We were all asked to wear a hat and I didn't have one. So I got this one from as thrift store... don't judge! The first woman I met there had also purchased her hat just for this event -- and she got it from a thrift store! LOL!
I had a blast!
Diary of a Grown-Up Church Girl |
From my heart...to my head... to my pen... to my blog.
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Here I am talking, singing, and listening at the Women with Big Hats event, held in the Washington, DC area last month. It was a wonderful event, and a roomful of smart, friendly, helpful women.
We were all asked to wear a hat and I didn't have one. So I got this one from as thrift store... don't judge! The first woman I met there had also purchased her hat just for this event -- and she got it from a thrift store! LOL! I had a blast!
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Recently I was asked about the name of my blog, Grown-Up Church Girl. “What does it really mean,” the person asked, “Aren’t we all 'grown up' at this point?” Well, let me explain… The reference to “grown up” has absolutely nothing to do with my chronological age and everything to do with my relationship with God. I speak about this often, here’s the short story… I grew up in church. I attended Sunday School, I sang in the choir, I had friends at church, I enjoyed going there. I ate really good, and very fattening, food there. I was very involved, I'm telling you, church was fun for me and it was a great experience. I loved God and I knew that God loved me because everything was going well for me. I was the epitome of a "church girl." But then... Life got tough... and I had no choice but to GROW UP in my understanding of who God is. I had to grow up when... I got laid off from my job, when I struggled to establish my own business, and when money was tight. I was home enough to see that my husband wasn't doing all that I thought he should do. I filed for divorce. Lines were drawn, when friends were lost, when close relationships died. I fired one divorce lawyer, when another one quit, when I thought the madness would never end. I had to grow up when... I was forced to lean on a God who seemed so distant and trust in a God who seemed to be nowhere in sight. You see, I had to grow up and realize that He loves me even though He sometimes has an odd and difficult way of showing it. And I had to learn that even though all of my requests wouldn't be answered when or how I’d like, He only wants what’s best for me. And that's when my relationship with Him became closer, better, and more mature. That's when I grew up and became the Grown-Up Church Girl I am today. Now I'm writing about it, speaking about it, and coaching about it. But I'm not finished. I'm still "growing" and I firmly believe that the best is yet to come! I’m getting my home painted. While this is a fun project, it’s also difficult because… well… because… because I’ve made it so. I’m thinking and overthinking, honestly, I don’t want to see another paint sample in my life. But this is important to me. You see, I love color! And I’m adding a lot of it to a lot of different rooms in my home and I want to be sure that my selections are going to be pleasing to me and to my guests. I have one room that I’ve always deemed to be my “fun and creative” room. I do a lot of writing in that room and I’ve always wanted it to have an upbeat, energetic, happy, somewhat funky, anything goes vibe. I probably had the hardest time selecting the color for this room, but when I finally made my decision I chose orange. Yep. Orange. It was a pretty shade of orange, kinda deep. I envisioned it looking almost like copper in color. When I got home last night, this was the first room I ran to see. I couldn’t wait to view what my beloved room looked like now. It was dark outside, so I turned the light on and… I hated it. It was downright hideous to me. I absolutely hated it. Then I thought I’d make it work by changing some of the other things in the room. And I went to bed. But at 5:30am, I woke up and the only thing on my mind was that orange room. I just didn’t think I could live it. Since the painters were coming back today, I figured I’d find another color and ask them to paint over the orange. Doing so was going to take me over my budget, but it was necessary. It had to be done. I had to do what I had to do. So for about 90 minutes this morning, I pondered over one paint color and another, pausing only to go back into the room to see if the walls were still orange. They were still orange. I picked a shade of blue and was finally thinking that life could go on. As I began to get myself ready for the work, I peeked into the orange room again and, lo and behold, a miracle had happened! I liked the color! All of a sudden I saw the color I’d envisioned, or at least something close to it. I could see myself loving that room again. All was well in my world again, I could go on. What had happened? What had happened was… the sun rose. Yes, with the natural sun beaming into the room, it seemed as though everything changed. And it had changed for the better. Now, you know me by now, I look for “messages” in almost everything and with this being Holy Week, this is almost too easy. But I gotta take us there... Because we all know that when the Son of God rose, He, too, changed things for the better, didn’t He? He gave us a different perspective, a new lease, and perfect and cherished opportunity to be what God always envisioned us to be. I thank God for my orange room, for the sun, and for His Son. Easter Blessings to you all! This past Saturday I went to another women's retreat. I didn't speak at this one, I just went for the fellowship, to learn something new, and to lend my support. After the event, I ran a few errands, just doing those things you generally do on a Saturday afternoon. At one point I was sitting in my car, checking emails, while parked in a shopping center parking lot. I noticed a slightly older woman in a wheelchair, rolling through the lot, but I