. Any judge and jury can try and convict him on those charges but really, I'm not trying to feel it.
Why?
People can make judgments and assumptions all they want from the outside looking in.
But only those involved know the facts.
Here's what I know for a fact.
I paid the cost to be here in this place with their father.
It did not come easy. It involved a lot of pride being swallowed, a lot of tears being shed and a lot of conversations with God and close family and friends. I didn't get here waiting on him to do or be the man I thought he could or should be.
I got here by deciding I was going to deal with the man he IS and make the most of it for the sake of our children.
I made a lot of mistakes along the way and so did he but ultimately, I decided that no matter what, I was going to give my children a fighting chance at having a relationship with their dad.
There's nothing "fair" about parenting. Go ahead and wipe that notion of fairness right on out of your head. There's nothing convenient or self serving about it. I've made plenty of decisions not for my sake, but for theirs. And one decision I made was to do everything within my power to facilitate their relationship with their dad.
Not every woman is willing to do what I did and make the sacrifices I've made to make that happen and I understand that.
I also understand that's the difference between my children's relationship with their father and other children's relationship to their fathers dealing with similar circumstances.
You can't hate on me or the relationship my children enjoy with their dad if you're not willing to do the work it takes to make that happen.
Even if you're not married to the man you've made children with and are no longer in a romantic relationship with him, that doesn't mean the work stops. For many it does, but for the ones who are serious about doing what's necessary to have the father of their children around, the work doesn't stop when two people call the relationship done. What happens is that a NEW relationship begins.
It takes just as much work, just as much sacrifice and just as much determination as a romantic relationship.
What keeps me motivated?
My children.
It was my decision to get with their dad so why should I punk out on them just because things got a little tough? Why do I get to get off the hook so easily at their expense? I owed it to them to figure out a way to make the best of a situation I chose and they inherited.
There are some days when it feels like I'm doing all the work. It feels like I'm doing all the bending, making all the concessions, making all of the effort.
And then there are those days when I realize that all of my sacrificing isn't in vain and it's paying off.
What day is that?
Birthdays.
Holidays.
When their father and I can play with our children together in a public place, share memories, exchange gifts with our children, snap pictures, share hugs and love on our babies TOGETHER; you don't get moments like that for free.
You don't just luck up on those type of moments.
That takes real, honest effort and a heart willing to forgive.
A heart willing to stop keeping a running tab of wrongdoing.
A heart willing to let the past go.
A heart willing to accept an apology even if you know he'll probably do it again later on.
A heart willing to give him a second, third and fourth chance to do right by his children.
You don't get there for free.
So yea, people may look in with jealousy, thinking this or that... but they don't see the work that has gone into making this relationship with my children's father what it is today.
That's my message to single mothers. Sure, there are some raggedy men out there, no doubt. But there are also some men of well intentions that although they want to do right, just can't seem to do so. They love their children with all their hearts but for one reason or another, they can't seem to translate this love to the world in an acceptable way.
I know my children's father loves them. It's this understanding that fuels me when things get tough. He can be inconsiderate and absent minded. He's not the best at prioritizing. There are some things he considers to be "important" that I would have made a different choice regarding. He still frustrates me.
But we keep trying.
When he apologizes, I accept it.
When he reschedules, I allow it.
I show respect now and I'm starting to get it back.
We can share memorable moments with our children without the cops being called.
Did that happen by accident?
No ma'am.
No sir.
I paid the cost.
And watching my children laugh and play with their dad at birthday parties and holidays is well worth the price tag.
You have to ask yourself what matters most to you. Does it matter how you look to your girlfriends and family or does it matter how your children get to grow up? For what it's worth, I grew up knowing my father and he was a fixture in my life. But that too came with a price tag. My mother made a decision long ago that the preservation of her family meant more to her than her own need to get even.
Everything has a cost and you have to decide what worthy of your payment.
In my opinion, anything that insures your children grow up happy, healthy and loved by two parents is a no-brainer.
At least from me, you won't be judged and I certainly won't be jealous.
After all, you paid the cost to be there.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Overcoming the Immature Man...
I've fought him.
I've cussed him out.
I've walked away from him.
I've criticized him.
I've ridiculed him.
I even gave up on him.
It wasn't until the Holy Spirit dealt with my heart that I finally began to understand him.
Who is he?
He's the immature man.
I can't tell you how many women I've spoken to, prayed for and cried with, all because of the immature man in their lives. Frustrated, hurt, confused, angry and sometimes bitter. So many of us women have thrown our hands up in frustration, not knowing what to do.
The first thing I want to share with you from the Throne of Grace is that women were not created as a problem but as a solution.
In the garden of Eden, God HIMSELF observed Adam's problem and moved to custom design his solution.
That custom design, is WOMAN.
When you approach any problem in your relationships with men, whether they be fathers, brothers, boyfriends, husbands or sons, remember that within you lies the answer.
I want to share with you some of the main points that the Holy Spirit shared with me that helped me overcome the immaturity of the men in my life:
Maturity is a process. Ecclesiastes tells us that "to everything there is a season and a time and a purpose to everything under the heaven". It takes time to grow up and everyone has a different rate of maturity, even women.
