2011 has been a whirlwind of ups and downs. Without question, the most difficult pill to swallow was the passing of my only brother, Bobby. A few days after Christmas 2010, we learned that he had a brain tumor that turned out to be cancerous. Something called a glioblastoma. It affected his mobility and coordination which would be difficult for anyone to watch but my brother played basketball all of his life so this was an humbling course of events. However, he never let it break his spirit.
In January, about a month after he was diagnosed and the same week he began chemotherapy, my sisters (Tonya and Racquel) and I took a road trip to visit our baby brother. He's older than Racquel and I, but because he's the only boy he's always been like our little brother. He's 19 years older than I. I just noticed that I'm talking about him like he's still here. In some ways he is.
Anyway, we went to see him while he was at John's Hopkin's (one of the best neurological and cardiology hospitals in the world). Seeing him in a wheel chair was difficult but watching his physical therapy and speech therapy sessions was even harder. Simply because he'd begun to regress to a child-like state. Slowly, but noticeably and he needed us.
He stayed in Maryland until June. Married with children but alone. My parents made their trips to Maryland as frequently as they could and eventually his doctors were disheartened with the lack of involvement with his immediate family (wife and grown children) because he needed to be taken care of. Almost completely immobile and on a host of debilitating medications, they sent him to us. His job chartered an ambulance to drive him from Maryland to North Carolina in June. Which was probably the best gift we could have ever received.
I remember the EMS truck pulling in to the drive way. I wasn't sure what to expect because I hadn't seen him since March. Two young men hopped out of the truck and opened the back of the truck and wheeled my little big brother out on a stretcher. He was extremely swollen from the steroids but his hair had started to grow back a little since his first cycle of chemo had been completed. They sat him on the sofa and asked me to sign to indicate that they'd delivered our precious package safely. I thanked them and they headed back to Baltimore. "What's up, Ash!" He said and extended his arms to embrace me. He always attempted to stand to hug us but didn't have the control in his limbs. At 6'7" that's a whole lot of man to support. I pushed him back on the sofa and embraced him, asked him how he was feeling, and he said he was hungry (as usual).
That month seemed like years and I'm so grateful. He knew he didn't have long but he didn't want us to know. Every day he wanted to do something. "I can't sit in the house. I want to go to Sam's! Let's have dinner at Moe's tonight, Ma! Let's go get some steaks and throw them on the grill!" My mother would set the steaks on the kitchen table and let him season them from his chair. We never wanted to strip him of all of his independence and he always loved to cook.
We'd made plans to have a HUGE family Fourth of July cookout. It fell on a Sunday this year. It's so surreal how short life is and how precious it is. That Friday morning he called a few times, wanting to go out to breakfast and to Sam's to get all the food he wanted to have for our barbeque. By this time, my parents had found him an apartment around the corner from their home. They were basically living with him but he wanted to have his own place. I remember he called about three times back to back. The fourth time, his son called and said he was unconscious and from that point the world started to move in slow motion. In about ten minutes time (between the third and the fourth phone call) our lives changed in an instant. As they wheeled him out of the apartment and into the truck, my mother whispered, "I love you, Yorkie," in his ear and tear ran down the side of his face. Even though he was unresponsive, that was the last sign of life we were given.
About an hour passed. My dad left in the ambulance with my brother's lifeless body while we all stayed behind. After the longest hour of my life, we all caravanned and made our way to the hospital. We hadn't heard from daddy and were getting anxious. He'd left the hospital to meet us at home. He didn't want to tell us over the phone. By the time we all realized where he was, we were at the hospital, daddy got back there a few minutes after us and told us all in the lobby of Wake Medical Center's Emergency facility.
It's hard to say his passing was sudden because he knew all along he didn't have much longer with us but it was sudden for us because we had just started feeling like a complete unit again. He always lived so far away from us (Minnesota, Texas, Wisconsin, Detroit, Spain, Turkey) and it felt like once we got him back he was taken almost immediately. At least that's how it felt.
This week we celebrate why we're thankful. We sit around and we eat and rejoice about who we have in our lives and how we appreciate them. Thanksgiving was my brother's absolute favorite holiday and I'm thankful that heaven gave my parents, my sisters, and I the opportunity to care for and love my brother in his last hours, and that he knew we loved him. He never had to look for us. He needed us but we needed him just as much. And as his days slipped away, I'm so thankful that God gave us his last breath.
A few weeks after he passed, I went to the hospital to get his medical records. I read through it and it said, "Immediate family at his bedside". Those few words will always mean the world to me because we were given that last moment. And not just this Thanksgiving but for every one that I'm afforded the opportunity to see.
All I ask of those that read this, is to take inventory of the people in your life. The ones that matter, the ones that need you and that you need, the ones you take for granted, and the ones you couldn't imagine being without and if you can't think of one thing to be thankful for.... Be thankful for that....
Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 21, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
He's Preparing Me ----> All Grown Up
I’ve definitely reached a point in my life where I know what I want. Or at least I have a pretty good idea what I want. My needs are better suited for God to sort out. I do believe, however, that he has a knack for intertwining wants and needs if they’re so suited to be…. Intertwined. In this case, of course I’m talking about RELATIONSHIPS.
I’ve spent the last year determined to purge myself of every relationship that was out of the will of God. Things I knew had no possibility of flourishing or prospering because they weren’t God ordained. God has a way of weeding out the unnecessary, unhealthy, and ill-gotten things that we try so desperately to cling to.
After the last time I made a poor relationship choice, I opted to really take the time to get to know who I had become. One of the first things I learned was that, when you are constantly in a cycle of relationships you have very little time to see yourself change and evaluate those changes.
Every situation brings about some type of interpersonal change. Whether it be a resolve to not take or tolerate certain things, think before you act, “make them wait”, take it slow….. you’ve changed and the change can almost always be attributed to a situation or relationship that caused you to think that way.
The time that I’ve taken for myself has REALLY opened my eyes to not only what I want but to what God knows I need. I used to think I took time for myself after a break up when I’d sit still for a month, meet someone and continue the cycle. It’s been a little over a year and my God it feels good to actually be rid of all of the junk and baggage. Like really be rid of it. Not to feel all of the old feelings and hurt feelings when you hear someone’s name or see their face. I’ll elaborate in a minute.
The last person I attempted a relationship with was so far away from who God has ordained for me that God’s ripping the situation from my clutches was more painful than I can remember anything else being. BUT once my hands were off of it and God really showed me the person and their motives and THEIR baggage, I had the Oprah Aha! Moment. I remember asking myself early this year, “Is that really who you’d want to be the father of your children? Would you be proud to call him your husband?” And those two questions sealed the deal.
Lately, I’ve been praying that God prepare my heart to be a wife. It goes far beyond just wanting to be married. My desire to know God has increased. My desire to pray has increased. Not because I’m praying for a man but because the man that I know God has set aside for me, needs a praying wife. I find myself changing in lot of ways. From my saving habits to my housekeeping to planning ahead and the list goes on.
These habits were just things that kind of developed over time. As I started to evolve out of being broken and becoming a whole woman, my desire to be a good wife and to prepare myself NOW increased.
Now earlier I’d mentioned I wanted to elaborate on feelings arising when you hear someone’s name or see them or they hit you up on Facebook. I used to get really, really weak mainly because I never ridded myself of the person and I liked the idea of being in a relationship. Go back through some really old posts from this blog and you’ll see what I mean. I used to get so wrapped up in the thrill of it all that I almost missed what God was trying to teach me and who he was trying to give me.
It’s funny how the enemy waits for you to make a declaration so that he can build road blocks to keep you from your destination. Last week, I’d say for the last two weeks I’ve had three people that I used to date pop up. If you follow me on Twitter you may have seen this tweet but they were back to back to back. One of the men had called himself “The One for me” which I quickly shut down. Another requested to see me and I said “no” LIGHTENING fast. The last one, wanted to feel me out. To see if I’d ask about his life now. My plans for next year. I think he said he wanted to check on me. I think what was most enlightening about all three encounters was that I didn’t flinch. I didn’t pacify the situations and I didn’t act retarded and pretend it was God sending them back to me. Oh and I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve done that ☺ I guess another thing that I’ve learned to do is turn up the voice of God and tune out distractions like those three. And if you know anything about Biblical numerology that number three means a lot.
I’m not sure why I felt the need to post this. I think deep down, I’m closer than I think I am to being introduced to my forever. Closer than I realized I was. And I know God doesn’t give you your past and disguise it as your future. So in the mean time, in between time, I keep preparing and who knows…. One of these days you may get an interesting post about destiny, love, love and forever being fulfilled.
I’ve spent the last year determined to purge myself of every relationship that was out of the will of God. Things I knew had no possibility of flourishing or prospering because they weren’t God ordained. God has a way of weeding out the unnecessary, unhealthy, and ill-gotten things that we try so desperately to cling to.
After the last time I made a poor relationship choice, I opted to really take the time to get to know who I had become. One of the first things I learned was that, when you are constantly in a cycle of relationships you have very little time to see yourself change and evaluate those changes.
Every situation brings about some type of interpersonal change. Whether it be a resolve to not take or tolerate certain things, think before you act, “make them wait”, take it slow….. you’ve changed and the change can almost always be attributed to a situation or relationship that caused you to think that way.
The time that I’ve taken for myself has REALLY opened my eyes to not only what I want but to what God knows I need. I used to think I took time for myself after a break up when I’d sit still for a month, meet someone and continue the cycle. It’s been a little over a year and my God it feels good to actually be rid of all of the junk and baggage. Like really be rid of it. Not to feel all of the old feelings and hurt feelings when you hear someone’s name or see their face. I’ll elaborate in a minute.
The last person I attempted a relationship with was so far away from who God has ordained for me that God’s ripping the situation from my clutches was more painful than I can remember anything else being. BUT once my hands were off of it and God really showed me the person and their motives and THEIR baggage, I had the Oprah Aha! Moment. I remember asking myself early this year, “Is that really who you’d want to be the father of your children? Would you be proud to call him your husband?” And those two questions sealed the deal.
Lately, I’ve been praying that God prepare my heart to be a wife. It goes far beyond just wanting to be married. My desire to know God has increased. My desire to pray has increased. Not because I’m praying for a man but because the man that I know God has set aside for me, needs a praying wife. I find myself changing in lot of ways. From my saving habits to my housekeeping to planning ahead and the list goes on.
These habits were just things that kind of developed over time. As I started to evolve out of being broken and becoming a whole woman, my desire to be a good wife and to prepare myself NOW increased.
Now earlier I’d mentioned I wanted to elaborate on feelings arising when you hear someone’s name or see them or they hit you up on Facebook. I used to get really, really weak mainly because I never ridded myself of the person and I liked the idea of being in a relationship. Go back through some really old posts from this blog and you’ll see what I mean. I used to get so wrapped up in the thrill of it all that I almost missed what God was trying to teach me and who he was trying to give me.
It’s funny how the enemy waits for you to make a declaration so that he can build road blocks to keep you from your destination. Last week, I’d say for the last two weeks I’ve had three people that I used to date pop up. If you follow me on Twitter you may have seen this tweet but they were back to back to back. One of the men had called himself “The One for me” which I quickly shut down. Another requested to see me and I said “no” LIGHTENING fast. The last one, wanted to feel me out. To see if I’d ask about his life now. My plans for next year. I think he said he wanted to check on me. I think what was most enlightening about all three encounters was that I didn’t flinch. I didn’t pacify the situations and I didn’t act retarded and pretend it was God sending them back to me. Oh and I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve done that ☺ I guess another thing that I’ve learned to do is turn up the voice of God and tune out distractions like those three. And if you know anything about Biblical numerology that number three means a lot.
I’m not sure why I felt the need to post this. I think deep down, I’m closer than I think I am to being introduced to my forever. Closer than I realized I was. And I know God doesn’t give you your past and disguise it as your future. So in the mean time, in between time, I keep preparing and who knows…. One of these days you may get an interesting post about destiny, love, love and forever being fulfilled.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
The Good In Goodbye
The Good in Goodbye
It’s Sunday morning and I literally just got through practicing yoga. Feeling charged and ready to head to church for some good teaching, I couldn’t help but feel a little different. For the past nine to ten months, I’ve been struggling with some internal things. We all know that I seem to be the queen of misguided relationships and since last summer, I haven’t really had a desire to be with anyone. I guess it really takes that last kick in the gut for you to throw your hands up and say, “I’ve had it with relationships.” However, thankfully, I hadn’t reached the point of saying, “Jesus is all I need.” He’s amazing but I know He wants more for me than that.
