Thinking - Out Loud...

Your journey has less to do with you...

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Tue, 21 Mar 2017 19:43:00 +0000

Your journey has less to do with you than it has to do with everyone who will be blessed enough to cross your path… your gifts were never for you or about you.

-- Lisa Nichols

A few days ago, I happened upon a website (Numerologist.com) that gave me a free numerology reading. Well, okay, I didn’t happen upon it. I’ve always been interested in the science and significance of numerology, or the patterns and meanings of numbers and their relationship to occurrences and events. Numerology is considered part of the occult, which makes most people nervous because they think it’s about supernatural, dark, and mysterious stuff. Let’s be clear, though. The anointing of Jesus is supernatural and the power of God is incredibly supernatural. Everything under and above the sun, including numbers, exists to inform us about all we should know about the dark and mysterious way of ourselves and others, and certainly about the Super Nature of God. Numerology may have some illusory factors to it, but I’m inclined to be open-minded, and I like the idea that nothing in God’s universe is illogical or happens by accident.

After the website asked for my birth date then full birth name, I got readings that described my life path, expression, and soul urgings. It got a little ~~spooky~~ mysterious because it was as though the computerized man who read my Self to me actually knew me! It was that accurate! I even started over and entered my mama’s and daddy’s information; it was still spot on! Of course, there was much more they were willing to reveal to me if I paid them a little change, which I didn’t do… for now. I’m really interested in learning about my Karmic Lessons, Pinnacles, and some number that helps to reveal my Superpower!

But, most of what my numbers revealed about me, I’d already heard, seen, or felt, so there really weren’t any huge surprises. They merely confirmed that I’m not wrong about myself or arrogant (well, not unnecessarily so) about how I walk this earth. I know I’m a confident and independent leader. I’m good at getting the ball rolling on new projects, but the details and routines bore me. My sense of self is strong; I’m a truth seeker; and have the internal flair for being a visionary. I have a “contagious enthusiasm,” but I’m sensitive and tend to doubt myself/worry about how others perceive me. I am a hopeless romantic and I’m not afraid to express my true feelings, although I feel rejected if my suitor doesn’t respond accordingly. My mind is always working, I stay in my head. I’m a giver and often give more than I receive, especially to people who don’t deserve or appreciate me. But, even in challenges, I’m resilient and outfitted to handle the many risks life poses. So the report summed me up pretty well!

But, while I know who I am, what I had not fully considered was how who I am naturally influences the lives of those I meet and love AND that I have a perpetual responsibility to them to be the best me I can be. In other words, I’m not in this for me. The gifts God has given me aren’t for me, but for others so that they can reach their greatest potential and be empowered to share their gifts and talents with others.

Matthew 5:14-16a says, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others so that they can see your good works…”

Because of the Calling on my life, it is imperative that I am a truth seeker who fearlessly digs deeply into the secrets of the human mind and heart. I don’t do this just for myself – although I am the first recipient of many great epiphanies; I do this for women who also seek to know and love themselves as intensely and absolutely as I do myself. I don’t see the big picture so that I alone can revel about its victories; I see it for women who can’t see past the day or the hour because of the outwardly insurmountable confusion and chaos in their lives. I tend to be a bit aggressive, but I count it as passionate and uncompromising, especially as it helps me advocate for the least of these – us women who are continually marginalized and left to fend for ourselves and our children. I go hard because it’s necessary for me to help create a safe space for us to unearth our power and potency so that all who cross our paths may be whole, healed, and emboldened.

Because God, the angels, and the ancestors saw fit to allow me to be GG’s mama and the caretaker of over 300 other little hearts each day, I have an obligation to remain optimistic, outgoing, and fun so that the world’s hopelessness won’t suck them into it. My ability to teach in a positive and uplifting way helps all of my children to understand and manage themselves appropriately. And even when kids will be kids and challenge my desire to help them reach their promise, I am able to bounce back stronger, with more resolve and compassion to dream with them and imagine a future fit for the children of God.

God told me that if I believe in Him, serve His people, and keep His commandments, I can have the desires of my heart (Psalms 37:4). I believe Him! I also believe the numbers when they say that the Honey my heart desires will be a nurturing, mellow, sensitive, ready to put me first, teddy bear of a man who will adore my strength and sensuality, and provide the fireworks my soul and substance crave! So I won’t mourn the countless heartbreaks or the endless frustration; I will be grateful for the lessons and use them to move forward into a love that is inspiring and worthy of me. In love – and loved, I know myself to be exactly who God says I’m supposed to be – encouraging, supportive, adoring, composed, bold, brilliant, charming, and, most of all, everything my Honey needs to move forward into his destiny and be his absolute best! For him, I am Everything so that he can be Everything!

There are no coincidences, everything on and of the universe conspires for our greatness. The stars, the moon, numbers, letters, the wind, the trees and grass, the sunshine and rain – all created by God’s hands – work magnificently to support and show us the way for others to drink and feed from. Everything exists to affirm who we are so that we can bless others, who will, in turn, manifest their fullest so they, too, can bless others; and we can without conceit say the world does not revolve around us. It, in fact, revolves because of us!

Your heart is going to be someone’s refuge.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Wed, 15 Mar 2017 02:54:00 +0000

Your heart is going to be someone’s refuge. Take good care of it. Make sure they’d feel safe and secure. Then, give all the right love to that someone for they deserve it. You are their home.

-- vegaaskies

Together we are us. We don’t look like the other us’. We can make our us look like anything we want it to be – this friendship, turned partnership where neither of us is taxed by the other. Our us is the place to be fulfilled and refilled and refueled.

We are refuge – the soft spot, the safe space. We are one another’s comfort and encouragement. We are where we create, advance, and improve. We’re one another’s re-up and rejuvenation. We’re to energize and re-energize. We are the other’s come up and come alive.

You and I together are whole. Together, we are the dreams and wishes of air; the change, creativity, will power, and sensuality of fire; and the cleansing and healing power of water. We are life.

We are healing, truth, passion, fortitude, trust. We are heart. We are health. We are peace. We are magic. We are gifts. We are inspiration. We are hope. In us is compassion and possibility.

Our us is a love song, a perfect melody. We’re just right – flavorful, savory, and appetizing. We are softness, tenderness, and gentleness. We are the place to come to release, relieve, and relax. Here in us is where we get the things we need to go out into the world. We sustain us. When the world takes from us, us is the place where we get it all back.

The we of us is powerful and vibrant, it shines. We are the starting point and the end of the day. We are dreams and ideas, thoughts and conversations. We are contentment. We are comfortable silence.

We are wear-and-tear repaired; wounds swaddled in balm. We are worries soothed and sadness sweetened. We are pain eased, brokenness restored, and fears extinguished. We are flaws embraced and confessions held in confidence. Together we are new mornings, new mercies.

You and I are a warm hand, the intertwined fingers meant to provide continuous connection. We are thawed feet under warm, cozy blankets and hot chocolate and marshmallows for the soul. We’re the prayer book meant to provide solace. We are the blessings poured out for us each day. We are the slow dance in a fast-paced world and the quiet contemplation needed to recover in a world that’s loud and alarming.

We are the very picture of love. This us. This we. You and I together.

Everything you want...

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Mon, 06 Mar 2017 07:21:00 +0000

Everything you want is on the other side of fear.

-- Jack Canfield

I’ve been thinking a lot about fear lately and the ways in which it manifests itself. I’ve looked at the places in my life where I’ve allowed fear to become prevalent, and I realize it’s caused me to play it too safe, live inside a tiny box, hide in the background, and do only the minimum. I’ve made friends with fear, allowed it to be my buddy, and travel with me to some of the most important places I go. I’ve let fear write my life’s story, and given it the power to cosign what happened yesterday and dictate what transpires today. Fear’s fingerprints are everywhere, including the shades of beige on the walls of my house, the black pants for each day, and the predictableness and pedestrianism of my job. Fear has hung its hat here and dug its feet in as if it’s paying rent.

I’ve effortlessly and unceremoniously subscribed to the protective value, or the safety net, fear provides. When in fear, I’m careful, cautious, and unsurprising. Fear doesn’t require me to be anything but ordinary, and at least with ordinary, I don’t get wounded or bruised, and certainly my heart won’t be stomped or broken. Fear’s mere existence in my life certainly keeps me from veering off a prescribed and cultivated path, stepping off the straight, bright line, and failing. And, at a minimum, yielding to fear means I rarely have to say “I’m sorry,” “I forgive you,” or even “I love you.”

But, indubitably, I know that fear is limiting.

I know I wasn’t given the spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7), and that God is always with me (Isaiah 41:10). I know God is my light, salvation, and stronghold, and there is no one/thing to fear (Psalm 27:1). I know that God has overcome the world so that I can have peace (John 16:33).

I know that on the other side of my fears is everything I’ve ever wanted. I know that fear isn’t real, that it’s perceived and often extreme. I know that facing my fears is where growth occurs, and that any rational human being – which I consider myself to be – knows that fear is a choice.

So, while fear has attached itself to my past and has marks on my present life, I can’t allow it to continue to order my steps. I am in no way ordinary and acting so for the sake of safety is a lie. Cautiousness and prudence are germane for thoughtful living, but they shouldn’t expel moving ahead. Because my heart desires to unreservedly give love and be loved, I cannot permit fear to continue to cage it in. I won’t give fear the consent to govern my future.

To that end, when in fear, I can stand still to pray for God’s covering from the weight fear bears and take deep, long breaths to inhale enough oxygen to keep my brain from going into overdrive/overwhelm/overthink. Once calm, I can assess what’s causing the bout of anxiety, searching myself truthfully, and rationally take in the sights and feels of what’s directing it. I can then insightfully ask myself critical questions like “what will this require of me?”, “what is my heart telling me?”, “Lord, what would you have me do?”, and any other necessary questions that will help me to break down the actions needed to move forward in a manageable manner.

Once I’ve done all of this – as many times as it takes, in whatever amount of time it takes – I have an obligation to myself to move on what I’ve surmised. I may still be afraid – ha, I’ll probably still be afraid – but if I don’t move I’ll never know the other side of fear. I won’t know how truly fantastic I am or how it feels to really know joy. At the end of my days, I want to be among those who say I have no more because I overcame fear and did all I was to do.

From this point on, fear will be my springboard to fulfillment.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 18:58:00 +0000

Balancing is not letting anyone love you less than you love yourself.-- Ketut

I’ve always believed that when you love someone, there are sacrifices you must make and accommodations you must sustain. I always thought that giving up some comforts and scaling down a few staunch expectations was the thing to do for love, because, in the end, it would all pan out and I’d get everything back that I put into it.

Now, as I reflect on lost love, I still believe that wholeheartedly, only now I’m realizing that there is also something else I should believe, something that I knew but forgot in the midst of giving love. I forgot about me.

Specifically, I forgot that I need/deserve/require sacrifices and accommodations because, in the end, I give back everything I get.

This morning, after prayer and quiet time, over coffee and butternut squash soup, I watched my favorite movie, “Eat Pray Love.” You’ve seen it, Julia Roberts as Elizabeth Gilbert travels the world in search of God and along the way finds God as herself. I’ve seen it, almost 200 times! And every time I see it – always at a time in my life when I most feel God calling me to Him – I get something new from the movie. Well, maybe, not new. Perhaps something I’ve failed to remember.

Today, though, it was something new. It was the very simple fact that you can love someone and not lose yourself or the things that are important to you.

See, like Elizabeth Gilbert, I am (re)learning that there is so much to love about life! We aren’t confined to little lives or predictable, everyday events. There is no book that says you must live your life in this way or that way – oh, wait, there’re lots of those kinds of books. But, if you didn’t write the book specifically for yourself, then there is no such book. The choices are yours.

I’m learning after 4 years of going all in on love that it’s not a bad thing to do if you do it with sincerity and authenticity; that it’s not bad to have hopes and dreams about a future with the one you love if those dreams are healthy and sound. It’s not a bad thing to adjust to your lover’s culpabilities/trials/pauses if you believe God is keeping both of you and has a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The bad thing is losing yourself, your sense of who you really are, in the midst of all of that.

