I need my behind kicked. It's almost been a month since my last post, and a lot has happened. I'll give you the gist, but I'm gonna do it in two parts because I have a bunch of shit going on and don't have time to hammer out an extra-long post to fill you in. Plus, I'm sure you wouldn't want to read some monster essay on my life for the last three weeks. So, here's the beginning:
Whaddya know, peeps? I actually had that conversation with my Mystery Man a few weeks ago. We spent the day together and it was absolutely fabulous. And, as usual, I was afraid to rock the boat, so I didn’t want to bring up any volatile subjects that might ruin the good time we were having. But, as I stated before, this is the reason why nothing ever gets accomplished – because I’m too afraid to rock the boat.
In the evening, we were sitting outside on a bench looking at the goings on around us, and I just asked… “So where is this going?”
It was almost like he was prepared for the question, but I didn’t get the answer I’d wanted to hear. I recovered quickly because it was like I already knew what his response would be. After all, as I’ve said before, if I have to ask the question, I already know the answer.
But, I wasn’t mad. I just figured that our timing was off and I held in my tears until I was in my car headed home. Only then did the tears begin to flow, but I didn’t even cry for long. Mostly I cried because I was embarrassed for putting myself out there and then getting rejected. But then I stopped crying when I realized how good it felt to have taken matters into my own hands and gotten the answers I needed and deserved. It became apparent to me that if I’d never asked the question, we probably would’ve continued down the path we were headed, which wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t good either.
There’s not a lot to tell after that. I mean, I knew we’d still keep in touch after that because we’d been friends for a long time prior to our recent romantic escapades… and I knew that I wasn’t comfortable with just letting all that history fall to the wayside. So, we’ve talked… and we’ve even seen each other since then. But, I’m trying to keep my wits about me. I have to recognize that just because he’s still nice to me and just because we are in contact pretty regularly doesn’t mean that his feelings about us being together have changed. It’s hard to keep that in perspective, but… you know. Handling this situation with the appropriate level of care and conscientiousness is an uphill battle and all, but so far it seems to be one that I am winning.
Steve Harvey was right… you gotta ask those ever important questions EARLY to make sure that you’re not wasting your time with the wrong person. I don’t think that I wasted my time with Mystery Man. He's an excellent person and I'm especially fond of him for sure. I'm not giving up hope on him yet... (this may sound pathetic, but it's true!). Not that my Mystery Man is Mr. Wrong, but I do know that he’s not Mr. Right... for now at least. There are so many things that I adore about this man and my feelings haven’t changed just because he’s not ready to take things to the next level. But, the bottomline is that my experience with Mystery Man allowed me to recognize that I want to date and eventually be in a relationship… particularly in a relationship with HIM, but if that doesn’t work out (and it seems that it won’t), then with another worthy candidate. I’ve been single for over two years! That’s too long for a girl like me to be living the single life. I’d like to at least be dating someone seriously and I know that in order for that to happen, I’ve got to make myself available and receptive to meeting new people and allowing them into my life. Believe it or not, that’s really hard for me. I don’t readily allow people – men in particular – to win my trust. So, I figured that it’d be best for me to PRAY about being receptive and willing to put myself out there to meet new people.
Now, I pray often, but I’ve been backsliding on the church thing. However, as I'm sure you know, this past Sunday was Easter and every Christian worth his/her salt makes a trip to church on Easter. It’s the one time out of the year that Christians feel so guilty about all their hedonistic activities that not only will they attend church service, but they’ll show up on time (or early!) and in new clothes to boot! So, anyway, I performed my familial dduties and drove my grandmother to church on Sunday morning. I dropped her off at the handicap entrance, parked the car around the corner, and headed inside.
When I got to the vestibule of the sanctuary, who do I run into but Charlie! I have to admit that he looked quite dapper in his pinstriped suit and he had a fresh shape-up… Lord knows that I have a weakness for that! He immediately walks up to me and asks why I haven’t returned his calls. I don’t even remember the last time he called me, so I realize that I must’ve left him hanging for quite some time. I play it off the best I can (obviously I can’t lie given the fact that I’m standing in the church house!) and he brushes it off and tells me he forgives me, but doesn’t want it to happen again. He smiles and I suddenly have the thought that I don’t remember him being this handsome before.
“Where are you sitting?” he asks, as we wait in the vestibule for the ushers to let us into the sanctuary.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say.
“Well, I’m sitting wherever you’re sitting,” he says.
We go inside the sanctuary and there are hardly any seats because every Christian and his/her mother is present on this day of worship! Finally, we find a seat in the second row, which makes me very uncomfortable. I prefer to sit in the back of the sanctuary… and I certainly would’ve preferred it with Charlie at my side. People in the church talk and I don’t need anyone asking any embarrassing questions after the service is over. We sit down and I can feel the eyes of the older ladies who are friends with my mother and grandmother boring into the back of my head. I ignore them and actually really enjoy service. For one, Charlie smells really nice. Then, I notice that he’s singing along with all the hymns… and he knows all the words without looking at the hymnal! And, he and I share a Bible during the scripture and he lets his finger run along the page to help me keep up with the minister who’s doing the reading. These are not big things, but they are impressive to me for some reason. I started to view Charlie in a different light. He’s not so bad after all.
He’s been pretty consistent about the fact that he likes me and I have to respect that. After all these years, I am still fascinated when someone tells me that they like me in a romantic sense. Not that I don’t believe that I’m worthy of being liked… it’s just really a good feeling to know that all the things about you have come together nicely and caused another person to be attracted to you… for whatever reason. It’s a phenomenal feeling to be liked.
Now, this doesn’t mean that I’m in love with Charlie… or even that I like him enough to date him (!), but after church he hugs me and, as we part company, asks me to call him later… and I know that I will.
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
It's Called SELF-Esteem for a Reason/Living Life Like It's Golden
Like Usher, I also have a confession (corny, but it works!): Sometimes, I have low self-esteem.
Yes, I understand that having low self-esteem is not exactly the type of thing that you freely admit. But I am trying to be more honest with myself as I approach my third decade of life (yikes!).
Now, sometimes I have very, very good days. And on those days, I’ll walk into a spot and repeat a mantra that goes something like, “I am the shit. No chick in here has anything on me. I have got it going on and nobody can tell me anything different.” Yes, those are the good days when I feel as though I am looking good and am in the mood for acting bad.