Anyway, for the past few months, I’ve clammed up, built the second wall of Jericho around myself and turned off my emotions. As the months progressed, I gained weight a little weight, I stopped doing things that I’d ordinarily do and my writing began to suffer. I thought it was because of my hurt feelings but then about a month ago, I went into the bathroom and peeled off my clothes layer for layer and stepped into the shower and had the most enlightening conversation that I’ve ever had. I did very little talking and a whole lot of listening.
In a very soft voice, God whispered to me, “You’re not yourself. You don’t feel like yourself because you’re not yourself. You’ve given up a lot. You’ve allowed yourself to become too vulnerable and now you’re scrambling to piece yourself back together but the parts that fell off you never needed to begin with.”
I kind of scowled and whispered, “What does that mean?” He took me back to myself this time last year having taken several months to purge myself from yet another interesting choice in men but I hadn’t taken long enough. I met someone. The idea of a new prospect, excited me and we seemed extremely compatible except for a few issues that were impossible to overlook. Needless to say, things ended the way they always seem to do and I found myself right where I was, talking to God in the shower.
So, I asked simply, “What do you think I should do?” That was the most vulnerable I’d allowed myself to be since October of last year. “First, you were never breaking up with a man but you were always breaking up with yourself. You just would never let go of the parts of yourself that you no longer needed. Instead of finding the GOOD in goodbye, you lugged all the old stuff along with you. In the process you couldn’t understand why you were so broken, so confused, so disconnected from the one person you’re supposed to understand….. YOURSELF.”
Of course, I began to cry and I asked, “But why?”
“You have to fall back in love with yourself again. Allow yourself to say goodbye to all of the bad memories and even the good ones that are attached to those. (Sometimes we can hang on to the good things about a person even though they are the farthest thing from what God wants us to have). Start liking little things about yourself. Learn to respect and cherish yourself, the way you used to.” This part got me, He said, “The Ashley I used to know would never just accept anything and that’s what you’ve started to do.”
I cried but it was a release and I left all of it in the shower to wash down the drain. I don’t know why I felt the need to share this. Most times I write out of personal revelation to help someone that may stumble across this blog. The last thing that I wanted to share with you was this. As my yoga practice came to an end this morning and my muscles are relaxed and my mind was cleared, I whispered to myself, “I feel like a newer version of myself.”
I got a response, of course. A gentle whisper. “Butterflies carry the same DNA as their former self but they never take the cocoon with them on a new journey.”
It’s Sunday morning and I literally just got through practicing yoga. Feeling charged and ready to head to church for some good teaching, I couldn’t help but feel a little different. For the past nine to ten months, I’ve been struggling with some internal things. We all know that I seem to be the queen of misguided relationships and since last summer, I haven’t really had a desire to be with anyone. I guess it really takes that last kick in the gut for you to throw your hands up and say, “I’ve had it with relationships.” However, thankfully, I hadn’t reached the point of saying, “Jesus is all I need.” He’s amazing but I know He wants more for me than that.
Anyway, for the past few months, I’ve clammed up, built the second wall of Jericho around myself and turned off my emotions. As the months progressed, I gained weight a little weight, I stopped doing things that I’d ordinarily do and my writing began to suffer. I thought it was because of my hurt feelings but then about a month ago, I went into the bathroom and peeled off my clothes layer for layer and stepped into the shower and had the most enlightening conversation that I’ve ever had. I did very little talking and a whole lot of listening.
In a very soft voice, God whispered to me, “You’re not yourself. You don’t feel like yourself because you’re not yourself. You’ve given up a lot. You’ve allowed yourself to become too vulnerable and now you’re scrambling to piece yourself back together but the parts that fell off you never needed to begin with.”
I kind of scowled and whispered, “What does that mean?” He took me back to myself this time last year having taken several months to purge myself from yet another interesting choice in men but I hadn’t taken long enough. I met someone. The idea of a new prospect, excited me and we seemed extremely compatible except for a few issues that were impossible to overlook. Needless to say, things ended the way they always seem to do and I found myself right where I was, talking to God in the shower.
So, I asked simply, “What do you think I should do?” That was the most vulnerable I’d allowed myself to be since October of last year. “First, you were never breaking up with a man but you were always breaking up with yourself. You just would never let go of the parts of yourself that you no longer needed. Instead of finding the GOOD in goodbye, you lugged all the old stuff along with you. In the process you couldn’t understand why you were so broken, so confused, so disconnected from the one person you’re supposed to understand….. YOURSELF.”
Of course, I began to cry and I asked, “But why?”
“You have to fall back in love with yourself again. Allow yourself to say goodbye to all of the bad memories and even the good ones that are attached to those. (Sometimes we can hang on to the good things about a person even though they are the farthest thing from what God wants us to have). Start liking little things about yourself. Learn to respect and cherish yourself, the way you used to.” This part got me, He said, “The Ashley I used to know would never just accept anything and that’s what you’ve started to do.”
I cried but it was a release and I left all of it in the shower to wash down the drain. I don’t know why I felt the need to share this. Most times I write out of personal revelation to help someone that may stumble across this blog. The last thing that I wanted to share with you was this. As my yoga practice came to an end this morning and my muscles are relaxed and my mind was cleared, I whispered to myself, “I feel like a newer version of myself.”
I got a response, of course. A gentle whisper. “Butterflies carry the same DNA as their former self but they never take the cocoon with them on a new journey.”
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
TRUST and You won't be crushed....
Good morning or afternoon to you,
I received this story in the form of an email this morning and because it resonated so intensely with me, I wanted to share it with whomever needed a little encouragement this week.....
Trust and You Won't Be Crushed
By Lisa Crum
Scripture Of The Day: "But the Lord God keeps me from being disgraced. So I refuse to give up, because I know God will never let me down." - Isaiah 50:7 (CEV)
It was just at the edge of dusk, 6 months ago this evening, when I woke up to find that I was lying flat on my back on the cold pavement. I remembered seeing the dog run out in front of our motorcycle, and I remembered us bracing and hitting it, then it was like being tumbled in a dark clothes dryer.
There hadn't even been time to be scared, much less avoid the impact. How long had I been unconscious? Someone had already stood up our motorcycle, and a couple of men were looking through the tour pack for some ID. I could see out the corner of my eye that Dana was lying about 10 feet away from me, but I couldn't hear him speak and I couldn't see if he was moving. People standing over us were saying things that indicated to me that we were both bad off.
At first I couldn't even talk, and it was so hard to breathe--I suppose from having had the wind knocked out of me. My helmet was shattered. Later I would find that I had a basal skull fracture and a fractured bone in my neck. I vaguely remember a woman holding my helmet and talking about how messed up it was. Someone commented that my head was bleeding. I wanted to go to Dana but I couldn't get up, and they were trying to keep me still so they could put me on a backboard. My arm was twisted over my head and I thought it was dislocated, but was told later that the shoulder was broken in two places.
In the midst of the confusion and the excruciating pain, for a brief moment it was as if the noise was muffled enough to hear, quite clearly, the Lord whisper just one word to me..."COVENANT." And in that moment, I knew exactly what He meant. I began to cry and say, "Thank you, God, for rebuking the devourer for our sakes!" A peace I can't even begin to describe rested on me, one that would get me through the longest night of my life.
We were airlifted, one at a time, from Williamson Memorial to St. Mary's. My stepson Coby held my hand and coached me to breathe in sync with him while they repositioned my broken shoulder. Then as I lay on a gurney in the hallway, a doctor came up and with no expression whatsoever, told me, "Your husband is unconscious and has a brain bleed. His brain has begun to swell. We'll do what we can." With that, she turned and left. I had to make up my mind right then and there...am I going to trust God or am I going to collapse under a weight of fear? I chose to trust God, and that's what I said out loud to her back as she was walking away.
For just a little while, they wheeled me into a holding room with Dana. He was lying there, eyes closed, not moving. I reached my fingers through the bars on our gurneys, gripped his hand, and prayed for him. Looking back now, I wonder whether the doctors might have thought he was going to die, and they were giving me a chance to say goodbye. But I spoke to him this Scripture which came to my remembrance, before they wheeled us in two different directions, "(You) shall live and not die, to declare the works of the Lord." (Psalm 118:17)
There are those times when we have to choose to believe, or be crushed under the weight of despair. And there are times when we can't just think it or hope it...we have to hear ourselves say it.
Dana spent 82 days in 3 hospitals, couldn't even swallow an ice chip for the first 43 days. He lay in the ICU trauma ward for 17 days comatose and running an insanely high fever. He had multiple fractures and a brain injury, but when Satan tried to take him out, God drew the line and said, "No."
Though it's been a physically and emotionally exhausting 6 months for both Dana and me, we have not lost our joy and we have not lost our love for life and one another. God has been so good to us. I'm telling you, friends, you need Jesus. You need Him, your marriage needs Him, your family needs Him to carry you through times like this. Covenant relationship with God doesn't mean you'll never face difficulty. It can, however, mean the difference between you surviving or being mowed down by the enemy.
Sooner or later, we all have to face the most difficult time of our lives. Are you prepared? God can keep you from falling apart. I can say that because, six months later, Dana and I are still held together by the duct tape of God's wonderful, saving grace. Even these fractured pieces form something beautiful...like a prism of glass that scatters light in every direction, testifying that truly, love never fails.
I received this story in the form of an email this morning and because it resonated so intensely with me, I wanted to share it with whomever needed a little encouragement this week.....
Trust and You Won't Be Crushed
By Lisa Crum
Scripture Of The Day: "But the Lord God keeps me from being disgraced. So I refuse to give up, because I know God will never let me down." - Isaiah 50:7 (CEV)
It was just at the edge of dusk, 6 months ago this evening, when I woke up to find that I was lying flat on my back on the cold pavement. I remembered seeing the dog run out in front of our motorcycle, and I remembered us bracing and hitting it, then it was like being tumbled in a dark clothes dryer.
There hadn't even been time to be scared, much less avoid the impact. How long had I been unconscious? Someone had already stood up our motorcycle, and a couple of men were looking through the tour pack for some ID. I could see out the corner of my eye that Dana was lying about 10 feet away from me, but I couldn't hear him speak and I couldn't see if he was moving. People standing over us were saying things that indicated to me that we were both bad off.
At first I couldn't even talk, and it was so hard to breathe--I suppose from having had the wind knocked out of me. My helmet was shattered. Later I would find that I had a basal skull fracture and a fractured bone in my neck. I vaguely remember a woman holding my helmet and talking about how messed up it was. Someone commented that my head was bleeding. I wanted to go to Dana but I couldn't get up, and they were trying to keep me still so they could put me on a backboard. My arm was twisted over my head and I thought it was dislocated, but was told later that the shoulder was broken in two places.
In the midst of the confusion and the excruciating pain, for a brief moment it was as if the noise was muffled enough to hear, quite clearly, the Lord whisper just one word to me..."COVENANT." And in that moment, I knew exactly what He meant. I began to cry and say, "Thank you, God, for rebuking the devourer for our sakes!" A peace I can't even begin to describe rested on me, one that would get me through the longest night of my life.
We were airlifted, one at a time, from Williamson Memorial to St. Mary's. My stepson Coby held my hand and coached me to breathe in sync with him while they repositioned my broken shoulder. Then as I lay on a gurney in the hallway, a doctor came up and with no expression whatsoever, told me, "Your husband is unconscious and has a brain bleed. His brain has begun to swell. We'll do what we can." With that, she turned and left. I had to make up my mind right then and there...am I going to trust God or am I going to collapse under a weight of fear? I chose to trust God, and that's what I said out loud to her back as she was walking away.
For just a little while, they wheeled me into a holding room with Dana. He was lying there, eyes closed, not moving. I reached my fingers through the bars on our gurneys, gripped his hand, and prayed for him. Looking back now, I wonder whether the doctors might have thought he was going to die, and they were giving me a chance to say goodbye. But I spoke to him this Scripture which came to my remembrance, before they wheeled us in two different directions, "(You) shall live and not die, to declare the works of the Lord." (Psalm 118:17)
There are those times when we have to choose to believe, or be crushed under the weight of despair. And there are times when we can't just think it or hope it...we have to hear ourselves say it.
Dana spent 82 days in 3 hospitals, couldn't even swallow an ice chip for the first 43 days. He lay in the ICU trauma ward for 17 days comatose and running an insanely high fever. He had multiple fractures and a brain injury, but when Satan tried to take him out, God drew the line and said, "No."