I forgot how much I enjoyed life! I forgot how much I loved spending time with my family and friends who are extensions of me. I forgot that I loved unadulterated and impromptu girlfriend time at Sadiqqa’s Sanctuary; singing Switch and Earth, Wind & Fire songs loudly over the static and popping sounds of my old record player; and smelling of frankincense and myrrh, being called Sadiqqa, and eating Tandoori chicken and Indian flatbread while listening to Bob Marley and Peter Tosh belt out “Get Up, Stand Up!”

I forgot that I loved to take pictures of nature – water, trees, flowers, and birds. I forgot that I loved to wear and hang cowrie shells from my window to remind me of family and friends who’ve transitioned. I forgot Alice Walker, Dianne Reeves, and Zora Neale were my girls and Nina Simone sang several keys to the soundtrack of my life. I forgot how peaceful my house was when everything was in place; how my hand carved figurines represented the many elements of me; and how wonderful my bathroom feels when the eastern sun shines into it in the early morning to remind me that gifts and grace are given to me for another day. I’d forgotten the simplicity of God’s presence in my life and the reminders of His love for me at every moment in everything.

I forgot to love the texture of my hair and to appreciate the roundness of the hips my grandmama gave me. I forgot I was smart and intuitive. I forgot that I trusted myself and my sharp instincts. I forgot to listen well, nurture myself, and just be.

And, I forgot how much I loved being GG’s mommy and her first life partner. I forgot how precious she is and that she chose me back before her time on earth to be her mommy. I forgot how good being with my baby girl makes me feel and brings out the best in me.

I forgot all that…

And none of that is his fault. None of it. I chose, both consciously and unconsciously, to forget. I guess I thought that was what I was supposed to do – give me up/put some things out of my mind to let him live with me in his life.

The truth? I was busy being “tidy” so I’d fit easily and not frighten yet another lover away. I didn’t require that he love me as much as I loved being me.

I forgot me, so I lost my balance.

As I think about it, I’ve probably written a post like this before because I always seem to be trying to recover myself. There’s a lesson – stop losing yourself, Sadiqqa, so you can move on and not write stinkin’ posts like this anymore.

From now on, I will write about the balance and love for myself I’ve (re)discovered!

Now, to the Indian restaurant for some biryani and masala with my GG!

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Tue, 10 Jul 2012 21:34:00 +0000

For a period of time.

For a period of time each month, I experience Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. In lay people terms, that’s PMS depression.

Completely fetal!

It renders me anxious, unsettled, and wretchedly down (that’s about 28 miles beyond sad). My cortisol is high and my serotonin is low. I cry the ugly cry – you know that one – and I cry it loudly. My favorite position is a fetal one, preferably performed in my bed, under layers and layers of heavy covers. During this time, the clouds in the sky hover low and dark, and it feels like the world is crumbling, and nothing can repair it.

In other words, I am sad, sad, and some mo’ kinda sad.

Usually when this phase of month (or moon) happens, I wait it out and walk with it. I search myself, calculatedly examine what’s on my mind and why it’s bothering me so, and try to be kind to myself.

Yesterday, that strategy wasn’t working so well.

“So, Jesus, why you…? And, how come…? But, Lord…? And see, Jesus… Well, what about…? And you said… When…? Lord…!? Lord, where are you?!” And, oh, was I crying the ugly cry! And I mean loudly!

I moped through the day, certain that Elohim was ignoring my dismay – ‘cause I’m human like that – and feeling all “oh-woe-is-me” ish. Meanwhile, the clouds got lower and the world as I know it crumbled a little more.

Now, I know that when I get loud and stank with Elohim, He usually gets quiet. Really, who do you know that’ll respond to you when you get loud wit’ ‘em? Certainly not Jehovah Shalom, the Lord of peace. And I know that Elohim gets quiet so I that will and can then listen intently to that still small voice that tells me God’s got me and all is well. But, yesterday, there was no stopping my angst!

I finally unballed myself and left the house, though still sulking. But while sitting at a stop sign, in the middle of dry and forgotten yard, in a space where I never would have glanced, Jehovah Shammah (the Lord is present) blew a gentle wind across my face to draw my attention to beautiful white flowers growing naturally, unobtrusively, and unexpectedly beside a low concrete wall just beneath the stop sign. I heard/saw then what I needed to know –

“Beloved, here I am!”

Unexpected white flowers!

Under that stop sign, right next to that slab of concrete, in dry land, after weeks of 100+ degree weather and no rain, there was enough life to grow something beautiful, and there they blew just for me and anybody else who passed. I believe they bloomed in these impossible circumstances to remind us that even in our impossible circumstances and situations, life grows on. And I believe God showed them to me so that I could know that no matter how sad or alone I may feel, God is present.

I love the way Elohim loves on me!

I am the Good Shepherd.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 16:57:00 +0000

I am the Good Shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired had, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away -- and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because the hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd…
-- John 10:11-14a

In my meditation this morning, Elohim grabbed me up by my nightshirt, shook me around like a rag doll, then set me back down to recover from my human dizziness.

Admittedly, that's often how He has to get my attention.

I've been lamenting lately over a few things. So many things and so much so that I've probably seemed distant to my family and friends. Some of what has been on my mind - stuff that I just can't seem to figure out rationally, stuff that seems to have no human answer, stuff that scares me - has weighed me down, and my response to it has been to retreat from it/pretend it doesn't exist/act as though I'm not really bothered by it/criticize, demean, or punch holes in it/be irritable and unapproachable.

My response has been like that of the hired hand.

Elohim reminded me this morning that I am kin to the Good Shepherd Jesus. God reminded me that He has given me "charge" over a few things and that I am to be like Jesus who laid down his life for His sheep. For me, laying down my life for the sheep He's entrusted me with means being available, patient, and accommodating to them, AND giving them unconditional, ungrudging, and enthusiastic regard.

Unconditional, ungrudging and enthusiastic regard? “You've got to be kidding,” I said to God. That's the part where He jacked me up and made me shamed for even forming such a thought.

See, what if because of my faults and limitations, Elohim decided I had no value, deserved no respect, and was easily disposable? What if my brokenness and confusion made God throw up His hands and leave me? What if my Father judged me the way I judge some things and some others?

What if God stopped caring for my heart just because He didn't feel regarded or connected? What if He didn't provide me with warmth and kindness because He didn't want to be taken advantage of? What if Elohim didn't have time for me, in the same way I don't have time for others because they get on my nerves, aren't like me, or I'm just too danged busy to be bothered?

What if the Provider stopped being on time with the way He supplies my needs, in the same way I make my GG wait for me to want to prepare dinner? What if the Comforter was short with me because He didn't get His way? What if the voice of God I hear in my heart was as bland as the voice I give to others? And, what if God was sullen like me and rained on parades because He had so much to figure out on His mind?

Thank you, Jesus, for not being like me. Thank you for being the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for me. Show me in all my humanness how to do the same for the sheep in my life.

Selah.

Hello “Damn you!.” Good to see you!

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 17:19:00 +0000

In January, I carefully and zealously picked out my beloved, beautiful locs of 13 years. I had no plan for my hair other than to get it washed, conditioned well, and pressed once a month. That simple plan has been a good plan. No chemicals. No fancy hair cuts. A little high maintenance given my curl pattern and its instinctive tendencies, but, nonetheless, a good plan.

Like so many women, though, I equate the condition of my hair with how I feel about myself. When my hair looks pretty and healthy, I feel pretty and healthy. When it looks a hot mess, guess what? I feel a hot mess. The same was true when I wore locs. When they were fresh, clean, and the new growth tamed, I felt the same way – fresh, clean and, uh, tame. I’ve tried to deny the association, to psychologically will myself to a separation, but I can’t. I’m caught up like that. Sorry, India.Arie, I AM my hair!

Sigh…

After taking out my locs, a dear friend said to me, “Wow. Those were your trademark.” Of course she meant no offense and I took none. But, she was right! My locs defined me. In 1997 they meant I was a woman who defied societal groupthink. I was a woman who refused to be invisible, who stood out in the crowd, who was different by choice. In Nashville, my locs said, “Damn you, norms and tradition! Damn you, oh approved standards of beauty! Damn you, conformist, you mainstream unadventurous followers!” Among the crowd I worked in, my locs said, “I don’t give a flip what you think of me. I’m here. I’m staying. Deal with it!”

Now with my freshly pressed hair, there is no, “Damn you.” It’s just hair like everyone else’s. And with hair like everyone else’s, who does that mean I am?

Sigh...

Now, on a couple of occasions I tried the wash-n-go look, the Maxwell/Terry McMillan afro. Geez, did that take a lot of energy and attitude! I couldn’t keep up the sassiness that look required. That’s just not who I am. I’m a press-n-curl girl. But what does that mean?

Does it mean I can’t be a part of the natural hair dialogue? Does it mean I should not belong to the natural hair blogs that declare unprocessed, untouched hair the epitome of “good hair” and accepting/appreciative of one’s ancestral roots?” Am I now invisible/regular/just another Black woman? Well, wait, I’ve NEVER been “just another Black woman” so scratch that one. But, I have felt invisible and regular (and suspect when visiting the natural hair sites).

But, on second thought, what do “invisible” and “regular” have to do with my hair?

Give your brain as much attention as you give your hair and you’ll be a thousand times better.
-- El Hajj Malik El Shabazz (Malcolm X)

I don’t want to be invisible or regular. There’s no way I can be because I have a helluva brain. And now that I can no longer hide behind my hair – ooh, revelations! – this not-just-another-Black-woman has to speak for herself and stand out in the crowd in another way. I’ve got to free myself/show up/speak out, then, my hair will follow. Not the other way around.

Sigh… No more easy outs.

Or… because I’ve got this helluva brain, maybe I just AM a “Damn you!” kinda chick and it had nothing to do with my hair at all.

Maybe because I was unclear about the facility/power/gift of my brain, I allowed my hair to take on a life of its own and personify my “Damn you!” attitude. Maybe it was easier to show my “Damn you!” when everybody thought the hair meant “Damn you!” Perhaps my locs were the scapegoat I felt necessary for others to endure a resolute Sadiqqa. And now, perhaps I’ve unconsciously bought into the thought that pressed hair is quiet and conventional, more unobjectionable. I’ve involuntarily squashed my “Damn you!”

No wonder I’ve been missing me!

“Damn you!” is my air of confidence and competence that supersedes hairstyle, clothing, or any other outward thing that can be discarded/changed/shelved. No more excuses, disguises, or whipping boys vis-à-vis hairstyles to be who I really am – a “Damn you!” woman! I’ll be damned if let my hair do the talking/thinking/being any longer. Damn you hair complexity and psychology!

Now that I think about it, that’s the real reason I let go of my locs in the first place – so I could see me. I am NOT my hair!

Hello “Damn you!.” Good to see you!

Don’t run away from home…

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 14:55:00 +0000

Don’t run away from home in the middle of a storm.
-- Cynthia Copeland Lewis, “Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me”

The rain has been pounding. Lightening has lit up the sky and the thunder has been roaring. The sky is dark and the clouds are heavy. There’s not a trace of sunshine. The storm seems to be endless.

I am seeking a reprieve from the storm. I want it to go away. I’m exhausted from the repetitiveness of the rain and thunder, worn out from the darkness, done in by the clouds. But then, I’m not even sure I’d recognize the sunshine if it showed up.

I’d be skeptical that it’d stay around.

I’m not normally a pessimist but this storm has dampened my sanguinity and buoyancy. With every raindrop, I find myself wallowing deeper into dismay and sullenness. Nothing stops the rain.

My red floral rain boots don’t even help me wade through the flood anymore.

I’ve tried leaving home in the storm but it followed me. I’ve tried dancing in the storm but that felt forged and contrived; I can’t fool myself. I’ve tried pleading with the storm to go away but it just rains harder.

