Confessions of Faith: When Time Stands Still

It’s hard to know what to do with yourself in the wait. Time seems to drag and your shoulders rise from the tension of long held anticipation. Wonder has long faded and you’re left with anxiety and doubt at war for space in your mind. This is the kind of waiting that feels like torture. Time seems to stand still, which leads to thoughts questioning the point of it all. Does it really matter? Will it make a difference if I give up? Who am I to think that what I want so desperately is even mine have?

In case you can’t tell, I’m familiar with this kind of waiting. It’s not the kind God would have for us. I can hear some of you asking if there’s any difference in the way we complete the act of waiting. I think there is. Have you ever waited for someone who’s late? Have you noticed that how you feel about the person you’re waiting for changes your attitude towards the situation? When it’s someone whom you perceive as a powerful benefactor, what you want from them may trump your inconvenience. When it’s someone that you’re doing a favor for by meeting with them, you may be indignant and put out. When it’s someone you have affection for, you may shake your head and wait patiently. The amount of time that you spend waiting is the same, but your perception and attitude changes based on who you’re waiting for.

When we’re in a season of waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promises, the best thing we can do is to remember who we’re waiting for. Our trust in God and His timing should make waiting less of a challenge and more of pleasure. Our affection for Him, and our understanding of His towards us, can serve as a comfort in the wait. It’s not all up to us. Once we’ve done our due diligence in preparation, it’s out of our hands, and firmly in His.

Relax in that knowledge. Breathe it in. Allow your shoulders to fall and your jaw to unclench. Choose to serve at His pleasure, and to wait with patience, confidence and peace for His timing.

“But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31, NIV

 

 

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Confessions of Faith: Living in the Free Fall

It’s 10:30 on a Saturday night and I’d planned to turn in early after watching a few episodes of Sienfeld. Let’s choose to gloss over the glaring need I have for a better social life and focus on the matter at hand. As usual, when I closed my eyes, the words I’d been searching for while awake, came to me as soon as I was on the brink of sleep. So here goes….

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, then I’m sure you’ve noticed a huge decline in the frequency of my posting.  I think I’ve mentioned before that my health challenges were the reason for my disappearing act. But what I didn’t mention was all of the other things going on in my life that demanded my attention.

I spent almost a year in therapy. Not once a week for an hour therapy, but really intense five days a week for several hours a day therapy. I’m pretty sure I was one hop, skip and a jump away from straight up commitment. For real, for real. I was straddling sanity and the worst part was that I had absolutely no idea why. I’ve since learned that a few physical issues were the cause of my angst, but it was a long time coming.

Now, the truth of the matter is that I’ve had my fair share of trauma. But I’ve always picked up the pieces and carried on. I’m strong. Not out of destiny, but necessity. This was different. This was scary. This was crying myself to sleep for months every night without knowing why. This was going to the bathroom at work and stifling my cries and not knowing why. This was suddenly not remembering how to do the job I had done for three years. I was in trouble and totally exhausted from the effort it took to not look like I was falling apart, even though I was.

One thing I know for sure: I was fighting for my life and all the Bible reading in the world wasn’t making it any better. I recited Psalms every night with tears streaming down my eyes and asked God to help me. It was by the grace of God that I found a treatment center about 45 minutes away from my home that accepted my insurance.

So I went. Even though I’m a “strong Black woman” and we don’t do therapy. Even though it meant taking a leave of absence that eventually, among other things, led to me losing my job. Because even though I didn’t know what was going on with me, deep down I knew that I was worth fighting for.

I knew that the state I was in was beyond the few coping skills I had. I needed professional help. The center I went to helped me sort through the major issues I’ve had surrounding food since I was a little girl. They helped me work through the residual grief I had regarding the death of my daughter. They helped me remember my worth and reduce the overwhelming anxiety that nearly crippled me. And yes, they prescribed medication that helped me cope for the few months I needed to be on it.

At the center I learned the practice of yoga, and breathing techniques. I had individual psychotherapy and group therapy. Meditation and drama therapy. Art therapy and music expression. You name it and they did it. I was one of the few specks of color in that cup of milk, but it didn’t matter. What mattered is that I was able to heal in the presence of like-minded women from all walks of life. The women there were housewives and corporate moguls. Artists and college students. Business owners and baristas. It didn’t matter because we all had one thing in common; we were brave enough and fed up enough to go after the help we knew we needed.