Though it's been a physically and emotionally exhausting 6 months for both Dana and me, we have not lost our joy and we have not lost our love for life and one another. God has been so good to us. I'm telling you, friends, you need Jesus. You need Him, your marriage needs Him, your family needs Him to carry you through times like this. Covenant relationship with God doesn't mean you'll never face difficulty. It can, however, mean the difference between you surviving or being mowed down by the enemy.
Sooner or later, we all have to face the most difficult time of our lives. Are you prepared? God can keep you from falling apart. I can say that because, six months later, Dana and I are still held together by the duct tape of God's wonderful, saving grace. Even these fractured pieces form something beautiful...like a prism of glass that scatters light in every direction, testifying that truly, love never fails.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
God's Love
Hello beautiful people!
It's a beautiful April day and I'm sitting on the sun porch meditating on a few things. Two passages of scripture were dropped in spirit this morning just sitting here and I just wanted to offer a little encouragement. I rarely do this but I'm transitioning into a new season in my life and am finding that God's love, grace, and His voice are the only things that are consistent and "sturdy" enough for me to lean and depend on. Sounds a little cliche but be that as it may, it's my truth. I guess I'm growin' a little. lol!!! Anyway, the next eleven months are sure to be taxing with me moving out of my apartment in a month, preparing to relocate next spring, going back to school and start a new chapter in my life, I've allowed myself to slip into worry and stress mode. For the past four months, I've found myself asking God almost everyday, "How am I going to do this?" If you look closely you'll see the error in my question. Mainly because I won't be doing anything. My level of trust has increased greatly since I've turned off the cell phone and the radio and the television and just listened. And of course, when God chooses to be "quiet" he always puts something in your way to get your attention. Which brings me to what I wanted to share with you all this morning.
First, I was led to Phillipians 4:6-7 (New Living Translation) - Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.
So just in case there's a worry wart out there (like me) who tends to look mostly at the impossibility of a situation or the negative things that seem to obscure the beauty of God's goodness..... this simply stated, is giving you the command to put the negative things out of your mind and think on all things lovely and beautiful. And what's more beautiful than God's love? (John 3:16) And by the way, His specialty is the impossible! Just FYI.
Lastly, I often find myself getting a little wrapped up in the idea of, "None of the things that I wanted to happen to by now have happened! When are you gonna do it for ME, God?" His answer?
Phillipians 1:6 (New Living Transaltion) And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.
My Pastor always says, "If God made you a promise, that deems you immortal until He completes it." Basically, all my Pastor is saying is it's impossible for God to lie or make you a promise and allow you to parish before He makes good on what He promised you. There's no way that He can place something in you and have it not fulfilled. His Word will never return to Him void. (Isaiah 55:11) Therefore, if He said it, He's obligated to do it. His words not mine! :-)
So as the events of this weekend get closer, don't meditate on the light bill, tuition, car notes, overdraft fees, or hurt feelings. Think on the beauty of God's love. Love in its purest and most unadulterated display. The ultimate sacrifice.
I love you guys and hope this little post offered some encouragement or eased a little stress (at least for today).
Be blessed!
It's a beautiful April day and I'm sitting on the sun porch meditating on a few things. Two passages of scripture were dropped in spirit this morning just sitting here and I just wanted to offer a little encouragement. I rarely do this but I'm transitioning into a new season in my life and am finding that God's love, grace, and His voice are the only things that are consistent and "sturdy" enough for me to lean and depend on. Sounds a little cliche but be that as it may, it's my truth. I guess I'm growin' a little. lol!!! Anyway, the next eleven months are sure to be taxing with me moving out of my apartment in a month, preparing to relocate next spring, going back to school and start a new chapter in my life, I've allowed myself to slip into worry and stress mode. For the past four months, I've found myself asking God almost everyday, "How am I going to do this?" If you look closely you'll see the error in my question. Mainly because I won't be doing anything. My level of trust has increased greatly since I've turned off the cell phone and the radio and the television and just listened. And of course, when God chooses to be "quiet" he always puts something in your way to get your attention. Which brings me to what I wanted to share with you all this morning.
First, I was led to Phillipians 4:6-7 (New Living Translation) - Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.
So just in case there's a worry wart out there (like me) who tends to look mostly at the impossibility of a situation or the negative things that seem to obscure the beauty of God's goodness..... this simply stated, is giving you the command to put the negative things out of your mind and think on all things lovely and beautiful. And what's more beautiful than God's love? (John 3:16) And by the way, His specialty is the impossible! Just FYI.
Lastly, I often find myself getting a little wrapped up in the idea of, "None of the things that I wanted to happen to by now have happened! When are you gonna do it for ME, God?" His answer?
Phillipians 1:6 (New Living Transaltion) And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.
My Pastor always says, "If God made you a promise, that deems you immortal until He completes it." Basically, all my Pastor is saying is it's impossible for God to lie or make you a promise and allow you to parish before He makes good on what He promised you. There's no way that He can place something in you and have it not fulfilled. His Word will never return to Him void. (Isaiah 55:11) Therefore, if He said it, He's obligated to do it. His words not mine! :-)
So as the events of this weekend get closer, don't meditate on the light bill, tuition, car notes, overdraft fees, or hurt feelings. Think on the beauty of God's love. Love in its purest and most unadulterated display. The ultimate sacrifice.
I love you guys and hope this little post offered some encouragement or eased a little stress (at least for today).
Be blessed!
Friday, February 25, 2011
The Uncultured Culture
Last night I had the experience of a lifetime. It seems as if I’d been holding my breathe for 24 years and was finally afforded the opportunity to see The Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre up close and personal. My mother had seen them and one of my sisters had seen them (twice) and I’d resorted to immersing myself in the company via DVD and Youtube and if the heavens opened up they may appear on Oprah. However that hadn’t happened in almost six years. I spend about an hour a week looking over the tour schedule and this particular performance lined up with my pockets and I was finally able to go. It was to be held at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
For anyone that doesn’t know who Alvin Ailey was, he was a dancer and choreographer made infamous because of a production he produced entitled Revelations. A series of pieces that connect the struggle of humanity, the weight of living, and it illustrates the ritual of baptism in the African American community. This production opened during the heat of the Civil Rights Movement and the company became famous because it was a completely African American company of skilled modern dancers.
My sister accompanied me to the performance. We arrived a few minutes late (due to an accident) so we, among many other guests, were asked to watch the opening performance on the flat-screen televisions in the foyer. It was still just as moving. I leaned over to her and said, “Even though we have to watch this out here, just to be in the same building with them is such a privilege.” She nodded and kept watching.
I took a gander or two around the vestibule that seemed to be packed with late arrivals. It seemed like an even mix of cultures. More African American and Caucasian than any other culture. However, this was before we entered the theatre.
When the opening performances ended, we were allowed to take our seats. By the time we entered, the house lights were up and the audience was hardly mixed. There were a few of “us” but I was disheartened by the fact that “we” were still the minority at such a performance. I refuse to use the location as an excuse. I seriously could have taken my sisters and my hands and counted the number of African American patrons in the audience. It was bitter-sweet. I relished in the beauty of seeing a predominantly white audience appreciate a man who revolutionized dance during a period where African Americans were considered less than, mistreated, beaten, and excluded. It was amazing to me that his craft had transcended race and obliterated color. So much so that there were two Caucasian dancers in this performance. Remember this used to be a completely African American company.
Even with all of the standing ovations, the encore, and the cheering, I still couldn’t get past the idea that we don’t appreciate our own. I take that back, if the title reads “All the Good Men Are Gone”, “Hips and Lies”, “Mr. Chocolate”, or “Stripper Chronicles” we seem to always be on board. We seem to feed into stereotypes and the parts of us that are beautifully artistic we shy away from. This isn’t restricted to the arts. We had dinner first at a gorgeous Mediterranean restaurant in a very well mixed part of Durham, NC. We were the only people in the restaurant that looked like us. I remember hearing a conversation between Michael Baisden and George Wilborn about a year ago. Michael urged his listeners to stop reading only black authors, seeing only popular black movies. He went so far as to say, “Stop ordering Ranch dressing and chicken when you go out to eat.”
I could go on about this for paragraphs and pages but all I’m trying to say (as Black History Month comes to a close) is that we are such a gifted group people. It goes far beyond rapping and dribbling or hiking a ball. We’ve pioneered medicine, literature, philosophy, and started major universities. Surely we can dig deep enough to support the good in us and not just the stereotypical, token, and EXPECTED parts of ourselves. I’m just sayin’.
For anyone that doesn’t know who Alvin Ailey was, he was a dancer and choreographer made infamous because of a production he produced entitled Revelations. A series of pieces that connect the struggle of humanity, the weight of living, and it illustrates the ritual of baptism in the African American community. This production opened during the heat of the Civil Rights Movement and the company became famous because it was a completely African American company of skilled modern dancers.
My sister accompanied me to the performance. We arrived a few minutes late (due to an accident) so we, among many other guests, were asked to watch the opening performance on the flat-screen televisions in the foyer. It was still just as moving. I leaned over to her and said, “Even though we have to watch this out here, just to be in the same building with them is such a privilege.” She nodded and kept watching.
I took a gander or two around the vestibule that seemed to be packed with late arrivals. It seemed like an even mix of cultures. More African American and Caucasian than any other culture. However, this was before we entered the theatre.
When the opening performances ended, we were allowed to take our seats. By the time we entered, the house lights were up and the audience was hardly mixed. There were a few of “us” but I was disheartened by the fact that “we” were still the minority at such a performance. I refuse to use the location as an excuse. I seriously could have taken my sisters and my hands and counted the number of African American patrons in the audience. It was bitter-sweet. I relished in the beauty of seeing a predominantly white audience appreciate a man who revolutionized dance during a period where African Americans were considered less than, mistreated, beaten, and excluded. It was amazing to me that his craft had transcended race and obliterated color. So much so that there were two Caucasian dancers in this performance. Remember this used to be a completely African American company.
Even with all of the standing ovations, the encore, and the cheering, I still couldn’t get past the idea that we don’t appreciate our own. I take that back, if the title reads “All the Good Men Are Gone”, “Hips and Lies”, “Mr. Chocolate”, or “Stripper Chronicles” we seem to always be on board. We seem to feed into stereotypes and the parts of us that are beautifully artistic we shy away from. This isn’t restricted to the arts. We had dinner first at a gorgeous Mediterranean restaurant in a very well mixed part of Durham, NC. We were the only people in the restaurant that looked like us. I remember hearing a conversation between Michael Baisden and George Wilborn about a year ago. Michael urged his listeners to stop reading only black authors, seeing only popular black movies. He went so far as to say, “Stop ordering Ranch dressing and chicken when you go out to eat.”
I could go on about this for paragraphs and pages but all I’m trying to say (as Black History Month comes to a close) is that we are such a gifted group people. It goes far beyond rapping and dribbling or hiking a ball. We’ve pioneered medicine, literature, philosophy, and started major universities. Surely we can dig deep enough to support the good in us and not just the stereotypical, token, and EXPECTED parts of ourselves. I’m just sayin’.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Dark and Lovely
Lately, I’m finding myself to be more receptive to the lessons around me. Here’s a tiny one I learned last night.
It’s Tuesday night and I went through the day thinking it would be just another ordinary Tuesday. Seeing as how, Tuesday nights are class nights for me, I spend a good hour and a half with my girls….. dancing.
Because my group of dancers is growing rapidly, we were moved back into our original dance room. A traditional dance room wide (length-wise) with wall-to-wall mirrors. All of these little details will make sense by the end of this post.
I stood facing the mirror, teaching our newest piece. I don’t face them so they don’t get confused and so that they can watch me if they need a quick point of reference. Anyway, one of my silliest and most energetic girls, eight years old, stood next to me. I was teaching a foot sequence that I had a feeling would be tough for them to pick immediately. I read frustration on her face almost instantaneously, so I took her hand and walked her through the steps and before long she picked it up like her older counterparts.
The song being so high and laced with energy, all of my girls were excited and bouncing around and getting really in to the routine but my silly girl was in another place. The mirrors told everything and I knew it wasn’t the choreography. While her teammates danced and giggled and jumped and played whenever we took a break, she sat on the floor with her head in her hands, legs crossed, staring blankly at her reflection.
Even though I was preoccupied teaching some of my younger ones the same sequence I’d just taught her, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The hour started to dissolve and I took the opportunity. “Okay ladies, I’m pleased at how hard you all have worked tonight. I’m gonna play the song again and you guys can freestyle for the rest of class.” They jumped at the freedom that I rarely give them but just as suspected my silly girl, sat back on the floor. Head in hands, legs crossed, staring at her reflection.