I’ve prayed for the storm to end, but it just keeps raining.

I guess I just gotta wait for the storm to pass. I’ll keep my eyes out for the rainbow. I’ll anticipate the sunshine. I know those rays will be worth the wait.

I’m in the middle of the storm and I have nowhere else to go.

Most of the luxuries,

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 21:26:00 +0000

Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but … hindrances to the elevation of mankind.
-- Henry David Thoreau

I was hanging out with new friends a couple of months ago when one of them asked to carpool with me to the place we were headed because her husband would be using the car.

Husband using the car?

THE. Car.

They. Have. One. Car.

One.

Wow…….

After I got over the amazement – amazed because, one, I don't know any 2 parent families, chocked full of responsibilities/obligations/activities, who don't have at least 2 cars and, two, because my sometimes linear mind keeps me charmed and spellbound on indulgences/excess – I considered the repercussions and possibilities of a family owning only one car.

To any situation, there are 2 sides, and with this one car deal, I immediately tuned into the downside of the situation. For starters, having one car means you have to wait for somebody to pick you up; you can't just jump in your car and go when you're ready, when you want to, or where you want to. One car means you have to sync your schedule with all the other folks in your household so that everything gets done and all needs are met. It means that sometimes you might have to sit at the house and wait for somebody to bring the car back so you can use it. And what if they bring it back with the gas hand pointed at empty?

Having only one car means that it becomes sort of a nondescript taxi cab. The car has to accommodate everybody and their stuff which could mean the car becomes weighed down and messy, possibly looking like the inside of a storage facility. And if you have to have a vehicle that can haul everything and everybody, it probably has to be a van and they aren't necessarily hip. Well, some are, but, how can you really style around town in a 5-door passenger van with a 3^rd rear seat full of the family's extracurricular gear in tow? Not real cool.

One car in the family means the car is not really YOUR car so you can't outfit it to specifically reflect your tastes or who you are. No good-luck fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror, at least not without the other requisite hanging items – work badges, lanyard library cards, the kids' graduation tassels, and pine tree deodorizers to neutralize the mixture of everybody's smells. Having one car means you probably shouldn't trick it out with fancy dash and body kits, polished chrome grilles, flaming red and black safari stripes, a lift-kit, or big foot wheels and rims. That's NOT a good look for a car-seated mini-van or the car that takes you and honey to the office every day.

But, then, when I thought of the possibilities, the opportunities, the upside of a family owning one car, oh my, how the pros far outweighed any of the cons above!

Well, first, let me be honest. I had to make myself think about the pros and possibilities. I almost had to drink a whole pot of coffee to get my thoughts flowing about the good things that one car for the family means!

Foremost, one car means SAVING money. One car gets filled up at the gas pump. Insurance is paid on one car. Maintenance costs are only expended on one car. Most importantly, there's only one car note. Of course, if the family drives a well-maintained fuel efficient vehicle, and each driver observes the speed limit and drives without road rage, a family can save a huge amount of money better spent elsewhere.

Driving one car leaves a smaller footprint on the planet. According to Tom and Ray, the guys of Car Talk, each year one car typically emits about six tons of carbon dioxide, gases responsible for changing the earth's climate. Too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere acts as a blanket over the earth which causes the temperature to rise, which ultimately causes crops to fail and catastrophic illnesses and weather. Although even driving the family's one car contributes to global warming, my friend's family is less responsible for the planet's destruction than are family's with 2 or more cars.

But the thought that touched me more than any of the other pros and that made the cons a big "so what!," was the opportunity to have/develop/preserve family time.

In an age where the demands on our time are monumental, and the actual time we get to spend with our families decreases by the minute, owning one family car offers up some of the lost opportunities to connect. Though not face-to-face –'cause you better be watching the road – you have and are a captive audience to hear/share thoughts and have conversations that are meaningful, motivating, and enjoyable; you can even have conversations that are difficult because you don't have to look one another in the face. Riding together in the one car gives everybody inside a chance to keep up, catch up, and get genially caught up in the lives of the others.

Now, if you're like me where you're constantly having conversations in your head – whether others are present or not, having one car means you gotta get out of your head so that you can be tuned into and available to the other folks in the car. Having one car means you must intentionally stay present and admit only the moments before you. It means slowing down – which we could all stand to do; deliberately listening to what the other people in the car have to say – or what they're not saying; appreciating the occasion to be with the others at that very moment and time; and when your focus slips away from the moment, bringing it back not with just an "uhn-huh," but with a genuine, "I'm sorry, I went in my head and missed a moment of you. Please repeat what you just said." For us introverts, that's tough and it takes much concerted practice. But not being and living in the moment, especially if it's in the car with the people you share your life with, means you lost a conscious moment, an experience, even an adventure, in your life. And, you know, you only get one of those. Certainly you don't want to skim the surface and miss any part of it!

And lastly, driving one family car may mean that sometimes you're the passenger, which means you get to checkout the scenery of the city or wherever you're driving. It means you not only get to see the cross and flowers on the side of the road, but you also get to read the name on the cross for which they were placed. Being a passenger in the family's one car may mean you notice the small green roundness of the olives on the big old Olive tree in the inner courtyard of the toughest neighborhood in the city, and it may mean you may get to wave back at the smiling old lady seated on her porch who waves warmly at each passing vehicle that travels down her rundown and deserted street. And, after you've seen these things once, because you've seen these things, your awareness of them and their meaning has in some way changed your life and, not only will you never mindlessly pass that way again, perhaps your awareness has taken on a clarity and intensity that now defines all you do and could only have been gained by riding shotgun in the family's one car.

And you get to talk about that with the driver and the other people in the car!

So, so what if you have to ride with your daughter's leotard, tu-tu, and ballet shoes or your son's cleats, mouthguard and cup. So what if you can't make the car your very own. So what if you have to wait for somebody to pick you up or catch a ride with a friend. Maybe your friend will be inspired by your family's commitment to owning only one vehicle, too.

If names are not correct…

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 02:19:00 +0000

If names are not correct, language will not be in accordance with the truth of things.
-- Confucius

The "Thought…," has a new name! I am now "Thinking – Out Loud…"

See, it has bothered me that I don't write a "Thought…," everyday. I mean, I think daily. A few years ago, I used to be able to think then write then go to bed and get up in the morning, go to work then come home, think some more then write. Every day. Or, at least, every other day. I'm not even sure how I did it then with a kid, a full-time job, and a bunch of other responsibilities, but I did it. All I can chalk it up to now is age because I certainly haven't stopped thinking.

As a matter of fact, I think so much, I'm surprised my head hasn't blown open from the pressure! I'm often deep in thought, caught somewhere in my head rolling stuff around until I've considered every point, side, angle, position, perspective, and part. I'm guilty of over-thinking a thing because I've stayed in my head. I'm guilty of coming to faulty/salty/jumbled conclusions because I've relied on the answers concocted in my head. At bedtime, I often have a slight headache from carrying so many thoughts around in my head!

So, to relieve some of that pressure, I began some years ago writing the "Thought…," or "Thought for the Day," hoping to get on paper all the stuff in my head – whether that stuff was good, bad, or indifferent. I also hoped my thoughts in writing would impart a bit of inspiration and encouragement – whether what I wrote was good, bad, or indifferent.

But I'm not writing what I think about every day, and, in actuality, that's probably a good thing given where this brain train often goes. Really, it's good that you get spared some of this matter! But, geez, am I thinking about a lot of stuff! And it's stuff you probably think about, too!

So, enter the name change, "Thinking – Out Loud…"

I am "Thinking – Out Loud…" simply because the "Thought…," is no longer – hasn't been in a long while – a thought for the day. It gives you a glimpse into where my brain is at any given time, and most importantly, it relieves the guilt I feel for not writing every day. Plus, I don't have to wait until after midnight now to send a thought for the day to you. I can do it anytime!

So I begin (or continue?) "Thinking – Out Loud…"

Frugality is one of the most beautiful and joyful words…

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 22:55:00 +0000

Frugality is one of the most beautiful and joyful words in the English language, and yet one that we are culturally cut off from understanding and enjoying. The consumption society has made us feel that happiness lies in having things, and has failed to teach us the happiness of not having things.
-- Elise Boulding

Driving through town the other day with a car full of delightful passengers, I stated – with some dismay – that we could not joyride and take in the sights of the area because I had recently spent over $60 to fill my gas-guzzling SUV. While each of the passengers – including me – grew sour-faced, we looked around at the other vehicles on the road and realized that most of them were gas-guzzling trucks and SUVs as well! None of us on the road could ride free. We all had to make a straight shot to where we were going then go directly back to where we came from or risk having to refill the tank too soon.

One of my passengers remarked that driving a smaller car would eliminate the use of lots of gas while another countered with, "You can't get as much stuff in a smaller car." Somebody else then said, "Well, why do you have to carry so much stuff?"

Well, ding, ding, ding, that's the point! And the question is not only why do we have to carry so much stuff, but why do we have to have so much stuff to begin with?

When I first moved into my house almost 20 years ago, I believed I needed to fill it with stuff – furniture, fixtures, decorations, all the things I thought said "comfort" or "home." Years later, I look around at all this stuff and wonder WTH I was thinking. I have become a frequent visitor to the Goodwill donation sites around town, giving away just about everything I've accumulated over the years. But I still have tons of stuff in my house.

Which ultimately spills over to my truck. I carry a bin in the trunk to collect odds and ends but it often becomes cluttered with stuff from the house, stuff we should have taken back into the house when we got out of the car. Eventually all that stuff weighs my car down, which means I end up burning more fuel.

And speaking of extra pounds, what about all the pounds we keep on our bodies? Certainly that adds to the weight we carry in our cars. We've got to get rid of that trunk junk, too.

And what about all the negative emotions, worries, and past hurts/pains we carry around with us? That's extra weight to our psyches and shoulders, weight we shouldn't carry around. You know what happens with all that emotional weight to consider, carry, and deal with – we end up trying to cover up/hide from/compensate for the sense of lack/discomfort/fear/uncertainty/chaos the weight brings. And we do it by accumulating more stuff! More stuff to carry, house, and hold onto.

It's easy to make a run to Goodwill, call the ARC, give your stuff away on Freecycle, or upload it for sale on Craigslist. It's easy to pare down what you eat. And, sometimes – ((sometimes)), it's easy to monitor what you allow to enter your consciousness. But unless we make mindful lifestyle changes, we'll be constantly saddled with unnecessary stuff to tend. In order to make life uncomplicated/lighter/less cumbersome/simpler, we must think differently about the stuff around us. We must evaluate the necessity of all that we allow into our lives, make careful decisions about the things we choose to own, and eliminate for good the things that we don't need. And, while sometimes these are hard choices, we must make them for our health, sanity, and freedom.

Eliminating the unnecessary from your life, be it furniture, material possessions, cars, friends, or worry, makes life simpler, even happier. Fewer possessions means not having to keep up with stuff, clean it, care for it, and most importantly, have a place for it. Think on this – if you don't have a lot of stuff, you don't have to have a big house to put stuff in, which means smaller heating/cooling and electricity costs (read: less energy consumption), smaller mortgage/rent, and even fewer repairs. It also means being intentional about valuing and maintaining calm, clutter free, less-is-more space, and including only those things that meet your everyday needs, speak to who you are, and bring you tranquility, comfort, and joy. Having less stuff in your home means you can really be at home.

And when you begin to eliminate stuff from your home, reducing or disposing of the other stuff in your life becomes more deliberate as well. Who says we have to have 800 Facebook friends? We don't keep in touch with 800 friends at one time, do we? We don't have all 800 friends at our house at one time, do we? Really, if you think about it, we may only have 20 – 30 people in our everyday lives, 20 – 30 people (if that) who have easy access to us daily. Yeah, it feels good to keep in touch your old childhood friends; they are special. But, really, if you hadn't kept up with them before Facebook, would you really miss them now?

Okay, maybe... Anyway, this isn't a scribe about Facebook, but it wouldn't hurt to consider who you give right of entry /attention to. Some people make life harder than it has to be.