Paul said in 1 Corinthians 13:11 that when he was a child, he thought and spoke as a child but when he "became a man", he put away childish things. Again, to "become" something takes a process and a man becoming a mature man is no exception.
While we cannot change the time it takes for any man to mature, we can facilitate an environment conducive to that maturity.
Remember that even an immature man is STILL A MAN! He's not a boy. If he was a boy, you wouldn't be sharing his bed or his bills. Real talk. His behavior may appear childish at times but the first step in overcoming an immature man is realizing that he is a man and not a boy. No matter how green a banana may be, it's still a banana. The fact that it isn't yet ripe doesn't change its species. An immature man is still a man. He may have lacked opportunity to move in a more mature way and that's where you come in. We as women must present the immature men in our lives with opportunities to be more mature. Bananas ripen in warm, dry places. The process takes time but the environment is key.
Women, we're the environment.
It is easy for all parties to do what comes easy and to fall into unhealthy habits. It's unhealthy for a woman to assume the role of a grown man's mama simply because that's all the two of them are used to. In most cases, the man ends up resenting this dynamic and kicking against it. After all, he has or had a mama and deep down is curious to know what it's like to be with a WOMAN, not a mama.
There is a way to change this dynamic of immaturity and it's done by a combination of time, patience, challenge, and consistency.
If you're looking for instant change, then you're looking for a relationship with a man that is built on a foundation of manipulation and control, which is what many of us, male and female are accustomed to. We're used to being told what to do instead of doing what's right at the right time. We're used to men leaving the hard stuff up to us and we shoulder the load, as well as several chips on our shoulders as a result.
If you want a relationship with a grown man, you must be prepared to only engage a man as a man.
Not a boy.
Not a monkey.
A MAN.
If you know him better than he knows you, why is he always getting the best of you? Let's face it ladies. We KNOW our men, whether he be our sons or our lovers. We know what pushes their buttons, what makes them tick. We know that he's forgetful or that he never remembers important dates. We know that he leaves his clothes on the floor when he's tired and falls asleep in front of the tv after work. However, many of us often fail to harness the power of what we know when it comes to engaging the men in our lives. We fail to counteract. We fail to strategize. If you're not using what you know, the shame isn't on the man, it's on YOU. If you know he's habitually late, why do you always wait til 15 minutes before needing to be somewhere to remind him? Setting up the same scenarios and getting the same disappointing results is not the solution. Setting up WINNING scenarios will help you and the man in your life move past the painful past and into a new day that includes mutual respect. Setting a man up to fail does not make you look good. Instead, it makes you look cruel. Look past the immaturity that drives you up the wall and see what he does get right. For me, it was seeing past his inability to be nailed down to a schedule and realizing that when he did spend time with his children, he was very loving, engaging and affectionate towards them. With this now at the forefront of my mind, I was able to let go of my anger towards him for not fulfilling my expectations of timeliness and consistency and in turn, he became more considerate of my feelings.
You want him to win!. Babies learn to walk with guidance, praise and a little bit of challenge. When I held my son's tiny hands as he wobbled on his chubby legs, I encouraged him to walk and praised each tiny step. Eventually, I increased the distance between myself and him and encouraged him to totter towards me. Many times, he didn't make the distance, but pretty soon, he did, until the the space began to increase more and more. The same goes for dealing with an immature man. At the forefront of anything that you say and do should be your love for the immature man in your life. Your success is NOT in his failure. Truth be told, it's a poor point to score in your favor as a woman if it only causes him to lose as a man. Every step of the way, his success should be your goal and your prayer. What single mom doesn't need an engaged and mature father to her children? What wife doesn't need a mature husband? What mother doesn't want to see her son mature and become a contributor to society? His success makes YOU look good and because of that, make sure he knows from your attitude and actions that you want him to succeed.
Respond positively to any step in the right direction, no matter how small. I don't care how badly you may want to criticize his efforts. I don't care how far short he fell of the intended goal. If an immature man makes even a flinch in the right direction, acknowledge it. I guarantee you, if you make this small change, you will see big rewards.
There's a difference between an immature man and a fool though.
I'll admit, some women are dealing with some fools.
I'm not talking about him. lol!
The difference is that fools are not ignorant or immature. They know what to do, when to do it and often have a lot to show for themselves as a result of this knowledge. The problem is that fools often know right but simply won't DO right. For example, a fool is the man who neglects one set of children but cares for those within his new relationship or marriage.
That's a fool.
Aint much you can do with a fool ladies besides pray for a "David" to come along and whisk you away to his kingdom. lol! I'm teasin... kinda. lol!
Pray for your immature man! Not enough is said about the importance of prayer in our lives. Prayer invites the supernatural power of God into our natural affairs. Prayer can go where words stop short. Pray can change what years of arguing never settled. Pray for your immature man and decree the blessings of the Lord over him. I know you want to see him doused with kerosene and a Newport flicked in his direction, but instead, PRAY. lol! Prayer will change your attitude. Prayer will bring you strategies and insights for how to deal with the men in your life.