I called her name. “Come here.” I sat on the floor with my legs crossed and she created a nook under my arm and close to my hip. “What’s the matter? Why are you so frustrated?” I asked her. She rested her head on my bosom and answered honestly (at least from what she’d been inspecting all evening). “Because I’m ugly.”
“Who told you you were ugly?” I asked.
“I told myself!” She fought back tears.
“But why?”
“Because I’m turning nine years old and I am.” It sounded simple but I could tell she was referring to her awkwardness and her bony body.
I gave her a good squeeze. “Are you kidding?” I made her face the mirror again, all the while my other kids were hopped up on Valentine’s candy so much so they didn’t notice our intimate moment. Rather than ask her what she saw, I said. “You must not see what I see. Those big brown eyes and long eyelashes. Look at that dark skin. You’re amazing. You might not think so now but you’re beautiful and I’m gonna tell you every time I see you until you believe it.” I looked at her (in the mirror) and asked, “Who do you see?”
She said her name.
“And what is she?”
“Beautiful!” She answered with a giggle.
Some people that come across this may think to themselves, “What a sad conversation to have with a little girl.”
I look at it differently. I felt privileged as a black woman, who at one point struggled with self-esteem, to be able to instill a sense of value in her. That was breathtaking to me. Value of her skin, her big eyes and long lashes, long gangly legs. Things that she may very well get picked on for now but when she grows into the amazing black woman she’s bound to be, it’s all going to fall into place. This isn’t to say my conversation with her tonight is going to obliterate her struggle with her appearance (she’s so adorable though) but at least it’s a tiny step in the right direction. Maybe this was appropriate for the both of us, it being February and all. I don’t know, I was moved and tickled to death to be able to help her see just a little of who she was and how gorgeous “black” really is.
It’s Tuesday night and I went through the day thinking it would be just another ordinary Tuesday. Seeing as how, Tuesday nights are class nights for me, I spend a good hour and a half with my girls….. dancing.
Because my group of dancers is growing rapidly, we were moved back into our original dance room. A traditional dance room wide (length-wise) with wall-to-wall mirrors. All of these little details will make sense by the end of this post.
I stood facing the mirror, teaching our newest piece. I don’t face them so they don’t get confused and so that they can watch me if they need a quick point of reference. Anyway, one of my silliest and most energetic girls, eight years old, stood next to me. I was teaching a foot sequence that I had a feeling would be tough for them to pick immediately. I read frustration on her face almost instantaneously, so I took her hand and walked her through the steps and before long she picked it up like her older counterparts.
The song being so high and laced with energy, all of my girls were excited and bouncing around and getting really in to the routine but my silly girl was in another place. The mirrors told everything and I knew it wasn’t the choreography. While her teammates danced and giggled and jumped and played whenever we took a break, she sat on the floor with her head in her hands, legs crossed, staring blankly at her reflection.
Even though I was preoccupied teaching some of my younger ones the same sequence I’d just taught her, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The hour started to dissolve and I took the opportunity. “Okay ladies, I’m pleased at how hard you all have worked tonight. I’m gonna play the song again and you guys can freestyle for the rest of class.” They jumped at the freedom that I rarely give them but just as suspected my silly girl, sat back on the floor. Head in hands, legs crossed, staring at her reflection.
I called her name. “Come here.” I sat on the floor with my legs crossed and she created a nook under my arm and close to my hip. “What’s the matter? Why are you so frustrated?” I asked her. She rested her head on my bosom and answered honestly (at least from what she’d been inspecting all evening). “Because I’m ugly.”
“Who told you you were ugly?” I asked.
“I told myself!” She fought back tears.
“But why?”
“Because I’m turning nine years old and I am.” It sounded simple but I could tell she was referring to her awkwardness and her bony body.
I gave her a good squeeze. “Are you kidding?” I made her face the mirror again, all the while my other kids were hopped up on Valentine’s candy so much so they didn’t notice our intimate moment. Rather than ask her what she saw, I said. “You must not see what I see. Those big brown eyes and long eyelashes. Look at that dark skin. You’re amazing. You might not think so now but you’re beautiful and I’m gonna tell you every time I see you until you believe it.” I looked at her (in the mirror) and asked, “Who do you see?”
She said her name.
“And what is she?”
“Beautiful!” She answered with a giggle.
Some people that come across this may think to themselves, “What a sad conversation to have with a little girl.”
I look at it differently. I felt privileged as a black woman, who at one point struggled with self-esteem, to be able to instill a sense of value in her. That was breathtaking to me. Value of her skin, her big eyes and long lashes, long gangly legs. Things that she may very well get picked on for now but when she grows into the amazing black woman she’s bound to be, it’s all going to fall into place. This isn’t to say my conversation with her tonight is going to obliterate her struggle with her appearance (she’s so adorable though) but at least it’s a tiny step in the right direction. Maybe this was appropriate for the both of us, it being February and all. I don’t know, I was moved and tickled to death to be able to help her see just a little of who she was and how gorgeous “black” really is.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Tiny Victories
So it’s 4:30 a.m. on Friday, February 11, 2011. Less than 24 hours before my next birthday and Thursday was rough. I spent most of the day in tears. What with being overwhelmed about major life altering decisions I’m having to make in order to make some dreams tangible by the end of this year.
As most of the country is making some of the same adjustments, I’ve been bogged down with the idea of having to downsize tremendously in order to save money, take graduate school exams, fill out applications, get writing samples together, work on my own writing (for major publishing), and looking for a full-time job to finance it all, I couldn’t take it anymore. The school of my choice will be kept on the hush until I’ve been officially accepted but I know I’ll be leaving North Carolina early next year to make a lot of what I just listed happen.
Anyway, I spent most of yesterday sorting through my thoughts, crying, praying, crying, worrying, and thinking some more. Yes, I know. Worry and prayer don’t mix but I’m working on that.
The hours began to lapse and as infomercials began to filter in to some of my favorite networks, I became more and more restless. Wide-awake and sprawled out on the couch watching NUMB3RS (I’m not a fan but it’s the only thing that’s ever on at this hour).
So I’m lying on the couch, thinking aloud about all of things I used to say I would’ve accomplished by this birthday. I began to wallow in self-pity a bit thinking I’d failed myself and kicking myself for having shared so many of my aspirations with so many people. I mean the questions like, “Is that book published yet?” ,“Well, what’s taking so long?”, “I thought you said you wanted to be a professional writer”, kind of get to you after you hear them enough. I felt like I’d lost.
So I lay there. Mumbling to myself and my eyes widened. I remembered one recent goal I’d made for myself almost two months ago that I’d completely forgotten about.
December 25, 2010 my mother gave me a sexy red dress as one of my Christmas gifts. With all of the holiday indulgence, stress, and such, I didn’t want to try it on in front of her. Especially since one of my family members always seems to comment on my weight on Christmas Day every year without fail. I remember after they said what they said to me, I got all of my parcels, loaded them in the car and left my parent’s house in tears. I don’t usually cry this much but the last eighteen months have been a doozey.
When I got home, still in tears, I took the red dress out of its box and yanked it on. The damn thing didn’t zip. Frustrated, I text my sister and told her my dilemma, pleaded with her not to tell my mother because by my birthday I was going to get in it. Up until 4:00 a.m. on February 11, I’d forgotten all about that cute little thing. Fire red, with black rhinestone detailing around the neckline, just above the knee. The perfect dress for flirty fishnets and the perfect peep-toe booties. Lol!!!
So there I lay on the couch, eyes wide, and I jump up and grab the gift box that I’d forgotten about. I never even hung the dress in the closet. I slipped into my cute little red dress and it zipped (with a little room left in the hips).
I’m not sure why I’m sharing this but I think with how heavy (not literally lol!) I’ve felt for the past few days (and months) and the constant thought race in my mind, I forgot how rewarding tiny victories can be. I think even in that moment of standing in front of my bathroom mirror, twirling and dancing with excitement, I reminded myself that I’m capable of doing anything. No nothing is going the way I planned it but in the end with a little stick-to-itiveness and some chutzpah, all of the things I find daunting and overwhelming can be overcome one tiny victory at a time.
I think in essence, I forgot the beauty of testimony. I just wanted one. I want a story to be able to tell. I take that back, I want an amazing story to tell. It momentarily slipped my mind that amazing stories aren’t born out of minimal trial. I’m not saying I won’t cry again, or get frustrated, or maybe even want to give up. What I am saying is, my little red dress gave me some perspective. I asked God where He was today, He let me know around 4:30 this morning.
As most of the country is making some of the same adjustments, I’ve been bogged down with the idea of having to downsize tremendously in order to save money, take graduate school exams, fill out applications, get writing samples together, work on my own writing (for major publishing), and looking for a full-time job to finance it all, I couldn’t take it anymore. The school of my choice will be kept on the hush until I’ve been officially accepted but I know I’ll be leaving North Carolina early next year to make a lot of what I just listed happen.
Anyway, I spent most of yesterday sorting through my thoughts, crying, praying, crying, worrying, and thinking some more. Yes, I know. Worry and prayer don’t mix but I’m working on that.
The hours began to lapse and as infomercials began to filter in to some of my favorite networks, I became more and more restless. Wide-awake and sprawled out on the couch watching NUMB3RS (I’m not a fan but it’s the only thing that’s ever on at this hour).
So I’m lying on the couch, thinking aloud about all of things I used to say I would’ve accomplished by this birthday. I began to wallow in self-pity a bit thinking I’d failed myself and kicking myself for having shared so many of my aspirations with so many people. I mean the questions like, “Is that book published yet?” ,“Well, what’s taking so long?”, “I thought you said you wanted to be a professional writer”, kind of get to you after you hear them enough. I felt like I’d lost.
So I lay there. Mumbling to myself and my eyes widened. I remembered one recent goal I’d made for myself almost two months ago that I’d completely forgotten about.
December 25, 2010 my mother gave me a sexy red dress as one of my Christmas gifts. With all of the holiday indulgence, stress, and such, I didn’t want to try it on in front of her. Especially since one of my family members always seems to comment on my weight on Christmas Day every year without fail. I remember after they said what they said to me, I got all of my parcels, loaded them in the car and left my parent’s house in tears. I don’t usually cry this much but the last eighteen months have been a doozey.
When I got home, still in tears, I took the red dress out of its box and yanked it on. The damn thing didn’t zip. Frustrated, I text my sister and told her my dilemma, pleaded with her not to tell my mother because by my birthday I was going to get in it. Up until 4:00 a.m. on February 11, I’d forgotten all about that cute little thing. Fire red, with black rhinestone detailing around the neckline, just above the knee. The perfect dress for flirty fishnets and the perfect peep-toe booties. Lol!!!
So there I lay on the couch, eyes wide, and I jump up and grab the gift box that I’d forgotten about. I never even hung the dress in the closet. I slipped into my cute little red dress and it zipped (with a little room left in the hips).
I’m not sure why I’m sharing this but I think with how heavy (not literally lol!) I’ve felt for the past few days (and months) and the constant thought race in my mind, I forgot how rewarding tiny victories can be. I think even in that moment of standing in front of my bathroom mirror, twirling and dancing with excitement, I reminded myself that I’m capable of doing anything. No nothing is going the way I planned it but in the end with a little stick-to-itiveness and some chutzpah, all of the things I find daunting and overwhelming can be overcome one tiny victory at a time.
I think in essence, I forgot the beauty of testimony. I just wanted one. I want a story to be able to tell. I take that back, I want an amazing story to tell. It momentarily slipped my mind that amazing stories aren’t born out of minimal trial. I’m not saying I won’t cry again, or get frustrated, or maybe even want to give up. What I am saying is, my little red dress gave me some perspective. I asked God where He was today, He let me know around 4:30 this morning.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Exes, Wine Analogies, Kite Metaphors, and other random thoughts
Hey ya’ll,
Happy New Year!!!! This is indeed my first post of the year. I don’t post as often as I did when I started this blog but I still love it just the same.
So here it comes. First things first, if you’ve read at least two of my posts (from over the last three years or so) you know I have a tendency to take two or more instances or occurrences and tie them together (hence the title of this post). Second things second, many of you know that I adore the HBO comedy/drama Sex and The City and have a few posts about particular episodes. However, I’ve never posted anything about the episode I’m about to analyze. Thirdly, just listen and pay attention! ☺
Okay, last week I was watching my usual Sex and the City episodes around lunch time and I’m pretty sure I was preoccupied and half listening. The episode was entitled Ex and the City. Anyone familiar with the series knows that Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big had an on again off again relationship for the duration of the series. So much so that he married twice during their off periods. And imposed lots of vexation on Carrie because he couldn’t make the seemingly simple decision to love and be loved. Anyway, this episode happened to be during an off period and Carrie unfortunately found out that Big was engaged. Now this was after she’d attempted to turn their romance into a friendship. He just sprung it on her (over a “friendly” lunch). Of course, she flipped out, stormed out of the restaurant, and had a pity party. But shortly thereafter in the episode she was having brunch with her girlfriends and they began chopping up the idea of exes. With her head in her hands and frustration smeared all over her face, she lowered her eyes and asked, “If you love someone and you break up, where does the love go?”