But, those days don’t happen that often. I am always feeling insecure about something. Those of you who know me personally know that I’m short. But the funny thing is that on most days I don’t FEEL short. But then there are those days when I do. and those are not “good” days. On those days I feel more like “Wow, I’m really short and I look weird and everyone is looking at me because I am short and weird looking.” (Yes, these are actual thoughts that I have about myself. Pathetic, isn’t it?)
And, of course, I have my cheerleaders. Those girlfriends of mine who are constantly saying things like, “Brown Girl you know you’ve got so much to offer. You’re smart, you’re ambitious, blah, blah, blah.” While I adore them for building me up, I have to admit that sometimes it does nothing to get me out of my funk. As one friend says, “Low self-esteem is the devil.”
We, as women, tend to blame self-esteem on everyone else. We say things like “My father never told me I was beautiful, so that’s why I have low self-esteem,” or “I’ve been cheated on so many times that now I have low self-esteem.”
But, Katt Williams said it best when he said something to the effect of, “Talkin about [men] fucked up your self esteem. [Woman], it's called SELF-esteem. It's esteem of your fucking self!” Truer words were never spoken. I am constantly reminding myself that I am the creator of my own self-image. The image that I create and the energy that I project into the world are what others will use to define me. And if I don’t feel good about myself, nobody else will either. This is so important for us to remember when we get down in the dumps or start coveting what other people have.
One of my biggest self-esteem issues has to do with my body image. As I mentioned before, I am short. And I’m also carrying around a few extra pounds. Now, I am trying to do something about that, but as I’ve mentioned (repeatedly) I am a work in progress, so that is, well… in progress! But I remember one interaction that I had with Jeremy on one of my “bad” days that made me feel oh so good.
Jeremy and I had a lot of bad days, but we had a lot of good days also. One day, I was feeling particularly fat and inadequate and was pretty much stomping around in a bad mood. To make me feel better, Jeremy took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant downtown. (Now I should mention that at this point, I was heavier than I’ve ever been because Jeremy was ALWAYS taking me out to dinner!) Our waitress was a pretty cute girl who seemed to have eyes for my boyfriend. Jeremy wasn’t really paying her any mind since he was being very attentive to me that night. And I remember a conversation that we had in the car on the way home from dinner. I asked him if he had noticed our waitress, and her perky breasts, and round brown. He said no he hadn’t noticed because he’d been too into making me happy. I knew I wasn’t being fair, but I just kept going.
He pulled the car over, took my hands into his, and looked into my eyes and said, “Look, I just want you to know that YOU might not be happy with your body, but I am. It might not be perfect, but I love it because it’s YOURS. Ok?” he asked.
“Ok,” I responded, sniffling.
I looked out the window to keep him from seeing the satisfied smile on my face. I knew I was impossible on my “bad” days, but he put up with it. And the way that he reassured me seemed so genuine and his love felt so unconditional at that moment. I know it’s not right to put so much stock in other peoples’ opinions, but it felt good for my boyfriend to validate me and my appearance. I often look back fondly on that particular moment that we shared. It was one of the times when his love felt unconditional…
Sometimes, I also feel like my self-esteem is low because of all the blows that my ego has taken in relationships. I’ve been honest with you about having been cheated on by several boyfriends. The first time I’d been cheated on, I was 13 years old. I had dated Brad (this is his real name, by the way) for two whole months, which is in actuality a long-term relationship when you’re in middle school. He told me he loved me AND he was the first boy I ever French kissed. I thought we’d be together forever. We went away for summer vacation and things were perfect between us. Two weeks later, he met another girl at summer camp and decided that he couldn’t be my boyfriend anymore. I remember that Valentina had to deliver the news and she tried to do it as delicately as she could. My ‘tween heart was broken! A little piece of my heart died that day. I couldn’t believe how easily he could throw away all that we shared! Even though I remained hopeful that I would find “love” again, I was cynical and bitter about men and their ability to commit. I know it seems insignificant, seeing as though it was a middle school relationship. But it was my first encounter with puppy love. Before that happened, I believed that anything was possible and I thought that everything that guys said to me about the way they felt was the actual truth. My experience with Brad was my first real adult wakeup call and it made me feel shitty about myself. And of course, the disappointment continued. No need to explain since you already know the stories of Mr. Ex and Jeremy. And when I was a freshman in high school that boyfriend cheated on me, too!
My insides carry all those scars that I earned in those relationships. Even though each relationship broke me down a little bit, I somehow emerged stronger each time I endured the hurt. And although I am proud of myself for making it through those relationships, sometimes the war injuries that I’ve sustained rear their ugly heads and make me feel a little down about myself. Like, obviously, something is wrong with me if nearly EVERY dude I’ve ever seriously dated has cheated on me. Clearly, there is something wrong with ME. I’M the common denominator. I internalized those thoughts and, even though I usually feel confident in myself, sometimes, residual feelings pop up and make me feel bitter and unsure of myself. When that happens, well… those are my rough days.
I made a confession about my rough days to a fairly new and very wise friend and she shared a metaphor with me that changed my life. I will expand on it a bit for the purposes of the blog, but will preserve the spirit and integrity of her original words.
She said: We are like gold. We all have to go through a process to become refined if we want to look like the gold we see in the jewelry store. But when gold is first discovered in the ground, it doesn’t look the way that we know gold to look. The way that we see it when it’s in the store, it’s shiny and pretty. But, if the gold could talk and we gave it a compliment on it’s fine appearance it would say, “Girl, you don’t know what I had to go through to look like this! I had to be pulled, tugged, pushed, ground down, and polished. But obviously, there was a purpose for me because someone took the time to dig me out of the ground… and here I am! That process, and all the pulling and tugging and pushing hurt, but that process – as tough as it was – it made me beautiful to you. But thing is, I was always beautiful to my Creator. He knew my purpose and he saw me like this – all shiny and pristine – from the moment He took me out of the ground.”
That’s all there is to it. And can I get an “Amen”?!
Those words spoke to me in a way that I had never been spoken to before. In that moment I realized that if I ever felt a lack of self-esteem, I should see myself through the eyes of my Creator. I know that I am somebody special because God don’t make no junk! That’s something I used to say when I was little. I know it’s kind of corny, but it’s a mantra that I need to incorporate back into my daily living.
