Giving you everything she ever wrote...

Honesty time. Ok, so this pandemic is longer than I thought it would be and spiritually, I have been in a weird space. I have not been feeling connected to God at all and frankly have just felt as if I was out in the world, wandering. There were some things I was hoping to accomplish by now that I haven’t, and some prayers that just seemingly were going unanswered. So, like the good Christian that I am, I did the good Christian thing and stopped talking to God. Of course, I prayed my normal prayers with my kiddos and hubby, our normal Lord’s prayer and even added in some Psalms 91 because the pandemic and life is still so real. Recently, I was sitting and watching a church service and heard the pastor say, could God trust you, as he quoted Malachi referencing tithe and offerings. I began to think about all the things I was trying to accomplish and how they were not progressing, the depression I was in and the overwhelming stress I was experiencing and chalked it all up to “God must not trust me.” I recalled when I was a little girl my mother would say things like “take care of your things so God can trust you with other things” and “You have to show God he can trust you.” The guilt and shame that hit me came at oddly wonderful time. I was in a low space. Low enough to recognize, this saying was not from God and because I question just about everything, I went into full investigation mode. I have come to find that a lot of the things we say in our Christian walk that sounds good and appears to be from and of God, are completely wrong and contrary to his word.

There I was, searching and searching for a scripture or anything that said, “God…trusts…us.” I finally closed google and after reading several scriptures on trust, I finally just asked, “God do you trust me?” I must admit I was offended by his very straightforward, “No.” I said to myself, “wait Lord…maybe you didn’t hear me correctly.” After asking again, I got the same answer. In my mind, I promise I heard God answer, “Nah Bruh.” Me being me, I needed an explanation. Why didn’t God trust me. Not one time in my research did I ever land on a verse that said trust man. Instead it was always, in variations, “trust God, and put your trust in the Lord.” I said, “God, why then do you contend with me?” God’s answer, “Because of Me.” (meaning himself) So often, we make everything about us that we have even convinced ourselves that God finds us trustworthy. We serve a God whom states that after searching for someone worthy enough to swear an oath on His own word by, He found none greater or more trustworthy than himself and proceeded to  swear by himself on His own word. His explanation to me was so simple and yet so profound. “It’s the God in me that God trusts.” God only trust his own word because it alone is true. So many times, I, like many of you, have been guilted into thinking that God couldn’t trust me and could have saved myself a ton of stress by acknowledging that God doesn’t and God won’t.

My weird space was due to way too much self-indulgence. All the pressure I have put on myself because I had believed in clichés that are so common they seemed true. If God never tells us to trust us, why would He? I am remised at how often I have exalted myself, by removing my loving Father from his throne and taking His place to govern my own life. Repeatedly, God reminds us to trust him because He will only trust His word. Even the angels only hearken to the voice of God. But what about us? God says, “I have not left you without an advocate that dwells inside of you.” He says, “I will pour out MY spirit on all people.” He goes even further “It is better to take refuge in the Lord, than to trust in humans.” Because it is the God in us, that God trusts. 

One of my goals for 2020 was to write at least once a week and post to my blog. I started in February as a birthday gift to myself. And now for the moment of truth. It has not been going well. I like to write. I like to put words together and so I set this goal and after a whole two post life got in the way as it always does and I started hanging out more and more on the block. Writers block that is. Its real yall. At the beginning of the year I had a meeting with my mentor, who is an absolutely brilliant, black woman by the way, and we strategized on how this year would go for me. We broke my goals down into quarters and she talked to me about risk management and all these fancy, good terms that made me feel like “OH SNAP, I’m about to be ON this year!” Then I realized how procrastination is the THORN IN MY SIDE!!!! And then Corona hit.

Corona has hit and I, like most, am being forced to do something I love most, stay home. Staying home, relaxing is one of my most favorite past times, right after taking naps. So why is it giving me so much anxiety? It’s not because I have to work from home and figure out how to parent, teach, and enjoy my four beautiful children at the same time. I’m anxious, more so, because I feel this unnerving need to hear from God. This desperate need to make sure I use this time wisely. Whatever that means.  No one knows the absolutes of God but a lot of people are speculating on what he’s doing. And although none are sure of what he may be doing or why, most, including me, are certain that God is in control. I know that there is nothing He is unaware of. Part of my inability to write lately has been because of my inability to read. Not like I am illiterate or anything but just timing. Four kids is really a lot to juggle, along with a husband, full time job and that precious thing we call sleep. In my mind, I can rock babies, help with homework, cook dinner, solidify contracts, get to “know” my husband at least 3 times a week, and raise children who win awards and give speeches about how I was an amazing mother and they wouldn’t be who they are without me. And then I wake up. In reality I do about half of that in a day, and something is always sacrificed, whether it’s the dinner or the knowing or the contracts. It never all gets done, plus my kids don’t grow up that fast. Which I don’t want them to do anyway because then they may try and leave me. *insert tears* But I digress. I am trying to force myself to hear God right now because it’s what all the other blogs and smart people are saying. They are saying, use this moment to accomplish your dreams, work on you, focus and don’t waste this time. Which, side note, folks do know we’re trying to do what we do every day just in the house right? It’s not like we have all this extra time. Or do we? So here I am trying to get Gods attention. Telling God, speak to me, speak to me, speak to me. Say something, say something, say something. Are you there? Are you there? Can  you hear me? Can you hear me? Can you hear me? God? God? God? God? God? Father? Father? Father? Father? Father? *insert Stewie “mom” meme*

