Days of My Life

Today, I’d planned to write about character. Maybe some other time. Instead, I want to inspire you to “be.”

You are unique
You are special
You are divine
You are extraordinary
BE extraordinary

You are fearless
You are brave
You are powerful beyond measure
You are full of glory and valor
BE valiant

You are radiant
You are life
You are love
You are beautiful
BE beautiful

You are precious
You are a s/hero
You are valuable
Value yourself
and
BE valuable

Hold your applause, please. I just really wanted to share that with someone I hung out with this weekend, and I figured we all can use a reminder from time to time to be good to us.

*Something MP commented and something that happened today have inspired today’s post.*

Don’t you hate it when it feels like God is playing the Quiet Game? You kick, scream, yell, bawl, and yet, you hear not a word. Frustration is the typical result until you just make up in your mind to let go of the circumstance(s). What else can you do?

But have you ever wondered exactly what God is doing when you feel like He is paying no attention to you? I now think I know. Of course He’s waiting on you to get over yourself and thinking that everything is about you, but also, I think He’s sitting back watching His plan unfold.

Here’s how I think I know.

After a long, intense, and ugly battle, a dear friend of mine just won full custody of his daughter. When he and I reconnected about five years ago, he had physical but not legal custody of his daughter. She was in kindergarten at the time. He was raising her, and she was his inspiration for getting his life on track.

He was one of those middle-class kids who is drawn to “hood life” for all the wrong reasons. He used to idolize NWA and the Ghetto Boyz when we were in school. Those were his heroes, and his life went on to show it. He went off to college and was legit for a little while, but he appeal of thug life got the best of him, and he ended up behind bars. Somewhere in that process he hooked up with a real hood chick and had a child, his daughter. His mom was his daughter’s mom while he was behind bars. He felt bad for making her have to do that, and that is when he decided to change. He got out, reclaimed his life, and went on to help other young men with theirs.

I will never forget the day he brought his little lady to meet my mom. (Our mothers have known each other for years.) Her hair was done and she was dressed to the nines, complete with a matching purse. Talk about prissy and a complete mess! She had such a huge personality. She was too much with her pretty skirt, tights, and Sunday shoes. And the hair? He’d done it himself. He’d learned how to do everything that needed to be done for her himself, including picking out her clothes and dressing her. He was putting her through private school while still paying her mother child support for the child of which he had physical custody, and her performance in school was stellar. In regards to the mother, I ain’t sayin’ she’s a gold digger, but she ain’t messin’ with no broke, unh huh, you know the rest.

The day her mother came to “reclaim” Lil Missy at the prompting of her new boyfriend nearly broke my friend’s heart. He vowed that he would get his daughter back, and he was prepared never to stop until he did. He sought the help of a male family member, an attorney, who referred him to someone else, not taking him seriously. When the family member saw months later that he was still serious, he agreed to help, but his help was not enough. My friend sought yet other assistance and kept pushing his case. He did his due diligence, and he won. The mother now only has supervised visitation.

He fought so hard because his daughter had a mother who really didn’t want her. The environment her mother provided was unfit, and for the first five years of her life, he was all his daughter knew. His commitment to her was so strong that he vowed never to marry until he could finish raising his daughter. She’s a bit possessive; he knows that no woman is going to tolerate coming second to a child, including sitting in the backseat so Lil Missy can have the front.

I love him for loving his daughter so much. He once said that he wouldn’t marry unless he could marry me. I’m sure he was being funny, but even if not, he will not be marrying me, but I would absolutely want my children to have a father with love for them just like my friend loves his daughter.

Moving back to my original point, the whole time my friend was fighting for custody someone was always telling him to quit, give up, that no judge would take a child, esp. a girl, from its mother. He was so frustrated, he couldn’t even stay in the same town. He moved and commuted during the month to maintain visitation with his child. He re-enrolled in graduate school and had to deal with challenges there. In addition to other personal challenges, he dealt with all of this and kept fighting. His life was rough, and since the fight took years, I’m sure there were times when he felt like God was not listening and not speaking.

During this process, he has become closer to God than I’ve ever known him to be. He even sends out weekly messages to inspire his friends. I imagine that this was all a part of God’s big plan that was working for my friend’s good and his daughter’s. So, God must have been listening the whole time. His silence was not really silence at all, but the strategic waiting of a patient God allowing us to come into our own.