If ever you feel as though you’re not everything you could or should be, just think of that shiny gold. If you’re ever feeling beat up, less than perfect, hurt, angry, or bitter, think of that gold. It didn’t always LOOK like precious metal, but the process that it’s Creator took it through, made it beautiful. Life is a process and as we progress through it, the bumps and bruises and life experiences – both good and bad – are what make us who we are. We are the sum of our experiences. From the moment we are put here, we have a purpose and a destiny and it’s up to us to make the best of what we are given in life and to understand that although we might not look perfect on the outside, to our Creator we are that pristine and polished piece of gold that is waiting to emerge at the end of the process.
If we think of ourselves in that way, how could we ever be short on self-esteem?
Yes, I understand that having low self-esteem is not exactly the type of thing that you freely admit. But I am trying to be more honest with myself as I approach my third decade of life (yikes!).
Now, sometimes I have very, very good days. And on those days, I’ll walk into a spot and repeat a mantra that goes something like, “I am the shit. No chick in here has anything on me. I have got it going on and nobody can tell me anything different.” Yes, those are the good days when I feel as though I am looking good and am in the mood for acting bad.
But, those days don’t happen that often. I am always feeling insecure about something. Those of you who know me personally know that I’m short. But the funny thing is that on most days I don’t FEEL short. But then there are those days when I do. and those are not “good” days. On those days I feel more like “Wow, I’m really short and I look weird and everyone is looking at me because I am short and weird looking.” (Yes, these are actual thoughts that I have about myself. Pathetic, isn’t it?)
And, of course, I have my cheerleaders. Those girlfriends of mine who are constantly saying things like, “Brown Girl you know you’ve got so much to offer. You’re smart, you’re ambitious, blah, blah, blah.” While I adore them for building me up, I have to admit that sometimes it does nothing to get me out of my funk. As one friend says, “Low self-esteem is the devil.”
We, as women, tend to blame self-esteem on everyone else. We say things like “My father never told me I was beautiful, so that’s why I have low self-esteem,” or “I’ve been cheated on so many times that now I have low self-esteem.”
But, Katt Williams said it best when he said something to the effect of, “Talkin about [men] fucked up your self esteem. [Woman], it's called SELF-esteem. It's esteem of your fucking self!” Truer words were never spoken. I am constantly reminding myself that I am the creator of my own self-image. The image that I create and the energy that I project into the world are what others will use to define me. And if I don’t feel good about myself, nobody else will either. This is so important for us to remember when we get down in the dumps or start coveting what other people have.
One of my biggest self-esteem issues has to do with my body image. As I mentioned before, I am short. And I’m also carrying around a few extra pounds. Now, I am trying to do something about that, but as I’ve mentioned (repeatedly) I am a work in progress, so that is, well… in progress! But I remember one interaction that I had with Jeremy on one of my “bad” days that made me feel oh so good.
Jeremy and I had a lot of bad days, but we had a lot of good days also. One day, I was feeling particularly fat and inadequate and was pretty much stomping around in a bad mood. To make me feel better, Jeremy took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant downtown. (Now I should mention that at this point, I was heavier than I’ve ever been because Jeremy was ALWAYS taking me out to dinner!) Our waitress was a pretty cute girl who seemed to have eyes for my boyfriend. Jeremy wasn’t really paying her any mind since he was being very attentive to me that night. And I remember a conversation that we had in the car on the way home from dinner. I asked him if he had noticed our waitress, and her perky breasts, and round brown. He said no he hadn’t noticed because he’d been too into making me happy. I knew I wasn’t being fair, but I just kept going.
He pulled the car over, took my hands into his, and looked into my eyes and said, “Look, I just want you to know that YOU might not be happy with your body, but I am. It might not be perfect, but I love it because it’s YOURS. Ok?” he asked.
“Ok,” I responded, sniffling.
I looked out the window to keep him from seeing the satisfied smile on my face. I knew I was impossible on my “bad” days, but he put up with it. And the way that he reassured me seemed so genuine and his love felt so unconditional at that moment. I know it’s not right to put so much stock in other peoples’ opinions, but it felt good for my boyfriend to validate me and my appearance. I often look back fondly on that particular moment that we shared. It was one of the times when his love felt unconditional…
Sometimes, I also feel like my self-esteem is low because of all the blows that my ego has taken in relationships. I’ve been honest with you about having been cheated on by several boyfriends. The first time I’d been cheated on, I was 13 years old. I had dated Brad (this is his real name, by the way) for two whole months, which is in actuality a long-term relationship when you’re in middle school. He told me he loved me AND he was the first boy I ever French kissed. I thought we’d be together forever. We went away for summer vacation and things were perfect between us. Two weeks later, he met another girl at summer camp and decided that he couldn’t be my boyfriend anymore. I remember that Valentina had to deliver the news and she tried to do it as delicately as she could. My ‘tween heart was broken! A little piece of my heart died that day. I couldn’t believe how easily he could throw away all that we shared! Even though I remained hopeful that I would find “love” again, I was cynical and bitter about men and their ability to commit. I know it seems insignificant, seeing as though it was a middle school relationship. But it was my first encounter with puppy love. Before that happened, I believed that anything was possible and I thought that everything that guys said to me about the way they felt was the actual truth. My experience with Brad was my first real adult wakeup call and it made me feel shitty about myself. And of course, the disappointment continued. No need to explain since you already know the stories of Mr. Ex and Jeremy. And when I was a freshman in high school that boyfriend cheated on me, too!
My insides carry all those scars that I earned in those relationships. Even though each relationship broke me down a little bit, I somehow emerged stronger each time I endured the hurt. And although I am proud of myself for making it through those relationships, sometimes the war injuries that I’ve sustained rear their ugly heads and make me feel a little down about myself. Like, obviously, something is wrong with me if nearly EVERY dude I’ve ever seriously dated has cheated on me. Clearly, there is something wrong with ME. I’M the common denominator. I internalized those thoughts and, even though I usually feel confident in myself, sometimes, residual feelings pop up and make me feel bitter and unsure of myself. When that happens, well… those are my rough days.
I made a confession about my rough days to a fairly new and very wise friend and she shared a metaphor with me that changed my life. I will expand on it a bit for the purposes of the blog, but will preserve the spirit and integrity of her original words.