Although my mind was partially preoccupied, I froze and immediately became engrossed in the episode. In spite of the fact that I’d seen it several times. The episode took me back to a conversation I’d had with a close friend two weeks prior.
He and I were talking and somehow we got on the subject of relationships (as we always seem to do) and he asked me if I ever think about a particular person from my recent past. Of course, names won’t be mentioned but because he asked and I’d been keeping things to myself, I began to heave my thoughts about this person uncontrollably until I could find a way to control myself and listen to what my buddy had to say.
Before I stopped though, I said, “I just believe that our separating meant we needed to better ourselves for ourselves so that we can be wonderful for each other. It’s like wine. It gets better with time but only if it’s left alone to ferment.”
He said something that struck me as poignant. “That’s a pretty good analogy but keep in mind, when the grapes are stomped at the beginning of the process, it’s merely grape juice and nothing else. As time passes, seasons change, and fermentation begins to take hold, it’s no longer grape juice. If you want this to boomerang and come around again, expect for things to be different.” There was a pause. Then he said, “Different but better. No longer the immature version of wine or in this case, a relationship. You can’t rush it if you want it to be good.” He put great emphasis on me resisting the urge to make contact. I guess it would be like popping the cork too soon.
Lastly, he took me on a bit of an analytical rollercoaster and said, “It’s like a kite. Of course, a kite is on a string and the more you try to control it the more out of control it becomes and less beauty is seen. But when you gently release and let go, there’s beauty in what’s to follow your letting go. The wind takes over and you lose control of the thing you so desperately wanted to control.”
Sheesh, how in the world do all of these three metaphors align? Well, in Carries case she and Big ended up together. Albeit ten years and two failed marriages later but they ended up together nonetheless and with that separation came maturity and a sense of self-actualization. What they could take, what they could give, what they could tolerate, how to trust, and how to put the negative occurrences in their past behind them for the sake of a love that never went anywhere. It just got better with time. Even in their being apart.
The kite? Carrie and Big both let go and freed themselves so that the situation could mend itself while they mended themselves APART. They both stored their love in the cellars of their souls and waited to pop the cork when they were both at a place of being beneficial to each other.
This may not make any sense to anyone that reads this but if you think about it some relationships are meant to end for good and some end because you’re not the person you’re supposed to be for them RIGHT NOW. You’re simply the immature version of a fine wine. I’ve heard a lot of stories about couples that broke up and years later got back together. Maybe I’m encouraging myself and rambling to appease my thoughts and feelings.
So to answer Carrie’s question, If you love someone and you breakup, and it’s real love, the love is bottled up for safe keeping until it’s literally ready to be what it was meant to be. Not just for you but for the other person as well.
I think I answered my own question and just used Carrie as a scapegoat. ☺ Anyway, I just felt like sharing. I hope everyone has a fabulous week and when something else strikes me you all will be the first to know! Smooches!
Happy New Year!!!! This is indeed my first post of the year. I don’t post as often as I did when I started this blog but I still love it just the same.
So here it comes. First things first, if you’ve read at least two of my posts (from over the last three years or so) you know I have a tendency to take two or more instances or occurrences and tie them together (hence the title of this post). Second things second, many of you know that I adore the HBO comedy/drama Sex and The City and have a few posts about particular episodes. However, I’ve never posted anything about the episode I’m about to analyze. Thirdly, just listen and pay attention! ☺
Okay, last week I was watching my usual Sex and the City episodes around lunch time and I’m pretty sure I was preoccupied and half listening. The episode was entitled Ex and the City. Anyone familiar with the series knows that Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big had an on again off again relationship for the duration of the series. So much so that he married twice during their off periods. And imposed lots of vexation on Carrie because he couldn’t make the seemingly simple decision to love and be loved. Anyway, this episode happened to be during an off period and Carrie unfortunately found out that Big was engaged. Now this was after she’d attempted to turn their romance into a friendship. He just sprung it on her (over a “friendly” lunch). Of course, she flipped out, stormed out of the restaurant, and had a pity party. But shortly thereafter in the episode she was having brunch with her girlfriends and they began chopping up the idea of exes. With her head in her hands and frustration smeared all over her face, she lowered her eyes and asked, “If you love someone and you break up, where does the love go?”
Although my mind was partially preoccupied, I froze and immediately became engrossed in the episode. In spite of the fact that I’d seen it several times. The episode took me back to a conversation I’d had with a close friend two weeks prior.
He and I were talking and somehow we got on the subject of relationships (as we always seem to do) and he asked me if I ever think about a particular person from my recent past. Of course, names won’t be mentioned but because he asked and I’d been keeping things to myself, I began to heave my thoughts about this person uncontrollably until I could find a way to control myself and listen to what my buddy had to say.
Before I stopped though, I said, “I just believe that our separating meant we needed to better ourselves for ourselves so that we can be wonderful for each other. It’s like wine. It gets better with time but only if it’s left alone to ferment.”
He said something that struck me as poignant. “That’s a pretty good analogy but keep in mind, when the grapes are stomped at the beginning of the process, it’s merely grape juice and nothing else. As time passes, seasons change, and fermentation begins to take hold, it’s no longer grape juice. If you want this to boomerang and come around again, expect for things to be different.” There was a pause. Then he said, “Different but better. No longer the immature version of wine or in this case, a relationship. You can’t rush it if you want it to be good.” He put great emphasis on me resisting the urge to make contact. I guess it would be like popping the cork too soon.
Lastly, he took me on a bit of an analytical rollercoaster and said, “It’s like a kite. Of course, a kite is on a string and the more you try to control it the more out of control it becomes and less beauty is seen. But when you gently release and let go, there’s beauty in what’s to follow your letting go. The wind takes over and you lose control of the thing you so desperately wanted to control.”
Sheesh, how in the world do all of these three metaphors align? Well, in Carries case she and Big ended up together. Albeit ten years and two failed marriages later but they ended up together nonetheless and with that separation came maturity and a sense of self-actualization. What they could take, what they could give, what they could tolerate, how to trust, and how to put the negative occurrences in their past behind them for the sake of a love that never went anywhere. It just got better with time. Even in their being apart.
The kite? Carrie and Big both let go and freed themselves so that the situation could mend itself while they mended themselves APART. They both stored their love in the cellars of their souls and waited to pop the cork when they were both at a place of being beneficial to each other.
This may not make any sense to anyone that reads this but if you think about it some relationships are meant to end for good and some end because you’re not the person you’re supposed to be for them RIGHT NOW. You’re simply the immature version of a fine wine. I’ve heard a lot of stories about couples that broke up and years later got back together. Maybe I’m encouraging myself and rambling to appease my thoughts and feelings.
So to answer Carrie’s question, If you love someone and you breakup, and it’s real love, the love is bottled up for safe keeping until it’s literally ready to be what it was meant to be. Not just for you but for the other person as well.
I think I answered my own question and just used Carrie as a scapegoat. ☺ Anyway, I just felt like sharing. I hope everyone has a fabulous week and when something else strikes me you all will be the first to know! Smooches!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Moving Forward... (2011)
I trust that we’re all enjoying the beauty of the holiday season….. I just wanted to post on last thing before 2010 was just a memory.
The title of this most consists of two words that are used mindlessly and all too frequently in corporate emails. No one really thinks about what they’re saying.
A couple Tuesday nights ago, I was in the process of conducting my last dance rehearsal of the year with my dance team of the most precious little girls in the world. Yes, I’m partial. They range from ages five to eleven and talk about being full of personality. Sheesh! I could be having the worst day and walk into our dance room and they have this way of turning it all around. I guess you can say I’m the play mama to eleven little girls. Hey, at least I can send them home.
Anyway, the purpose of this post is concerning the impending New Year. I’ve said this, as most of us have, every December 31. “This is about to be my year! Things are gonna change this year!” Yadda, yadda, yadda!
I won’t deny that we may mean it for the first few months but things happen, unfortunate relationships take place. We make some bad decisions and we wish we could redo a couple of things. We had poor judgment or used that perfect vision too late (hindsight is definitely 20/20). We can’t discount the wonderful days that found us this year either. We try our best to bottle those moments in hopes that the bad things will be obliterated by good memories.
So at the end of the year we find ourselves weighing the good and bad. What to leave behind and what lessons to carry with us into the next twelve months of promise.
I don’t know about you all but 2010 was a rough one for the kid. I mean rough but I believe it was rough for a reason. I’m hoping those reasons begin to reveal themselves shortly after midnight on January 1st. I’ve been asking God, “Why did you let them do that to me?” “Or Lawd, why don’t I have those testimonies about mysterious money falling into my mailbox.” I could go on and on and on and on……
Well, that’s where my babies come in.
In class two Tuesday’s ago, one of my youngest, five years old, raised her hand as I was giving instructions and asked, “Can I sing you a song.”
I mindlessly, almost flippantly, answered and said, “It’s not time for that right now. Remind me at the end of class.”
The end of class rolled around and of course her singing me a song had totally slipped my mind. The girls were spending the rest of class time preparing decorations for our Christmas party that weekend. She politely raised her hand and asked again, “Can I sing my song now?”
“Yes, sing your song now.” I sat in a chair close to her to better hear her tiny, little voice. She turned to me and I began to prepare myself to hear a song that Dora or The Wiggles or Hannah Montana might sing that I wouldn’t be able to get out of my head for the rest of the night. When she opened her mouth to sing to me, these are the words that fell from her lips.
Not going back I’m moving ahead
I’m here to declare to you my past is over in You
All things are made new surrendered my life to Christ
I’m moving, moving forward
(Moving Forward/Hezekiah Walker)
Yes, I was crying! I guess I gave that long story to illustrate how minimal the past really is. And how the innocence of children can make the most “complicated” adult things seem almost microscopic. The past can’t be undone but if we use the memory and the lesson effectively, it can shape our future in a positive way. I have a really old post entitle TODAY (just poke through the archives. It’s from April 2008.) but don’t waste this year thinking about time lost, what you didn’t do, who you let take advantage of you, who messed with your emotions, who lied, the job you lost, the friend that passed, the loved one that walked away without explanation. Go into this year carrying the lesson and the hope that eventually you’ll get it right and with the knowledge that, in spite of what you didn’t get…. When that clock strikes 12 on January 1, remember you got yet another chance.
I want to wish you all the most prosperous of New Years! I love you all to pieces and can’t wait to see you next year! Be good!
The title of this most consists of two words that are used mindlessly and all too frequently in corporate emails. No one really thinks about what they’re saying.
A couple Tuesday nights ago, I was in the process of conducting my last dance rehearsal of the year with my dance team of the most precious little girls in the world. Yes, I’m partial. They range from ages five to eleven and talk about being full of personality. Sheesh! I could be having the worst day and walk into our dance room and they have this way of turning it all around. I guess you can say I’m the play mama to eleven little girls. Hey, at least I can send them home.
Anyway, the purpose of this post is concerning the impending New Year. I’ve said this, as most of us have, every December 31. “This is about to be my year! Things are gonna change this year!” Yadda, yadda, yadda!
I won’t deny that we may mean it for the first few months but things happen, unfortunate relationships take place. We make some bad decisions and we wish we could redo a couple of things. We had poor judgment or used that perfect vision too late (hindsight is definitely 20/20). We can’t discount the wonderful days that found us this year either. We try our best to bottle those moments in hopes that the bad things will be obliterated by good memories.
So at the end of the year we find ourselves weighing the good and bad. What to leave behind and what lessons to carry with us into the next twelve months of promise.
I don’t know about you all but 2010 was a rough one for the kid. I mean rough but I believe it was rough for a reason. I’m hoping those reasons begin to reveal themselves shortly after midnight on January 1st. I’ve been asking God, “Why did you let them do that to me?” “Or Lawd, why don’t I have those testimonies about mysterious money falling into my mailbox.” I could go on and on and on and on……
Well, that’s where my babies come in.
In class two Tuesday’s ago, one of my youngest, five years old, raised her hand as I was giving instructions and asked, “Can I sing you a song.”