All photos are © Copyright: Shmuel Halevi, Israel

I was talking to my sister last night, and for those of you who watch Grey’s Anatomy, she’s my person. We had an interesting discussion as we occasionally do. What I told her I will tell you.

Some people have a tendency to get stuck in their pasts. I have made peace with my past. No, my problem is something altogether different. I am stuck in my present. My future is fighting me for a chance to be, but I can’t seem to get past my present and what it looks like. I can hear God’s voice and direction clearly, and as He points to my future, I direct Him to what “is.” What a terrible predicament to be in.

My sister reminded me of a Jamal-Harrison Bryant sermon, “I’m Fighting for My Future.” She went over her notes from hearing the mp3 and outlined a sermon on Jacob wrestling with the angel where the angel represented his future. The distinction is that wrestling is different from a beat you down fight. Jacob had to wrestle for his future and refuse to let go. Like Jacob, I must now choose to wrestle for mine. If my future is slightly proportionate to the hell I’ve been through, then my future will need its own land mass.

Wrestling for my future means that I must let some things die. Unforgiveness absolutely has to die. It has to be water under the bridge and a series of misdeeds under the blood. I sin daily by word, thought, or deed, so my forgiveness from God comes daily as should my forgiveness of myself. When someone offends me as some person is prone to do, I have to immediately let it become like the water you see flowing under the bridge above. There is no trickling there, but the force of the water propels life on, and no one element in the water ever stays stuck in a present or past position. One thing is certain about water: it will move on. So will we.

My pride, and I have a lot of it, will have to die. Is it going to keep me warm, share laughs while shopping, drive with me to my mom’s house, break bread with me over a home cooked meal? I think not. There is no room in my future for my pride, my constant companion for so many years now. Not one Brownie point has it added to my life. It has to die today, presently.

Fear of the details that I do not know, that has to die today in my present. I have to trust God with what I do not see and believe that His will and His thought towards me really are of peace and goodness to bring me to an expected end. God recently showed me what looked like photos that suggest I am a tool or conduit to the extent that much of what presently consumes me isn’t really about me at all. There are some things with which I’m dealing to align my life to be a blessing to someone else. That knocked the wind out of my sails because here I was just knowing that all my angst was due to God’s punishing me for some unknown offense (I’m only slightly facetious here). My life is only one part of a puzzle that God is working out for all of our greater goods. I just have to get over myself and trust my feet in His footsteps.

To move from my present to my future, beyond what I can presently see, I am compelled to do as my sister has told me and FAITH BIG! I laughed and told her that she had made faith an action verb. I laughed when I said it, the OCD grammar chick that I am, all the while knowing inside that an action verb is exactly what faith should be. That’s what I need to get from my present to my future, to stop basing my future expectations on what “is.” I must with all certainty FAITH BIG! You try it too.

Enjoy your day and use the space in the comments below to let someone else know s/he is not alone as you share some areas where you need to throw some things under a bridge and FAITH BIG!!

Yours Sincerely…

You already know that when one Black person does something dumb it represents the whole race, right? Well, yeah, it does, and that’s exactly why on more days than not, I’m not Black. But let’s follow that line of logic and you’ll understand why I don’t like Black people.

So I’m traveling this past weekend and reach my family destination just fine. Twenty-four hours into my trip my check engine light comes on. I don’t really do auto stuff. I don’t even wash my car. My dad has always taken care of that to the extent that he hired people to do it when he was no longer able. I can add fluid and change a tire in a bind–that’s all. Oh, I do know how to change a fuse too. Anyway, it was after service hours, and I had to get back on the road the next morning. There was no time for extensive mechanic work.

Enter “foolishness” stage right. >>>>I have one associate (wannabe friend and potential Significant Other) who still lives back home, and he’s also pretty handy with cars, or at least that’s what he claims. He’s one of these pro-Black community, mentoring, how can I save the people Black folks. Good candidate for uplift and social responsibility. I call and ask for help. First words: “I can’t help you. I’m on my way home to see the game.” He then went on to explain how I would need a machine to read some code and that I could try going to Advanced Auto and adding some fluid. One of the guys there would be able to help me. Hmmm?? So what do I need you for? Exactly. Absolutely nothing. But when the game goes South, you want company of an interpersonal kind? I gave him company alright, but that open letter will be another post. Coincidentally, he was Black. The guy who helped me at Advanced Auto? The one White employee working that night.

