...that b!*%h, Expectation...

In the case of uncertainty, Expectation is what is considered the most likely to happen. An expectation, which is a belief that is centered on the future, may or may not be realistic. A less advantageous result gives rise to the emotion of disappointment. If something happens that is not at all expected it is a surprise. An expectation about the behavior or performance of another person, expressed to that person, may have the nature of a strong request, or an order. - Wikipedia, 9/14/12

Expectation ruined my life. Okay, fine. Maybe Expectation didn't ruin my life but I sure would like to blame her. When I look back over my life at all of the unfulfilled expectation, I need someone (thing) to blame and it might as well be that b!*%h!

Expectations can be so very difficult to manage. And while I've been  told to manage my expectations all of my adult life, I think I viewed it as a trite statement you made to someone who was facing a situation that might cause grave disappointment. I really thought it was just one of those things people said. I didn't know you were really supposed to do it. I'm not sure I thought it was really possible AND I certainly didn't know how to do it...at least I didn't think i did.

So here's the thing. Life is about choices...passive or active...we are constantly making choices. And making choices is not easy and can be quite tiresome (my proof). This applies to how you (I) manage (or make decisions about) your (my) expectations. You (I) choose to have high or low or middle-of-the-road expectations. You (I) choose to lower high expectations and heighten low expectations.

Now here's the tricky part...how does one determine when to have high or low expectations? This is what I've been struggling with most recently and I've come to the conclusion that it's all about how you frame things. I'm learning how to recognize unrealistic expectations. I cannot lose 10lbs in a week (at least not in a healthy way). However, I can lose 2. I have had to learn to embrace that 2, expect that 2 and DECIDE to not be too hard on myself if I don't accomplish the 2. I've realized that it's all about how I frame things and how I decide, or choose, how to think about things. How I frame in my head is the difference between me continuing to strive for the 2lb weight loss (a reasonable, doable weight loss goal for a week) even if I don't make it OR being so devastated by the failure that I cease trying.

I met a guy a few months back...we hit it off immediately. The "hit off" was so immediate that I was completely caught off guard by it. How on earth could I have such a strong connection to someone I'd only spent a few hours with and who did not live in the same place as me. so we had contact everyday from there on out. EVERYDAY. It was fun and strange and scarey. I began to realize I was having all kinds of expectations which made me throw on the brakes. This man...who I didn't know, who I'd never even spent any one-on-one time with (sorry, guys, texts and calls do not a relationship make!!!)...didn't owe me anything. Sure we were spending virtual time together but, in truth, it wasn't really real. It was not smart to expect anything from him because, in reality, he didn't owe me anything. The relationship had a lot of potential but that was about it. This mental re-frame helped me a few weeks later when some iffy stuff went down (we are still in communication). If I hadn't reigned in/adjusted my expectations, it would have been disastrous. A year ago, before I started taking responsibility for how I handle that b, it would have been disastrous!

So, yeah, Expectation is a darn b!*%h if for no other reason than it's hard as heck to manage her. And I'm still learning how to and that sucks since I've been out of my momma's womb for almost 40 years (and, yes, i do like to inform my mother of that on a regular basis...Ha!) I mean...why can't people and situations come with Expectation labels so I would know how to proceed. Each person/situation could be branded: LOW, HIGH, NEUTRAL, NONE, etc. I'm just sayin'....

But until then, I'll just have to keep working on managing that b!*%h, Expectation.


Always remember Jesus loves you...it doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, or what your issues are (as a result of unmet expectation). I'm living proof.

hidden in plain sight.

Surprisingly, I'm teaching a class on ministry and leadership development at my church's bible college. I mean I'm not unqualified. I possess leadership skills and abilities. Every once in a while, I even demonstrate them. I'm seminary-trained. I, for the most part, get the whole ministry thing. It's just curious because I'm not a recognized minister or that much of a leader at my church. I bring this up because the thing that I'm most struck by is that it's an answer to long-given-up-on prayer.

I'm at (one of) the stage(s) of my life where I am questioning everything. One of the biggest questions I am currently facing is, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" When I first left seminary (seminary=one of the most defining experiences of my life thus far), I knew I wasn't going to seek out a church job. I'm not called to be pastor (praise Jehovah!) and at the time I was getting married. Post-seminary was supposed to be the time for my fiance to pursue his dream (I didn't want to be with a man who had regrets later on) so I knew I would be headed back toward some semblance of my old vocational life. Eventually I would be able to go back to school (PhD="should" in my life=read previous posts) as I wanted to end up teaching in a seminary (Teaching= one of my primary giftings). I wanted to train/influence ministers even though I didn't necessarily want to be one (yes, I know...but have you met me?). Needless to say, things didn't quite end up as planned.

I sometimes think God can't/doesn't hear me. These doubts surface because God is either not responding fast enough OR not in the fashion that I'd like for God to respond in. I often (read=ALWAYS) get these ideas in my head of how things are supposed to play out. Doesn't God know that life is supposed to go according to my plan? So often I miss God's voice and God's movement when just because I have no sense of what God is doing, it doesn't mean that God is not getting it done.