And consider our eating habits. Needing only to eat when necessary – and not just because we're hungry for something – might mean that we would eat on purpose and be healthier. This means we'd eat more grains, fruits, and fresh vegetables; more legumes which are excellent sources of fiber and protein; and, of course, drinking more water. And none of this means you have to spend an exorbitant amount of money. It could mean a weekly visit to the local farmers market or growing your own fruits and vegetables – from pots on the patio, if you want to; finding a natural food store and stocking up on grains and beans to add to your home- or farm-grown vegetables, and drinking water straight from the tap you pay for every month! Just add a filter to the faucet to eliminate the yucky taste of chlorine and whatever else the city uses to purify the water.

If you eat healthier, you'll find yourself losing unnecessary body weight, and there's no way you'll want to put it back on! Exercising even a little preserves a healthy weight. It also increases mental sharpness, improves your mood, and greatly diminishes the stress that can make you ball into the fetal position and want to forget it all.

And once there's less of you physically, you'll want less of yourself to be consumed. No more hectic schedules or burdensome obligations and commitments to clutter your mind and time – you didn't lose all that material and physical weight to do more stuff; you're paring it all down. Because the less you do, the less stretched and more focused you are. Oh yeah, we can do many things; we're awesome multitaskers. But, really, do you want to do so much? And, do you do all the things you do well, or do you just meet the mark with the hundreds of things you're obligated to do? Think about it – if you did one or a few things, wouldn't you do them/be so much better? Happier?

Ultimately, we must become more frugal, or thrifty and prudent, in our ways. The more we have, the less we have – less freedom/happiness/peace. The more we have, the less we and our opportunities are. We become what we have and all the material/physical stuff we have keeps us limited in some capacity. Being frugal means being free to live.

I'm for giving up on the "American Dream" of consumerism and obsession with material abundance. I'm for living simple – owning, having, eating, doing, and being that which does not hinder living. I want to be thoughtful about the way I use energy, time, space, and myself. I've enlisted the help of Leo Babauta, Tsh Oxenreider, and Courtney Carver. It's all a process, but these are working for me and a lifestyle change that'll lead to peace, happiness, and freedom.

Freedom to joyride with delightful passengers because we're not hindered by gas prices!

So, why do I drive a gas-guzzling SUV? Vanity, I guess. There are certainly thousands of cars on the market I'd look good in that boast better fuel efficiency than my brown Explorer. But while giving up the brown truck is not (necessarily) in the near future for me, driving more efficiently by cutting down on my trips via a pared down schedule and carrying less junk in the trunks is certainly on the menu. The joyrides will just have to wait.

I will act now.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 02:51:00 +0000

I will act now. I will act now. I will act now. Henceforth, I will repeat these words each hour, each day, every day, until the words become as much a habit as my breathing, and the action which follows becomes as instinctive as the blinking of my eyelids. With these words I can condition my mind to perform every action necessary for my success. I will act now. I will repeat these words again and again and again… If I delay, success will become wed to another and lost to me forever. This is the time. This is the place. I am the person.
-- Og Mandino

To sit at the computer for hours on end moving cartoon characters around a diner or fashion boutique, providing speedy customer service to hungry, cranky, and impatient fictional characters while trying to keep them from becoming dissatisfied with your service, talking to the programmed characters as though they can hear and respond, and trying to earn big tips and achieve the expert status so items can be bought to create a better looking restaurant or stylish shop has got to be the worst use of my time ever!

Nonetheless, I am a Diner Dash/Fashion Dash fan!

Wait, did I say fan? I meant fanatic!

I've played Diner Dash and Fashion Dash for hours a day, pausing only long enough to refill my coffee, fix the kid a plate (not meal, plate), and take a QUICK bathroom break. Each time I get to a new level, I say to myself, "After this level, I'm going to stop and go get something done." Levels later, it's dark outside, my kid is hungry again, and nothing has gotten done. I've even played so much that I've dreamed of playing in my sleep!

And can I tell you how disappointed I am when I actually finish the whole game, expert levels and all! What a let down as I try to figure out what to do next!

Researchers say these kinds of time management games are good for helping you think on your feet and help improve memory, concentration, and mental speed. There must be something to this because while I strategically seat the boutique's old ladies next to one another so they can gossip, I can listen to and sing music, think on a problem I'm having, and monitor what GG is doing in her room!

But, really, I'm not fooling myself. Scoring an extra 100 points because the diners were fed expediently doesn't provide me with any life points. Yeah, playing helps me think and come up with solutions to quandaries, but, really, I use these games to escape reality/time/responsibilities. In the midst of going from level to level, I often ask myself, "what else could I be doing, what would I rather be doing?" I can quickly come up with an impressive list of other things to do.

What I've found is that while I'm building brain matter, I'm not using it if I don't apply it to do the other things I could/would rather be doing. What good does better eyesight, enhanced problem-solving skills, or increased perceptual/spatial ability do when I stay caught in a web doing the same thing day-in and day-out? What is the benefit of greater focus, improved hand-eye coordination, and greater boosts in dopamine that help to reduce stress when I seem to chase my tail instead of stepping outside my circle of comfort and actually going for some of the things on the list of what I would rather be doing instead of playing the stinking games all day? What good is better brain activity if I'm only using it on brainless, rote, everyday activity? That's like tactically seating Flo's customers at a table then not feeding them so they end up leaving.

Yeah, so my frame of reference is Diner Dash…

Really, the time that it takes to seat 4 feisty businesswomen away from a cranky, crying baby and her family is the time I could have spent sharpening my own feisty business woman skills or keeping my cranky kid from disturbing others.

The time it takes to design a new boutique is the same time it takes to craft a new "Thought…,." Putting in a jewelry display or new dressing booth does not beat writing a scribe that could shed light on a new way of living and being.

Cleaning up the spilled meal of a Diner Dash family is in no way as remarkable as repairing a relationship or checking in with friends and family.

Flying from cartoon boutique to cartoon boutique has nothing on walking in the park, driving down the highway past old barns and grazing cows, or flying over the earth headed to a real boutique.

Serving different foods to play customers compares very little to enjoying the good foods offered by restaurants in and outside the city. Or creating a garden to eat my own food off my own land.

Seating the Starlets and Heiresses next to the Gentlemen so they can get their flirt on never beats flirting or connecting in real life, especially when the regard is returned!

You'll be glad to know that for Lent I have given up playing Diner Dash, Fashion Dash, Gem Swap, Mahjong Solitaire, and any other computer game. Instead, I'm listening for God and taking on some of the things on the could/would rather list. Forty days is time enough to break a habit and act on what's real.

They say if you put the newly acquired brain skills to work, they stick around. I'm going to act now before my brain turns to mush!

I’m choosing happiness over suffering

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 03:33:00 +0000

I'm choosing happiness over suffering, I know I am. I'm making space for the unknown future to fill up my life with yet-to-come surprises.
-- Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

I've spent a lot of time worrying/unsettled/discontented over a countless number of things – money (not enough of it)/work (too much of it)/love and relationships (little understanding of them). I've worried over my weight, my hair, my hips, my home, and my heart. I've worried that on tomorrow there would be even more to worry about than today.

I've worn worry like it was an exotic perfume. I'd place a dab of anxiety on my neck and chest; slap some fret on my thighs; and smear a bit of melancholy on the pulse points of my wrists, knees, and ankles. Then, I'd leave my house, engage my friends and family, and talk with the babies at school reeking of the rotten smell of worry. I should have tossed that decanter of funk a long time ago. It has chafed and fatigued my shoulders and made it difficult to discern the more pleasant scents of assurance/contentment/joy/fun. How I wish I'd realized earlier that this scent was too heavy for my sanctified frame. Instead, I continued to reapply it every day.

If only I'd ingested Matthew 6:25-34 which implores me to not worry about anything 'cause, very simply, Jehovah Jireh , the God who provides, got me. I wonder how many years I've taken off my life because of so much worry.

Humph, I won't worry about that.

In its place, I'm opting to concern myself with the way Elohim cares and provides for me and how, in the scheme of it all, I've never missed a beat. Sure, I've fallen a few times, scraped my knees and ego, had my heart broken. But Elohim always picked me up and salved me down real good in powerful grace and mercy, breathed fresh and better life/opportunities/possibilities into my mind, heart, and soul so I could keep going/rise to a new level/see, experience, and love a new me. I'm replacing worry for the Word on my life – that Elohim holds my right hand and helps me (Isaiah 41:13), that Elohim will give me rest from my burdens (Matthew 11:28), and that Elohim is always present in times of trouble (Psalm 46:1). Why, then, should I worry over anything?

Instead, I'm choosing to concern myself about things like what kinds of vegetables to plant in my garden next week. Perhaps I'll plant some spinach, bush beans or pole beans, green peppers, and banana peppers. I'll plant some kale or collards, cucumbers, and tomatoes; maybe a few herbs like thyme, rosemary, oregano, and chives. I'm pretty excited about using my dad's tiller. I remember when he had a fabulous vegetable garden every summer! And, I can't wait to channel my grandfather and Aunt Ruby while tending this food in the soil! Imagine how much praying and praising I can do in my own little garden. No worries will be aloud there!

And it's time – past time – to paint my house, both inside and out. Instead of worrying about things I can't change or control, I'm going to chew on whether to paint my bedroom a shade of green that conveys a cheerful, optimistic energy or an earthy shade like "fallen timber" or "fresh brew" to remind me of my wholesomeness, warmth, and honesty. The shutters and porch need a bit of attention – heck, the whole house is in need of love and care. And my yard could use a mimosa or dogwood tree? How about I throw myself into turning my house back into a home instead of throwing myself into a tailspin of worry about what only Elohim is in charge of.

And there was a woodpecker in the neighborhood the other day. How about I watch for her and her other friends (the cardinals, warblers, blue jays, mourning doves, sparrows, and the hummingbird that peeked into my picture window last summer)? Maybe I'll set them up a couple of birdhouses. Instead of distressing over Elohim's children, I'll listen to and watch His morning song makers.

Ooh, and I want to learn Spanish, write daily, and cut myself some slack! Drink some good wine and cook good, healthy food. Dance through the house to Parliament-Funkadelic and Lonnie Liston Smith; talk with my friends over coffee, Moscato, and soul-stirring music. Go hiking and whitewater rafting; vacation by the lake and get up early to watch the fish jump while drinking scrumptious cups of coffee and eating homemade waffles! Coach some people through life, hang out my own shingle, and watch it blow in the wind.

No more worrying or distressing. I'm tired of its weight, stench, and missed opportunities. Sure, some things will cross my mind and make me twist my lips in wonder, but no more agonizing/losing sleep/cocooning. Life is too short and I only have one to live. The bandit of worry has stolen, killed, and destroyed long enough. Jesus came so that I would have life more abundantly and, starting now, I will not continue to dis what Jesus came to do.

I'm making room for the good stuff. No worries, just life's good stuff. Bring. It. On!

… Something to hold me while I’m waiting.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 22:58:00 +0000

… Something to hold me while I'm waiting.
-- Rev. Monica A. Coleman, Ph.D

I've never been a big fan of waiting. I'm not fond of long lines, the long details before getting to the point, or waiting a long time at the doctor's office.

I hate that it takes the toaster nearly 2 minutes to crisp my waffle. I hate that it takes my coffee pot 4.5 minutes to brew enough coffee to fill my cup. I can't stand that it takes my antiquated computer roughly 7.2 minutes to completely boot up, and I find it absolutely insufferable that it takes the brown truck 15 minutes to be warm enough for me to comfortably drive. I can barely wait for night to fall so I can go back to bed, and I so have an aversion to waking at 4:30 a.m. then waiting for the alarm to go off at 5:00.

It drives me nuts to wait for someone to do something for me. It makes me equally as crazy when I have to wait to get a thing fixed because I didn't wait for someone else to do something for me. I hate waiting for payday. I hate waiting for Friday. And don't put me on a waiting list or tell me to hold on while you take the call on the other line 'cause guess what? I ain't waitin'!