We don't have to be sneaky, controlling, mean and hateful in order for a man to treat us right.
We can be the answers that God created us to be to their lives.
Words have power. Don't ever miss an opportunity to speak words of life over the immature man in your life.
Show him respect, even if you don't feel like it.
Stop rolling your eyes and calling him names.
He has a first name. Use it among your friends also, and not his secret nickname. Time to say good-bye to "Silverback". lol!
Remember that our relationship with God is not built on manipulation and control. If anyone had the power and right to control us, that would be God Himself. However, we all know that He doesn't do that. Instead, with loving kindness he draws us and keeps us close. You can't make a man grow up but you can certainly create an environment around him with love, consistency and challenges that make maturity conducive.
Change your attitude, your language and your strategy. If one thing isn't working, try another. If cussing him out doesn't work, why do you continue to do it? If pouting is only a temporary fix, wouldn't it be a good idea to stop the pouting?
The good news is that immaturity is not a permanent state. Things and people do grow and mature. With the right environment and support, the chances of maturity become even greater.
You don't have to be his mama to love him.
The woman in you can bring out the mature man in him.
I've cussed him out.
I've walked away from him.
I've criticized him.
I've ridiculed him.
I even gave up on him.
It wasn't until the Holy Spirit dealt with my heart that I finally began to understand him.
Who is he?
He's the immature man.
I can't tell you how many women I've spoken to, prayed for and cried with, all because of the immature man in their lives. Frustrated, hurt, confused, angry and sometimes bitter. So many of us women have thrown our hands up in frustration, not knowing what to do.
The first thing I want to share with you from the Throne of Grace is that women were not created as a problem but as a solution.
In the garden of Eden, God HIMSELF observed Adam's problem and moved to custom design his solution.
That custom design, is WOMAN.
When you approach any problem in your relationships with men, whether they be fathers, brothers, boyfriends, husbands or sons, remember that within you lies the answer.
I want to share with you some of the main points that the Holy Spirit shared with me that helped me overcome the immaturity of the men in my life:
Maturity is a process. Ecclesiastes tells us that "to everything there is a season and a time and a purpose to everything under the heaven". It takes time to grow up and everyone has a different rate of maturity, even women.
Paul said in 1 Corinthians 13:11 that when he was a child, he thought and spoke as a child but when he "became a man", he put away childish things. Again, to "become" something takes a process and a man becoming a mature man is no exception.
While we cannot change the time it takes for any man to mature, we can facilitate an environment conducive to that maturity.
Remember that even an immature man is STILL A MAN! He's not a boy. If he was a boy, you wouldn't be sharing his bed or his bills. Real talk. His behavior may appear childish at times but the first step in overcoming an immature man is realizing that he is a man and not a boy. No matter how green a banana may be, it's still a banana. The fact that it isn't yet ripe doesn't change its species. An immature man is still a man. He may have lacked opportunity to move in a more mature way and that's where you come in. We as women must present the immature men in our lives with opportunities to be more mature. Bananas ripen in warm, dry places. The process takes time but the environment is key.
Women, we're the environment.
It is easy for all parties to do what comes easy and to fall into unhealthy habits. It's unhealthy for a woman to assume the role of a grown man's mama simply because that's all the two of them are used to. In most cases, the man ends up resenting this dynamic and kicking against it. After all, he has or had a mama and deep down is curious to know what it's like to be with a WOMAN, not a mama.
There is a way to change this dynamic of immaturity and it's done by a combination of time, patience, challenge, and consistency.
If you're looking for instant change, then you're looking for a relationship with a man that is built on a foundation of manipulation and control, which is what many of us, male and female are accustomed to. We're used to being told what to do instead of doing what's right at the right time. We're used to men leaving the hard stuff up to us and we shoulder the load, as well as several chips on our shoulders as a result.
If you want a relationship with a grown man, you must be prepared to only engage a man as a man.
Not a boy.
Not a monkey.
A MAN.
If you know him better than he knows you, why is he always getting the best of you? Let's face it ladies. We KNOW our men, whether he be our sons or our lovers. We know what pushes their buttons, what makes them tick. We know that he's forgetful or that he never remembers important dates. We know that he leaves his clothes on the floor when he's tired and falls asleep in front of the tv after work. However, many of us often fail to harness the power of what we know when it comes to engaging the men in our lives. We fail to counteract. We fail to strategize. If you're not using what you know, the shame isn't on the man, it's on YOU. If you know he's habitually late, why do you always wait til 15 minutes before needing to be somewhere to remind him? Setting up the same scenarios and getting the same disappointing results is not the solution. Setting up WINNING scenarios will help you and the man in your life move past the painful past and into a new day that includes mutual respect. Setting a man up to fail does not make you look good. Instead, it makes you look cruel. Look past the immaturity that drives you up the wall and see what he does get right. For me, it was seeing past his inability to be nailed down to a schedule and realizing that when he did spend time with his children, he was very loving, engaging and affectionate towards them. With this now at the forefront of my mind, I was able to let go of my anger towards him for not fulfilling my expectations of timeliness and consistency and in turn, he became more considerate of my feelings.