Now that the commercialized day of love is over, I’d like to be a lot transparent. I have had the same valentine for twelve years. Way to go us! Now, I’m not one of those people who bash and judge others for their displays of love of Valentine’s Day. However, I am as equally enthused about V-day as I am un-enthused about it. That means, if I get a gift great and if I don’t also great. Being with the same person for the past twelve years I completely understand the need for intense displays of love for more than one concentrated day because February 15th is just as important as the 14th. Why? Because I’d rather buy the candy when its 50% off. Which brings me here.

For the first time ever in celebrating twelve valentines together the hubby and I decided this was the year we would seek counseling. I must say, thus far, it has been one of the best decision we have made in our twelve year relationship. Let me give you some context. We have been in such a limbo of not knowing whether this marriage would work out for some time. Not really wanting it to end, but not really sure if it should continue. That state of confusion hit an all-time peak in 2018 and 2019 with us verbalizing intensely our frustration with each other in ways we know now probably should have been handled differently. I had been in positions that I felt as a wife and a woman that I shouldn’t have had to be in. He felt I didn’t respect him. Thus, we argued every day for two years straight. Even on days we were getting along, somewhere in the day was an argument. Let me just add here that I can argue. Like, I can argue really well. I am great with words, I listen well for all the key points I need to build a case against an opponent and I am highly aware of the tongue that I have and the lashing that I can achieve with it. I can’t even lie, I really do marvel at the way I can argue because it’s MY superpower. Also, I’m very keen to not arguing information I don’t know, that way I don’t “lose” an argument. Makes me realize that I need to quit playing and become a lawyer like I wanted to. But that’s another blog on a different day. So there we were, battling it out day to day, until finally I said, either we get counseling or I am done. I wanted to make sure I had tried everything I could possibly try to salvage our relationship before I ended things. In retrospect, I know this was all holy ghost inspired. Which leads me to the point of it all.

Here I am, getting my life together in counseling, and Valentine’s Day shows up. For whatever reason I decide that’s the perfect day to read about the last supper. Because you know, it’s the ultimate love story. There’s conversation, a meal with the freshest baked bread, and my favorite, wine! I like to think it was a nice Cabernet Sauvignon, you know, grown people wine. I’d also like to think that they never made it to dessert because you know, betrayal. Anyway, there I am reading about the last supper and I become fixated on the part where Jesus gets all the way real and was like YO, one of y'all gone betray me! (And we think we be calling people out!) Jesus was a ‘G’! Then comes my favorite part, given my current circumstances, all the disciples was like, wait…are you talking about me? For real though Jesus, is it me? Like we need to know so we can act accordingly. Which I realized, is the exact question I’ve been asking lately. Is it me? During my very first counseling session, I cried and told my counselor everything wrong that my husband had put me through and why I was over it. He in turned, sided with me on the accuracy of my feelings and then began asking me all these questions about myself. Questions like, how do you talk to him? When you’re upset what do you say to him? Would you ever say you’ve manipulated a situation. You know questions that make you question your motives and yourself. I was like, hold up, I came here to work through all the ways my husband can be better and to be able to say I tried, not to fix me because I’m clearly not broken. Now I’m mad and sitting in this session like the disciples asking of Jesus is it me? Because in everything we’re all seeking truth. For the parts of us that we want to be better, we all have to face the truth that we could be the problem. Many know how that story ends, where one truly was “IT” but nonetheless had the question not been posed to the ultimate counselor, purpose and destiny would have been delayed.

I absolutely love waking up on my birthday. I love all the events of the day and days before leading up to my birthday. My husband and children are all excited and wanting to know what I want and what I have planned. They hide gifts and are all very nice and considerate. It’s my time where I basically get to have whatever I want. I get a pass for sleeping in, massages at night, and all the things a mother of four could possibly want. Now let me be clear, I get these things throughout the year but on my birthday it’s all heighten. My birthday is really my most favorite time of year and I always make it a big deal. No matter what the circumstances, I have never not found joy on my birthday and I am always extra. I mean, I am black woman born in icy conditions during black history month and I love every bit of that irony. This year was no different but was different.

Within all the joy and celebration, birthdays can be a nagging reminder of all the things we have yet to accomplish. That incisive need to be EVERYTHING you were created be, whatever that really means, looms over every New Year around the sun. Most of this comes from social constructs that have created timelines that most of us, especially me, feel like we have to abide by in order to be successful, productive, and somebody. Because I AM…SOMEBODY. Constructs that tell you what birthdays are the important birthdays, we call them milestones, and by when we should have accomplished certain things. With each new year of life brings about a new level of urgency, because the antithesis of life seems to lurk around quietly and like a thief tries to steal its longevity. But even an urgent life requires a process and process takes time. And everybody knows “Aint nobody got time for that!” But how could I not when I am not the creator of time?