To be honest, I didn’t plan to tell you guys all this. What I planned to do was tell you how grateful I am for God’s provision through this season of healing. But as usual, when my fingers hit the keyboard, things went another way….Hopefully what I’ve said will help someone else going through a hard time. You will get through it. I did.

I’m standing on the other side of victory. Thanks to the underhanded workings of my former employer, I lost my insurance, which meant that I had to abruptly end my therapy sessions. And that’s o.k. I know that all things work together for my good, and if God hadn’t decided that it was time to move on, I’d still be there.

Since I lost my job, I can’t tell you how much joy has been restored to my life.  Don’t get me wrong. Initially, I was absolutely devastated. I was angry and those old familiar feelings of shame and embarrassment came back, along with the thought that maybe I just wasn’t good enough. There was also the fact that I was in the midst of a serious health crisis that required extensive healthcare to treat. Healthcare that I no longer had access to because I no longer had insurance. If you knew where I previously worked, you would be astounded at the irony of my situation.

There wasn’t much I could do. At the time, I couldn’t work. My doctors had me on full restriction. If I worked, I risked permanent damage to my heart. So I had no choice but to cancel some of my doctors appointments and diagnostic tests, then pay out of pocket for what was necessary to aid in my recovery.

There’s something I learned in yoga. It’s the act of leaning into discomfort. When you‘re in a pose that pulls you and strains your muscles, and all you want to do is come out of it, that’s when you breathe into it. That’s what God did for me when I surrendered to Him. It is often at the place of our most earnest surrender, that God’s glory shines the brightest. When we stop resisting and rest in Him, He has the perfect opportunity to show us who He is and what He can do.

I haven’t worked in over six months, but I have lacked nothing. It’s certainly not because I’m so good with money that I had six months worth of savings in my bank account. I wish! I’ve had all that I needed and some of what I wanted. Actually, I loaned money a few times and was able to bless others as well, despite the fact that I was denied unemployment benefits. God provides.

Without the undue stress of a job where I was harassed and my creativity was stifled, my health has improved by leaps and bounds. I literally get better every day. God heals.

I still used the coping skills I learned in therapy and now I know that it’s time to get back to doing what I love, and that includes writing for this blog and creating my novels. God restores.

At my lowest points, God stuck by me. When I didn’t believe in myself, He spoke life into me. Sometimes taking a leap of faith is not an option. Sometimes, you’re pushed. That’s when you get to live in the free fall. It’s breathtaking and exhilarating and freeing in so many wonderful ways. God loves.

I’m living out loud and unashamed. I hope you join me.

XoXo,

Faith

Those who know your name trust you because you have not abandoned any who seek you, LORD. Psalm 9:10 (CEB)

But I have trusted in your faithful love. My heart will rejoice in your salvation. Psalm 13:5 (CEB)

 

 

An Open Letter to the Brokenhearted on Mother’s Day

My Dear Sweet Friend,

What I have to say isn’t for those on a sentimental high of celebratory accolades and recognition. This isn’t your typical Mother’s Day blog post full of ironic humor and adorable pictures of frazzled moms and food smeared chubby toddlers. I’m pretty sure you won’t have a hard time finding something like that elsewhere, if that’s what you’re looking for. But, you won’t find it here.

This is an open letter to the brokenhearted. An acknowledgment of those who may feel as though they reside on the outskirts of society on days like today. Who think that they are alone in their pain. This is for those whose mothers have passed, and the only way they can give them flowers today is to lay them on their graves. This is for the women who have made their homes in the valley of barrenness. This is for those who look into the beautiful faces of their children and still see the ghosts of what could have been, what they feel should have been. This is for those whose arms ache with the emptiness of loss and hope. This is for those who have piles of home pregnancy tests stashed all over their homes, waiting for that confirmation of life. This is for those who are haunted by the guilt of choices that can’t be undone and wonder, what if? This is for those who gave their children away long ago and wonder what became of them. This is for the children of mothers who gave less than they needed and are still left with the void. This is even for those who shrug and think, it’s just another day when, in the space of truth that lies beneath, they know that it’s not. This is for the woman who puts on a brave face and smiles until her cheeks hurt, only to steal moments alone with her head tilted back, fingers gently patting away tears before her concealer breaks and her mascara runs.