She said: We are like gold. We all have to go through a process to become refined if we want to look like the gold we see in the jewelry store. But when gold is first discovered in the ground, it doesn’t look the way that we know gold to look. The way that we see it when it’s in the store, it’s shiny and pretty. But, if the gold could talk and we gave it a compliment on it’s fine appearance it would say, “Girl, you don’t know what I had to go through to look like this! I had to be pulled, tugged, pushed, ground down, and polished. But obviously, there was a purpose for me because someone took the time to dig me out of the ground… and here I am! That process, and all the pulling and tugging and pushing hurt, but that process – as tough as it was – it made me beautiful to you. But thing is, I was always beautiful to my Creator. He knew my purpose and he saw me like this – all shiny and pristine – from the moment He took me out of the ground.”
That’s all there is to it. And can I get an “Amen”?!
Those words spoke to me in a way that I had never been spoken to before. In that moment I realized that if I ever felt a lack of self-esteem, I should see myself through the eyes of my Creator. I know that I am somebody special because God don’t make no junk! That’s something I used to say when I was little. I know it’s kind of corny, but it’s a mantra that I need to incorporate back into my daily living.
If ever you feel as though you’re not everything you could or should be, just think of that shiny gold. If you’re ever feeling beat up, less than perfect, hurt, angry, or bitter, think of that gold. It didn’t always LOOK like precious metal, but the process that it’s Creator took it through, made it beautiful. Life is a process and as we progress through it, the bumps and bruises and life experiences – both good and bad – are what make us who we are. We are the sum of our experiences. From the moment we are put here, we have a purpose and a destiny and it’s up to us to make the best of what we are given in life and to understand that although we might not look perfect on the outside, to our Creator we are that pristine and polished piece of gold that is waiting to emerge at the end of the process.
If we think of ourselves in that way, how could we ever be short on self-esteem?
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Count your blessings...
Well, I know that I haven’t posted in a while. But this time, I have FANTASTIC excuses to explain my long absence. First, my dad has been dealing with some health issues that were pretty serious. I took time off from work to help manage that situation on the home front since my mom seemed to be pretty overwhelmed by it all. Long days spent at the hospital turned into short nights and then more long days at the hospital. This left very little time for me to get my thoughts jotted down, but it did give me a little time to think about some things. And whenever I start thinking that means… yep! You guessed it! MORE BLOG POSTS FOR YOU! Whoo-hoo!
Anyway, during this time, a very close friend of mine decided to quit his out-of-state job and move back to DC. He wanted to spend his days looking for a new position, but didn’t have a computer. So I, out of the kindness of my own heart, allowed him to borrow my beloved laptop for a few days. Which then turned into an entire week! So, that didn’t leave me much time or opportunity to write a post. When I told this friend that I needed him to return my computer so I could get back to blogging, he said, “You’ve gone longer than this without blogging. Nobody will miss you.” Well, he can just kiss my tookus because I know for a fact that I have been missed. (And I feel great about that, by the way!) I know this because I got cursed by several people who had been checking for new posts and finding nothing. And for that, I apologize. So, here goes a new post. And I’m working on a few more… hopefully, I’ll have at least two more to post later this week…
I wrote this post last week when I was feeling overwhelmed and a little bit depressed by my circumstances. But since then, my circumstances have changed for the better. You can't have a TESTimony with a TEST. And I was being tested. But, I'm here to tell you that God is good all the time, and all the time God is good. Amen. I still have a few questions, tho... LOL!
Ok, so we all know that there are some people who have fabulous lives. Everybody has that one friend that it seems can do no wrong. No matter what, s/he always gets what they want. A new job? Got that. In fact, they got the exact job they were looking for. No, better yet, it was the job they had always dreamed about and it was handed over to them with little effort. Wait, actually, it is a job that is BETTER than the job they had always dreamed about and it pays significantly more too. And, no their girlfriend isn’t just the most beautiful woman in the city, she is actually the prettiest woman on the East Coast, knits blankets for orphans in her spare time, sings in the church choir, AND cooks like Martha Stewart to boot.
And though you are genuinely happy for said friend and all of his/her happiness, sometimes you wonder why God seems to smile on certain people while ignoring the pleas of others. Sure, you are blessed, and you don’t even deserve the blessings that you DO get from God – truthfully. But you also notice that there are other people out there who happen to be ordinary people just like you, but it seems as though their blessings are constantly overflowing. And the question is WHY? Who are these people and what have they done to deserve them getting so much out of life? There’s got to be some reason why they are highly favored and the rest of us are just trudging along trying to make chicken soup out of chicken shit.
I’ll be the first to admit that these sorts of questions pass through my mind all the time. And, there are certain people that I encounter on a regular basis that manage to spur these thoughts. And I can think of quite a few people that I know personally who I could mention here in this post. They would actually be textbook examples of this phenomenon. But then I thought better of using their stories. Some of those blessed and highly favored people I had in mind do read this blog and would probably recognize their lives once I described and laid them out for the whole world (or at least the 5 or so people who read this blog!) to see. So, instead, I’ll go with someone who everyone on the planet knows and who has probably spurred these types of thoughts in millions of people’s heads.
B-E-Y-O-N-C-E.
Yes, that “triple threat” – the singer, actress, dancer (although she has really only mastered two of the three… guess which two??) – that we all know and love. You can’t help but give her the props that she is due. The girl seems to have it all!
A few years back, I paid over $100 to see Beyonce, Alicia Keys, and Missy Elliott perform in the Verizon “Ladies First” tour. I had liked Beyonce since her days with Destiny’s Child. But it wasn’t until I had seen her in living color that I began to respect her and her craft. She is a PERFORMER, plain and simple. I got my money's worth just as a result of her performance. She is the embodiment of the term “entertainer”. Through her whole set, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She belted out the words to every song enthusiastically, didn’t miss a note, her feet didn’t miss a beat. My friends and I were enthralled. Not to mention that she did all this for approximately an hour and a half and didn’t seem to have a hair out of place when she was finished. Now THAT is talent.
A couple of months ago, my mom and I were watching “The Beyonce Experience” when it aired on cable. By the end of her first set, my mom was out of breath. When I asked her what was wrong she said, "I got tired just watching her!" That’s how much energy Bey displayed. It was outrageous. Then, she belted out one of her slow tunes and I was in awe of not just her stamina, but also her level of talent.