Most of all – I. Hate. Waiting. For. The. Seasons. To. Change.

Now I'm not talking about winter to spring to summer to fall, not those seasons. Well, not necessarily. In a few weeks I'll be pretty sick of waiting for the earth to tilt again and bring on a bit more sunshine. Soon, the wait to see the leaves budding on the undressed trees and hear the cheerful singing birds of spring will have a negative impact on my moods making me sour and salty company. And even when spring does roll around, I'll tire of waiting for summer to turn over, then I'll tire of waiting for summer to end and fall to begin, and so on. That wait is a never ending cycle that I've learned to tolerate. But I'm not talking about those seasons.

I'm referring to the seasons of life, particularly the difficult/uncomfortable periods of life shift and makeover we all go through simply because we're alive. Each of us experiences phases of grief, sorrow, disappointment, loneliness, heartbreak, sickness, distress of some kind. There isn't one of us under God's sun who hasn't been subjected to the lows and recessions that come with living. Doesn't matter how holy and righteous you live, rain falls upon us all. Just ask Job, a man God characterized as "blameless and upright," who, even after losing everything and prodded to curse God, said "… should we accept good from God, and not trouble?"

Oh, for the conviction of Job. And, oh for his patience...

The patience in waiting for the storms/tests/ordeals to be over is part of what makes the hard seasons of our lives the toughest. And if you're like me who hates to wait for many things, your tough season will only be tougher to get through.

So, I have resolved that in order to travail through the season in which I now travel, I have to exercise a little lot more patience – and stop hating so much of the waiting. There are tools and tackle I am using to comfort and instruct me as I attentively/intentionally wait and wade through this time in my life. I have things I'm holding to while I wait.

First and foremost, I regularly seek Elohim's desire for my life right now. On my nightstand and in the basket by my bed are several Bibles. I have four versions – the NIV, the New International Reader's Version (NIRV), my dusty King James, and the conversational version of the Bible, The Message. I switch back and forth between them as I try to understand what God is calling me to do/be/feel/know/learn at this time. I even carry a small Good News Translation of the New Testament, Psalm and Proverbs in my purse just in case I get tripped up while I'm outside the house. It's possible, y'know.

Every morning – once I get over waiting for 5:00 – I thank Elohim for another day then reach for my freshly charged Blackberry where several devotional emails and feeds await me. I start with BibleGateway.com's "Verse of the Day", which reminds me of Elohim's covering over my life and keeps me centered as I take my first few conscious breaths of the day. I then scroll to the Upper Room Daily Reflections to read expressions of Elohim's goodness and reread the week's lectionary scriptures. Then I read The Christian Meditator to be sure I've got my mind wrapped around Elohim before I even attempt to take on the new mercies of the day.

There are quite a few other devotionals and blogs I read throughout the day and week. I especially enjoy Girlfriends in God, Daily Reflections from the Upper Room's Alive Now, and the Upper Room Daily Devotional one of my favorite friends dutifully sends me each day. (Bless you, Robert!) For further encouragement as I shed the unnecessary stuff in my life, I read awesome blogs about simplifying my life like Be More with Less; Zen Habits; Living the Balanced Life; and Becoming Minimalist. And among the many blogs I've stumbled upon, I absolutely love, love, love! Positively Present because it encourages me to stay alert to right now – not on what happened yesterday or what may happen tomorrow.

I love to read, but I also love to sing. I'm listening to and singing music that inspires me and encourages me to feel life, its perplexities and joys. Singing with my church choir feels really good, even when we're playing around and remembering the words to "Felix the Cat!" And last night, I sat on my den floor with my humming and popping Donny Hathaway, Roberta Flack, Switch, Andre Crouch, and Crusaders albums singing at the top of my lungs! That was great, guttural feeling.

And, I'm cooking! Got me and my kid on weekly meal plans! No more eating out unnecessarily. I've found I end up with a little more pocket change when we eat this way. Eventually, pocket change adds up. I'm waiting for that… patiently waiting.

Therapy, family, my church, a little exercise, and a solid group of friends who are venturing and waiting through their own seasons keep me grounded and focused on right now and being alright. They keep me from balling up in the fetal position, pulling the covers over my head, and crying my eyes out until the uncertainty/upheaval/disorientation of this journey is over. And each of them, in their own way, let me know that a chilled bottle of De Bortoli Emeri Pink Moscato is also good while waiting. In moderation, of course.

Most importantly, my GG helps me stay on purpose and walking as gracefully as I can through this season of mine. She watches my expressions and hangs on to my moods watches me as I walk and grow in faith – and she watches when I throw my personal tantrums because the waiting feels too long. GG watches me as I learn to truly love and honor myself, and she's listening to me when I tell her that she should always guard against losing herself or allowing anyone to water down her salt or dim her light (Matthew 5:13-14). Because God gave me earthly charge of my girlchild, I've got to show her not only a faithful and obedient posture, but one that's authentic so that she has seen how to both fall apart AND put yourself back together. I have to stay hopeful and anticipatory about life's possibilities so that she can too. And you and I both know that takes a whole lot of energy so I have my hands full. So full that taking my time in this season is not only imperative, it makes sense!

So I'll wait patiently for God and with all the things and people that seem to have been designed just for this season in my life. And, who knows, maybe I can help somebody while they're waiting for their season to change.

It is a great deal easier to do that which God gives us to do

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 00:33:00 +0000

It is a great deal easier to do that which God gives us to do… than to face the responsibilities of not doing it.
-- B. J. Miller

A few days ago I had a doctor’s appointment. I made this appointment a while ago so I was well prepared for it, laying out our clothes the night before and setting the alarm so we wouldn’t be rushed. The morning of my doctor’s visit, we followed our regular got-somewhere-to-be routine and left the house in plenty of time. I got GG where she needed to be and had roughly 50 minutes before I had to be at my doctor’s appointment.

Since I had so much time to spare, I decided to take a different route than the one I usually took to get to the doctor’s office. I believed this route would be shorter – it wouldn’t take me around the city like the other route did, and although it was an unfamiliar route, I knew that my keen sense of direction would guide me and still get me there in enough time. I even had enough time to stop and get coffee, even though I’d already had 2 cups.

… even though my intuition told me to go the route I knew.

Funny thing about intuition – sometimes its infusion into your thoughts is so swift and subtle, you disregard it. I presumed that thinking about the other route was just me doubting my ability to figure out the new route. Besides, I had plenty of time to work it out. So, on I drove.

… and on… and on… and on… and… on…

An hour and 10 minutes later, I stood at the doctor’s receptionist’s desk rescheduling my appointment because I’d missed it.

Had I simply – and I mean SIMPLY – obeyed my instincts – God’s gentle, divine, and all-knowing prompting – a ride that should have only taken 20 minutes would not have taken a full hour! If I had followed my first thought/that still quiet Voice, I would not have gotten lost and had to double back and sit in long lines of traffic. Because I did not follow the holy urging in my gut/center, I not only spilled the piping hot coffee on my newly dry cleaned coat, I have to wait a whole ‘nother month to get in to see the doctor!

Bet I’ll be obedient next time!

Or will I?

See, I have this faulty tendency to rely on my own thinking, my own understanding, often forgetting that Elohim composes all the details. I forget that even the small inner voice that beckons beneath all the “stuff” of my life is Elohim calling out for me to follow Him at every moment. Sometimes the faith I have in myself often erroneously displaces the faith I have in Elohim, and, of course, those are the times I end up getting lost, going the wrong way, doing hasty/careless/dense things, and having to do them all over again. It seems I have to bump my head in order to learn my lessons instead of just being faithful and obedient in the first place.

Geez! When will I learn? Hopefully I got it now. Or, at least I’m getting it.

My mishap is a very simple example of one of the parables Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount – building on rock instead of sand (Matthew 7:24-27). Trusting my own thoughts and understanding is like building a house on sand that floods and gets sucked under when the storms come. I’m flawed, susceptible to selfishness, and have no knowledge of the whole picture – I’m human. But obeying God and relying solely on His commandments is the rock upon which my house/prosperity/arriving on time at the doctor’s office is built.

God told me which way to go so that I’d not lose my way and be saved. He didn’t just tell me that for the big stuff but for all things. It stands to reason, if I can listen to, trust, and obey Him Who is perfect in knowledge/speaks from heaven/gives me counsel/is above and over all – even and especially in the small things – certainly my faith and obedience are with Him in all things.

Life isn’t about waiting for the storms to pass...

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 06:01:00 +0000

Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain.
-- Author Unknown

This wilderness I find myself in these days is a strange place. Mysterious. On some days, I can see my way through it and find meaning in it; those days are lovely. On other days, there're blinding dust storms and huge tidal waves, suffocating from me any progress I'd made in this journey. On those days, I feel anything but lovely. It's on those days I feel woe/puzzlement and throw my biggest pity parties.

Nobody ever attends those parties, thankfully; they're just not that much fun. Besides, I don't want to be known for having bad shindigs. As a matter of fact, I don't want to live another day sad/sullen/sorry; I want to live like I've got something waiting for me. Because. I. do!

When I get quiet, still, and listen, I am reminded by Elohim that allowing the difficult/painful/disappointing times is His way of pruning and polishing me for something greater. Hebrews 12:7 (NIRV) says "Put up with hard times. God uses them to train you. He is treating you as children. What children are not trained by their parents?" Then, verses 11-12 continue: "No training seems pleasant at the time. In fact, it seems painful. But later on it produces a harvest of godliness and peace. It does that for those who have been trained by it. So lift your sagging arms. Strengthen your weak knees."

Keeping my mind and heart focused on God, discerning what God wants me to learn while I walk through this wilderness, and getting/being/remaining obedient to His Word/will, I am able to accept this time in my life, this valley, this storm with grace, submission, and awe. I can receive the "no" as protection and the "not now" for requisite strengthening/preparation/respect for God's timing. I can begin to uncover/understand/believe who Elohim says I am and disavow everything that caused me to think otherwise. I can appreciate the Word, take it at face value, fight for it, and really heed/trust it to point the way. This wilderness simply feels like a place of respite when I keep my eyes on what/how God is moving through me/my life/the atmosphere. God is working on my harvest!

So I'll sing in the storms of this journey. Maybe I'll dance a bit in this wilderness – maybe learn how to do a really wild Dougie! Perhaps I'll discover some new hobbies – wine tasting, cooking, photography, bird watching, belly dancing, playing volleyball with GG. Maybe I'll travel more, write more, spend more time with friends, volunteer more, work on publishing the "Thought…". Maybe I'll do all of that!

But, what I won't do anymore – with Jehovah Ropheka's (the God who heals) help – is have/wallow around at another sorry soiree. That takes too much precious energy.

Instead, I'm going to learn, as Paul said in Philippians 4:11 (AMP), "… how to be content (satisfied to the point where I am not disturbed or disquieted) in whatever state I am."

Amen and Amen…….

Be quiet, still, and listen

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 20:27:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I hashed through these multitudes of bookcases and gave away hordes of books that I'd either read and someone else could now enjoy or had not read and never would. I gave away a few CDs, some albums, and threw away several VHS'. When we decorated for Christmas, I gave away holiday trinkets I didn't need, like, or have space for anymore, and after Christmas, I gave away even more trinkets and whatnots. I've cleaned my email of old addresses; unsubscribed from email feeds I no longer wanted to receive; got rid of a cable box and a TV; bought a portable hard drive to save all the music and pictures on my old computer before the thang actually gives out; and started cleaning out the storage rooms. Next, I'll go through the pots, pans, dishes, and linen closet, and, before the end of next month, I'll go through my clothes closet and start my Project 333.

I went to a health food store and signed on for an ionic food bath that will help to remove the years of toxins from my body. I unraveled my 142 13 year-old locs, and, I'm thinking of finding a yoga class or joining the newly renovated neighborhood YMCA so that I can continue my impressive weight loss feats!