You want him to win!. Babies learn to walk with guidance, praise and a little bit of challenge. When I held my son's tiny hands as he wobbled on his chubby legs, I encouraged him to walk and praised each tiny step. Eventually, I increased the distance between myself and him and encouraged him to totter towards me. Many times, he didn't make the distance, but pretty soon, he did, until the the space began to increase more and more. The same goes for dealing with an immature man. At the forefront of anything that you say and do should be your love for the immature man in your life. Your success is NOT in his failure. Truth be told, it's a poor point to score in your favor as a woman if it only causes him to lose as a man. Every step of the way, his success should be your goal and your prayer. What single mom doesn't need an engaged and mature father to her children? What wife doesn't need a mature husband? What mother doesn't want to see her son mature and become a contributor to society? His success makes YOU look good and because of that, make sure he knows from your attitude and actions that you want him to succeed.
Respond positively to any step in the right direction, no matter how small. I don't care how badly you may want to criticize his efforts. I don't care how far short he fell of the intended goal. If an immature man makes even a flinch in the right direction, acknowledge it. I guarantee you, if you make this small change, you will see big rewards.
There's a difference between an immature man and a fool though.
I'll admit, some women are dealing with some fools.
I'm not talking about him. lol!
The difference is that fools are not ignorant or immature. They know what to do, when to do it and often have a lot to show for themselves as a result of this knowledge. The problem is that fools often know right but simply won't DO right. For example, a fool is the man who neglects one set of children but cares for those within his new relationship or marriage.
That's a fool.
Aint much you can do with a fool ladies besides pray for a "David" to come along and whisk you away to his kingdom. lol! I'm teasin... kinda. lol!
Pray for your immature man! Not enough is said about the importance of prayer in our lives. Prayer invites the supernatural power of God into our natural affairs. Prayer can go where words stop short. Pray can change what years of arguing never settled. Pray for your immature man and decree the blessings of the Lord over him. I know you want to see him doused with kerosene and a Newport flicked in his direction, but instead, PRAY. lol! Prayer will change your attitude. Prayer will bring you strategies and insights for how to deal with the men in your life.
We don't have to be sneaky, controlling, mean and hateful in order for a man to treat us right.
We can be the answers that God created us to be to their lives.
Words have power. Don't ever miss an opportunity to speak words of life over the immature man in your life.
Show him respect, even if you don't feel like it.
Stop rolling your eyes and calling him names.
He has a first name. Use it among your friends also, and not his secret nickname. Time to say good-bye to "Silverback". lol!
Remember that our relationship with God is not built on manipulation and control. If anyone had the power and right to control us, that would be God Himself. However, we all know that He doesn't do that. Instead, with loving kindness he draws us and keeps us close. You can't make a man grow up but you can certainly create an environment around him with love, consistency and challenges that make maturity conducive.
Change your attitude, your language and your strategy. If one thing isn't working, try another. If cussing him out doesn't work, why do you continue to do it? If pouting is only a temporary fix, wouldn't it be a good idea to stop the pouting?
The good news is that immaturity is not a permanent state. Things and people do grow and mature. With the right environment and support, the chances of maturity become even greater.
You don't have to be his mama to love him.
The woman in you can bring out the mature man in him.
He + Me = THEM?
"You act just like your daddy".
"You look just like your mama".
"His daddy spit him out"!
"That's her mama, all over again"!
We've all heard these phrases a time or two in life. I'll be the first to admit I've even used some of them myself.
Those who know my family would say that of my two parents, I'm the most like my father. Up until recently, I would have agreed with them. I'm the one who loves to talk. I love to engage the world through words and conversation, regardless of the medium. My mind is full of thoughts at all times.
But it wasn't until recently that I discovered that it was this allegiance to my biological heritage that was holding me back.
You see, I'm not like my dad.
I'm not like my mom.
Although we share similarities, we are also quite different.
So what happens when you spend all of your life focusing on someone's similarities instead of celebrating their differences?
People end up being disappointed.
The one who wants to be copied is disappointed when their carbon copy deviates from the original plan.
The carbon copy feels rejected and confused because they should be able to be just like their expectation, but they can't.
When I look at my two children, I don't see me or their father. Sure, I've said that my children favor me and their father when it comes to their features, but that's the extent of it.
They may look similar to us.
But they are NOT us.
So with the help of the Lord, I have chosen to raise my children with an awareness of themselves and a celebration of what makes them different. I can say with all honestly that I have seen very little in them thus far that looks even remotely like their father and I. Their personalities are very unique so much so, that I've been challenged to find new ways to meet their needs specific to who THEY are, and not to who I am.
It's better to start now than for them to try to find their uniqueness in their 30's like their mom.
Why not let them know now that they don't have to be anything like mom and dad to be ok?
They are fearfully and wonderfully made by God, uniquely designed to provide a solution to this world that only they can give. If they instead spend their lives trying to be like me or their dad, they will have missed the whole point of their existence.