My awe quickly turned to curiosity. How is it that one person could be so blessed? I mean, she has the stamina and the attitude and the look and the talent to back it ALL up. Not only is she a very capable vocalist, but she can also dance her ass off and (halfway - let's be real) act. And, of course, those three blessings weren’t enough for her. She also happened to fare well in the genetic lottery, which made her the lucky winner of a bodacious bod and gorgeous grill. Some chicks have all the luck!
But, I don’t believe in luck, I believe in blessings. And this girl is clearly blessed. Aside from all those things that I outlined about Bey up above, add to that the fact that she is also a multi-platinum recording artist in a very depressing time for the music industry where pirating and digital developments have caused record sales to plummet. Plus, she’s got a fashion line, House of Dereon. And even though the shit is a hot tranny mess, well, it’s STILL a fashion line! And, finally, she can take responsibility for snagging the most swaggerific dude in the game, the shrewdest business man in hip hop, one of the greatest rappers of all time, Jay-Z. The same dude who used to mean-mug the camera all the time now walks around with a constant grin on his face, looking like a kid in FAO Schwartz who has just been handed his father’s Amex Black Card and been told to "go crazy!".
So I wonder, what did Beyonce do to earn all these blessings? Was she Harriet Tubman in another life, bringing slaves to freedom in the North? Perhaps she a former nun who dedicated her life to caring for the afflicted residents of a leper colony? Did she take a bullet for someone? I mean, really, WHO DESERVES ALL THAT?
I’m waiting for an answer…
…
No really. I can’t answer this question, so I’m hoping someone else can! LOL!
Now, I know that maybe some of this sounds a little haterish, but trust me - it is not. Bey got SOME of her success through hard work and dedication. But to be able to have all that she's got... she also had the Lord on her side.
I get the fact that every generation has one or two pop culture icons who become larger than life. Beyonce is that icon for my generation. So, I can sorta understand that maybe God gives chances like this to one person per generation and Bey did something that found her favor in God’s eyes so that made her the perfect candidate for icon status.
I also recognize that, as the Good Book says, to whom much is given, much is expected. So that means that Bey has got to do some things to justify her blessings. I don’t know her giving history, but I’m sure that she finds ways to help out those less fortunate, which would include… basically everyone else in the world! I have no concrete knowledge of what she does or doesn't do, but I do know that God is expecting a lot from her... he gave her this kind of life for a reason. She better prove him right!
Anyway, even though I realize the extent of Bey’s blessings, the pills that are a little harder to swallow are those people who receive these kinds of blessings on a smaller scale. Like for instance, the friend who wished that she could get an internship for a record label and ends up skipping right over the internship and getting a job as a high-paid exec instead. Or that guy who wants to make it to the college team to play Division I ball and instead ends up going pro... as a first-round draft pick. Possibly it’s that young lady who wants to buy a condo and ends up getting blessed with a 20-room mansion. Whoever it is, sometimes it just doesn't seem fair. There are a million guys waiting to go pro, some of them just as talented as A.I. or LeBron or Kobe (barf). Why didn't they get the contract and the endorsements and the millions?
The examples I used might seem unrealistic and you are probably thinking that stuff like that doesn’t happen to "ordinary" people like me and you. But, guess what, everyone is “ordinary” until something EXTRAORDINARY happens to them. I’ve seen the throwback videos of Bey and Miss Kelly and the rest of them chicks singing and dancing in Tina’s beauty salon back in Houston. In those days, they were just ordinary girls, but then… something happened that transformed them into who they are today. And, when you think about it, there had to have been a ton of other girls also singing in churches and barber shops and talent shows who didn’t get the same kind of break that Bey and Kelly got. And those “ordinary” chicks are still just “ordinary” because that extraordinary thing, that BLESSING, did not happen to them.
Now, this is the second post where I’ve mentioned Beyonce. Trust that I’m not a Beyonce stan, but I do admire her and what she has achieved at such a young age. And, I’m genuinely happy that she has accomplished what she has. I just want to know… why her? Why not someone else?
I know you’re not really supposed to question the divine order of things. Sometimes, “why?” is not appropriate. I don’t really expect to get these questions answered in this lifetime, so don’t rack your brain trying to figure it out or anything…
I thank God for my many, MANY blessings. Although I haven't been blessed with Bey's talents (or her man, OR her millions) I've got a lot of amazing things to be thankful for. I still wonder why Bey is so blessed (and Oprah on a larger scale and a certain NYC pal on a smaller scale). But I am also not so dense as to be unaware of the fact that I have been blessed with exactly what God WANTS me to have. And for that, I am grateful.
So, God, no hard feelings. You’re still my homeboy and I’ve got nothing but love and respect for you. Keep on blessing Beyonce and them. And keep on blessing me. This is just food for thought…
Anyway, during this time, a very close friend of mine decided to quit his out-of-state job and move back to DC. He wanted to spend his days looking for a new position, but didn’t have a computer. So I, out of the kindness of my own heart, allowed him to borrow my beloved laptop for a few days. Which then turned into an entire week! So, that didn’t leave me much time or opportunity to write a post. When I told this friend that I needed him to return my computer so I could get back to blogging, he said, “You’ve gone longer than this without blogging. Nobody will miss you.” Well, he can just kiss my tookus because I know for a fact that I have been missed. (And I feel great about that, by the way!) I know this because I got cursed by several people who had been checking for new posts and finding nothing. And for that, I apologize. So, here goes a new post. And I’m working on a few more… hopefully, I’ll have at least two more to post later this week…
I wrote this post last week when I was feeling overwhelmed and a little bit depressed by my circumstances. But since then, my circumstances have changed for the better. You can't have a TESTimony with a TEST. And I was being tested. But, I'm here to tell you that God is good all the time, and all the time God is good. Amen. I still have a few questions, tho... LOL!
Ok, so we all know that there are some people who have fabulous lives. Everybody has that one friend that it seems can do no wrong. No matter what, s/he always gets what they want. A new job? Got that. In fact, they got the exact job they were looking for. No, better yet, it was the job they had always dreamed about and it was handed over to them with little effort. Wait, actually, it is a job that is BETTER than the job they had always dreamed about and it pays significantly more too. And, no their girlfriend isn’t just the most beautiful woman in the city, she is actually the prettiest woman on the East Coast, knits blankets for orphans in her spare time, sings in the church choir, AND cooks like Martha Stewart to boot.