I’ve carried a burden for you. Yes, you. I thought of you and your pain and laid it along side my own burden of brokenness, before hoisting it onto my back and wearing it for the last week. I counted down the days till Sunday, sadness tinging each moment, sighs escaping my mouth at will and without conscious provocation.  As I sit here snuggled up on my couch in a velvety soft blanket, my stomach is in knots at the thought of going against the grain and speaking to a population that many people would rather pretend don’t exist. I guess I’m unique in that I belong to both groups. There have been times when I would rather not deal with the messiness of sadness and loss. When I found it easier to pretend. But that’s exhausting and tiresome and debilitating and any other number of words you can think of to explain that it’s no longer worth my time.

I am the mother of a stillborn. An oxymoron of an existence. Do I count as a mother? Do I ignore the pain that fills me like air on days like this? Do I pretend that I don’t feel the undercurrent of pain that my eyes were opened to the moment tragedy struck?

I won’t do that. I won’t pretend that I don’t see you. I see you, I feel you and I care for you. For lack of a better way to put it; it sucks to be us right now. The truth is that if we’d had a choice, none of us would have joined this club.

But we’re here now and I found myself asking God, “What do I say to them, Lord?” I didn’t feel that I had anything to offer until I remembered that we don’t have to keep carrying our burdens . It’s a choice we make. I’m not going to give you a Christian cliche and advise you to lay your burdens down. I prefer to think of it as simply letting go. That’s what I did.

I gave birth to my deceased daughter, and had her cremated. Then, I had no choice but to learn how to live in The After. Some things forever change you, without fanfare, quietly and totally. This was one of those things. I railed against God. I was consumed with a simmering rage that only seemed to grow as, even in my grief stricken state, I realized that I needed Him. And the whole time, He was right there. Through my rage, my numbness and my years of insidious resentment. He was right there.

Because you see, the Lord is near to the brokenhearted* and binds up all their wounds**.
I know this, not because I read it, but because I lived it. He was faithful to walk with me through sorrow, and I came to know Him in the fellowship of His suffering. My point is that I never had to lay my burden down. I eventually let it go because it’s hard to hang on to your stuff when you’re constantly in the presence of the Almighty. It really is darn near impossible. Trust me, I tried.

He bound up my wounds, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still hurt. Pain is a part of the healing process. I had surgery months ago, and I still hurt at the site of the wound when it’s going to rain. I’m still healing, and those twinges are part of that healing. I might feel those twinges for the rest of my life, but that’s OK. The pain that led me to the surgical table was far more excruciating than the twinges I feel now. The same is true for the emotional and spiritual trauma we can’t see. Over time, you will still feel sadness. You will still shed tears.

But, you won’t be broken forever.

When the pain is overwhelming, when you can’t see past it and wonder how you’ll go on, just remind yourself that it won’t be like this forever. Shed your tears, remember the good, take a few deep breaths and know that you can go on.

He said, “Naked I came out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.” Job 1:21

XoXo,

Faith

*Psalm 34:18, **Psalm 147:3

Ummm, So I’m Kinda Really Feeling This YouTube Thang…

What’s up, y’all? Your girl has been slacking. I haven’t been sharing my thoughts and encouragement here lately, but it’s not for lack of the desire to do so. I’ve just been dealing with a lot of things related to my health, and one of the side effects of that is brain fog. Like, serious “what’s my mama’s name, again?” brain fog. I send text messages that need Google Translations to decipher. Writing this post alone is taking me longer than I care to admit.

Me being me, I decided to make an effort to connect with you all, no matter what. If I can’t write like I want to (at least for right now), I can still flap my gums! So, that’s what my YouTube channel is all about. In some ways, connecting with you on that platform provides a unique opportunity for me to share my life with you in a far more intimate manner than this blog. I think that’s a good thing, and I hope you guys do, too.

But, don’t worry. This blog is my baby and I’ll definitely get back to going hard on it again once I get my health in order. If you’re curious as to what kind of health issues I’m dealing with, check out my videos. I’m not shy about operating in full disclosure (as you might have noticed by now, lol) but I go a little deeper on my YT channel.

My goals there will be the same as my goals are here: to transparently share my life and thoughts for the purpose of encouragement. I promise to keep it all the way real (like FO’REAL) because I’m learning that perfection has no place in my life. Plus, if I can continue to put one foot in front of the other, despite the hardships of life, someone watching will see that they can, too.