We exist not to be copies of each other but answers for each other.
Not every problem has the same answer and that's why we don't have an earth full of people with the exact same personalities.
There are moments where it's appropriate to emphasize similarities. That's how we overcome things like racism and discrimination.
But when it comes to helping a child discover their purpose and destiny in life, what makes them DIFFERENT must be emphasized and celebrated.
In a world that prefers differences to be camouflaged, it's essential for parents to embrace this Word from the throne of Grace.
It's not our job to crank out "mini me's".
It's our job to encourage our children to celebrate their uniqueness and ultimately seek God for how their unique attributes can and should be used to change the world.
So no, Him (their father) + Me does NOT equal my children.
They're in a class all by themselves.
It's my job to make sure they both stay at the head of their class..
"You look just like your mama".
"His daddy spit him out"!
"That's her mama, all over again"!
We've all heard these phrases a time or two in life. I'll be the first to admit I've even used some of them myself.
Those who know my family would say that of my two parents, I'm the most like my father. Up until recently, I would have agreed with them. I'm the one who loves to talk. I love to engage the world through words and conversation, regardless of the medium. My mind is full of thoughts at all times.
But it wasn't until recently that I discovered that it was this allegiance to my biological heritage that was holding me back.
You see, I'm not like my dad.
I'm not like my mom.
Although we share similarities, we are also quite different.
So what happens when you spend all of your life focusing on someone's similarities instead of celebrating their differences?
People end up being disappointed.
The one who wants to be copied is disappointed when their carbon copy deviates from the original plan.
The carbon copy feels rejected and confused because they should be able to be just like their expectation, but they can't.
When I look at my two children, I don't see me or their father. Sure, I've said that my children favor me and their father when it comes to their features, but that's the extent of it.
They may look similar to us.
But they are NOT us.
So with the help of the Lord, I have chosen to raise my children with an awareness of themselves and a celebration of what makes them different. I can say with all honestly that I have seen very little in them thus far that looks even remotely like their father and I. Their personalities are very unique so much so, that I've been challenged to find new ways to meet their needs specific to who THEY are, and not to who I am.
It's better to start now than for them to try to find their uniqueness in their 30's like their mom.
Why not let them know now that they don't have to be anything like mom and dad to be ok?
They are fearfully and wonderfully made by God, uniquely designed to provide a solution to this world that only they can give. If they instead spend their lives trying to be like me or their dad, they will have missed the whole point of their existence.
We exist not to be copies of each other but answers for each other.
Not every problem has the same answer and that's why we don't have an earth full of people with the exact same personalities.
There are moments where it's appropriate to emphasize similarities. That's how we overcome things like racism and discrimination.
But when it comes to helping a child discover their purpose and destiny in life, what makes them DIFFERENT must be emphasized and celebrated.
In a world that prefers differences to be camouflaged, it's essential for parents to embrace this Word from the throne of Grace.
It's not our job to crank out "mini me's".
It's our job to encourage our children to celebrate their uniqueness and ultimately seek God for how their unique attributes can and should be used to change the world.
So no, Him (their father) + Me does NOT equal my children.
They're in a class all by themselves.
It's my job to make sure they both stay at the head of their class..
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
My Praise And Glory...
About two weeks ago, my sister traveled from the Raleigh, NC area to surprise mom for her 60th birthday. It's always a party when my only sister's in town! We talk daily by phone and text but there's absolutely NOTHING like having her around.
During one of our heartfelt chats, she gave me what unbeknownst to her was probably one of the greatest compliments I've received to date. She told me that she could see how I was raising Matthew and Caitlyn with mutual respect and that they were well behaved.
Man.
It's not something that I publicized or even had a blueprint for. It's not like I saw it coming up. As loving as my parents were, respect was a one way street. They came up under the era of "children should be seen and not heard" as well as things like "talking back" and being "hard headed".
I'll admit, I'm not a friend of my children by any stretch of the imagination. lol! Israel may be a friend of God but in my house, my children are NOT my friends. lol! However, that doesn't mean that I don't love them and try my best to show them respect.
One of the hardest things for me to try to develop personally is my own right to have a voice. It's hard for me to speak up for myself and deal with things that bother me as they happen and in the moment because for so long, I was made to feel like what I felt did not matter. If it hurt me, so what? If it bothered me, so what? No one seemed to care and eventually, neither did I.
But I wanted to start a different pattern for my two children.
I want them to know that they have a right to express themselves as long as it's done respectfully.
I want them to feel like I hear them when they speak and that their thoughts are welcomed.
I want them to know that with me, they have influence.
Now what they want and what they think won't always change my decisions, but I certainly do take their desires into consideration as much as possible.
I've been known to make three different meals for breakfast, lunch or dinner. That was made a lot easier by the simple fact that Matthew has three major food allergies and Caitlyn does not. Often, he's unable to eat the things that she eats. I could just as easily limit Cait's diet to Matt's needs but I don't. She gets to choose what she wants and he gets to do the same, within the guidelines of his dietary restrictions. Some would say that's way too much work for a mom to take on.