For a lot of my life, I've been built up by others in my faith community that I was supposed to be somebody. I've heard these things since I was young. And I drank the kool-aid. After all, I was prepared, anointed, and, perhaps, even appointed. I harbored dreams of profound impact..perhaps even global domination (just  kidding...sort of). I am coming to recognize that the interpretation of what it meant to be somebody, this idea that I had bought into, is not necessarily God's interpretation of what it means to be somebody. I know, it was an aha! moment for me too. This may be an aside but it may also be key to my story.

What I have found in my experience of walking with God is that often my prayers are answered and I don't even realize it. When I finally recognize these miracles in my life (for indeed they are miracles), I am overwhelmed with gratefulness. But I am pretty sure that for every one prayer I recognize as answered, there are 100 answered prayers for which I've never told God thank you.

The thing that generally keeps me from recognizing my answer to prayer is that it didn't come in the package I expected. (Expectation really kills a lot of things.) Every once in a while, I get answers in neon lights but usually that's not the case. Sometimes I feel like the answers hide in plain sight (which if you watch Breaking Bad,  or are a member of WITSEC, is the most clever place to hide!). It's more likely that I just wasn't paying attention, especially since the answer is usually not the one I was looking for.

I thought when I gave up the idea of pursuing a PhD awhile back that I had also given up my dream of ever teaching in a seminary. And, indeed, that may be true. I'm actually okay with that. Life is about choices and I have my reasons for making that choice. What's been most revelatory in teaching this class is that God has indeed given me what I wanted. God  has answered my prayer in the most unexpected but wonderful way. I am being the impact I've wanted to be. It's not to a seminary but on some level I'm more blessed by teaching in this small bible college, impacting individuals within my faith tradition who will never go to seminary, but who are/will minister to the people of God in the most important space for Christianity...the local church. At the end of the day, THAT is what I wanted.

So I'm grateful for revelation. I'm grateful for perspective. I'm grateful for becoming more grounded and for being, at least in one aspect of my life, exactly where I'm supposed be, doing what I'm gifted to do. Even in the midst of taking stock of myself and trying to figure out what comes next, I am indeed grateful.


Always remember Jesus loves you...it doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

what I've learned from Breaking Bad thus far...

SPOILER ALERT  ::  SPOILER ALERT :: SPOILER ALERT :: SPOILER ALERT 

So if you have not watched Breaking Bad on AMC, I feel a little sad for you. I mean, talk about good television! I'm not their spokesperson (although I could be) but I basically watched 4 years of the show in about two weeks. It's that good (or I'm a little obsessive....or both!). You can watch the first four seasons on Netflix. The second half of season 5 doesn't air until Summer 2013. I'm a little depressed.

I've also learned some useful and important life lessons from this show. I could easily make a list of like 50 things, if not more, that I've learned. But I won't do that to you since I think you should watch the show despite the spoilers. Therefore, I'm limiting my list to 10 of the biggest lessons. If you're a fan...feel free to add your own life lessons to this list.

1. Do not lie to your wife. I mean you can and you probably will. But when she figures out you've lied,  you are in BIG trouble. She will no longer want to have sex with you AND throw you out of the house. She will think you're having an affair. Somehow, the fact that you're really cooking meth and not cheating on her will not make her any less mad. Go figure.

2. Walts are bad news. If you meet a guy named Walt, run, do not walk, in the other direction. He will eventually kill you.

3. Do not sell drugs. Or sell them, just don't get involved with any men named Tuco who are crazy. Also, don't sell on someone else's corner. And if a little kid keeps circling you with his bike on said corner, it is very likely that he is going to shoot you dead. Ijs...

4. A radiologist's job is really not that simple. Say, for instance, you have cancer and you determine from looking at the scan (MRI or Cat or whatever) that you just took that your cancer has spread and you are dying. You are very likely reading the scan incorrectly as you are not a radiologist. In fact, you are probably getting better and have put yourself through a lot of nonsense for no apparent reason. Leave the doctoring to the doctors!

5.  Don't let your wife hide your drug money. She will give it to her ex-lover, who is also her former boss, to pay his tax bill. He will use some of that money to lease a luxury car and NOT pay his taxes.

6. You can make up your own moniker. I know that usually the rule is you can't give yourself your own nickname but if you're a drug dealer you totally can!!! I mean, you need a fake name to operate under, after all. Just don't choose Heisenberg, it's already taken.

7. If you attend Narcotics Anonymous, you should be fully invested. You really can't half-step a 12-step program and you certainly shouldn't try to sell meth there. The crowd is surprisingly resistant to buying said drugs.

8. Meth heads are crazy and may kill you by accident if they're mad at you for calling them names. If you're in the company of a meth head while you happen to be trying to open an ATM machine with a blowtorch from underneath at the same time you're calling said meth head names, be careful they don't kick the contraption that has the ATM machine jacked up. This will crush your head and kill you. Just a precautionary tale!

9. Do not pretend you don't have a second cell phone. This is part of the don't lie to your wife thing. Cause then you'll end up having major surgery and as the anesthesia kicks in, you will cop to the lie leaving your wife furious and super suspicious which ultimately leads her to find out you ARE a drug dealer which is what having the second cell phone was supposed to avoid!