didn't pay much attention to her, until... She appeared at my window. I rolled down my window and that's when she told me that she needed some money to buy a few groceries. She said that someone else had given her a few dollars, but she needed more. She asked me to please not judge her, that she wasn't a bad person, but that she was a good woman who had fallen on hard times. Maybe because I'd just attended the women's conference, maybe because she was in a wheelchair, maybe because I had a few extra dollars, maybe because she asked me not to judge her, I gave the woman $5. She thanked me, rolled away, and mentioned that she just needed to get three more dollars in order to do get what she needed. I saw her approach a gentleman who was just coming out of the store, but I didn't watch long enough to see if he gave her money or not. Then, in less than 3 minutes, she rolled back over to me. I rolled down my car window and asked if she'd gotten the three dollars she needed. She told me that she had not. She looked pitiful to me. So I gave her another $5. This woman rolled off saying all of the appropriate things, "thanks!", "God bless you", "you're so kind." all the rest. But then the last thing she said really caused me to pause... She said, "Now I just need two more dollars." I was stunned. Shocked. Speechless! Because the woman had just told me that she needed three more dollars and I'd given her five more. When I called upon my limited mathematical ability, I determined that she should now have a surplus of $2 and not NEED another $2. She had more than she asked for. I suddenly felt used and just plain stupid. I wondered if she really needed that wheelchair, or was it all a part of her act? I felt like I'd been conned. Now, fast forward to Sunday afternoon... It was a beautiful day. I enjoyed my church service, had a wonderful visit with my mother, life was grand. As I was driving home, I was thinking about how happy I was, and then I said to myself (and kinda hoped God would hear me), life would REALLY be grand if I had a man in my life. Not necessarily a husband, but a man to hang out with and go places with, you know? If only I had a man. And then my mind went to Wheelchair Woman in the parking lot from the day before. Here's why... If you know anything about my story, you know that I've had some wonderful advantages but, like everyone else, life has dealt me a couple of hard blows, too. Thankfully, the good has greatly outweighed the bad and the bad is mostly behind me. But, rather than thank God for all of this on that beautiful Sunday afternoon, I had the audacity to tell Him that this is not quite enough. I want more. Who does this remind us of? Yes, Wheelchair Woman. She asked me for a specific amount of money and got more than she even asked for. Yet, she still went begging for more, leaving the giver (aka me) to feel unappreciated. But she's not much different from me. God has given me more than I asked for, yet I ask for more and more... and more. In other words, I'm saying... "Thanks, God, I have great family and friends, but..." "I appreciate the job I enjoy, but..." "I know I said I wanted this house and then I'd be so happy, so you made it possible for me to get it, but now..." "God, I have good health, but this isn't quite enough anymore... " "I'm out of that difficult marriage, but..." Doesn't that sound horrible! I'm ashamed of myself. This isn't to say that I shouldn't ask God for the desires of my heart, I have that privilege. But I also need to be sure to THANK HIM for the things he's already given me, the things that He's already done for me. Otherwise, I'm playing the same game played by Wheelchair Woman. I never want God to feel unappreciated or conned. He's done much too much for me. In all things, and in every season, I must remember to give thanks. There is absolutely nothing that anyone can say that will convince me otherwise…
The current racist and divisive climate in this country is a direct result of the election of Donald Trump. Since his election, good manners and common decency have been thrown out of the window and replaced with a dismissive and hurtful attitude that let’s us do and say whatever we want. Whenever we want. No matter how unkind. No matter how mean. No matter how unlawful. Shots are being fired, both literally and figuratively, for the most insane reasons and the outcry seems to be going largely ignored. It's all over the news, and the trickle down is real. Just yesterday in my office, a "questionable" conversation was overheard. I caught a little of it, but didn't pay much attention. But a younger woman who reports to me caught more if it and she was concerned. And she was hurt. I felt it was my obligation to see what I could find out, so I approached one of the people who was in the group engaged in the questionable discussion. It turns out that, while a tad bit inappropriate, the conversation was in no way malicious or meant to hurt or insult. I explained the particulars to my direct report and all ended well. But this just illustrates how today's climate has forced many of us to live somewhat on the edge, as darts are being fired from all over the place. No place feels completely safe from the hatred that's being spewed at almost every minority group. I’m concerned. Not afraid, but concerned. And, while I do not like to wish my days away, I’m longing for the year 2020 when Trump leaves the White House… if it takes that long. In the meanwhile, as a grown-up church girl, I feel the need to pray like never before. And when I get up off of my knees, my feet need to get moving toward helping us come up with a solution. I can write about it, I can talk about it, and I can link arms with groups and organizations that are mobilizing to bring about change. I can also go out of my way to be a little kinder and gentler, and to show more tolerance than ever before. If any good is to come out of this season, it will be things like this. I live in the DC area, and last week we were all preparing for a snow storm.