That's why I don't listen to what some would say. :)
Sometimes it seems like I'm yelling and fussing about the same things over and over again to my children: "Get down!" "What's that in your mouth?!" "Tell him you're sorry!" "Stop jumping on that bed!:" It's my job to correct them and I do. I may not correct them as much as my parents did me. Trust me, my mom (who I'll write about later) seems to think I'm a little too lenient. I'm quick to remind folks that my children behave age appropriately. They are NOT miniature adults and normal, healthy children laugh, squeal and generally make noise. It is NOT normal to hit, bite, kick, punch and maim people and small animals. None of that is occurring in my house so can we all calm down? lol! There's generally a high level of noise in my house. I can take it. I know what it's like to grow up in a library. No talking. No laughing too loud. No playing too loudly. No messes. I can't tell you how many messes I've witnessed my children make and how many more I'll observe. Funny thing is, before my children were born, I spent a decent grip of money on a formal livingroom suite. Needless to say, small children care nothing about formalities... NOTHING. I can't tell you how many times I've seen things broken, stained and ripped. And guess what? I didn't die. One thing that my children have taught me is that when something new enters your world, it's YOUR responsibility, not theirs to accommodate the new thing. So the formal sofa's not so formal anymore, nor is the livingroom. It's now call the family room. :)
When my sister told me that she could see what I was doing and that it was working, I was beyond humbled. I didn't dive head first into parenting books. I didn't take parenting classes. I'm not against any of those things but I'm a living witness that the Holy Spirit IS a Teacher. If you listen to His gentle whispers, He will guide everything you do, including the raising of your children. When Caitlyn developed a hair pulling habit, the Holy Spirit revealed to me the solution. When Matt was getting ill for an unexplained reason, the Holy Spirit revealed to me it was a food allergy. When either of them exhibit a behavior that I don't quite like, He always reveals the source and the solution.
I give Him thanks and praise for it all!
But the point I want to leave you with is that moms so appreciate the encouragement that you give to them. It's a challenging job with more critics than helpers. No matter who's on their job or not, it always falls back on the mom. Whether we're tired, sick or facing our own emotional battles, there's no pause button. We do our best to instill the right values in our children, hoping that when they're away from us, they'll be the amazing little human beings we know they're capable of being. So when a school teacher, Sunday school teacher,. relative or friend comes up and says, "Your child is so well mannered", or "She's so thoughtful", it's the best news of our day.
Good moms aren't in it for praise and glory. God knows nobody's handing it out in abundance anyway.
But a compliment to our children IS our praise and glory.
In our hearts, it lets us know that we're doing something right.
Maybe I do give lots of hugs and kisses and let them stay up past their bedtime a time or two. But when I hear that my children are compassionate, thoughtful and concerned about others around them, it lets me know that these are traits and attributes that they can see in me and they're sinking in.
It's a feeling I can't describe or do justice with words.
If you know of a mom who has amazing children, please tell her. You may think she already knows because her children are just like totally awesome and so stinkin cute. But trust me, when she's at home begging them to eat green beans or demanding they find their missing left shoe, it's hard to see the progress and the impact of your parenting.
Let her know she's seen and appreciated.
Let her know she's making a difference somewhere between playtime and bathtime.
Let her know that her labor is not in vain.
Thank you Babe for letting me know.
I'm gonna keep on keepin on for them.
During one of our heartfelt chats, she gave me what unbeknownst to her was probably one of the greatest compliments I've received to date. She told me that she could see how I was raising Matthew and Caitlyn with mutual respect and that they were well behaved.
Man.
It's not something that I publicized or even had a blueprint for. It's not like I saw it coming up. As loving as my parents were, respect was a one way street. They came up under the era of "children should be seen and not heard" as well as things like "talking back" and being "hard headed".
I'll admit, I'm not a friend of my children by any stretch of the imagination. lol! Israel may be a friend of God but in my house, my children are NOT my friends. lol! However, that doesn't mean that I don't love them and try my best to show them respect.
One of the hardest things for me to try to develop personally is my own right to have a voice. It's hard for me to speak up for myself and deal with things that bother me as they happen and in the moment because for so long, I was made to feel like what I felt did not matter. If it hurt me, so what? If it bothered me, so what? No one seemed to care and eventually, neither did I.
But I wanted to start a different pattern for my two children.
I want them to know that they have a right to express themselves as long as it's done respectfully.
I want them to feel like I hear them when they speak and that their thoughts are welcomed.
I want them to know that with me, they have influence.
Now what they want and what they think won't always change my decisions, but I certainly do take their desires into consideration as much as possible.
I've been known to make three different meals for breakfast, lunch or dinner. That was made a lot easier by the simple fact that Matthew has three major food allergies and Caitlyn does not. Often, he's unable to eat the things that she eats. I could just as easily limit Cait's diet to Matt's needs but I don't. She gets to choose what she wants and he gets to do the same, within the guidelines of his dietary restrictions. Some would say that's way too much work for a mom to take on.
