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. :)
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