And though you are genuinely happy for said friend and all of his/her happiness, sometimes you wonder why God seems to smile on certain people while ignoring the pleas of others. Sure, you are blessed, and you don’t even deserve the blessings that you DO get from God – truthfully. But you also notice that there are other people out there who happen to be ordinary people just like you, but it seems as though their blessings are constantly overflowing. And the question is WHY? Who are these people and what have they done to deserve them getting so much out of life? There’s got to be some reason why they are highly favored and the rest of us are just trudging along trying to make chicken soup out of chicken shit.
I’ll be the first to admit that these sorts of questions pass through my mind all the time. And, there are certain people that I encounter on a regular basis that manage to spur these thoughts. And I can think of quite a few people that I know personally who I could mention here in this post. They would actually be textbook examples of this phenomenon. But then I thought better of using their stories. Some of those blessed and highly favored people I had in mind do read this blog and would probably recognize their lives once I described and laid them out for the whole world (or at least the 5 or so people who read this blog!) to see. So, instead, I’ll go with someone who everyone on the planet knows and who has probably spurred these types of thoughts in millions of people’s heads.
B-E-Y-O-N-C-E.
Yes, that “triple threat” – the singer, actress, dancer (although she has really only mastered two of the three… guess which two??) – that we all know and love. You can’t help but give her the props that she is due. The girl seems to have it all!
A few years back, I paid over $100 to see Beyonce, Alicia Keys, and Missy Elliott perform in the Verizon “Ladies First” tour. I had liked Beyonce since her days with Destiny’s Child. But it wasn’t until I had seen her in living color that I began to respect her and her craft. She is a PERFORMER, plain and simple. I got my money's worth just as a result of her performance. She is the embodiment of the term “entertainer”. Through her whole set, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She belted out the words to every song enthusiastically, didn’t miss a note, her feet didn’t miss a beat. My friends and I were enthralled. Not to mention that she did all this for approximately an hour and a half and didn’t seem to have a hair out of place when she was finished. Now THAT is talent.
A couple of months ago, my mom and I were watching “The Beyonce Experience” when it aired on cable. By the end of her first set, my mom was out of breath. When I asked her what was wrong she said, "I got tired just watching her!" That’s how much energy Bey displayed. It was outrageous. Then, she belted out one of her slow tunes and I was in awe of not just her stamina, but also her level of talent.
My awe quickly turned to curiosity. How is it that one person could be so blessed? I mean, she has the stamina and the attitude and the look and the talent to back it ALL up. Not only is she a very capable vocalist, but she can also dance her ass off and (halfway - let's be real) act. And, of course, those three blessings weren’t enough for her. She also happened to fare well in the genetic lottery, which made her the lucky winner of a bodacious bod and gorgeous grill. Some chicks have all the luck!
But, I don’t believe in luck, I believe in blessings. And this girl is clearly blessed. Aside from all those things that I outlined about Bey up above, add to that the fact that she is also a multi-platinum recording artist in a very depressing time for the music industry where pirating and digital developments have caused record sales to plummet. Plus, she’s got a fashion line, House of Dereon. And even though the shit is a hot tranny mess, well, it’s STILL a fashion line! And, finally, she can take responsibility for snagging the most swaggerific dude in the game, the shrewdest business man in hip hop, one of the greatest rappers of all time, Jay-Z. The same dude who used to mean-mug the camera all the time now walks around with a constant grin on his face, looking like a kid in FAO Schwartz who has just been handed his father’s Amex Black Card and been told to "go crazy!".
So I wonder, what did Beyonce do to earn all these blessings? Was she Harriet Tubman in another life, bringing slaves to freedom in the North? Perhaps she a former nun who dedicated her life to caring for the afflicted residents of a leper colony? Did she take a bullet for someone? I mean, really, WHO DESERVES ALL THAT?
I’m waiting for an answer…
…
No really. I can’t answer this question, so I’m hoping someone else can! LOL!
Now, I know that maybe some of this sounds a little haterish, but trust me - it is not. Bey got SOME of her success through hard work and dedication. But to be able to have all that she's got... she also had the Lord on her side.
I get the fact that every generation has one or two pop culture icons who become larger than life. Beyonce is that icon for my generation. So, I can sorta understand that maybe God gives chances like this to one person per generation and Bey did something that found her favor in God’s eyes so that made her the perfect candidate for icon status.
I also recognize that, as the Good Book says, to whom much is given, much is expected. So that means that Bey has got to do some things to justify her blessings. I don’t know her giving history, but I’m sure that she finds ways to help out those less fortunate, which would include… basically everyone else in the world! I have no concrete knowledge of what she does or doesn't do, but I do know that God is expecting a lot from her... he gave her this kind of life for a reason. She better prove him right!
Anyway, even though I realize the extent of Bey’s blessings, the pills that are a little harder to swallow are those people who receive these kinds of blessings on a smaller scale. Like for instance, the friend who wished that she could get an internship for a record label and ends up skipping right over the internship and getting a job as a high-paid exec instead. Or that guy who wants to make it to the college team to play Division I ball and instead ends up going pro... as a first-round draft pick. Possibly it’s that young lady who wants to buy a condo and ends up getting blessed with a 20-room mansion. Whoever it is, sometimes it just doesn't seem fair. There are a million guys waiting to go pro, some of them just as talented as A.I. or LeBron or Kobe (barf). Why didn't they get the contract and the endorsements and the millions?
The examples I used might seem unrealistic and you are probably thinking that stuff like that doesn’t happen to "ordinary" people like me and you. But, guess what, everyone is “ordinary” until something EXTRAORDINARY happens to them. I’ve seen the throwback videos of Bey and Miss Kelly and the rest of them chicks singing and dancing in Tina’s beauty salon back in Houston. In those days, they were just ordinary girls, but then… something happened that transformed them into who they are today. And, when you think about it, there had to have been a ton of other girls also singing in churches and barber shops and talent shows who didn’t get the same kind of break that Bey and Kelly got. And those “ordinary” chicks are still just “ordinary” because that extraordinary thing, that BLESSING, did not happen to them.
Now, this is the second post where I’ve mentioned Beyonce. Trust that I’m not a Beyonce stan, but I do admire her and what she has achieved at such a young age. And, I’m genuinely happy that she has accomplished what she has. I just want to know… why her? Why not someone else?