10. If someone gives you a list of people to kill, you should do it. If you don't, they will undoubtedly add you to the list and get some other person on the list to do the killing. Of course, you will end up killing the hired assassin AND possibly killing the person who came up with the list as well.

...and one more for good measure...

11. Jesses are good people. He may appear a bad seed but he's really just looking for love in all the wrong places. So if you meet a Jesse, you should totally be his friend.

P.S. If you sell drugs, do not use your product. I didn't list this one because, one, it seems too obvious and, two, I've learned that from a lot of shows...The Wire, Weeds, The Cleaner, Sons of Anarchy, etc.


Always remember Jesus loves you...doesn't matter who you are (even a drug dealer or cook or mule or meth head), what you've done, or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

two girl crushes and a pair of shoes...

I don't usually do talk shows but last week I happened to catch the second episode of Katie Couric's new show, "Katie" and found myself with two...yes, TWO....new girl crushes....in less than one hour!!!

My first new girl crush is Brene Brown, a researcher from University of Houston's School of Social Work, who has been studying vulnerability, courage, worthiness, and shame for over a decade. I am truly inspired by her TED Talk on the Power of Vulnerability. I have a lot to learn here. It's the place I struggle with more than anything.

My other new girl crush is Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess herself. Of course everyone  in the world (read: my sister who is a total BOASTER!) knew who she was except me. I totally want to be her when I grow up minus the whole she's white thing and the cussing. She cusses a lot. Check her out at The Bloggess.

Oh, and shoes. I was thinking that this tagline on this blog mentions shoes yet I never post anything about shoes. So here is my newest pair of shoes...I LOVE them and am trying to wear them as much as possible before the weather really changes! Admire at will....

Always remember Jesus loves you...doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

My reaction to Five Things

My sister, who is awesome and a much better writer than I will ever be, recently wrote a blog post (http://thehomebeete.com/2012/09/10/five-things/) on her experience of writing love poems using a method I can't remember but you basically use other people's words to compose the poem. Her blog post was a list of five things she was learning as she wrote these poems...# 3 struck me like a sledgehammer.

3. All the men I grew up with cheated—my father, his father, his brothers. On my mother’s side, too (though maybe not her stepfather). They thought only that they could make themselves enough if they had many women. Nobody considered that the little girls who adored them would learn to never trust a man who was supposed to love them.

She is my sister. We share a similar experience. I've got bonuses though.

When I was maybe 23 or 24, I got the distinct pleasure of meeting one of my father's mistresses (i am assuming there were multiple. if there's one...than it is likely there was more than one). I didn't know this when I met her of course. She heard me say my last name and asked me if I was my parent's daughter. The Caribbean community is large and small in NY so on some level it was just a matter of time before I ran into someone my parents knew considering who I was working for at the time. That evening I went home and called both of my parents to tell them I met this person. My father gave me a relatively non-commital, "Yes, I know her." My mother promptly told me that she had been a friend who had an affair with my father while she was living in their house. Nice.There are other stories that I won't share here. But I didn't realize that this stuff affected me DEEPLY. Not until now when I am thinking of trying to sustain a relationship and it seems, in my mind, an almost impossible task.

I worry that I am cheater because my father was a cheater. Like maybe I've picked up this trait from him similar to my risk for diabetes and my ability to continually flip through channels and stay up really late watching TV. I've cheated before. Funny. It was with a person who was so much less (IMO) than my partner and from whom I was really only seeking attention. I wasn't in the same geographic location as my boyfriend at the time; I was craving the attention that I was used to getting. I learned that lesson through the experience in though I never got caught and I hope I would never do it again. But I don't know. It worries me.

They thought only that they could make themselves enough if they had many women. It's weird because the math that my sister does is not the math I've done all my life. My math: One woman is not enough = I am not enough because I am a woman. I am working through this now...this math. It's wrong math. It's like saying 2+2=5. Except I didn't really realize I was thinking until I saw my sister's math.  Is this why a long lasting relationship has been so elusive? The way a person thinks can easily dictate their life. Even weirder...I balance this mathematical equation against the notion that I am too much. I have been told that by many a man. Okay maybe not many. But it only takes a few key men to make stinkin'  thinkin' stick in a woman's head. Sometimes it only takes one.

Nobody considered that the little girls who adored them would learn to never trust a man who was supposed to love them. It's true. In a past relationship, in the beginning the man adored me and was very verbal about it. My response to his words of adoration were always negative. I didn't believe anything he said and it came across in my response...sometimes nonchalance...sometimes flippant disagreement. He began to begin sentences with, "I know you don't believe me but..." And eventually he stopped saying the things he thought I wouldn't believe. I've learned to keep quiet about what I don't believe, but I still discount. It's my go-to thinking.

I didn't write this blog to offer a resolution. I've had no great epiphany that's completely revolutionized my life. I was actually just so struck by my reaction to her list; I needed to write it down. The notions are all competing. I know that part of processing them helps me to begin to find resolution or at least increase my awareness. They are, after all, insane notions...I am not enough...I am too much...I am not worthy of love...I am unable to conduct a long-term relationship. I do not doubt that these ideas will continue to haunt me. But I know they will have less power. Perhaps I will be quicker to recognize them and, therefore, work toward taking away their power altogether. Hope is a good thing.