I've reconnected with some friends and shunned from my life those who have been hurtful, detrimental, and counter to/disagreeable with my purpose. I've decided to do new things with/for my body, things more sacred and inside the will and purpose of God (I Corinthians 6:18-20), and I've begun the thorny/frightening/intimidating/awesome task of looking my Self in the face/at the core, discharging secrets and denial, and replacing them with truth, honesty, transparency, and integrity.

I am on a mighty purge, getting clear and clean. And all this activity makes for a busy me – and a longed for echo in my house. But there's one problem. Actually a big problem. I can't hear God.

While I'm going through closets and shelves, I find myself talking to God quite a bit, asking all these questions, placing stuff before Him, all that. And while that's definitely not a bad thing – God always wants to hear from us about whatever – I'm repeating myself and talking/whining louder/more than I should be. While I'm cleaning up and clearing out, my mind is racing and I'm walking around caught in my head. I'm asking God questions but I'm relying on my own flaky understanding and allowing all that worries/concerns/baffles me to churn out of control. As I place the extra shower curtains in the Goodwill bag and marvel at the empty space left behind, my beseeching God becomes even more relentless, noisy, and insistent.

Enter yesterday's "God Wants You to Know," the Facebook application that delivers a daily message of encouragement and support –

"On this day, God wants you to know ... that you've been talking to God too much, and not listening enough. Prayer is when you talk to God. Meditation is when you become quiet and listen to God. You've learned how to talk and ask well. Time to learn how to listen and hear, because God has been answering you."

Uh, ok. I don't believe in coincidences. I believe that God aligns everything perfectly and. that. message. was. perfect. I've asked the questions, shared my load with Elohim, now, it's time to shut it up and listen to what God has to say about it.I'm listening.

Oh, wait, I've got to put the broom down for awhile and be still. Just like you can only see your reflection in still water, there's no way you can hear God in a whole bunch of activity, although God can talk to you in any way at any time. But for me, right now, I gotta get still.

So, the pots and pans can wait. It's definitely too cold to clean out the storage rooms. And, I'm really in no hurry to sort through the clothes closets.

I'm getting quiet, being still, and listening.Sadiqqa © 2011

Forgiveness does not change the past

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 07:05:00 +0000

Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.
-- Paul Boese

Lately I've been working to get in touch with this inner child of mine, the one leaping with/living for joy and contentment somewhere deep within the folds of my Self. Folks from John Bradshaw to the late great Carl Jung have talked about this inner, divine child as the child in each of us who is our true, spiritual, unencumbered Self but who, somewhere along our childhood path, was wounded and, resultantly, developed a shell/mask/false Self to protect it from the blows to its inherently pure/good authentic Self. As we got older, this masked/unhealed kid who has a tendency to be co-dependent, get lost in crippling addictions, has trust and intimacy issues, and feels relentless emptiness/apathy/sadness took over our adult lives and dictated our responses in everything we did. My inner kid has been acting out/in for years, fighting to be heard and validated. It's high time I look at/after the little girl who resides in me.

I hadn't given a lot of credence to the inner child work. Heck, I believed whatever was going on with me at any given time was the result of a choice I had made and that was the end of it. But then I began to look at the choices I continued to make over and over and wondered why I made those same choices, especially when I knew I'd get the same results. There had to be a reason I continued to accumulate stuff, or a reason my spending was so undisciplined. There had to be a reason for these overwrought/inflated/out of control emotions. Perhaps I am responding as a result of some pains from long ago.

Inner child therapy posits that somewhere during your childhood, something happened that perhaps made you feel ashamed, guilty, abandoned, afraid/terrorized, unsafe, etc. and all of these feelings were the consequence of what parents and/or other caregivers did to you. Inner child work says that the feelings were happened upon you because your parents and caregivers themselves were wounded and parented you through their wounded Self. Ultimately, you feel the way you do, live the life you live because your parents didn't heal/know any better.

In my case, I can't blame my parents. They were absolutely awesome to the little chicky in me. They showed/gave me and my sister unconditional love, protected us from evils known and unknown, and made sure we had everything we needed to be smart, educated and well-cultured girls who would then become productive, contributing, and classy women. They have their flaws, like we all do, but, as parents, my mama and daddy should receive God's highest reward of "well done" when it's their turn to see heaven.

No, it wasn't in my home during infancy, toddlerhood, or preschool where the little one in me received her injuries/dents/scratches/wrongs. It was in my elementary, middle, and high school years at elementary, middle, and high school.

It was the wounded kids around me who wounded the kid I was.

I was the tall and lanky kid with thick glasses; the one with the large forehead and even larger nose; the one whose chin seemed as elongated and pointy as her legs were long. I was the kid who was brainy yet wacky/chatty yet socially clumsy/well-behaved yet sly. At school, I was that kid who didn't wear the "hip" clothes; my mother made everything we wore – except for the Girl Scout uniforms we wore on Picture Day. Because my mom was a teacher, my schools and teachers were hand-selected and on the 1970's rotary speed dial. That meant I was often the teacher's pet, did/could do no wrong, and got special recognition/praise that the other kids didn't get. The school bus stopped right in front of our house and the bus driver would wait patiently as mama wrapped us in our matching puffy coats or daddy handed us our matching ballet-inspired lunchboxes. I sat at the front of the bus because mama said Rosa Parks did; besides that, the loud kids who teased sat in the back and every day I could tell they were ready to pounce on the four-eyed, goofy, goody-two-shoes chick they believed I was. I'd keep my hood on and head down for the entire ride to school where I could then tuck myself near the teacher who would protect me.

… until we got to the playground. It was there that all those characteristics, peculiarities, and special treatments led to the teasing and ridicule. The playground was where they wouldn't share the ball/pick me for the team/play the patty-cake games with me/be my boyfriend/talk behind my back/let me in on the latest news. I'd return from recess emotionally battered and bruised and spend the rest of the day withdrawn and vowing to concentrate only on things academic.

… until I got to high school where it seemed all the kids around me were smart with little effort. They mastered chemistry and calculus. They spoke Latin and German. They would not be seen in the "shop" hallway. AND, they were cool! Everybody knew their names. They sat together in the cafeteria. They lived on the same side of town. They knew stuff about one another that was funny and things that were inside jokes. And my mom didn't know many of the teacher's in high school so for lots of the time I was on my own. By myself and an outsider.

I know most of this sounds like what lots of kids go through. Certainly my experiences were not much different from anyone else's; we were all impacted in some way by the things that other kids did to us or who we perceived them to be. And, after all, many people would argue, all that was a part of growing up AND I survived it. But, my survival was hard-pressed. I got stuck in some places, took what the kids said/who I believed they were at face value, and let all of it define/drive me. And I allowed my Self to grow into adulthood unexamined/flattened, never stopping to throw light on/set straight what I had come to believe about myself. Instead, I put on a Superwoman suit, went impulsively on my way, and set out to never show how hurt, inadequate, afraid, and shamed I felt.

And I'm so tired. This blue cat suit with the big a— belt is heavy. It also doesn't fit anymore.

In order to move forward today and begin to live in a more genuine manner, in order to recoup/rescue the lovable/trusting/optimistic/resilient/fun kid who's covered by layers of feigned adultness, I must begin to forgive the other wounded kids who lost their optimism/resiliency/fun somewhere along the way. I must forgive the teasing and ridicule of 3rd graders; the disparaging gossip of 6th graders; and the exclusionary practices of 10th graders. I have to see them all as God's babies who were also trying to find a place to fit. And while to my child Self they seemed to have found a place that ultimately kept me out, I have to realize that they were just as afraid and confused as I was.

I must also ask my little Self for forgiveness – forgiveness for leaving her behind and buying into the travesties that covered her up/changed her outlook/stunted her emotional growth. I have to apologize and let her know that at the time I just didn't know any better. And now that I know what I know, I can apologize to her, tell her I love her, always tell her the truth, give her hugs via affirmations, and, of course, never leave her again. That's definitely something she needs to know/feel. I can tell my little one a different/more accurate /much more righteous story than the one she got stuck on, and I can introduce her to and tell her about the wonderful opportunities she and I will get to experience now that we're getting free. I can teach my girl new ways of responding to/managing life's inevitable challenges. And I'll tell her all about God, how He loves us both so much, and how He's been planning for me to come back and get her for years.

I'm looking forward to reclaiming and being a cheerleader to the little one in me. I know she's fabulous because God made her that way. I can't wait to strip off the layers and see who she really is. I hope I didn't smother her; I hope she still knows how to breathe. I hope the light doesn't hurt her eyes and the air isn't too oppressive for her. I hope she didn't forget how to double dutch, sing off key on purpose, pretend she was Wonder Woman, or believe that butterflies were heavenly fairies.

I just hope she'll forgive me for taking so long.

One of the most painful lessons

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 18:31:00 +0000

One of the most painful lessons is learning how to appreciate the hush of winter, when more growth takes place underground than above ground, and there in quiet, unnoticeable ways.
-- Renita J. Weems, Listening for God

These days, I feel like a tree whose autumn leaves are strewn everywhere the wind has blown them. Some of the leaves I've shed are brittle because they fell so long ago and have lain on the ground for many, many years. Other leaves that have fallen are not as easily crunched for they just fell from me, though they are still just as fragile. And, while these leaves have fallen because I don't need them anymore – I'm preparing to make new ones – I'm tired of looking at them scattered about the ground. I need more than a leaf blower that/who will simply blow them into neat piles only for the wind to come along and rescatter them beneath my feet, keeping my roots (core/heart) from breathing and getting fresh air. The tree that is me needs something to gather those dry, colorless, and dead leaves; mulch them up; and make them into something usable, something that will provide sustenance for seasons to come and protection from the weeds that often creep up around me.

I explained the short version of this to a friend who offered that perhaps the "wind" in my analogy is God who is actually rearranging/reworking/blowing things around in my life to remind me that He has a purpose/plan/calling for me and if I just allow Him to/watch Him breathe my way, then I will see how any and all of this season makes good sense. Friend said that even those leaves that returned to the floor of my feet were lovingly placed there by the Wind for examination/response/resolution.

Don't you just love when people help you make sense of the madness in your head?

What I'm realizing more than anything right now is that all the leaves of my tree have been blown to the ground, I am bare/stripped, and it is in fact wintertime in my life. The season for me is dormant and everything seems at a standstill/cold/hushed/in hibernation. The Wind has required such.

But, below the wintertime ground, my senses are alive. I can feel – boy, can I feel! – hear, see, taste, and smell. However, the meaning/authenticity/depth of what I'm feeling, hearing, and seeing has yet to be revealed/take sprout. What I taste and smell has the tang of redemption/wholeness, but its full flavor is still maturing in the soil/soul.

Below the surface, I feel the roots of self-acceptance/forgiveness/joy developing. I notice things that were once staples/mandatory no longer feel necessary/acceptable. Incorrect/rebellious/radical/blasphemous beliefs that existed and defined me are being invalidated/plowed up/replaced with great supplies of truth/certainty/faithfulness. There is a trembling underground that cannot be contrived/denied/that can only be the Lord sending light through.

Though sometimes it feels that this wintertime may last a long while for some days/moments I get its aim/value/instruction/commands and can effortlessly/prayerfully insert my Self into its plot, enjoying both the tranquility and rouse I get from the chilled air. But, on other days, all I feel is wintertime's harshness/gloom/aloofness. And I get stuck in it, screaming for warmer, sunnier days; yearning for less bareness/dreariness; demanding to be clothed again, and soon, in a covering that wraps/protects/conceals the unpleasant/imperfections/troubles that just won't hide when the trees are bare. I cry out for the foliage of Spring! I even mull over/mope for the return of my dying leaves.

But thus is the purpose of my wintertime – to learn not to be ashamed/afraid of bareness/vulnerability/transparency/honesty; to never again seek flora that veils/deceives/pretends; to let go of what was useless/unsuited/life-draining; to bloom in the bleakness of where I am so that when Spring does appear – and it always does, I am prepared to pollinate (give/serve/reach out) in the new world around me.