People were running to the grocery store, making plans to work from home, and doing the things we do when we think we may be homebound for a few days. We wanted to be ready. And it got me to thinking... What about the next storms in our lives... the challenges and disappointments that just go along with living life. What do we do to prepare for them? Do we work hard enough to establish a relationship with God so that He knows our names when we need to call out to him? Do we try to maintain good eating and exercise habits so that we can fight whatever bug or illness may attack us? Do we keep our relationships with family and friends strong in case we need to ask for help? Do we save money? Do we prepare our family for life without us? These aren't all things we like to think about, but they're necessary. Because as the old folks say... "If you're not in a storm, you've just come out of one or you'll be heading into one real soon." Will we be ready? If curse words horribly offend you, do not read this post. Cause I'm going to use one throughout this piece and it starts with an "s." It's necessary, trust me. I’m a church girl, tis true, but I’m far from perfect, and cursing from time to time is one of my vices. I often enjoy it, truth be told, and I find it sometimes necessary. This is common news to some of you, while others are clutching your pearls. Just pray for me, ok? Now… The other day my beloved cat, Sasha Malia, was acting quite strangely. She’d sit down on the floor and then quickly get up and start scratching at the place she’d just sat. She was doing the kind of scratching that cats do when they’re in their litter boxes, as if she was trying to cover up something that she found offensive. She did this a few times, in a few different places so I, as any concerned cat mother would do, got up to investigate. I quickly realized that my long-haired cat had a little bit of shit stuck in the hair near her behind. Now, please, do not judge my Sasha. Her hair is extremely long and she usually does a marvelous job of keeping herself clean. On this day, however, she was a tad bit shit-challenged, it could happen to any of us. The poor girl smelled shit wherever she went, though I’m not sure she realized that the problem was her. Nonetheless, wherever she went, the smell of shit followed. By now you probably know that I look for the message in everyday things, so I found one in this situation. And it came to me in the form of a question that I will pose to you today... When was the last time you were shit-challenged? The last time you found yourself in a situation where you knew something didn’t “smell” right? And you scratched and sniffed and sniffed and scratched only to find the problem was you? Yes, you! Of course not literally, but figuratively speaking, when was the last time you were guilty of bringing the shit into the situation? Maybe it was in the form of a frowning face or a nasty attitude or an unkind remark or an ugly gesture. Maybe the funkiness in the air was because of you. Don’t get offended, I’m really talking to myself. You see, there’s a young lady in my office that just rubs me the wrong way. She tries to be nice to me, but each and every encounter I have with her is unpleasant. Once I gave the situation some honest consideration, I had to admit that the problem was me. I was bringing a shitty attitude into the relationship with her, I wasn’t even trying to meet her halfway. The shit was attached to me and it was up to me to get it removed. So now I’m trying my best to bring my better self to the table as it pertains to her. I have to, otherwise the shit will remain in the air, the room will continue to stink, and that won’t serve either of us well. Am I the only one? Or do you have some shit to you as well? 😊 I do not like horses. For reasons I may explain at another time, they are and probably will always be my least favorite animal. But… There is something about this horse I like. I call her Lyric. I see Lyric almost every day during my morning walk. Sometimes she’s standing up like you see her here. Dignified, minding her business, eating hay. But other mornings she’s laying on her back, with all four legs up in the air, wriggling around, enjoying the morning air. It is as if she's dancing and this is when I enjoy her the most. When Lyric sees me watching her, she stops wriggling around and takes on a more dignified pose. I tell her that she should feel free to enjoy herself, to dance on, but she seems embarrassed to let me see her letting her horse hair down and dancing around as if there is no tomorrow. This exchange I have with her reminds me of the saying we see written all over the place, “Dance as if no one is watching.” Maybe even the animal kingdom finds this difficult to do, but if we (humans AND horses) could only embrace this philosophy, just think of how much more fun life could be! What would you do if you didn’t care what other people thought about you? On this past Saturday, about 25 women from the DC area gathered for our first Grown-Up Church Girl sponsored event. It was great! We had games and treats and speakers and a wonderful time was had by all. Hope you enjoy the pictures!