I mindlessly, almost flippantly, answered and said, “It’s not time for that right now. Remind me at the end of class.”
The end of class rolled around and of course her singing me a song had totally slipped my mind. The girls were spending the rest of class time preparing decorations for our Christmas party that weekend. She politely raised her hand and asked again, “Can I sing my song now?”
“Yes, sing your song now.” I sat in a chair close to her to better hear her tiny, little voice. She turned to me and I began to prepare myself to hear a song that Dora or The Wiggles or Hannah Montana might sing that I wouldn’t be able to get out of my head for the rest of the night. When she opened her mouth to sing to me, these are the words that fell from her lips.
Not going back I’m moving ahead
I’m here to declare to you my past is over in You
All things are made new surrendered my life to Christ
I’m moving, moving forward
(Moving Forward/Hezekiah Walker)
Yes, I was crying! I guess I gave that long story to illustrate how minimal the past really is. And how the innocence of children can make the most “complicated” adult things seem almost microscopic. The past can’t be undone but if we use the memory and the lesson effectively, it can shape our future in a positive way. I have a really old post entitle TODAY (just poke through the archives. It’s from April 2008.) but don’t waste this year thinking about time lost, what you didn’t do, who you let take advantage of you, who messed with your emotions, who lied, the job you lost, the friend that passed, the loved one that walked away without explanation. Go into this year carrying the lesson and the hope that eventually you’ll get it right and with the knowledge that, in spite of what you didn’t get…. When that clock strikes 12 on January 1, remember you got yet another chance.
I want to wish you all the most prosperous of New Years! I love you all to pieces and can’t wait to see you next year! Be good!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Soul Mates Revisited
“You only get one. Two tops.”
“One what?”
"True love.”
“True love my a**, man. Love is what you make and with whom you make it. That’s it.”
“Yeah, well. I think I messed up twice. You’d think by now I’d have a little more insight. I don’t know, man. I don’t know what to think….”
“THAT, my friend, is your problem right there. Physics this sh*t ain’t. It ain’t supposed to make sense. Love. Passion. It is what it is.”
Anyone who’s heard this conversation knows that it comes from one of my favorite movies, Love Jones. As many times as I’ve watched the movie and recited the script blow for blow, this discourse stood out to me last night and I began to think.
At first, I began to recant some statements that I’d made in a post a few months back. If you don’t remember, it had to do with the topic of soul mates and a question a friend raised to me about the possibility of such a thing. I don’t know, I think I began to straddle the fence and began hanging more on the side of Darius (the one struggling with having lost the second woman he’d ever loved).
Is it true? Do we only have one (two tops) opportunities in our lifetime to experience the pristine occurance of falling in love and falling hard? The more I thought about it, the more I believe it to be true. Yes, a lifetime is a long time but when it comes to building something lasting with someone, it’s not that long at all. So, if my hypothesis is correct, I guess the idea of a soul mate isn’t that farfetched.
Who knows, a soul mate and a true love could very well be two different things, which could turn this post into another discussion in itself.
But maybe, just maybe…..
What if the heavens opened up and dropped someone wonderful in your life. Like the piece to jigsaw puzzle, it was kismet. Not perfect but you’re perfect for each other.
Now, in Darius’ case, he allowed true love to slip through his fingers because of selfishness and a lack of willingness to work. And granted love is work. Hard work. I always say, it’s easy to fall in love, but staying is the hard part. If you haven’t seen the movie, a year passes and he gets her back. Typical Hollywood ending.
Now I can also relate to Ed’s argument. It’s not rocket science. “Love is what you make and with whom you make it.”
I think both arguments can be married in a sense. You fall in love but it has to be nurtured. Who knows? I’m just “spit balling” or “shootin’ from the hip.” I think it’s a pretty good question though.
I guess my main question is: Are soul mates and true loves synonymous or two entirely different entities?
“One what?”
"True love.”
“True love my a**, man. Love is what you make and with whom you make it. That’s it.”
“Yeah, well. I think I messed up twice. You’d think by now I’d have a little more insight. I don’t know, man. I don’t know what to think….”
“THAT, my friend, is your problem right there. Physics this sh*t ain’t. It ain’t supposed to make sense. Love. Passion. It is what it is.”
Anyone who’s heard this conversation knows that it comes from one of my favorite movies, Love Jones. As many times as I’ve watched the movie and recited the script blow for blow, this discourse stood out to me last night and I began to think.
At first, I began to recant some statements that I’d made in a post a few months back. If you don’t remember, it had to do with the topic of soul mates and a question a friend raised to me about the possibility of such a thing. I don’t know, I think I began to straddle the fence and began hanging more on the side of Darius (the one struggling with having lost the second woman he’d ever loved).
Is it true? Do we only have one (two tops) opportunities in our lifetime to experience the pristine occurance of falling in love and falling hard? The more I thought about it, the more I believe it to be true. Yes, a lifetime is a long time but when it comes to building something lasting with someone, it’s not that long at all. So, if my hypothesis is correct, I guess the idea of a soul mate isn’t that farfetched.
Who knows, a soul mate and a true love could very well be two different things, which could turn this post into another discussion in itself.
But maybe, just maybe…..
What if the heavens opened up and dropped someone wonderful in your life. Like the piece to jigsaw puzzle, it was kismet. Not perfect but you’re perfect for each other.
Now, in Darius’ case, he allowed true love to slip through his fingers because of selfishness and a lack of willingness to work. And granted love is work. Hard work. I always say, it’s easy to fall in love, but staying is the hard part. If you haven’t seen the movie, a year passes and he gets her back. Typical Hollywood ending.
Now I can also relate to Ed’s argument. It’s not rocket science. “Love is what you make and with whom you make it.”
I think both arguments can be married in a sense. You fall in love but it has to be nurtured. Who knows? I’m just “spit balling” or “shootin’ from the hip.” I think it’s a pretty good question though.
I guess my main question is: Are soul mates and true loves synonymous or two entirely different entities?
Friday, September 10, 2010
Love's Timetable
Love’s Timeline
An interesting summer it’s been. So much so that my approach to love and love politics has drastically changed. The next series of blog posts will be along the lines of LOVE (which is nothing new), love’s timing, love’s appropriateness, and whatever else keeps me tossing and turning throughout the night. These days, slumberless hours are commonplace.
One of the topics that has me by the reigns right now is love’s timing. Yeah, that’s what I said. Believe me, I never thought I’d question such a thing but lately I’ve begun to wonder. Does love ever have bad timing?
It kind of makes sense when you think enough about it.
But to reiterate the question at hand, does love have a tendency to have bad timing? Ashley, what in the world does that mean? How can love have bad timing?
Just think about it. You’re in a position that isn’t favorable for loving another person. You’re tied up with certain life issues, situations, isms, and schisms that have you bound in a way that loving someone else [right now] seems to be too much….
Let me give you all a scenario.
You’re going about your day-to-day as you always have. Life isn’t the best but you’ve promised yourself and the people in your life that you’re going to work through all these “things” before you consider yourself and your own happiness. What we like to call the “brave front.” Then one day you happen to meet someone. Neither of you is looking to date or have a partner but you hit it off. Because both of you have a lot going on, you resolve to remain friends until things blow over (however long that may take). Friendship proves to break down some emotional barriers. You learn a lot about each other - internally and externally – and feelings begin to flourish. Before you know it, love has lugged all it’s baggage into your heart’s front door and you’re feeling things and wanting things that – for a period – you never thought you’d have. Everything is perfect. They may not be perfect but they’re perfect for you. But time….. time is a funny thing. You’re both put in a position to weigh what’s going to happen. If circumstances are extenuating enough, one or both of you has mapped out the next few years (before having met each other) and you or they were never on the map. All that love stuff was supposed to come later. When life slowed down , thinking was easier, and weights weren’t perpetually on your shoulders. So, now what?
There’s a rift. Breaks are pumped. Tires screech and feelings are capped tightly forced to be stunted. Everything wonderful comes to a screeching halt. “Let’s just figure this out. This is too much right now.” Things have to change quickly because this wasn’t in the plan. Time apart? Probably a good idea but love continues to grow. As the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow…. Fonder.” So, how do you keep things in perspective? This isn’t wrong but it’s totally not…. On time. The right timetable, so to speak.
I guess my second question would be, if love’s timing is off and you consent to taking time to figure it all out, is it worth the wait or should you keep it moving? Waiting, however, doesn’t imply standing completely still but more or less, living your lives separately until you can live harmoniously together. I know what I think but really want to know what you all think.
Can love have bad timing? And if so, if that love is earthquaking enough, is it worth the wait?
An interesting summer it’s been. So much so that my approach to love and love politics has drastically changed. The next series of blog posts will be along the lines of LOVE (which is nothing new), love’s timing, love’s appropriateness, and whatever else keeps me tossing and turning throughout the night. These days, slumberless hours are commonplace.
One of the topics that has me by the reigns right now is love’s timing. Yeah, that’s what I said. Believe me, I never thought I’d question such a thing but lately I’ve begun to wonder. Does love ever have bad timing?
It kind of makes sense when you think enough about it.
But to reiterate the question at hand, does love have a tendency to have bad timing? Ashley, what in the world does that mean? How can love have bad timing?
Just think about it. You’re in a position that isn’t favorable for loving another person. You’re tied up with certain life issues, situations, isms, and schisms that have you bound in a way that loving someone else [right now] seems to be too much….
Let me give you all a scenario.
You’re going about your day-to-day as you always have. Life isn’t the best but you’ve promised yourself and the people in your life that you’re going to work through all these “things” before you consider yourself and your own happiness. What we like to call the “brave front.” Then one day you happen to meet someone. Neither of you is looking to date or have a partner but you hit it off. Because both of you have a lot going on, you resolve to remain friends until things blow over (however long that may take). Friendship proves to break down some emotional barriers. You learn a lot about each other - internally and externally – and feelings begin to flourish. Before you know it, love has lugged all it’s baggage into your heart’s front door and you’re feeling things and wanting things that – for a period – you never thought you’d have. Everything is perfect. They may not be perfect but they’re perfect for you. But time….. time is a funny thing. You’re both put in a position to weigh what’s going to happen. If circumstances are extenuating enough, one or both of you has mapped out the next few years (before having met each other) and you or they were never on the map. All that love stuff was supposed to come later. When life slowed down , thinking was easier, and weights weren’t perpetually on your shoulders. So, now what?
There’s a rift. Breaks are pumped. Tires screech and feelings are capped tightly forced to be stunted. Everything wonderful comes to a screeching halt. “Let’s just figure this out. This is too much right now.” Things have to change quickly because this wasn’t in the plan. Time apart? Probably a good idea but love continues to grow. As the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow…. Fonder.” So, how do you keep things in perspective? This isn’t wrong but it’s totally not…. On time. The right timetable, so to speak.
I guess my second question would be, if love’s timing is off and you consent to taking time to figure it all out, is it worth the wait or should you keep it moving? Waiting, however, doesn’t imply standing completely still but more or less, living your lives separately until you can live harmoniously together. I know what I think but really want to know what you all think.
Can love have bad timing? And if so, if that love is earthquaking enough, is it worth the wait?
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Unfit to Wed - Why Did You Get Married?
Hello my beautiful readers (if you're still reading this blog - lol!!!),
As you can see I only write when something really poignant grips me or makes me think tremendously and the last couple of weeks have been interesting and trying. I've learned some interesting things about myself, about life, a lot about love, and about how complicated the simplest things can be. I spend a lot of time in my head and it can be a pretty dangerous place. With the way that things have gone emotionally for the past few weeks, I'll be writing a lot more so you guys (hopefully) will be reading some more.
What am I thinking about right now?
I've found myself over the last couple of months repeating to myself and to a few significant people the same phrases over and over. "I know what I have to offer." Or I'll preface sentences with, "As a woman with a strong desire to be married...." I started thinking about that and the fact that I think I'm a pretty good catch. I know that I would make someone a wonderful wife. Not just with the given physical benefits of living under the same roof but with supporting and loving my husband, fighting for him, loving him some more, maintaining a house, cooking, taking care of babies, basically the 24 hour job that a wife takes on when she says "I do." I've come to realize that that's what "I do" means. I do and do and do and do. lol!!!! But I digress.
With the willingness that I've found in myself to be a good wife (this isn't to say that I don't have flaws) but with that willingness, I find so many women unwilling to do all the things I've listed and somehow, wind up with wonderful men. Dedicated men that love their families and stick it out for the sake of that.... FAMILY. With the knowledge that broken homes are difficult places to live.