That's why I don't listen to what some would say. :)
Sometimes it seems like I'm yelling and fussing about the same things over and over again to my children: "Get down!" "What's that in your mouth?!" "Tell him you're sorry!" "Stop jumping on that bed!:" It's my job to correct them and I do. I may not correct them as much as my parents did me. Trust me, my mom (who I'll write about later) seems to think I'm a little too lenient. I'm quick to remind folks that my children behave age appropriately. They are NOT miniature adults and normal, healthy children laugh, squeal and generally make noise. It is NOT normal to hit, bite, kick, punch and maim people and small animals. None of that is occurring in my house so can we all calm down? lol! There's generally a high level of noise in my house. I can take it. I know what it's like to grow up in a library. No talking. No laughing too loud. No playing too loudly. No messes. I can't tell you how many messes I've witnessed my children make and how many more I'll observe. Funny thing is, before my children were born, I spent a decent grip of money on a formal livingroom suite. Needless to say, small children care nothing about formalities... NOTHING. I can't tell you how many times I've seen things broken, stained and ripped. And guess what? I didn't die. One thing that my children have taught me is that when something new enters your world, it's YOUR responsibility, not theirs to accommodate the new thing. So the formal sofa's not so formal anymore, nor is the livingroom. It's now call the family room. :)
When my sister told me that she could see what I was doing and that it was working, I was beyond humbled. I didn't dive head first into parenting books. I didn't take parenting classes. I'm not against any of those things but I'm a living witness that the Holy Spirit IS a Teacher. If you listen to His gentle whispers, He will guide everything you do, including the raising of your children. When Caitlyn developed a hair pulling habit, the Holy Spirit revealed to me the solution. When Matt was getting ill for an unexplained reason, the Holy Spirit revealed to me it was a food allergy. When either of them exhibit a behavior that I don't quite like, He always reveals the source and the solution.
I give Him thanks and praise for it all!
But the point I want to leave you with is that moms so appreciate the encouragement that you give to them. It's a challenging job with more critics than helpers. No matter who's on their job or not, it always falls back on the mom. Whether we're tired, sick or facing our own emotional battles, there's no pause button. We do our best to instill the right values in our children, hoping that when they're away from us, they'll be the amazing little human beings we know they're capable of being. So when a school teacher, Sunday school teacher,. relative or friend comes up and says, "Your child is so well mannered", or "She's so thoughtful", it's the best news of our day.
Good moms aren't in it for praise and glory. God knows nobody's handing it out in abundance anyway.
But a compliment to our children IS our praise and glory.
In our hearts, it lets us know that we're doing something right.
Maybe I do give lots of hugs and kisses and let them stay up past their bedtime a time or two. But when I hear that my children are compassionate, thoughtful and concerned about others around them, it lets me know that these are traits and attributes that they can see in me and they're sinking in.
It's a feeling I can't describe or do justice with words.
If you know of a mom who has amazing children, please tell her. You may think she already knows because her children are just like totally awesome and so stinkin cute. But trust me, when she's at home begging them to eat green beans or demanding they find their missing left shoe, it's hard to see the progress and the impact of your parenting.
Let her know she's seen and appreciated.
Let her know she's making a difference somewhere between playtime and bathtime.
Let her know that her labor is not in vain.
Thank you Babe for letting me know.
I'm gonna keep on keepin on for them.
The Rule...
We thrive on rules and regulations. Rules make the world go around. Were it not for rules, cars would crash, systems would fail and we'd all descend into chaos. Rules established the very world we live in the moment God declared, "Let there be...".
So when it comes to this love thing, where do the rules go? lol!
The father of my children and I have a very unique relationship. We are not enemies. We are not a couple. What we are now has yet to be clearly defined.
But this is what I do know...
Yesterday at 10:50 a.m., he called me with fear in his voice, telling me he was leaving work because he was suddenly ill.
I'm sure the rules say that's his problem, let him figure it out and keep it movin. I'm a baby mama and that's all.
But that's not what happened.
Instead, I called, I texted. When he left the emergency room, I went to his house to check on him.
He didn't say anything negative. He did tell me I didn't have to go through the trouble for him.
Maybe, in the back of his mind, he didn't think he was worth the trouble.
But he is.
Everyone that I love is worth the trouble.
In that moment, when I didn't know what was wrong with him, all I knew was that I was the one he called and I wasn't about to leave him to face his emergency alone.
The complicated past between us didn't matter.
Our gray areas and unclear boundaries didn't matter.
All that mattered in that moment was being there and showing love.
And that's the place where love breaks the rules.
You don't have to explain and rationalize everything.
Some things need to be clearly defined and some things need rules and boundaries.
But love aint one of them.
It is the rule.
Love one another.
So when it comes to this love thing, where do the rules go? lol!
The father of my children and I have a very unique relationship. We are not enemies. We are not a couple. What we are now has yet to be clearly defined.
But this is what I do know...
Yesterday at 10:50 a.m., he called me with fear in his voice, telling me he was leaving work because he was suddenly ill.
I'm sure the rules say that's his problem, let him figure it out and keep it movin. I'm a baby mama and that's all.
But that's not what happened.
Instead, I called, I texted. When he left the emergency room, I went to his house to check on him.