Always remember Jesus loves you...doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

39 and 3/4s...

A few weeks ago I was plagued by these overwhelming feelings of urgency and anxiety. It had seeped into all parts of my life. I'm dating (sort of) and felt it there. I'm working on my weight and felt it there (which caused me go in reverse...too much pressure!). I'm supposed to be working on other stuff too...and it was all overshadowed by this sense of urgency and anxiety that was scaring the crap out of me. Why was I feeling this way?

A few Saturday ago, I was texting back and forth with my friend Leigh about my foray into dating and it finally hit me why I I've been feeling so overwhelmed and anxious. I'm turning 40. In just a few short months I will be the big 4-0. Holy crap! 

When I was young, I remember seeing birthday cards that referred to 40 as being "over the hill." I was (and am) petrified to find out what's on the other side of that hill. And it was (and is) causing me great angst.

I was supposed to be married by now. I was supposed to have kids by now. I'm supposed to be thinner (and more in shape) and my finances are supposed to be in better order. I wish I could say a magic prayer that would make everything be as it should be....or at least as I want it to be...

I mean, I'm going to be 40 and it's a very grown up age. Except I don't feel grown up. I feel not together. And a bit of a mess. Okay, a big mess. If only you knew...sigh...

I'm also plagued by all the shoulds in my head. Things I shoulda done. Things I shoulda said. Things I should do. Things I should say. Things I should be. These things come from years of me putting unrealistic expectations on myself, other people putting their expectations on me, and me attributing things to God that He actually didn't say or expect. I'm trying to shake myself of the shoulds.

I realize this is all part of the process of getting older..of figuring out who I am, becoming comfortable with who I am and where I am. From that perspective, I welcome...I almost need to be...40.

But, oh the work to get there!

So I'm struggling through and am hoping there's actually a pot of gold on the other side of the hill or something close. I'll keep you posted...


Always remember Jesus loves you...doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, or what your issues are. I'm living proof. 

I check Other.

I read an article posted on Facebook about someone's struggle with being other. It's got me thinking about my own ethnic identity and my decision of the last few years to identify as Other rather than Black. Now lots of folks nowadays have a really diverse racial/ethnic background. This is just one chick's story.

I am a product of multiracial parents. My father's father is Indian and his mother was a descendant of African slaves. My mother's heritage is a bit more confusing...there's a some Spanish (her maternal grandparents are from Venezuela), there's some Asian heritage of unknown origin and there's some African ancestry.

Like many Caribbean families, my family is a hodgepodge of ethnicities. Five of my mother's seven siblings are Hispanic. Not Latino mind you. Their father was a pure Spaniard. I  think they identify as Black, at least the ones living in the United States do. Interestingly, it's a question I've never asked.

My father's seven siblings all look Indian except for one who looks more like his mother, a light-skinned Black woman. Their last name is Singh. My father is the oldest and didn't meet his father until he was in his 20s. His mother is a dark-skinned woman of African descent. The story is an interesting one I won't tell here but he has his mother's last name and, much to his father's chagrin, decided against changing it when they finally met. I wonder what my life would have been like had my last name been Singh. No doubt it would have added another layer.

I identify as Black. I've fought long and hard for this privilege. Through my high school years and in my early twenties I was teased by my peers about not being Black. My hair wasn't Black enough. My skin wasn't Black enough. And my heritage wasn't Black enough. I wasn't Southern. I'd never had chitlins. I didn't know you ate black-eyed peas on New Year's for good luck. I wasn't African-American. I owned a t-shirt with "Just Black" emblazoned across the front. When I arrived in Chicago at the age of 24, and started hanging out with people whose ancestors were mostly from Alabama, Arkansas, and Mississippi, I received quite an education.

Growing up in NYC, I was regularly mistaken for Dominican, sold on being part Korean by quite a few shop owners, and possibly from a plethora (i love that word!) of African countries. When I arrived in Chicago, I was Black/African American. I remember the first time someone assumed my ethnicity as Black/African American, I was startled.

Among my three siblings, I am the Black one. One is...hmmm...no idea, one is Pakistani, and one is Mexican. True story.

Over the years, I've changed the way I think of my racial/ethnic identity. I'm more comfortable with my multiracial background. Yet, I solidly have a Black woman's mindset and identify as such. I can't imagine mating with a man who is not Black. I prefer them dark. When I was younger, it was intentional. If I ever had children, I didn't want them to doubt, in any way, that they were Black. So i needed some sure nuff Blackness to counteract all of my stuff. And on some level, I still feel this way.

I think this is another Part I blog. There's so much to explore here. We haven't even discussed the fact that I now mark Other on forms, or that I'm okay with identifying as Black, after all it is a diasporic term, but not African American. Nor have we discussed the fact that my mother refused to identify as any racial/ethnic group but instead insisted she was colorless and Christian.

So there's more to come. Some day.

Always remember Jesus loves you...doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

my relationship status is single.