This birthday, I am grateful that God has yet again honored me and has kept the understanding that the grave cannot serve him. Even though I have complained, and procrastinated and proclaimed that I aint got time, He has graciously given me space in time yet again. Because of which, I am going to use the time that has been made for me. Using it to write the words I feared no one would ever read, publish the blogs I was nervous would be mocked, succeed at parenting and fail at parenting, sometimes all within the same day, maintain the vows I made to my husband, some days smiling and some days with an attitude, and love as intently and unconditionally as I possibly could. Most importantly with the gift of breath given unto me, I am going to blow out 31 candles with gratitude, excitement, expectation and faith.

As a 30 year old black woman, wife, and soon to be mother of four, life sometimes gets for real for real overwhelming. Often times between my duties at work, wife mode, mommy hood, and trying to accomplish my own personal goals I find myself completely lost. When I say lost, I mean lost like the remote for the television, or like your car keys when you have to be somewhere in 15 minutes, lost. For me that means life becomes blurry and I can’t figure anything out. Not life, not what to do next, nothing. I always so want to be like those people on the movies that always knows their next move and even when it seems like they’re trapped, BOOM!!, a move we didn’t see comes in and saves the day. In my mind, I am that cool and that clever. Listen, in reality, I need guidance and most times unless God leads me to something or someone I have absolutely no clue what I am doing in life. I mean literally. I have tried to do so much on my own without any guidance and so far that has gotten me in debt, depressed at times, almost divorced, sometimes happy (always short lived), frustrated, and LOST.

About a year ago, I had gotten to that place of lost. My husband and I had lost our apartment, car repossessed, had no money, and three kids. I wanted a divorce, my husband didn’t. I felt overlooked, overworked and underpaid at my job and honestly still couldn’t understand why in the world did I go to college and get a degree. I felt like such a failure and all I wanted to do was cry and blame God for bringing me to such a place. A place of desolation and a place where I had no idea where I was. I was so angry with God. Angry to the point, I didn’t want to talk to God and I definitely didn’t want God talking to me. Finally, one day out of nowhere, I opened my mouth in prayer and said “God, your word is true and I know that even here in this place you are with me. I know that you have not moved, but clearly I have gone somewhere and I don’t know where I am. PLEASE, come find me!” I know that was the Holy Spirit speaking through me because my stubborn self will sometimes sit in my pity until that trumpet blows. I know God be looking at me like, “this child here, girl get up!”  

God lead me to Luke 15:4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” Most of my life I only equated that scripture to salvation. Of which it does mean. But the wonderful thing about God is that he always meets you where you are at and not at the place he once found you before. So one scripture could mean different things for you at different moments in your life. This one in particular at this particular moment in my life was a rescue scripture. I was saved but I had traveled a road created by me and not God and I was lost. BUT, God had promised to come find me. God didn’t just stop there. One day I finally kept reading. Luke 15: 5-7 “And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders, 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.” I definitely needed to see that, because being saved and sinning (i.e. getting lost) seems like the un-christian thing to do.

God showed me when I get lost, in my own decisions, my own plans, my own paths, not only will God leave those “righteous” people, who need not to repent to come find me, the one who keeps messing up. God will also pick me up and place me on his shoulders and take me home. After being lost, the last thing I want to do is walk and the only thing I want to do is GO HOME.  Most importantly, God REJOICES! God is not that mean parent that yells and fusses because you got in trouble. (Like i sometimes am. I’m working on it) 

  The part I never knew was that my crying out to him to PLEASE COME FIND ME, was a repentance. I always thought you had to say the words, Lord I repent. However, I learned by destroying my pride and asking for help was in fact me acknowledging I was wrong in this situation and considered a repentance. Not only did God come find me, pick me up and take me home, God told all his folks and they all rejoiced! Yall, every time we repent to the Lord they throwing a party in heaven. Listen, I am here for a good party, ok! Over, ONE sinner.

I know we all like to believe that once we get saved we become a part of that ninety-nine, but in actuality, especially for me, on this side of the salvation line I find myself being that one. That one who keeps making decisions I know good and well the Lord was like, nah bruh. That one who keeps becoming angry and sinning when I was clearly told, when in anger don’t sin (Eph. 4:26). That one who didn’t know if she heard the Lord right, so let me just do this how I want to. I am that one! I am now that one who knows a full party is thrown for every repentance, and as often as I need to I can ask, GOD, PLEASE COME FIND ME! Listen, I am not one who believes we should just keep on sinning, but I am one who is grateful for the grace that when I do, God will come find me, pick me up, take me home, tell the neighbors and throw a party all because He found me! Trust me, this prayer works for me every time. I pray that as you read this, in any area in which you feel lost, hopeless, abandoned,  or scared, that the Lord will indeed COME FIND YOU! After all, it’s not about you getting back to God, but truly God getting back to you!