He didn't say anything negative. He did tell me I didn't have to go through the trouble for him.
Maybe, in the back of his mind, he didn't think he was worth the trouble.
But he is.
Everyone that I love is worth the trouble.
In that moment, when I didn't know what was wrong with him, all I knew was that I was the one he called and I wasn't about to leave him to face his emergency alone.
The complicated past between us didn't matter.
Our gray areas and unclear boundaries didn't matter.
All that mattered in that moment was being there and showing love.
And that's the place where love breaks the rules.
You don't have to explain and rationalize everything.
Some things need to be clearly defined and some things need rules and boundaries.
But love aint one of them.
It is the rule.
Love one another.
Saturday, November 05, 2011
Join The Celebration, Already in Progress...
1 Samuel 12:15-23 reads:
After Nathan had gone home, the LORD struck the child that Uriah’s wife had borne to David, and he became ill. 16 David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and spent the nights lying in sackcloth[a] on the ground. 17 The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused, and he would not eat any food with them.
18 On the seventh day the child died. David’s attendants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, “While the child was still living, he wouldn’t listen to us when we spoke to him. How can we now tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate.”
19 David noticed that his attendants were whispering among themselves, and he realized the child was dead. “Is the child dead?” he asked.
“Yes,” they replied, “he is dead.”
20 Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.
21 His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!”
22 He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ 23 But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”
I rolled up to the carpool line yesterday in my usual manner. I know I've been the talk of the line; I'm dressed up, hair and makeup done, Caitlyn in tow. I can hear the whispers and see the stares. Everyone is trying to figure out exactly what's with me. But yesterday, a mom that I see often in the line couldn't contain herself a minute longer. She blurted out, "You're always so dressed up. How do you have time for that? All I have time for is a tee shirt and jeans. Aren't you cold?" I smiled at her, not even letting her intended insult phase me. Instead, I looked back at her compassionately and said, "You make time for the things you want".
When I came home, I began to meditate on what happened. I know I've been looking different lately but as far as I was concerned, it was an isolated incident, MY choice. I'm certainly not the only woman who wears makeup on a daily basis. I'm not the only mama with nice hair. So why were the changes I was making irritating other others around me so much?
That's when this scripture dropped into my heart.
King David experienced the devastating illness and death of a child. However, those around him were watching his every move while he cried and prayed to God, pleading for his newborn son's life. They had him all figured out. When his son did pass away, those standing by thought surely he'd take a turn for the worse once he heard the heartbreaking news.
But David did something that shocked the whole kingdom.
He got up, he bathed, he dressed himself, he asked for something to eat, and then, he went and comforted his grieving wife Bathsheba.
Pain, difficulty, disappointment and sorrow all have a scripts and costumes. You're expected to look and behave a certain way when you go through certain things. People don't know how to take it when you do the opposite of what they were anticipating.
I may not have pleaded with God for my child's life, but I have pleaded with Him to keep some things alive that were slowly dying around me. When my high school best friend was diagnosed as manic depressive with psychotic episodes, I tried hard to hold onto what we had before. I loved him deeply, even romantically, although he wasn't interested in me that way. We shared a very loving friendship. But once he was hospitalized and diagnosed, I felt what we had slipping away.
I've tried to repair relationships with relatives whom I love dearly. I've called. I've spent time. I've written letters. But no matter how much I tried, I felt it slipping away.
As I sit here today, thinking over the things that slipped away even though I tried so very hard to hold on to them, I look to King David as my inspiration.
Sure, it would have been nice to have been married by age 33.
It would have been nice to have a college degree.
It would have been such a blessing to have a loving relationship with this loved one or that one.
But it didn't happen.
So what did I do?
I got up, I worshiped. I dressed up and I joined the celebration called life that was already in progress.
I'm sure the ladies in the carpool line mean no harm. They too want to celebrate something in their lives. They too want something to get dolled up about. They too want somewhere to go and a place to see.
And that's the problem.
I'm not waiting for somewhere to go. I just decided to make any place THE place to be, even if it's the carpool line.
I decided that everyone in my life needed to be taken care of and that includes ME.
I decided that just because I've been through some things and am going through some things, that doesn't mean I have to look like everything I'm going through or have EVER been through.
I choose to look differently.
I'm the one dressed up in the carpool line.
I'm the one in full face and hair at the grocery store.
I'm the one smiling for absolutely no discernible reason.
I decided to make life a celebration anywhere, and anytime.
I'm not waiting to be invited to anything.
I'm already there.
If you're waiting on your invitation to a joyful life, I'm here to tell you, you're in for a long wait. The celebration is where you choose to make it.
Get your party hat and your pretty dress on. Get hatted and suited.
The place is HERE. The time is NOW.
That's what makes life with Jesus so supernatural. He's not limited to the "what's" and "how's" of life. He dwells in the place called "NOW".
NOW I can be happy, not when I get married... not when I'm debt free.
NOW I can have peace, not when all my enemies disappear.
NOW I can have joy, not after every dream comes true.
With Him, "some day" becomes TODAY.
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