I think because my fortieth (I can't write the number yet...) birthday is approaching faster than I'd like, I've been thinking a lot about the status of my life. Usually, I start thinking about the state of my life a month or two prior to my birthday but I think because this is a big one, I'm preoccupied with it. In a million years, I would never have thought that I would be this age, unmarried and childless.

I've wanted to be married since I was 12 years old. I remember thinking at 12, that I would be married by the time I was 18. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure my mother would never have allowed it!  At 17/18, I thought it was right around the corner despite the fact that I wasn't actually seeing anyone I could marry. I went to lunch with a male friend every day my senior year and we would talk about that type of stuff. In my college essay, I wrote about my future which held a thriving medical practice but also marriage and five kids.

I believe that, like many women, my relationship with my father has heavily influenced my status. I have a hard time trusting men. I have a hard time believing the things they say. Now that I'm older, I can see how my early experiences shaped my relative intolerance for what I perceive as bullshit. Unfortunately, and I recognize this as something I need to work on, once you trigger my bullshit detector, I find myself unable to deal with you. This makes me a bit intolerant. But I'm not sure that's an entirely a bad thing.

Some folks would say its me. That I'm standing in my own way. And perhaps that's true. I don't often meet men who I find stimulating. I mean I meet men who I want to see naked but really nothing more.

It could also be that the kind of man I want/need they don't make very often. And I'm probably even more limited by the fact that I prefer a black man. I guess I would consider a Latino but a Caucasian or Asian...not so much. There's a variety of reasons why that's the case. Well really one main reason I won't mention here. I don't have a list of the type of man I want but I do know that he would need to be an open kind of man and one who wasn't too interested in trying to control me. At the same time he would need to be able to tell me to go sit down somewhere. I'm a little on the strong side.

I think I come off too hard or something. My mouth is too smart. I'm too independent. I appear to not need a man. And on some level that's true. I own my own business. I own my own home. I travel and do what I want to do and don't need someone else to fund these things. I'm not rich (yet) but I'm certainly not poor.  Men tend to love me for the same reasons they end up not liking me so much. I'm a great friend but Lolah is a whole lot to get involved with. Most men don't seem to have that type of energy. I've even been called scarey by a guy who I was attracted to but ultimately could not have been with.

I have thoughts of adopting a child when I'm 42. It's enough time for me to get out of debt and get my life together and I'd still have the energy to mother. I desperately want to mother but I don't desperately want to be married. At least I don't think so. Or at least that's what I say. I think I'm loathe to admit I want a husband. I think I perceive it as a weakness. I'm not sure why.

Don't get me wrong...I'm not lamenting my situation. Please don't post any comments that I could  perceive as encouraging. Perhaps it's true I just haven't met him yet. Perhaps it's true that I just need to stay encouraged and hold on. Perhaps. These things I already know and have been  told a cajillion  times so, really, it's not necessary. This is just a topic I've been thinking about and reflecting on.  So you may see related posts.

Thanking you in advance....always remember, Jesus loves you. It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

Jesus was a harm reductionist. (reprint)

So in another life, I attended seminary. I wrote this article about Jesus being a harm reductionist. Haven't thought about this article in quite some time but am pretty darn steamed at the Christians who continue to misrepresent Jesus. You're welcome to post your thoughts...I'm pretty sure there are those who would disagree...and yes, it's a bit long....

Before I came to seminary, I used to supply condoms and lube to young people for a living.  It’s a paradox, I know.  Christians don’t do that kind of stuff, at the least the ones that I know don’t.  The Christians I know pretend that young people don’t have sex.  We pretend that abstinence-only education works.  We pretend that it’s okay to tell kids that condoms don’t work.  We pretend that young people are not following our example, telling them to do what we SAY not what we DO.  We pretend that sending kids messages about sex that say sex is bad and dirty is somehow going to save them from disease and unintended pregnancy.  We pretend that because we are not talking about sex that we are not sending messages to kids about sex.  We pretend that this is what Jesus would have us to do.

            Before I came to seminary, I used to supply condoms and lube to kids and every once in a while, someone would ask me, “Doesn’t your job conflict with your faith?”  And I would respond, “No.  Jesus was (and is) a harm reductionist.”  (Harm reduction is a simple concept.  It is the process of encouraging and affirming behaviors that decrease the risk associated with a particular behavior.  Most people are familiar with this concept in relation to needle exchange, where intravenous drug users can trade in their dirty “works” for clean “works” or cleaning agents like bleach in an effort to reduce transmission of blood borne diseases like HIV and Hepatitis.  Or the commercial sex worker who might continue to work the streets but who now gets her johns, or most of them, to use a condom.  It is allowing people to make their own choices and participating in what would be considered “risky” behaviors but offering, encouraging and affirming safer alternatives.)