Why is that? Or is it just me? Am the only one that sees this kind of thing a little more frequently everyday? Men that don't want to go home but have to because they made a promise and because they need to keep a sense of normalcy for the children.
Women that don't speak a positive word to the men they married. Women too independent to do laundry or pick up a pot and boil some spaghetti. Women whose priorities far exceed their address and being at home (especially at a decent hour) is too much to ask. Why is that?
I would venture to ask why the men stick it out but I've already answered that question.
My mother was just on the phone with my brother a moment ago and I was in a different room. She speaks loudly so no matter where I am, I'm always in earshot. lol!!!! But from her tone over the phone I could tell he was upset. She said, "Let me tell you somethin'. Any woman that doesn't adhere to the basic duties of a wife and taking care of her husband's needs, should've never married in the first place." Of course we live in a new era of family but I'm a little old school as far as this topic is concerned.
Granted, people get married for the wrong reasons and I know once children are thrown in the mix things get far more complicated but is there a right way to end a bad thing?
As you can see I only write when something really poignant grips me or makes me think tremendously and the last couple of weeks have been interesting and trying. I've learned some interesting things about myself, about life, a lot about love, and about how complicated the simplest things can be. I spend a lot of time in my head and it can be a pretty dangerous place. With the way that things have gone emotionally for the past few weeks, I'll be writing a lot more so you guys (hopefully) will be reading some more.
What am I thinking about right now?
I've found myself over the last couple of months repeating to myself and to a few significant people the same phrases over and over. "I know what I have to offer." Or I'll preface sentences with, "As a woman with a strong desire to be married...." I started thinking about that and the fact that I think I'm a pretty good catch. I know that I would make someone a wonderful wife. Not just with the given physical benefits of living under the same roof but with supporting and loving my husband, fighting for him, loving him some more, maintaining a house, cooking, taking care of babies, basically the 24 hour job that a wife takes on when she says "I do." I've come to realize that that's what "I do" means. I do and do and do and do. lol!!!! But I digress.
With the willingness that I've found in myself to be a good wife (this isn't to say that I don't have flaws) but with that willingness, I find so many women unwilling to do all the things I've listed and somehow, wind up with wonderful men. Dedicated men that love their families and stick it out for the sake of that.... FAMILY. With the knowledge that broken homes are difficult places to live.
Why is that? Or is it just me? Am the only one that sees this kind of thing a little more frequently everyday? Men that don't want to go home but have to because they made a promise and because they need to keep a sense of normalcy for the children.
Women that don't speak a positive word to the men they married. Women too independent to do laundry or pick up a pot and boil some spaghetti. Women whose priorities far exceed their address and being at home (especially at a decent hour) is too much to ask. Why is that?
I would venture to ask why the men stick it out but I've already answered that question.
My mother was just on the phone with my brother a moment ago and I was in a different room. She speaks loudly so no matter where I am, I'm always in earshot. lol!!!! But from her tone over the phone I could tell he was upset. She said, "Let me tell you somethin'. Any woman that doesn't adhere to the basic duties of a wife and taking care of her husband's needs, should've never married in the first place." Of course we live in a new era of family but I'm a little old school as far as this topic is concerned.
Granted, people get married for the wrong reasons and I know once children are thrown in the mix things get far more complicated but is there a right way to end a bad thing?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Soul Mates?
Good morning you guys! I've been on break from dating and even giving my phone number to anyone for a few months. I guess out of the frustration and disappointment of empty promises and relationships on roads to nowhere, I needed some me time. Serial dating had caused me to literally forget my desires for dating. What I wanted out of it or rather who. The break's over (lol) as of very recently but I'm leery and a lot more careful than I used to be.
One thing this testosterone hiatus has given me is bifocals and a hearing aide. I feel I've matured a great deal and my senses have been heightened in a positive way. I know what I don't want but I really know what do want. I can honestly say that I never really did know what I wanted. I knew what sounded good though.
I guess I've said all of that to say that a friend of mine (male) sent me a message this morning. He was on his way to the gym and said that he was thinking about this concept and wanted my insight. I felt so important! (lol). I've edited some of what he said and left the meat of the question. Here goes...
Q: Before I go, let me drop this on you, I'm kicking around this thought in my head about the term "soul mate" wanted to get your take on that. I mean, have you every encountered one? Do you believe it exists?
A: Good morning. Yet another incredible question that I do think a lot about but never really discussed with anyone. (I apologize in advance if this gets lengthy lol) I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to glue the concept together. But in all honesty I do and don't believe they exist. I guess I can begin with why I believe: Well I think once you've fallen in love, really in love. Sickening, selflessly in love, you couldn't see yourself with anyone else. Nothing else matters. The end of the world is your destination and you couldn't see being without your "one true love". They have to be your soul mate. At least that's what the hysteria and irrationality of being in love tells us. But then something happens and we maybe get hurt, love begins to dissolve, and we see things we don't want to see. Who we thought was our soul mate isn't anymore. Which leads me to reasoning why they don't exist: Love is work and I believe it takes falling in love for real AGAIN to really know that. The first time (I can only speak from my experience) you're a buzz with emotion and the notion that "love conquers all" is misconstrued and you think you don't have to put forth the effort to make it last. Love takes care of itself. So I guess what I'm saying is "soul mates" are partly kismet and the other part is strictly what the two people make of their meeting and if they really want their souls to mate and stay together.
So what do you all think? Is a soul mate a soap opera fantasy or are our relationships really things we have to work for?
I hope to hear from you all soon! Love ya!
One thing this testosterone hiatus has given me is bifocals and a hearing aide. I feel I've matured a great deal and my senses have been heightened in a positive way. I know what I don't want but I really know what do want. I can honestly say that I never really did know what I wanted. I knew what sounded good though.
I guess I've said all of that to say that a friend of mine (male) sent me a message this morning. He was on his way to the gym and said that he was thinking about this concept and wanted my insight. I felt so important! (lol). I've edited some of what he said and left the meat of the question. Here goes...
Q: Before I go, let me drop this on you, I'm kicking around this thought in my head about the term "soul mate" wanted to get your take on that. I mean, have you every encountered one? Do you believe it exists?
A: Good morning. Yet another incredible question that I do think a lot about but never really discussed with anyone. (I apologize in advance if this gets lengthy lol) I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to glue the concept together. But in all honesty I do and don't believe they exist. I guess I can begin with why I believe: Well I think once you've fallen in love, really in love. Sickening, selflessly in love, you couldn't see yourself with anyone else. Nothing else matters. The end of the world is your destination and you couldn't see being without your "one true love". They have to be your soul mate. At least that's what the hysteria and irrationality of being in love tells us. But then something happens and we maybe get hurt, love begins to dissolve, and we see things we don't want to see. Who we thought was our soul mate isn't anymore. Which leads me to reasoning why they don't exist: Love is work and I believe it takes falling in love for real AGAIN to really know that. The first time (I can only speak from my experience) you're a buzz with emotion and the notion that "love conquers all" is misconstrued and you think you don't have to put forth the effort to make it last. Love takes care of itself. So I guess what I'm saying is "soul mates" are partly kismet and the other part is strictly what the two people make of their meeting and if they really want their souls to mate and stay together.
So what do you all think? Is a soul mate a soap opera fantasy or are our relationships really things we have to work for?
I hope to hear from you all soon! Love ya!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The State of Black Literature
Anyone that knows me well enough, knows that I don't just write. I have an obsession with books. Not one of those collect too many and only read a few. I read everything I purchase. My reading isn't always because of interest but because I like to see what people like to read. Because I haven't broken the market yet, I like to be familiar with what I have to contend with.
Monday night, I had a book club meeting and it happened to be at a bookstore. When the meeting was over I stayed behind and poked around in my favorite section. Because, I'm an African American writer, I like to see what my colleagues have been churning out. Needless to say, I was gravely disappointed. I don't want to list titles because said authors are in a place that I look to be in in the near future.
However, it's disheartening when publishers won't give you a chance but manage to put garbage on bookshelves. The title tells the whole story so why would I buy that? I mean really. How many she's a hoe, he's a dog, I'm cheatin', I'm a stripper on the side but I have a family at home crappy novels can there be? When does it end? When do the newbies get a chance to shine.
Starving artist is an understatement. I used to think it referred to lack of money and in turn, a lack of food. That's not what it means. Starvation comes from the hunger of you (the artist) NEEDING your voice to be heard.
This particular entry doesn't just apply to novelists or poets but any artist that is frustrated out of their minds because they know "they've got the goods" but can't seem to catch a break.
You know it's love when you'd you'd do your craft whether you got paid or not but you know it's magnified passion when you're willing to fight to be heard.
That's all I have to say today, guys.
Love ya!
Monday night, I had a book club meeting and it happened to be at a bookstore. When the meeting was over I stayed behind and poked around in my favorite section. Because, I'm an African American writer, I like to see what my colleagues have been churning out. Needless to say, I was gravely disappointed. I don't want to list titles because said authors are in a place that I look to be in in the near future.
However, it's disheartening when publishers won't give you a chance but manage to put garbage on bookshelves. The title tells the whole story so why would I buy that? I mean really. How many she's a hoe, he's a dog, I'm cheatin', I'm a stripper on the side but I have a family at home crappy novels can there be? When does it end? When do the newbies get a chance to shine.
Starving artist is an understatement. I used to think it referred to lack of money and in turn, a lack of food. That's not what it means. Starvation comes from the hunger of you (the artist) NEEDING your voice to be heard.
This particular entry doesn't just apply to novelists or poets but any artist that is frustrated out of their minds because they know "they've got the goods" but can't seem to catch a break.
You know it's love when you'd you'd do your craft whether you got paid or not but you know it's magnified passion when you're willing to fight to be heard.
That's all I have to say today, guys.
Love ya!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
The Black Church's Dilemma
As a woman (in church) I’ve made some observations. Now, these observations are nothing new. I’ve always noticed this and always vowed that I would NEVER date a man that was in church. As illogical as it may sound, I lived by the reason that I’d get him saved but I didn’t want one that was already there.
Huh? Ashley, that makes no sense. Allow me to explain or first pose a question. Is it just me or does it seem that the men in the Black church are on either end of the spectrum? They’re either promiscuous heterosexuals or feminine and confused. I’m serious and not at all trying to be funny but I guess with 30 getting closer and closer, my desire to have a godly husband to govern over my beautiful family (as figurative as it may be), and wanting to be in ministry with my future husband, I’m purely speaking out of sheer frustration.
I was raised in church. Both my parents were devoted to raising us to love God and to (no matter how much we hated it) learn to love church and to build our relationships with God. However, we stray and are determined to find our way in our own way and I dated nothing but “unsaved” men. Not simply because of my lifestyle but because I couldn’t see myself with that type of guy.
You know the ones. Let me give you some examples. Eyebrows arched. Dressed better than me (and I like to think that I have a pretty good sense of fashion). Around nothing but feminine men or a boatload of flashy women. Hands like cotton and he has little to no aggression with approaching a woman to let her know that he’s interested in her. Here’s a better example: When you’re talking to them you have to catch yourself from saying “Girl”. Am I the only one? “girl, let me tell you!” It’s this or the men in church who find the weak-minded women, the ones they can manipulate, turn out, and leave high and dry.
As badly as I hate to admit it, single and saved Black women are at a loss. The men in many of the Black churches are not interested in us and we don’t have white women to blame in this scenario. No, no. We have the other men in the congregation to contend with. They’re the ones that get the men. How disheartening is that? A church full men and void of men at the same time.
Since re-dedicating my life to the God I love, I pray daily that He continues to work on my husband. I pray for our disadvantage. I pray for the shortage of men in church. I pray that God breaks the bond of confusion that has the minds of our men. Now this is only for the women who seek a godly man to love God first and then to love them. It hurts my feelings every time I see it.
Both my sisters are married and one of my sisters recently admitted to me that she never thought she’d get married because of this dilemma. She knew she’d be single because Christian men aren’t interested in Christian women. They don’t seem to be interested in women period but I digress.
I know that God has something and someone wonderful for me in the near future and my hearts cry isn’t simply for me but it’s for all my single sisters in Christ (and even the married women in Christ who later learned what they didn’t want to about their husbands) that we all receive the desires of our heart. A man that loves God and loves his WIFE as well.
Huh? Ashley, that makes no sense. Allow me to explain or first pose a question. Is it just me or does it seem that the men in the Black church are on either end of the spectrum? They’re either promiscuous heterosexuals or feminine and confused. I’m serious and not at all trying to be funny but I guess with 30 getting closer and closer, my desire to have a godly husband to govern over my beautiful family (as figurative as it may be), and wanting to be in ministry with my future husband, I’m purely speaking out of sheer frustration.