You all are my people. My tribe. My fam. It is my hope that the community I eventually discover on YouTube is as awesome and inspiring as the community that I’ve found here. I have a feeling that adding that platform to my repertoire is going to result in a wild ride. A beautiful mess that I can’t wait to share with you! The blessing that is our future is waiting.

Let’s get it.

XoXo,

Faith

 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,^[a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³ because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ⁴ Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

James 1: 1-4

Oh and before I go, don’t forget to subscribe to my channel, so you won’t miss a thing. I’ll continue doing my Conversations with Faith, but I’m adding weekly vlogs as well. Plus, soon there’ll be a series called Confessions of Faith, where I talk about the MANY mistakes I’ve made in the past and explain how God’s grace brought me through. Don’t be a stranger, come holla at me over there. 🙂

Confessions of Faith: Temper Tantrums and Attitude

Picture it: a perfectly lovely spring morning in Memphis. The sun was shining, the humidity was practically non-existent, the birds were chirping and the scent of magnolia trees at least 100  years old rose gently on the breeze.

But, ask me if I noticed any of that at the time. Nope, sure didn’t. Why? Because I was too busy grumbling about the inability of the people I shared the road with (I won’t call them drivers, because drivers know how to drive) to stay in their lanes, not finding a good parking spot at work and a plethora of other things before I copped an attitude with God.

Uh-huh. I copped an attitude with God. It’s not the first time, and unfortunately, it probably won’t be the last time. I had an attitude because it was His fault I even had to deal with incompetent road hoggers, bogus parking arrangements and waking up at the crack of dawn. Because if He was doing things the way I wanted them done, I’d be a full-time writer well on my way to selling the rights to my books for film options.

I proceeded to tell God that I just didn’t see why He hadn’t come through for me in this respect yet. I complained that there was no way He’d actually want me to work full-time for someone else’s vision, no matter how noble it might be, and then relegate my vision to nights and weekends. And furthermore, I didn’t think it was right that I should have to sacrifice my health to pursue my passion. No way could he expect me to operate on a few hours of sleep on a regular basis in order to produce books at the rate I want to. It just wasn’t fair!

Well, after my little temper tantrum, God responded the way He typically does; in a still, small voice. A reckoning in my spirit that calmed me and a reminder that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. That the pressure I was putting on myself wasn’t His doing and that the gift He gave to me is supposed to be a source of joy, and not stress.

Me being me, I was like, “I hear all that. And thanks, by the way. But still, why haven’t you come through?”

Y’all, His answer hurt my feelings. DISCIPLINE. Or rather, my lack thereof. God reminded me that if I were more disciplined, there would be no need to sacrifice sleep or my so-called health. Maybe if I spent more of my free time actually writing, I would be further along in my entrepreneurial endeavors.

I spent a few more minutes trying to justify my situation. I’m on fitness journey. I’m on a weight loss journey. I’m on a financial freedom journey. I’m on a natural hair journey. I’m on a Netflix journey. I’m on a Diner Dash journey (Flo ain’t gon’ be able to serve those people by herself). I’m on a find-a-suitable-life-partner i.e. husband journey.  You get the point. I find time to do everything that I want to do, but treat writing as though it’s a priority in my life.

Once I picked my face up off the ground after that Holy Spirit breakdown, I stopped making excuses and started giving thanks. Thanks to for Him loving me in spite of me. Thanks to Him for providing me with a day job and the skill set to do it well. Thanks to Him for gently guiding me into His plan for my life. I was grateful that God cared enough about me to listen to my rants, and to show me His ways.

He promised that if I commit the work of my hands to Him, He would bless my efforts. So I’m stepping back from all the social media hoopla I’ve been caught up in, taking the reigns off my floundering ‘marketing plan’ and getting down to the business (and joy!) of writing.

The funny part is that I think that’s all He’s ever expected me to do in the first place. The rest is up to Him. I’m OK with that.

Commit your works to the Lord and your plans will be established. Proverbs 16:13 ESV

“A gift isn’t a gift, until you give it away.”-Unknown

XoXo,

Faith

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What do you do when something you want badly seems to be taking its sweet time arriving? How do you balance your ambition with your circumstances? I told you my current kryptonite (lack of discipline) what’s yours? What’s getting in the way of you walking in your purpose? If you’re already fully walking in your purpose, tell us how you got there.