            After you’ve seen your 3^rd or 4^th 15-year old contract HIV, no, after you’ve seen your 1^st 15-year old contract HIV, you realize that only offering kids “JUST SAY NO!” just doesn’t cut it.  You realize that this is serious business.  You realize that even though you would like for every kid you know to stay abstinent until they are in positive, healthy monogamous relationships (in my head that equals marriage but I know that’s not everybody’s take on it), the reality is that they are not.  The reality is that there are 12 year olds having sex.  The reality is that there are 13 years olds having babies.  The reality is that there are 14 year olds getting sexually transmitted diseases.  The reality is that there are 15 year olds contracting HIV.  And these are not just kids who are juvenile delinquents or on drugs, these are young people in yours and my church youth group, Black, White, Latino, and Asian, rich and poor, high academic achievers and athletes, hip hoppers and preppies.  These are your kids, and some day my kids, too.

            At that point you realize you have to advocate for comprehensive sexuality education, laying out all of the facts for young people so that they can develop some critical thinking skills and make choices for themselves.  You realize that you have to practice harm reduction when it comes to kids and sex even if you know that the possibility of being excommunicated from your church will become real because of it.  You have to tell kids about condoms and other forms of barrier and non-barrier protection and make sure they know how to use them properly.  You have to tell kids, “There are three things that can happen as a result of having sex: 1) Pregnancy 2) STDs, including HIV 3) Nothing at all.”  You have to ask the questions that embarrass the youth you know and give them answers about sex that most adults are afraid to answer. 

And you do all of this not only because you’ve seen a lot of terrible things but because you remember what you were doing at that age.  See, I started participating in sexual activity when I was 13.  I grew up in a stable home and was raised in a conservative church.  I am sure my mother is still pretending that I have not had sex because I am an unmarried daughter.  And I wonder if I had had an adult in my life who told me the real deal, who told me I would get horny, who taught me how to use a condom, who explained to me about choices, passive and active, who told me that I could be sexual without having intercourse, who affirmed who I was as a sexual being, maybe I would not have made some of the choices I have made and been through some of the horrible stuff I have been through because of those choices. 

            See, when you are a teenager and you become aware of yourself as a sexual being, then it is ALL about that.  Your whole life is about who likes you and who you like, and how far have you gone and how does that compare with your friends and are you fat and are you too fat for boys (or girls) to like you and why doesn’t the person you like like you back and ….  And because everyone is so hush-hush about sex you think that you should definitely be doing it and its fun because it’s forbidden and after all, you know everything, so why not.  And he doesn’t look like he has a disease.  And my best friend told me that his cousin told him that if he sticks his finger in his ear and gets some ear wax and then puts the finger with the ear wax in the girl’s vagina and it burns her, then she has an STD, so I have a fool proof way of finding that type of stuff out.  And I can keep from getting pregnant by shaking up a can of coke and spraying it up my vagina immediately after having sex, so no worries there.

            One night you get a phone call from a 17-year old kid in your youth group at church and after he has hemmed and hawed, he’ll ask you about emergency contraception.  He’ll tell you that all he and his girlfriend ever have is unprotected sex.  You will be torn about whether you should give him this information but you do it because you realize that he is turning to you for help and guidance and you have to give it to him.  You believe Jesus would do it.  You tell him that you do not advocate emergency contraception.  You tell him to call the local Planned Parenthood in the morning and that he and his girlfriend can receive care for free or little money there.  You tell him that if they decide to go that route that he had better be with her every step of the way.  You realize this is not the time to berate him for being irresponsible or for having sex in the first place.  You tell him that this will require a follow-up conversation about sex and relationships (including his relationship with Jesus) at a later date.  You thank God that this young person thought enough of you to call for help.  You pray that you did not let him down.  You follow-up.

            You reflect on the fact that you believe that Jesus is a harm reductionist.  You think about how none of the gospel stories ever talk about him forcing someone to do what he wanted them to do.  You think about how all of them offer grace, mercy and forgiveness without condemnation.  You think about how all of them offer choices.  You think about how Jesus loves you despite the choices you have made in your life.  You think about your own sexual journey and how it was a journey to harm reduction for you that has found completion in abstinence and advocacy.  You believe that was God’s grace covering you.  It affirms your belief that Jesus is a harm reductionist.  You know that Jesus would give out condoms, too.

Always remember, Jesus loves you. It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done or what your issues are. I'm living proof. 

it's my funeral and i'll plan it how I feel.

I spent most of my weekend thinking about work, Whitney Houston, Bobby Brown, Facebook, God, and church. I also read a book by Jill Mansell. I love her. You know I think I'm British or at least that is where I should have been born...just sayin'... Reading is my favorite procrastination.

I was completely enthralled by Whitney Houston's funeral. I've never been a huge fan of hers (just not into balladeers) but she is someone who was part of my life in that her music is definitely associated with certain points in my life. As a Christian, I was amazed that God used her so tremendously in death. I mean there was preaching...unapologetic Jesus preaching...on CNN!!! I never thought I'd see the day. It tickled me that people spoke in tongues. It bothered me that they kept referring to the service as Baptist. I've been to a traditional Baptist funeral...that wasn't it. It definitely had a neo-Pentecostal flair to it. Although, Pentecostalism is NOT a denomination and Baptist is....but I digress.