In my wintertime, I will respect winter's natural timetable/significance. I will rest/come up for air, just as all of nature's plants and animals do, so that my spirit/soul can be revived, so that God's perfect timing can have its way. Underground, I will take comfort in the God of patience and consolation and consign my Self to His work/design on my life. While my world is dormant/still, I will gently cover my Self in God's blanket of truth/love/favor/mercy while He allows His winds to settle me around.

And when my fated leaves of Spring return, I will be even more thankful for the respite/tending of my wintertime.

Go back to bed.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 06:05:00 +0000

'Go back to bed', said the omniscient interior voice, because you don't need to know the final answer right now, at three o'clock in the morning on a Thursday in November. 'Go back to bed,' because I love you. 'Go back to bed,' because the only thing you need to do for now is get some rest and take good care of yourself until you do know the answer.
-- Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

For a few weeks, I've been asking God the same questions – "Where're you taking me?" "What's going on?" "What will it look like?" "What am I gonna do?" "What if…?" And, to each of these questions, I've gotten the same answer–

(((crickets)))

Really, God? I can't even get the slightest hint of what's getting ready to happen or how it's all gonna turn out? Just a word/some clue?

… (((crickets)))

So, (((sigh)))…

But, what I have heard God say is keep going to water aerobics and the gym so I can work my big assets off. He told me to keep eating and eat well, making sure I have plenty of fruits, vegetables, and water. He told me to keep the Shea butter, Echinacea, vitamin C, and chapstick handy for these winter months. And He told me that since I bought the gummy vitamins because I thought they'd be much easier to take, I should take them every day.

God told me to be kind to my Self, to enjoy my Self. He told me to keep doing the things I like to do – read, write, watch some movies, listen to good music. But He also told me to go outside and get some fresh air, get out of my house where everything feels sad/cluttered/reminiscent of dreams deferred. And He told me that while I was out, I should go see what I can see, see what's been happening out in the city/outside the city/in the big wide world. God said live!/explore!/be adventurous!/be!

When I asked God, "what am I gonna do?," God told me to take some stock in my Self, to take a shot at loving me fully – not my things/what I do/what I have/someone else – me. He said love me and everything I am! God said to look inside my head and give this fabulous brain of mine some dap for figuring out how to navigate through the murkiness/uncertainty of the world around me. He said to cup my heart and embrace it so I can feel that it's still beating no matter how much disappointment/setback it receives. God told me to look in but not to forget to look up and out. He told me to keep looking up so my spirits could stay up, too.

Every time I ask my Father the "what if" questions, He tells me I am His precious lamb. He says that He loves you very much and has His hand on me for something special (1 Thessalonians 1:2 MSG). He tells me to prepare my Self in all ways for what is to come. When I ask Him what that is, He reminds me that to wait on Him will prove favorable/worthwhile/precious/sure and I won't be able to "round up enough containers to hold everything God will generously pour into my life…" (Romans 5:3 MSG)

God told me not to forget that I am capable of showing/receiving deep love, of dreaming, of laughing loudly and telling some funny-assed jokes. Okay, God didn't say ass, but that's how I received it. God told me to visit with my friends, make some new and different friends, and keep my lines of communication open. He told me everybody has a story to tell, that I should listen for Him in all of them, but that I should steer clear of those whose message dripped of confusion/foolishness. He said that's just the enemy trying to get one in, trying to enter the gate to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10).

When I asked God where exactly was He taking me, He deflected my question by telling me to just sit still. He said instead of asking Him that question, focus on where I am right now/how to make the most of the best I have right now/how to be the very best in/at what I have control of right now. And He told me to stop borrowing more than 2 books at a time from the library, at least until I had read everything He was saying to me in the stack of Bibles lying at the foot of my bed.

God told me instead of continually asking Him all these questions, these questions that I had laid on His altar weeks ago, let Him do the work that's required to produce an answer. He told me the more I ask, the more it stays in my feeble, finite and flawed hands/understanding and out of His boundless and omnipotent power. God promised He would handle it in His time and His way. So, He said, chill, have faith, trust Him for all things, and do what He told me to do.

And, geez, does God know me! He knows that if I did have the answers I was looking for – just as I was looking for them – I wouldn't pay attention to the journey. I'd do something to mess it all up and miss some fabulous lessons. I would certainly miss me.

So, I'll do my best to pull up on the questions. I'll try to do an even better job of doing just what He said. For now, there are no hard and fast answers. For now, there is guidance for the meantime.

The wind'll be blowing pretty hard today. God's telling me to wear my hat and scarf and to wear some tall socks.

But at any crossroad -

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Sun, 05 Dec 2010 06:38:00 +0000

But at any crossroad – in the pause that God gives us – we have a chance to stop and think. I call these pauses "Selah."
-- Nancie Carmichael

Thank you, God, for this pause... for this Selah.

Now, you know God, I did not come to this fork willingly/enthusiastically, I tried to run away from it. I fought this tooth and nail. I didn't want to stop and think. I was comfortable with what was right here. It didn't require anything of me but that I breathe and blink. It was comfy/habitual in this space; I knew what would happen tomorrow because it happened today and yesterday and all the days before that. And while that seems unexciting/unimaginative/uninspiring, the sameness of it all kept me alive/afloat.

But, I know, God, you want me to do more than just stay alive. You want me to have life fully/abundantly (John 10:10). I know. I know, God.

I guess I've been heading toward this crossroad for a long time, I just didn't know it. Or, maybe I knew but didn't want to admit it because I wasn't ready to choose between staying the same or growing on. But I ask myself, even though I'm reluctant to move out of my comfort zone, how can I acquiesce to sameness/tedium/common/regular when I have so much more life to live/give/experience/discover? Why be mediocre when I was made in excellence for greatness/service/passion?

Actually, God, if I get honest, you gave me no real choice. I mean, staying the same had become boring, not fulfilling at all. It was simply living on the surface of this life you've let me borrow. And, it was starting to feel confining and near impossible to keep stretching; in my boredom, I even pushed away those closest to me. God, was that you making that space tighter/awkward so that it became hard to maneuver/move around within it? Was that you making it less comfortable/simple/pure so that I would have to wriggle away from its ease and deception? Were you blowing and scattering the leaves from my branches to let me know there was more/better fruit to produce if only I'd just let you be the planter? Was that you God?

Whatever you did, whatever you're doing, Elohim, here I am at the crossroad, pausing/suspended, for the first time ever, to hear how you want me to go forward. And I won't move until you say so, until you're done with this lesson.

Jesus, here at this break, in the "Y" of this intersection, I can see/feel you clearly as you show me all the places where I've been wrong. I can see the residue/repercussions of living outside your will and commandments, making up my own rules to suit what I wanted to do/believed was right, then tweaking my acuity of the Word to justify my choices/actions/exploits. I see where I audaciously left your path to create one I thought was better for me but that only created chaos/decrease for me and everything/everybody around me. I see confidence crushed by failures, failures precipitated by half trys/laziness, laziness triggered by fear, fear caused by something unknown/something you've yet to reveal to me in this Selah.

Jehovah Ropheka, my healing God, at this moment of silence/truth, I am slowly and deliberately taking off a layer at a time, rolling it around in my hands/head/heart/the Word like dough in flour, examining the skin underneath for authenticity/substance/precious shoots that can grow into blossoms full of vibrancy/contentment/self-assuredness. At this turning point, I am recovering the me I've neglected/disrespected, and forgiving myself for the lack of care. Jesus, I am consoling/gently rocking/cleaving to the part of me that feels lonely/wounded/ugly/objectionable. Everything I've detested about my precious self, I am now choosing to accept/embrace with unshakable assurance/poise.

This Selah, this intermission/hiatus from distractions/interruptions you've allowed isn't terrible. It isn't dark – the light of grace is coming through the cracks and shadows of your love are dancing on my walls. It isn't grueling – every truth/reality/sorrow/ache uncovered/felt is immediately covered by sweet salve of favor/reassurance/fresh air/certainty that this is all for my good and the glorification of your Kingdom. At this defining moment, Lord, I am learning to finally see myself in the way you see me. Oh what a beautiful sight! I cannot wait to meet the person I'm becoming, the person you're threshing out of the confusion/refuse/excess no longer needed.

Lord, at this fork in the road, I welcome Selah, for only in the pause will I get a fresh breath. Only in Selah will I hear your voice in my heart. Only in Selah will I be guided righteously/gain what I need for the next trip around the corner of my life.

So, yes, I thank you, Elohom, for Selah.

Selah.

The bush was burning with fire

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 07:04:00 +0000

Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian. And he led the flock to the back of the desert, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. And the Angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire from the midst of a bush. So he looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, but the bush was not consumed.
-- Exodus 3:1-2 (New King James Version)

God is still in the business of burning bushes.

During yesterday's rainy morning rush hour, you were driving slowly/cautiously on the wet roads, though not really any differently from when the roads aren't wet – you usually drive with care. Just before approaching your exit, you glanced into your rear view mirror and noticed another car swiftly speeding to get to the exit before you do. In the spur of a second, the car skids, spins, barely misses your front end, but crashes with a shattering/violent impact into the center median, nearly flipping over to the other side of the interstate and into oncoming traffic. Thankfully/miraculously, no one was hurt. But it did get your attention.

You really do do the best that you can in paying your bills – at least you do the best you are willing to do. But, a few months ago, you got behind and, now, the bills have started to pile up. Your solution was to get a second job. So you found a job perfectly suited to your interests and hours of availability, interview, are offered the job, and complete the necessary forms and requirements for employment – W2 form, fingerprinting and background check, etc. You are prepared to begin work any day when you receive a call that says your background check indicated a problem and employment would not be extended to you. No other information, for legal reasons, is provided to you. So you worry/agonize/lose sleep over what the problem could possibly be. Knowing that your money troubles could turn up as a poor indicator on your credit report and thus show up in a background check, you diligently pare through your late bills, call your creditors, and make arrangements to pay your remaining debts. Immediately following the set up of your new financial system, you receive a call from the employer saying that you have been cleared to work, welcome aboard! No harm done. But, it did get your attention.

Twice in 2 months you've been hospitalized for very serious health issues. Following both visits, you resumed your regular activities (work, etc.) and with the same venom as before. You still despise your dead-end job, its meager pay and monotonous duties. You've wanted to quit, find a new job – one where you could make a difference/sink your teeth into, but you've never had time to pursue what that job could be. Now, as you prepare to be hospitalized for the third time – with recovery time slated to take 6 months – it occurs to you that not only has your stress over a lackluster job led you to this point, but you now have an opportunity to think on and begin your make a difference job dream. Your job will still pay you as you work from home while recovering, so few changes will unsettle your life. But, this situation got your attention.

God is still burning bushes.

Moses was minding his business tending his father-in-law's sheep, the way he does every single day of his life. He walked the sheep, like he regularly does, up to the mountain of God, a sacred and holy place. When he looked up, he saw that bush on fire but, OMG, it wasn't burning. It was lit up, in flames, probably blazing hot – so hot that Moses was mesmerized by its rage/glow/heat. Moses couldn't help but stare, it was magnanimous/monumental. Clearly, on this mountain, this sacrosanct Mt. Sinai, where nothing else was burning, where the bush was only an angelic inferno, Moses could not help but be drawn to this flaming shrub. It was grabbing his attention, grabbing it so that he could hear the requests/commands God was saying to him – the plan for freeing God's people from the suffering in Egypt.

In the same way, God shows us burning bushes to let us know He is present/working/delivering/blessing/comforting/Elohim. The screeching car tires on the highway, the "no" from a potential job, the necessary recovery time are all God's way of saying, "I AM that I AM…" (Exodus 3:14) The burning bushes of our lives call us to attention and remind us that God is in charge/sovereign/all-powerful/has dominion over all things. God is saying "watch me/don't take your eyes off of me/I've got something for you to see and do/only I can do it/only I have the answer/only me/I've got your blessings/I've got plenty of grace/pay attention to what I'm about to do/watch."