I know you’re not really supposed to question the divine order of things. Sometimes, “why?” is not appropriate. I don’t really expect to get these questions answered in this lifetime, so don’t rack your brain trying to figure it out or anything…
I thank God for my many, MANY blessings. Although I haven't been blessed with Bey's talents (or her man, OR her millions) I've got a lot of amazing things to be thankful for. I still wonder why Bey is so blessed (and Oprah on a larger scale and a certain NYC pal on a smaller scale). But I am also not so dense as to be unaware of the fact that I have been blessed with exactly what God WANTS me to have. And for that, I am grateful.
So, God, no hard feelings. You’re still my homeboy and I’ve got nothing but love and respect for you. Keep on blessing Beyonce and them. And keep on blessing me. This is just food for thought…
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Wade in the Water
So at the beginning of every year, I set at least one goal for myself that I vow to accomplish by year’s end. Last year, I set my sights relatively low and really only wanted to “surprise myself in some way". By the time I finished 7 days on the Master Cleanser, I felt I had surprised myself enough and pretty much coasted for the rest of the year. In an effort to avoid coasting through 2008, I set multiple goals for myself this year. The first is that I will read the Bible from cover-to-cover by December 31, 2008. I began reading the Bible (I am reading the Old Testament, New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs simultaneously by reading a small portion of each section each night) on January 1 and haven’t missed a day in 11 days! I am a person who suffers from a lack of discipline and I am terrible at following-thru on goals that I set, so this will be a challenge for me. Like, right now, it’s Friday night, so I just got home from a party and it is late. But, the Bible was waiting for me on my bed and I read my excerpt, which – in turn – motivated me to write this post. So, even if I get in at 5am, I will set aside 15 mins of reading/study, which really isn't even that much of a sacrifice.
Then, I started thinking about WHY reading the Bible is important and I recognized that I am motivated to study the Bible because it is the cornerstone of Christian faith. And, despite the fact that – at times – I can drink like a fish, cuss like a sailor, and engage in premarital sex, I do, in fact, consider myself to be a Christian woman. So, I thought it might be interesting to tell the story of HOW I became a Christian. Everyone’s story is different. Mine isn’t stunning… I didn’t have some miraculous conversion, I just knew that a Christian is what I was meant to be. Let me explain…
My dad was a Catholic when I was a kid. We went to mass a few times (that I can remember), but it didn’t really stick. My mom and her parents are Baptist. And, I frequently went to church with my grandparents and my mother and observed what was going on in the service. My parents taught me to pray at a very early age. I can remember being afraid to sleep in the bed by myself – and I had to be in nursery school at the time – and my dad making me go into my room and pray for God to protect me through the night. I also remember my dad reading the Bible to me as a bedtime story a couple times as a kid. He had this HUGE, old illustrated Bible that featured pictures of white people on every page. I just saw that Bible the other day and, now that I look at it, the pictures are reminiscent of the paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. They're beautiful, but incredibly skewed toward a European view of the world. But, I digress.
The Pastor at my grandparents’ church was a powerful orator. Even today, in his late 80s, he can preach a sermon and weave words together that invoke such vivid imagery that you can’t help but to be entranced. I saw the respect he got from the church members and the community at-large, and I started telling my folks that I wanted to be a minister when I grew up. I don’t think I realized the implications of the profession, but my parents were thrilled and loved to tell visiting relatives and family friends that their daughter aspired to be a preacher.
I had seen people get Baptized in church before. (One of the many things that I like about my religion – or, at least my church, because I have no idea how other Baptist churches handle this – is that you come to Christ of your own accord. That means that you are not Baptized as a baby. You make a conscious choice to accept Christ and are Baptized at a much older age.) When I asked my parents what the whole Baptizing/being submerged in water thing was about, they informed me that when people accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior, they get submerged in water and their sins are washed away. At this point I was about 5 years old and I knew what sin was. And I knew that getting sins washed away was a pretty good deal, so I was all for it. It was at that point that I asked to be Baptized. So, about a month before I turned 6, my parents and I walked to the front of the sanctuary and joined my grandparents’ church as a family. My mom and dad had both been Baptized, but I had not and I was scheduled for Batism on June 6, 1985. Two days before my 6th birthday.
Because I was so young – though, I don’t think I am the youngest person to be Baptized in my church – the Pastor wanted to have a meeting with me to be sure that I knew what I was getting into. So, my mom dressed me in a cute outfit, took me to the church one evening and walked me into the Pastor’s office. He came around to the other side of his massive desk (or at least it was massive in my 5 year old eyes) and got down to eye level with me.
“Do you know what it means to be Baptized?” he asked.
“It means that Jesus is my Lord and Savior,” 5 year old me said.
“Yes, that’s right. So you understand what will happen on Sunday?” he said.
“I am going to get dunked under water,” I responded.
“That’s right.”
“And, what’s going to happen to my hair?” (even at 5 I was a little image-conscious)
“You’ll wear a swimcap to protect it.”
I panicked, “But, I don’t know how to swim!”
“I’ll be right there. You’ll be safe.”
We talked a bit more about what was to happen at my Baptism, but at that point, I was ready. The Sunday following the meeting with my Pastor, my mom dressed me in a white dress, white tights and white patent leather shoes (it was the 80s people!) and we were on our way. I remember getting changed into a white robe and a deaconess helping me stuff my fluffy hair into a swimcap and, then, it was just me and the Pastor in the Baptismal pool. I remember thinking the water was warmer than I thought it would be. And I was a little afraid.
I stood in the Baptismal pool with my arms crossed over my chest and the Pastor stood on my left side and said a few words and then he said, “And now, [Brown Girl], I baptize you, my sister, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
And then he dunked me under water.
Only thing was, he didn’t tell me to hold my nose and he didn’t hold it for me. I came up out of the water coughing and sputtering and shivering. It wasn’t so pretty. My aunt cried when the Pastor dunked me and my younger cousin asked her, “Mama, did [Brown Girl] die?” I guess cause we were at church and her mom was crying, she thought maybe it was a funeral instead of a Baptism (?). Who knows what really goes on in the mind of a child! At any rate, I was especially upset that my hair had gotten a little damp under the swimcap (typical ME)... But, afterward, my family was so proud. My mom and dad gave me a small gold crucifix on a delicate chain and we took lots of pictures. That was also when I received my first Bible. My Baptism was a very significant moment that I remember clearly to this day.