I was rather appalled by the way Bobby Brown has been demonized by Whitney Houston's death. She was taking drugs before she met him. They were addictive personalities living in a co-dependent haven/hell. She was getting her act together and he's been doing the same. They were married for 15 years. He shouldn't have NEEDED an invitation to her funeral. He's her daughter's father and she was step-mother to his kids and those kids knew and loved her. He is grieving, too. He was Whitney Houston's family. Confused as to why anyone would think differently. Whitney Houston's choices are not Bobby Brown's fault. She was a grown woman making choices. It just made me kind of sad. Facebook was venomous.

The other thing about the funeral...Uncle Ray. I couldn't listen to him after a while. His pain was the realest of everyone I heard speak. It was too much for me to bear. I ended up putting him on mute.

Death of another always makes you think about your own mortality. While watching the funeral, I thought I needed  to plan out my own memorial service. What if I die tomorrow? I don't want a funeral per say. I'm not interested in a casket. Just a really nice picture...preferably one where my eyebrows are done, I don't look greasy, and I have on makeup. I was thinking I should plan because if I remain unmarried and my mother plans it, I'm pretty sure I won't like it. I want everyone to wear black just because it's my favorite color to wear! I want people to get up and say really nice things about me...whoever wants. I want there to be lots of laughs. I doesn't have to necessarily be in a church. I want one of my friends to eulogize me. I know lots of pastor types...so I'm thinking Joy or James or even Tahir. I love my current pastor, but these people know me in a way he doesn't and they are ministers of the gospel. I want Andrea and Mya and Stephanie and Anne and Corinne to say some words. I want my sister to write a poem or maybe a short story or even a play. I want there to be a favor of some sort...not a bookmark or a little card with my picture...but maybe everyone gets my favorite lotion (Booth's Egyptian Aragan Oil Body Butter) or some of my favorite tea (which is currently Honey Ginseng green tea from The Republic of Tea). I'm still thinking it through but I want it to reflect my uniqueness and my differentness. After all, I do black differently.

Okay...this is getting long. Lastly, I thought about God. I think about God a lot. I don't do right by God. God loves me with everything God's got and, at best, I'm a lukewarm lover. I want to do better but my best laid plans are constantly foiled by my utter laziness. I struggle with feeling ashamed (although apparently that's not enough to make me do better) and yet God continues to love me. It frustrates the heck out of me. It makes me want to cuss.

So there's no particular resolution to any of this...similar to one of the stories in my most recent Jill Mansell book...to me she left one of the story lines unresolved and without a happy ending and it frustrated me. Such is my life....grateful though I am for it since I've got a pretty darn good life. I hate sounding even the least bit ungrateful although I liked this quote by Stephen Elliott - "White people problems, someone could say. But I don't think there's anything to be gained from dismissing someone's troubles."

Quick thoughts about church...I love church. I am a church person. I love going to church. I love being the church. Amen.

Yes, I know.  I crammed in A LOT.

Anyway,  don't forget...Jesus loves you (I'm trying hard not to). It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

When ish hits the fan.

I didn't post last week even though my list of TTD this year says I'm supposed to post weekly. I've realized I can take the pressure off myself and don't always have to post an original work but can post a quote or something interesting I read. I'm glad I realized this since I was berating myself for not having posted! Sometimes you have to show yourself a little grace. I'm not so good at that.

So we are two weeks into the new year...starting the third....and already it's been quite a ride.

Last week lots of ish hit the fan. 1) I was presented with an opportunity that I almost had to forfeit because I hadn't taken care of business. 2) I was bit in the butt (and it took a huge bite) by something I had not taken care of. (Notice a theme??)  

This is what happens when you don't take of your business when you're supposed to. I've been reflecting on why this happened and I realize that there are many reasons for this (I'm grateful to not be so self-centered that I think I'm the only one in the world having these types of experiences). For me, there are usually two main ones. The first is that I think I have time. Some of the craziness of last week was due to me running out of time when I thought I had time. The second main reason for me is relatively simple...I'm too scared to deal so I don't. I'm scared of a lot of things even though I don't come across that way. I procrastinate. I watch TV. I talk on the phone. I make seven million things a priority so that I can avoid dealing with the one thing that should be a priority. I know, I'm full of tom foolery and hijinks!

As I write this, I realize there is a third reason...I just don't want to take responsibility. That's awful and immature but it's true. This is similar to reason #2 but not quite. I can be an ostrich at times (And I've seen ostrich up close and personal. Though not one had their head in the sand. But we're very similar. We  both have huge meaty behinds! True story.). It's a huge character flaw, I know, that has gotten better over time but I still have a ways to go.

So I did a lot of praying and asking other people to intercede on my behalf last week. Strangely, or perhaps not, even in the midst I had peace. See....I figured out that God was showing me that God's grace is sufficient for me. That God's mercy really is available in abundance! I tested the bounds of God's grace, mercy, and love last week and I came out on the other side convinced that God loves me!!!

And it's not because God magically made everything right either. I didn't escape punishment. That wouldn't be wisdom on God's part, I don't think, because I needed to learn a lesson. When you do stuff or don't do stuff, it's good to suffer the consequences, whether they be positive or negative. God gave me wisdom to deal with the situations I found myself in, which is what I prayed for (okay well partly, I must admit I also prayed for a divine quick fix...but come on...I'm human!) and while there are repercussions for my actions, I am able, with God's grace, to suck it up with relation to one situation and, ultimately, the other situation worked out and I'll be able to take advantage of the opportunity. God is good!