The facility that has my father is staffed primarily by, you guessed it, Blacks. He had to be sent to the ER. My mom and I were called and told the name of the hospital. We went there. The only problem is that where we were sent is not where he was sent. We found him at another hospital in a hallway half hanging off a gurney passed out. Can you spell p-i-s-s-e-d boys and girls? Did I mention that he was only partially dressed as well? Can one be pissed to the highest level of pisstivity? Methinks so. I was, but I had to focus my attention on the patient first. The nurses who sent him out like that and who made the wrong call? All Black. Hospital staff that jumped to it once we came in the door–all White. Do you see something wrong with this picture? Geo. Bush ain’t the only one who don’t care about Black people. In defense of Black folks though, if there can be any, he was sent to the White hospital with a few Black employees. I think the few Black employees may be one of the main reasons I saw more white folks in the waiting area than in any other hospital in town.

Exhibit C. I work with someone who calls me a business partner while I do all the work and he takes all the profit. Doesn’t sound like much of a partnership, does it? I don’t think so either, which is why I refer to him as an employer because, well, that’s what he is. Anyway, in the opening phase of the grant we’re working on, a lot of groundwork is required. The promise is that I get compensated once the grant funds come in, but I’m still working then too, and I consider those funds compensation for the work I do at that time. In my mind, the groundwork is done without compensation, and I don’t like that. We’re going to do something about that because it’s not sound business sense. Mr. Chuck must think I’m a fool because in lieu of compensation he offered me dinner and even agreed to pick me up from my house. This is the same person who had me apologizing to Cord for being a hypocrite. This man is no fool and knows he’s trying to financially take advantage of me. Ain’t gonna happen. And guess what? He’s Black!! Also another pro-Black folks let me help the people person, but while I’m at it let me see how I can exploit them for financial gain person as well. When I worked with some racist Asians in the same company, they tried to exploit me and I expected it of them. Why must educated Blacks be so grimy while trying to look down their crooked noses at those in the hood?

For some stupid reason, I expect a lot of Black folks of a certain class because well, after all, they’re supposed to be Black folks and not n*g^&s. That’s what common sense (which is not so common) tells us. Common sense lies. Since common sense has become a liar, you will come to find that I equally despise Blacks and n*&^^s. I’m an equal opportunity racist. You want some of the worst service in the world? Find Black people. Y’all suck.

Okay, yes, I just insulted a whole race of people for the faults of a few, but I’m really just trying to follow the set example the media has given me because I really just want to be a “good” Negro. Also, I wanted you to understand why it’s not just people that I dislike, but Black people specifically because Black people don’t seem to give a rat’s tail about one another, and that indifference transcends lines of class. The underlying assumption is that I believe they should care.

Of course, I’m angry and venting, but am I really far off the mark? I’m open to criticism and correction.

Today started out kind of blah because of allergy stuff, but I’ve changed my disposition, and things are looking up!!

I let my neti pot and some Excedrin handle the allergies.

Guess what good happened today?!! Okay, stop guessing! I’ll tell you.

I’m going back to Jamaica! Whoopeee!!! That’s where I’ll spend Thanksgiving. Didn’t I just say I badly needed and was taking a vacay no matter what? This is what I was talking about when I said once I put my mind to something the universe just lines up in order. Amazing, right? My cousin called and told me she was canceling her trip with another cousin and that she wanted to reschedule with me. She booked her flight today and emailed me the dates. I get to pick the destination and resort. She picks the activities. This is going to be GREAT!!! I can’t wait. Seriously. I really can’t wait.

The second sparkle of greatness is a wonderful Happy Birthday wish from a friend of mine today. It was really a nice gesture except today is not my birthday. I had to ask if she knew to whom she was speaking. It was a funny conversation but nice just the same.

The third but not less wonderful thing in the least is that I got to speak with my grands. One is 92 and the other 90. They want to see me but understand that all my trips home are with my dad. Anyway, my uncle, a retired preacher, teases me about teaching him how to speak good English. It’s been a running joke since I was five.

Before getting off of the phone, my aunt (90) asked me that when I send him some English lessons could I put something in there to teach him that the n-word (her term) has been dead and buried and not to resurrect it anymore.

His reply: A, that N-word got up before Jesus did. Before the Pharisees got back to town, N was already sittin’ there. (laughter)
They told Jesus he had all power, but N was more powerful than him because Jesus stayed in the grave three days but N got up in one. *dead*