That was my first step on the road to becoming a Christian. I still have to fight daily to be a “good” Christian. It’s hard. You guys have read the other posts. Even though I live a pretty tame life by most standards, I do manage to get into some things that aren't so angelic... But I hope that you’re not too surprised that I profess to be a Christian. If you are, I’m not doing something right and I need to try a little harder!
Coming full-circle, my reading and studying of the Bible in ’08 is an attempt to help me figure out just what my responsibilities are as a Christian. It is also a way for me to reaffirm that choice that I made some 23 years ago. I wanted to be a Christian then and I want to be one now. In a lot of ways, I’m still like that little 5 year old girl that asked to get Baptized way back when. Not much about me has changed. But I’d like to think I have a better understanding of what being a Christian actually means, and I hope that 23 years from now, I’ll have grown even more in Christ.
Then, I started thinking about WHY reading the Bible is important and I recognized that I am motivated to study the Bible because it is the cornerstone of Christian faith. And, despite the fact that – at times – I can drink like a fish, cuss like a sailor, and engage in premarital sex, I do, in fact, consider myself to be a Christian woman. So, I thought it might be interesting to tell the story of HOW I became a Christian. Everyone’s story is different. Mine isn’t stunning… I didn’t have some miraculous conversion, I just knew that a Christian is what I was meant to be. Let me explain…
My dad was a Catholic when I was a kid. We went to mass a few times (that I can remember), but it didn’t really stick. My mom and her parents are Baptist. And, I frequently went to church with my grandparents and my mother and observed what was going on in the service. My parents taught me to pray at a very early age. I can remember being afraid to sleep in the bed by myself – and I had to be in nursery school at the time – and my dad making me go into my room and pray for God to protect me through the night. I also remember my dad reading the Bible to me as a bedtime story a couple times as a kid. He had this HUGE, old illustrated Bible that featured pictures of white people on every page. I just saw that Bible the other day and, now that I look at it, the pictures are reminiscent of the paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. They're beautiful, but incredibly skewed toward a European view of the world. But, I digress.
The Pastor at my grandparents’ church was a powerful orator. Even today, in his late 80s, he can preach a sermon and weave words together that invoke such vivid imagery that you can’t help but to be entranced. I saw the respect he got from the church members and the community at-large, and I started telling my folks that I wanted to be a minister when I grew up. I don’t think I realized the implications of the profession, but my parents were thrilled and loved to tell visiting relatives and family friends that their daughter aspired to be a preacher.
I had seen people get Baptized in church before. (One of the many things that I like about my religion – or, at least my church, because I have no idea how other Baptist churches handle this – is that you come to Christ of your own accord. That means that you are not Baptized as a baby. You make a conscious choice to accept Christ and are Baptized at a much older age.) When I asked my parents what the whole Baptizing/being submerged in water thing was about, they informed me that when people accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior, they get submerged in water and their sins are washed away. At this point I was about 5 years old and I knew what sin was. And I knew that getting sins washed away was a pretty good deal, so I was all for it. It was at that point that I asked to be Baptized. So, about a month before I turned 6, my parents and I walked to the front of the sanctuary and joined my grandparents’ church as a family. My mom and dad had both been Baptized, but I had not and I was scheduled for Batism on June 6, 1985. Two days before my 6th birthday.
Because I was so young – though, I don’t think I am the youngest person to be Baptized in my church – the Pastor wanted to have a meeting with me to be sure that I knew what I was getting into. So, my mom dressed me in a cute outfit, took me to the church one evening and walked me into the Pastor’s office. He came around to the other side of his massive desk (or at least it was massive in my 5 year old eyes) and got down to eye level with me.
“Do you know what it means to be Baptized?” he asked.
“It means that Jesus is my Lord and Savior,” 5 year old me said.
“Yes, that’s right. So you understand what will happen on Sunday?” he said.
“I am going to get dunked under water,” I responded.
“That’s right.”
“And, what’s going to happen to my hair?” (even at 5 I was a little image-conscious)
“You’ll wear a swimcap to protect it.”
I panicked, “But, I don’t know how to swim!”
“I’ll be right there. You’ll be safe.”
We talked a bit more about what was to happen at my Baptism, but at that point, I was ready. The Sunday following the meeting with my Pastor, my mom dressed me in a white dress, white tights and white patent leather shoes (it was the 80s people!) and we were on our way. I remember getting changed into a white robe and a deaconess helping me stuff my fluffy hair into a swimcap and, then, it was just me and the Pastor in the Baptismal pool. I remember thinking the water was warmer than I thought it would be. And I was a little afraid.
I stood in the Baptismal pool with my arms crossed over my chest and the Pastor stood on my left side and said a few words and then he said, “And now, [Brown Girl], I baptize you, my sister, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
And then he dunked me under water.
Only thing was, he didn’t tell me to hold my nose and he didn’t hold it for me. I came up out of the water coughing and sputtering and shivering. It wasn’t so pretty. My aunt cried when the Pastor dunked me and my younger cousin asked her, “Mama, did [Brown Girl] die?” I guess cause we were at church and her mom was crying, she thought maybe it was a funeral instead of a Baptism (?). Who knows what really goes on in the mind of a child! At any rate, I was especially upset that my hair had gotten a little damp under the swimcap (typical ME)... But, afterward, my family was so proud. My mom and dad gave me a small gold crucifix on a delicate chain and we took lots of pictures. That was also when I received my first Bible. My Baptism was a very significant moment that I remember clearly to this day.
That was my first step on the road to becoming a Christian. I still have to fight daily to be a “good” Christian. It’s hard. You guys have read the other posts. Even though I live a pretty tame life by most standards, I do manage to get into some things that aren't so angelic... But I hope that you’re not too surprised that I profess to be a Christian. If you are, I’m not doing something right and I need to try a little harder!
Coming full-circle, my reading and studying of the Bible in ’08 is an attempt to help me figure out just what my responsibilities are as a Christian. It is also a way for me to reaffirm that choice that I made some 23 years ago. I wanted to be a Christian then and I want to be one now. In a lot of ways, I’m still like that little 5 year old girl that asked to get Baptized way back when. Not much about me has changed. But I’d like to think I have a better understanding of what being a Christian actually means, and I hope that 23 years from now, I’ll have grown even more in Christ.
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