If you look, you'll notice that God is burning a bush for you right now. Pay attention.

The Other Half

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 08:30:00 +0000

Yesterday morning on the Tom Joyner Morning Show, commentator Jeff Johnson offered a very passionate treatise about becoming a better father. He said that sometimes men – single and married – have a very difficult time remaining present and engaged in their children's lives because of work responsibilities, unpleasant incidents between them and their children's mother, or for shame at not being able to provide financially. Johnson contended that children not only need financial support from fathers, but they also needed time, energy, and consistency from fathers and not providing such was equally, if not more, detrimental to the well-being of children. He offered his own plea for help, taking ownership for his own failures and reaching out to men, both those inside and outside the home, who have been exemplar in consistently engaging their children to help him be the father he knows God called him to be.

When he began his commentary, he cited the many men he'd talked with who faulted mothers with making the relationships between fathers and their children difficult. Yet, because he is a man of accountability and truth-telling, yesterday morning, he shined the spotlight on men and their portion.

Well, this morning, I want to turn the beam of the spotlight back on women because, men – uh, some men – are right. We women sometimes don't make it easy for men to support and be present for their children.

Disclaimer: this "Thought…," does not include the deadbeat/ornery/lowdown fathers who deliberately disregard their children's needs and lives and maliciously withhold what they need to prosper and flourish in the world. Those men can… well, let's move on.

Now, like I said, we women sometimes make it difficult/awkward/tiring for men to support and be present for their children. And before you get all "but-wait-a-minute" on me or stop reading this "Thought…", I'll use myself as an example.

I grew up with 2 parents who loved and respected each other and showed us through words and works how to do the same. My parents have wonderful life-long friends, most of whom I call my aunts and uncles because of their enduring/endearing connection to me and my family. I have a great career; a job with meaning, a plethora of benefits, and time off for rest and as necessary. I have a house to stretch out in; degrees that ensure I'll always have some kind of work; and a little change in the bank to pay for the things we need and some of the things we want. I have awesome friends and family who support us and our ambitions, and a busload of hobbies and interests that make for never a dull day. I hold my head up high – mostly because anything different is sacrilegious/counter to who I am and grounds for a butt whippin' from my mama; I have enough confidence/determination/resilience to overthrow a slew of closed and slamming doors; and compassion enough to never hold anything against a soul. And, I got Jesus on my side when all that fails.

I am a bad Sister! How can anybody compete/compare with all that?

… especially when you psychically/cunningly/accidentally on purpose make them (a father) feel like there's no way they can. So they don't even try and, ultimately, kids suffer.

Ah, sweet confession……….

Sure, there's something to be said about a man who won't keep pushing through the bull women serve up in order meet the needs of their children. But there's also a lot to be said about the bull we serve.

Sometimes there're valid reasons for keeping our children close/away from their fathers. There may be emotional/mental challenges, substance/alcohol abuse, or violence/abuse issues that require we keep our babies away/safe from their fathers. But sometimes – a lot of the time – because of the personal inadequacies we feel, using our kids to validate us and make our lives legitimate/purposeful, we shut fathers out because we want nothing around that will take that from us. Sometimes we keep our babies away from their fathers because we fear they may like daddy better which, we think, may take away some of our power/influence/purpose. Sometimes we keep the kids away because he did us wrong and keeping the kids away is revenge. Or, maybe because daddy didn't want to be with us, we vengefully keep our kids away until he wants us back. All of that is about us, not about the kids. But it's the kids who suffer the most.

When dad's not around, our babies miss out on what only a man can provide for them. Fathers teach boys how to be men – who knows how to be a man better than a man? A father innately impacts his daughter's perception of femininity, her sexual and personal identity, and her self-esteem/self-confidence so that when a righteous man comes along, the little princess knows how to identify him.

As bad as I am, I cannot be my baby's father. That's not the role God intended for me. I no longer want to take on that role. So, on this journey toward my wholeness/peace, I've done this whole father thing differently.

First, of all, I've had to think what my baby needs. That was simple to do. That's my baby.

Then, I had to forgive myself for being/thinking so haughtily. Don't get me wrong, I was never consciously braggadocios about what I have or who I am. I never threw any of it in his face. But I also never made room for his wares either. My girl-child needs to know the full measure of who she is and where she came from, no matter who I am or what I think.

Next, I had to pay attention to my kid's rampant emotions. I know part of those wild emotions comes from not being able to answer some questions only her father can answer for her, and I really have no idea about those questions. Part of knowing who you are is being able to put your hands on/mind around some tangible ideas, but if you can't, you fill yourself with only what you know. And, for my kid, she's only got half of what she needs. I, with my "bad" Self, have stood in the way of her having full access to the other half of herself. I had to move my big assets so she can begin to contain herself.

Then, I had to throw caution to the wind, bear down, pray and listen, unpurse my lips, take my hands off my hips, think again of my baby, pray and listen some more, remove the damning thoughts from my head, then reach out. That was a lot/hard to do, and it took a long time. It was kind of like giving birth again. But this birthing/rebirth/release was for my GG.

The rest is up to them; she and her father will have to cultivate a relationship for themselves. Mama is no longer in the way – although I'm not far for when she needs to add my half to the other half she discovers.

Like Jeff Johnson says, … "and that's my truth."

On their way they were healed.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 06:01:00 +0000

"Jesus looked at them and said, 'Go show yourselves to the priests.' On their way they were healed."
Luke 17:14 (Contemporary English Version)

… On their way they were healed.

Of course this is about the story of Jesus healing the ten lepers on his way to Jerusalem. Remember, they called out for His mercy and Jesus looked at them, then told them to go and present themselves to the priests of the city who would then examine them, determine whether they were in fact clean/healed, and welcome them back among the others living in the city. On their wayto present themselves, to be declared clean, to be welcomed back into society's folds, to partake in sacred rituals and sacrifices – they were healed/cleansed/purified/changed.

Lots of us – not many, I hope – have the notion that once we arrive at our destination, once we've finally made it to the place we've been trying to get all of our lives, then we will be happy/satisfied/ peaceful. Some of us believe that only when we finally have the job/money/house/car/ring and spouse we wanted will we be able to say we have arrived and achieved success.

But what about the time between now and when we reach that destination/goal? What about the "on the way" time?

Won't Jesus look at us and show us little "arrivals"/victory /healing on our way to "that place?"

Like learning how to become the very best at what you do, even being recognized and honored for your work on the way to getting that dream job? Or, successfully/responsibly learning the fine points of maintaining/paying for a smaller home or apartment on the way to signing the mortgage on the big manor? Or, discovering how to love/accept/forgive/respect/believe in yourself/be yourself ("Thought…, 11/25/10") on the way to entering into commitment then covenant relationship with another? Won't you learn some things – by discernment or trial and error, continually/lovingly picking yourself up when it's hard, celebrating when you get it right, and learning more about your power/resilience/depth/gifts along each step and on your way toward the target? Won't that you kept living and doing so in faith and praise be what sustains your on the way?

Jesus didn't wait for the lepers to get to their destination – the priests and their laws – before He brought them healing. In fact, telling them to go see the priests was an indication that healing was already underway.

Likewise, Jesus' waking you up this morning, looking you over with grace and new mercies, and sending you for presentation to the world outside your door is His way of saying to you that healing/peace/wellness happens on the way. So keep going.

But the very fact that this world is so challenging...

noreply@blogger.com (Lee A. Mayberry) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 06:53:00 +0000

But the very fact that this world is so challenging is exactly why you sometimes must reach out of its jurisdiction for help, appealing to a higher authority in order to find your comfort.
-- Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

If you've ever been in my house, the place I call "Sadiqqa's Sanctuary," you know I have a huge collection of books. I have awesome works by Alice Walker, Zora Neale Hurston, Iyanla Vanzant, Richard Wright, James Baldwin, Sister Soulja, Toni Morrison, Juwanza Kunjufu, Nikki Giovanni, and J. California Cooper, to name a few. I've got books about girls and women, the Black experience, religion and spirituality, parenting, psychology, poetry, short stories, American history, biographies, and classics like "Of Mice and Men," "The Canterbury Tales," "Invisible Man," and "Uncle Tom's Cabin." I even have textbooks from undergrad, which was ages/interests/degrees ago.

I also have a pretty impressive CD and record collection – music from Sarah Vaughn, Arthur Prysock, the Carpenters, and Peter Nero to N.W.A., Tupac, Miley Cyrus and Justin Beiber (shh, don't tell nobody about that one!).

I have artwork, pictures, elephants, plants, blankets, hanging trinkets, 5 televisions, a closet full of fragrant soaps and bath gels, peanut butter, an assortment of breads and coffee, an active library card, stickys with random quotes ("Thought…, 11/18/10"), and black pants and black shoes for days! I have bunches of things around me that serve to bring me comfort/strength/safety/refuge, and I can't seem to get rid of any of it!

But, as I pull back the covers/peel off the layers/dig through the dregs, I am finding that what I've used to provide consolation and protection, now only serve to provide a huge amount of dust/clutter… camouflage.

I've even used my possessions as excuses.

When I was lonely/low/afraid/worried/confused, I tossed myself head first into a book. To feel and express emotions, I put on an old Nancy Wilson or Switch album instead of laying it all on the line and being transparent. I've turned on the television to escape myself and washed in a variety of scents to cover my own whiff of sadness. When I couldn't sleep at 2:00 a.m. because my mind was full of disorder, I ate peanut butter sandwiches on honey wheat bread, and in the mornings, I covered my peanut butter assets with black pants. And when the possessions I had could not fill the needs/lack I felt, I went and got more.

Ooh, confession is goooood…

I've covered my hurt feelings with things. Filled the holes in my heart with things – and people, but you don't get that story… today. Bridged the gaps in my confidence with things. And now that I am seeing myself with (heartbreaking) clarity, all those things look like junk.

In the book, "Showing Mary: How Women Can Share Prayers, Wisdom, and the Blessings of God," Dr. Renita Weems tells us that in our moments of loneliness, when nothing or no one else can fulfill us, when it feels as though ease/satisfaction are unattainable, those are the times that Elohim is calling out to us, calling us to seek His solace/succor/presence. As badly as I hate to admit it, never once in the midnight hour did it occur to me to tenaciously seek God instead of a sandwich and cranberry juice; I needed something immediately. Not one time did I consciously petition Jehovah Ropheka (God our healer) to cleanse me with His saving power instead of first scrubbing myself down with $18 handmade almond and goat's milk soap; I needed something immediately.

Never have I asked El-Shaddai (God who is sufficient) to be my eternal/definitive/solitary comforter, even though the things/people I used instead never provided the immediate or everlasting comfort I longed for.

Jeremiah 8:18 says, "God, you are my comfort when I am very sad and when I am afraid." Jesus told His disciples in John 14:16 that God would give them another "Comforter (Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, and Standby)" in the form of the Holy Spirit who would be with them forever. Psalm 27:1 says, "The Lord is my Light and my Salvation-whom shall I fear or dread? The Lord is the Refuge and Stronghold of my life-of whom shall I be afraid? And, Hebrews 13:6 says, "So we take comfort and are encouraged and confidently and boldly say, The Lord is my Helper; I will not be seized with alarm [I will not fear or dread or be terrified]. What can man do to me?"

So how crazy is it to rely on things and not God when you know God is a comforter/counselor/helper/intercessor/advocate/strengthener/stanby/light/salvation/refuge/stronghold? What on earth was I thinking?

I guess the better question is why "of earth" was I thinking?

I have held idols before God, an ultimate failure! Believing that I needed things that were tangible/human to fill my holes/gaps and bring me comfort/satisfaction/happiness has led to a house full of things and a heart full of regret and in need of cleansing. My Self and my surroundings are in need of purging because I know now why I've got/used all these things. And perhaps looking at them differently/knowing the truth about them will make it easier to discard them and make room for God who is certainly more affirming.

((Sigh))…

Anybody up for a yard sale?