I was raised in church. Both my parents were devoted to raising us to love God and to (no matter how much we hated it) learn to love church and to build our relationships with God. However, we stray and are determined to find our way in our own way and I dated nothing but “unsaved” men. Not simply because of my lifestyle but because I couldn’t see myself with that type of guy.
You know the ones. Let me give you some examples. Eyebrows arched. Dressed better than me (and I like to think that I have a pretty good sense of fashion). Around nothing but feminine men or a boatload of flashy women. Hands like cotton and he has little to no aggression with approaching a woman to let her know that he’s interested in her. Here’s a better example: When you’re talking to them you have to catch yourself from saying “Girl”. Am I the only one? “girl, let me tell you!” It’s this or the men in church who find the weak-minded women, the ones they can manipulate, turn out, and leave high and dry.
As badly as I hate to admit it, single and saved Black women are at a loss. The men in many of the Black churches are not interested in us and we don’t have white women to blame in this scenario. No, no. We have the other men in the congregation to contend with. They’re the ones that get the men. How disheartening is that? A church full men and void of men at the same time.
Since re-dedicating my life to the God I love, I pray daily that He continues to work on my husband. I pray for our disadvantage. I pray for the shortage of men in church. I pray that God breaks the bond of confusion that has the minds of our men. Now this is only for the women who seek a godly man to love God first and then to love them. It hurts my feelings every time I see it.
Both my sisters are married and one of my sisters recently admitted to me that she never thought she’d get married because of this dilemma. She knew she’d be single because Christian men aren’t interested in Christian women. They don’t seem to be interested in women period but I digress.
I know that God has something and someone wonderful for me in the near future and my hearts cry isn’t simply for me but it’s for all my single sisters in Christ (and even the married women in Christ who later learned what they didn’t want to about their husbands) that we all receive the desires of our heart. A man that loves God and loves his WIFE as well.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
New Amerykah Pt 2: Return of the Ankh
It's been a while since I did an album review and I'm nothing close to a music guru but I know what I like. I've been anxiously anticipating the the second installment of New Amerykah since the first one was released two years ago. If you aren't familiar let me give you a briefing. New Amerykah Part 1 4th World War, to me, is strictly funk. Drawing from the legendary inspiration of Parliament Funkadelic and Jimmi Hendrix. The second installment, however, is nothing but soul. It's hard to critique something when I'm partial to the artist. Everything she's ever released is in my collection and if you're a true fan - as I am - I implore you to download or pick up a copy today!
Window Seat is the first single (released on February 5, 2010) and I've attached a link to the official video. The message is insane and the song is.... Just listen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jF-AKFAtQQ8
My favorite track so far (aside from Window Seat) is Turn Me Away (Get Munny) on which she brilliantly samples the classic Notorious BIG song "Get Money."
All I can say is this just might be the sound track for my second book. Perfect chill music. So if you were wondering if it was worth it to purchase the answer is DOUBLE YES!!!!
P.S. If you download the album you'll get the bonus track Jump Up in the Air (featuring Lil' Wayne and Bilal)
Thanks for reading.....
Window Seat is the first single (released on February 5, 2010) and I've attached a link to the official video. The message is insane and the song is.... Just listen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jF-AKFAtQQ8
My favorite track so far (aside from Window Seat) is Turn Me Away (Get Munny) on which she brilliantly samples the classic Notorious BIG song "Get Money."
All I can say is this just might be the sound track for my second book. Perfect chill music. So if you were wondering if it was worth it to purchase the answer is DOUBLE YES!!!!
P.S. If you download the album you'll get the bonus track Jump Up in the Air (featuring Lil' Wayne and Bilal)
Thanks for reading.....
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Visually Displeasing
So today was another rough "beauty day" to say the least. I felt okay at first. Mainly because I spent majority of the day around infants and their biggest concern is either their next diaper change, bottle, or why-in-the-world-haven't-you-picked-me-up-yet? My hair was pretty much the last thing on my mind. Then I went to church this evening and came home and most of my twists in the front had unravelled. I have pretty soft hair so this is to be expected. I mean, yeah it's been two weeks but my patience is being severely challenged. I guess it's true what they say about us living in an instant generation and society. Everything has to be right now and automatic. Process is foreign to us and this process (for lack of another word) is trying.
I love the encouragement and the connection that I feel with other people with locks (whether they're newbies or seasoned) but this first two weeks has been rough. I do not feel attractive. No matter what I do, how much make up I put on. Sunday my hair was doing what it wanted to do so I decided to put on the most frilly, girly frock I could find in my closet just to feel the way I'm used to feeling and it did nothing. Although I received many compliments I still felt awkward and untamed. It must be all over my face because yesterday, I was in Trader Joe's and a young lady in the elder stage of her journey smiled at me as she took the shopping baskets back outside. When she returned she asked me if I needed a bag and then asked, "How long have you had your locks."
I chuckled and answered, "Almost two weeks."
And she replied, "I know this is rough but you gotta go through it. I promise it's gonna pass and it's gonna be worth. But it suits you."
I smiled and asked a few questions and headed on my way. I felt good for the moment but I find myself staring at myself all the time. Excited about the end result but not thrilled about what I have to do to get there.
As I'm typing this, I'm getting a revelation and am looking at this far beyond my hair. I'm being taught some things and it's really uncomfortable but as the young lady said, "It's gonna pass and it's gonna be worth it."
I don't want to call it the ugly stage. It sounds demeaning. Almost as though I made a mistake. But what seems to be more ironically appropriate is the grooming stage.
Ironic because, I look unkempt by my standards but am being groomed for something much bigger than long locks. If I can sit through this process then.....
I love the encouragement and the connection that I feel with other people with locks (whether they're newbies or seasoned) but this first two weeks has been rough. I do not feel attractive. No matter what I do, how much make up I put on. Sunday my hair was doing what it wanted to do so I decided to put on the most frilly, girly frock I could find in my closet just to feel the way I'm used to feeling and it did nothing. Although I received many compliments I still felt awkward and untamed. It must be all over my face because yesterday, I was in Trader Joe's and a young lady in the elder stage of her journey smiled at me as she took the shopping baskets back outside. When she returned she asked me if I needed a bag and then asked, "How long have you had your locks."
I chuckled and answered, "Almost two weeks."
And she replied, "I know this is rough but you gotta go through it. I promise it's gonna pass and it's gonna be worth. But it suits you."
I smiled and asked a few questions and headed on my way. I felt good for the moment but I find myself staring at myself all the time. Excited about the end result but not thrilled about what I have to do to get there.
As I'm typing this, I'm getting a revelation and am looking at this far beyond my hair. I'm being taught some things and it's really uncomfortable but as the young lady said, "It's gonna pass and it's gonna be worth it."
I don't want to call it the ugly stage. It sounds demeaning. Almost as though I made a mistake. But what seems to be more ironically appropriate is the grooming stage.
Ironic because, I look unkempt by my standards but am being groomed for something much bigger than long locks. If I can sit through this process then.....
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Long Lock Walk
I've never been so excited and so terrified in my life. I guess now I kind of have a feel as to what my wedding day will be like. Jitters and the preoccupation with the way I look. Wanting everything to be perfect and wanting the forever journey to be RIGHT NOW. I guess you can say I've already performed a sacred union. I'm married to my hair and we've started a beautiful relationship. I mean yeah, it's only been a week but I've learned a lot about myself.
Lesson number one was my level of vanity. Yeah, I'm a tiny bit vain. But aren't we all? Don't we all struggle with acceptance, wanting to look a certain way, blend a certain. I've always been a bit of a "sore thumb" as far as personality and interests are concerned but this is my HAIR!!!!
One of the most truthful things I've heard in the past seven days is, "Wow, that takes courage." Mind you this fell from the lips of a sistah that looks like me and was born with hair curled tightly like mine but she'd just made the decision to alter its behavior. I remember being like that. I remember being natural and not being as comfortable with it as I pretended to be. Things have since changed.
I've developed an uncanny obsession with my natural hair. The way it feels. The way it responds to these starter locs (or nubs as I like to call them). I've fallen in love and I'm finally loc'ed up and free. Pun absolutely intended.
I get tickled about the fact that I've started locs around the same time that I want to settle down and meet my husband. "Who in the world wants to take Buckwheat on a date?" I asked myself on the second day that I unveiled my babies. But to my surprise, my "courage" has become captivating somehow and I've learned that any man that is disgusted with the way that I've chosen to nurture my hair isn't the father of my children. It's just that simple.
I wake up every day, more and more in love with the process. Although at first I thought I may have lost my mind, I quickly remembered everything that I've heard other loc'ed individuals profess. "The Buckwheat phase is short lived. You'll be surprised how quickly it passes."
So that's what I'm holding on to.... and I'm loving this....
I'm finally committed to who I was made to be and what I was made to look like and I'm proud of it.....
Until next time....
Love, love, love
Lesson number one was my level of vanity. Yeah, I'm a tiny bit vain. But aren't we all? Don't we all struggle with acceptance, wanting to look a certain way, blend a certain. I've always been a bit of a "sore thumb" as far as personality and interests are concerned but this is my HAIR!!!!
One of the most truthful things I've heard in the past seven days is, "Wow, that takes courage." Mind you this fell from the lips of a sistah that looks like me and was born with hair curled tightly like mine but she'd just made the decision to alter its behavior. I remember being like that. I remember being natural and not being as comfortable with it as I pretended to be. Things have since changed.
I've developed an uncanny obsession with my natural hair. The way it feels. The way it responds to these starter locs (or nubs as I like to call them). I've fallen in love and I'm finally loc'ed up and free. Pun absolutely intended.
I get tickled about the fact that I've started locs around the same time that I want to settle down and meet my husband. "Who in the world wants to take Buckwheat on a date?" I asked myself on the second day that I unveiled my babies. But to my surprise, my "courage" has become captivating somehow and I've learned that any man that is disgusted with the way that I've chosen to nurture my hair isn't the father of my children. It's just that simple.
I wake up every day, more and more in love with the process. Although at first I thought I may have lost my mind, I quickly remembered everything that I've heard other loc'ed individuals profess. "The Buckwheat phase is short lived. You'll be surprised how quickly it passes."
So that's what I'm holding on to.... and I'm loving this....
I'm finally committed to who I was made to be and what I was made to look like and I'm proud of it.....
Until next time....
Love, love, love
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
It's Cake
"So you like him. You genuinely like him." Yes, it's still very new. Yes, majority of my posts are about my serial dating. It seems almost ritualistic when I think about it but I digress.
I have the best coversations with the woman that runs the building that I work in. This morning, after returning my office key to her she stopped me and we got into a conversation about a gentleman I'm seeing. She's met him and she likes him. As do I. But I mentioned how I have a tendency to rush when it comes to relationships. Enthralled in the hooplah that makes relationship an ornament of perfect imperfection. Let's face it common sense is the enemy of romance. So she looked at me and she said, "Ashley, he's been up front with you about being driven, career oriented, and very busy at times. It's still very early. It's only been a month and a half. Don't ice the cake too soon."
You all know that I love a good analogy and that's the best one I've heard in a while. Any of us that bake on occassion know the consequences that follow putting sugary icing on a warm cake. The surgar melts, the cake starts to fall apart, the icing slides off. And what are you left with? One big, gooey, mess. Totally been there.
But when the time and attention is added as the main ingredient.... mmmmmm. So yeah I like him. A lot. And I don't want to mess it up. So, I'm letting the cake cool. I can wait. I mean let's face it, the icing is the best part...
Bye guys....
I have the best coversations with the woman that runs the building that I work in. This morning, after returning my office key to her she stopped me and we got into a conversation about a gentleman I'm seeing. She's met him and she likes him. As do I. But I mentioned how I have a tendency to rush when it comes to relationships. Enthralled in the hooplah that makes relationship an ornament of perfect imperfection. Let's face it common sense is the enemy of romance. So she looked at me and she said, "Ashley, he's been up front with you about being driven, career oriented, and very busy at times. It's still very early. It's only been a month and a half. Don't ice the cake too soon."
You all know that I love a good analogy and that's the best one I've heard in a while. Any of us that bake on occassion know the consequences that follow putting sugary icing on a warm cake. The surgar melts, the cake starts to fall apart, the icing slides off. And what are you left with? One big, gooey, mess. Totally been there.
But when the time and attention is added as the main ingredient.... mmmmmm. So yeah I like him. A lot. And I don't want to mess it up. So, I'm letting the cake cool. I can wait. I mean let's face it, the icing is the best part...
Bye guys....
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