... one of my best friends in the world. I met Lattice when I was 18 years old. We were entering Marycrest dormatory, our hearts filled with excitement and probably a little bit of fear. It was our freshman year of college and this marked the first time we were going to be really and truly living away from home. Perhaps our eyes met because we were among the few Black faces in the crowd, but I think it was deeper than that. I think our eyes met because we were destined to be friends and somewhere, deep down inside, we knew it. We ended up in dorm rooms right across the hall from each other that freshman year and we developed a bond that was tight. We laughed at the same things, shared a love of music and dance and writing, we even had the same exact major. Lattice and I supported and cared for each other deeply. She very quickly became my friend. Sophmore and junior years we were roomies. Senior year we both moved back to the dorm and had single rooms, but we continued to spend a lot of time together. I was often in her room, she was often in mine. I was on Facebook all day on yesterday looking for her, but... When we graduated I don't remember either of us shedding a tear. We knew that, although we wouldn't see each other on a daily basis, we would keep in touch -- and we did. We wrote letters and called each other frequently. A few times we recorded ourselves speaking to the other and sent the casette tape, allowing us to hear each other's voice. You gotta remember, this was before the days of "unlimited calling" and certainly before the days of emails and texts. But our bond was tight, we found a way to stay in touch. There was a period when we didn't communicate as often, but I always knew she was there and she always knew I was here. When we would talk, it was as if time had stood still, we simply picked up from where we left off. And, oddly enough, when I'd call her or she'd call me, we both could sense that we'd be hearing from the other, we'd been thinking about each other and knew it was time to connect. I was on Facebook all day on yesterday looking for her, but... Then we realized that we were both on Facebook and it was on! I'd look for her daily posts and she'd look for mine. We'd have long conversations on Facebook, discussing our current lives, our next moves, and discussing our relationship with God. Lattice was a very spiritual person and she was anxious and willing to share her faith with me and with countless others. In many ways, Lattice and Facebook were synonymous to me. I'd seldom think of one without also thinking of the other. That's why I was on Facebook all day yesterday looking for her, but... She wasn't there. She was nowhere to be found. Lattice passed away just a few days ago. I learned of her passing on Facebook. I didn't want to believe the words on my screen, couldn't believe that my friend of so many years was gone. "This couldn't be true," I thought, "how could Lattice be gone just... like... that?" After seeing that shocking post, I called and texted her, fully expecting her to respond and tell me that someone was playing a hard and cruel joke. But that wouldn't be the case. She was gone and my heart broke. Soon I realized that I wasn't alone. Hearts were breaking all over the country. Facebook lit up at the news of her passing. Her life touched more people than I ever imagined. She truly was an inspiration, a friend, a confidante and a source of encouragement for many. Her reach was wide, I truly hope she knew that, even if I didn't. Now when I go to Facebook, it feels less bright and less fun. It feels dull and empty now that Lattice isn't there. In time, I'll realize that though I'll never again find Lattice there, I can look at her posts and smile as I remember her humor and her sweet demeanor. I'll remember her love of life and of people. Most importantly, I will remember the times and secrets we shared. Facebook will become fun again. But it will never be quite the same for me. For now, rest well, Lattice, job well done. I'll love you always. Save a spot for me. |
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