So lesson learned the hard way. At least I hope I learned the lesson. It's likely that God will have to teach me this one a few more times. When God nudges me to take care of something, I should take care of it! I'm praying for strategy and increased sensitivity to the Holy Spirit's leading. Otherwise, I won't be able to see my way through.

Don't forget...Jesus loves you. It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

I think he ruined me.

I've been thinking a lot about a visit I had with my ex and his family over Christmas (see..boundary issues) and how my relationship with him possibly ruined me for every relationship I've had since. So I'm sitting there with this dude and his mom, who still after many, many moons and his failed marriage seems to love me to bits, and his kids (yes, his kids!), and his sister and I'm thinking...what the hell am I doing here? The scary part was that it all felt so comfortable and yet it was completely uncomfortable.

So me and this dude were probably together for about four years and, for the most part, this was my formative relationship. As he pointed out to his mom during the visit, if he was here, I was there (literally standing right next to him). That's how intense our relationship was. I spent all of my time with him. I would leave my friends at night to go sleep in his bed (his senior year we lived in the same dorm). I would see him almost everyday during our summer vacations...I mean I ate dinner at their house every night! During his graduation party, his father introduced me to his friends as his daughter-in-law. I absolutely adored this man and he adored me. The sight of him made me happy even in the middle of a fight. But I didn't think, for some reason, that we would ever get married (mostly I think because I couldn't imagine marrying anyone and, on some level, I still can't). And he ended up with the girl who was "the one who got away" (except she wasn't) and whose family background in terms of socioeconomics was more similar to his and whose parents, I'm assuming, he liked since he wasn't too keen on mine.

Our break up is too much to go into. He was married within two years. I moved to Chicago. Many would argue I was running away from him. My response...perhaps. Anyway, it took me forever to get over him and while I will always love him in some manner...I'm pretty sure it was a good idea we didn't get married.

So how did he ruin me? In my head, a relationship is what I had with him. Two almost completely intertwined individuals who derive a great deal of pleasure from one another. We shared our everyday. If I heard something on the radio, I would call him and vice versa. I was used to someone who wanted to see me everyday, who wanted to talk to me several times a day, who wanted to make me smile and laugh (and vice versa). Who openly and vocally thought I was great (and vice versa). I mean, we bought each other presents that we actually liked for goodness sakes. I remember telling God that I would know I had found my mate when our relationship was like this one, except new dude would love God as much as I did (read: be saved). When my future relationships didn't measure up to this, perhaps impossible, standard, I discounted them as not quite being real.

I only discovered this because in a conversation with a friend about relationships after the visit she exclaimed that I always do this...act like my relationships are/were NOT relationships. And I think it's mostly because I don't perceive them to be relationships because of this one relationship...you see now why I'm calling it formative, right? Sigh.

So I've realized I need to re-examine my expectations of men and what relationships are supposed to be like. Which basically means I have no idea. And I'm too old to NOT know. Aren't I? Of course, I'm not that girl anymore that was that dude's girlfriend. At the same time, I'm not that far off from that girl. Sure I've grown up. I'm an entrepreneur, I handle my business (sorta) and am an independent woman for the most part. I find myself living a life that I absolutely love and wonder if I'll ever get married or if I even want to. Yet I still have this ideal in my head that I need to deal with. Or do I? Is that ideal impossible...unrealistic....silly. Many of my married friends would say that I'm not living in reality. Then again I know some folks who've got this. But  perhaps this should be continued on another day.



Don't forget...Jesus loves you. It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done or what your issues are. I'm living proof.

I am not a blog virgin.

I used to have a blog a long time ago and I gave it up several years ago at the same time I gave up myspace, or at least stopped using it. But I've realized writing was good for me so I've decided to come back to it. Besides it's on my list of things to do for this year. I'm doing pretty good considering this is the second day of the year and I'm already on my game. My problem has always been consistency so we shall see how long this lasts.

I have no idea what I'm going to write on here. Likely there will be often times when I share too much. I have been told that my boundaries are a little different which is, I think, a polite way of trying to tell me that maybe I need to get some. I partially blame my family...they don't meet strangers and they insist on keeping inappropriate relationships. For instance, my mother's father did indeed toast the bride and groom at my father's wedding to his second wife. And yes, my little brother did spend a lot of time with my mother, sister and I when he was little (no he's not my mother's kid). And yes, my father does still invite my mother's family to events and, yes, they do all show up. See...I didn't make this lack of boundary stuff up on my own! So I'm asking for forgiveness and grace on the front end.

Anyway, I love God and love shoes. Recently, I've been struggling in my relationship with both and everything in between. Through this blog I may just work out some of my issues. 

I promise not to write pretentiously long blogs...okay maybe only sometimes. And I promise not to overuse exclamation points and ellipses. And I promise to only embarrass myself (or at least I'll make every effort). 

And reminiscent of my original blog...don't forget...Jesus loves you. It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done or what your issues are. I'm living proof.