Your God is Showing

      Today, I am thinking of the woman at Fox Chase Cancer Center who said something to me that made me want to say, "Your God is showing!" She sat across the desk from me and explained the forms that I was signing and then sweetly took the brick of bills that paid for my mammogram.  This lovely woman made a comment about her job and I quipped, "Ah, yes, a job! Must be nice to have a job to complain about." I smiled so that she would know that there was no malice hidden in my sarcasm and her response surprised me.
    She looked at me and said, "Well, if I do lose my job, I know I'll be okay because God will take care of me.  It will give me time to do..." The rest of what she said to me faded into "blah, blah, blah" because I was pleasantly shocked to hear this woman talking freely about the God who would provide for her. Wow! In case I thought that her kindness and professionalism were just par for the course, she took the risk of giving a mini-testimony of her God and her faith. Now can you see why I wanted to say, "Your God is showing!" to this enthusiastic woman? She reminded me that while I was dealing with my momentary setback with snark and sarcasm, she was going to approach hers with her eyes turned toward heaven.
     What I liked most about this encounter was that this was an unsolicited moment of self-disclosure. The woman was not wearing the infamous fish earrings, or a cross around her neck. She wore her God in a positive attitude and a sweet smile. She took a huge risk by sharing her faith with me and it led to a longer conversation about other aspects of her life of faith. She did not need to draw circles around those classified as "believers" versus those classified (by believers) as "non-believers" in order to 'prove' how much of a Christian she is.   She simply showed what she believed by living it in a way that made it palatable and inviting.  Conversely, I know some other people who wear their God like a cheap piece of costume jewelry.  These are the people who always feel the need to TALK about being Christians instead of simply BEING Christians. These are the folks who tell you quickly that they are Christians or Saved-Sanctified-and-Filled-With-The-Holy-Ghost or Believers or some other moniker to ensure that you realize just how close they are to the Almighty. These are the folks who want their God to show but often end up putting their idols (or 'little g -gods') on display. Consider the following example...
     A very dear friend of mine feels as if she has experienced Christian identity theft. When she and her spouse wanted to rent a home and their potential landlord was not sure about doing business with them, her husband used their identity as a 'good Christian couple' as currency and the landlord agreed to rent to them.  Unfortunately, the rent was not always paid as promised and now the couple is legally responsible for the back rent and they have been evicted from the property as well. As it is in some marriages, she paid some of the bills and he paid others. He never disclosed that he had fallen behind in paying the bills for which he was responsible.  One of those was the rent and by law, though she was unaware of the delinquency, she would be responsible for the debt. Now that this debt has turned into a lawsuit, she is mortified because not only is there an outstanding debt, but their Christian Credit now has a blemish as well.
     All too often, those of us who are Christians spend a lot of time screaming about WHO we are and WHOSE we are but we forget to SHOW whose we are - except for when we need mercy or forgiveness and then we pray (aloud) to a merciful God. Those of us who are Christians know that we are described as being known by our love (John 13:35). Those of us who are Christians know that when we forget what love looks like, we can go back to I Corinthians 13 for our job description. (You know, love is patient, love is kind, etc...) As the old saying goes, "Don't talk about it, be about it!" Don't just tell me that you're a Christian...act like one!
     I still have the lovely note that one of my high school students wrote to me in 2000, when I was her English teacher at Long Branch High School. Samantha asked me if I was a Christian and I immediately 'clutched the pearls' and replied,"Yes, why? Am I not acting like one?" She smiled and said, "No, but I'm smart enough to know that everyone who acts like one ain't one and everyone who is one ain't acting like one!" Her note was to remind me that she thanked God for sending her someone who could help her when it came to her "Christian walk." We agreed to help each other by being a living reminder to one another of what we were supposed to be. Our verbal reminder in the hallways was, "Don't embarrass the family!"  In this way, we both acknowledged that we were Christians as evidenced by our actions and not by our accessories.
     I pose this question to those of us who call ourselves Christians: Are we living lives that show a good return on God's investment in us or are we living lives that look like a bad check waiting to bounce? Remember that in all that you do there are two options...either Your God is Showing or Your 'god' is Showing.

Shalom!

Inside Out

    First, let me state that I absolutely HATE getting dressed in the summer time.  I care what I look like and therefore do not favor visible bra straps under my tank tops and cannot be bothered enough to buy bras with the invisible straps (hello, they're clear plastic! The object of summer dressing is to de-crease the amount of potential perspiration!). So, I find it very stressful to dress in age-weather-and-style-appropriate clothing in the summertime. Call me country, but give me one of those old school snap front 'housecoats' with a folded up paper towel in the front right pocket any day. These were in vogue long before Victoria told all of her secrets and when Sears didn't need a softer side! Laugh if you want to, but I swear, it's the southern girl's secret to better fried chicken! And no, you won't see one in Carrie's closet on Sex in the City, but I have seen them on my grandmother, mother and aunties as they demonstrated Fidelity in a Frock!

Now, I am secure in my sense of self...however, I am also far too vain to leave the house in a housecoat, so I must bear the burden of donning a tee shirt (to solve the strap dilemma) and the one pair of shorts that I can button without turning a deep shade of under-oxygenated blue. Due to the recent expansion project that is underway in the area below my waist (without a permit, I might add), I am down to one pair of khaki shorts and the black and pink running shorts I ordered from  The Breast Cancer Site. Those are the options, folks! I have a stack of three lovely V-neck tee shirts from Target and those are not to be cross pollinated with the over sized, wrinkled tee-shirts in the "for the gym" pile in the nether regions of my closet.

So, you think you see my dilemma, right? You think this is all about putting on something reasonable and leaving the house to do errands in this "now do you understand global warming" New Jersey summer heat. This is not merely about putting on the right clothing! This is about putting my clothes on the right way!  This is about leaving the house and thinking that I can run to the store and pick up a few items before returning home to the solace of central air. This is about what happened to me last week: After finding the perfect parking space, getting out of my car and looking at my reflection in the driver's side window, I collapsed into a heap on the small grass median that kept my car from kissing the other one. I did not faint from heat exhaustion. I was not crying because I had locked my only set of keys in the car...not that day anyway. I was laughing hysterically and looking absolutely crazy since I was alone and there was no one to laugh with me...because despite the fact that I only have a few items of clothing to work with...I put my tee shirt on inside out!!!

For most people, this might simply be embarrassing, but for me, this is what I call heeee-larious. This is funny to me because when I was a new mom, and had reason to do it, I never did. This is funny to me because I am not trying to make a fashion statement by doing something new and different. This is funny to me because I am the queen of making a list and checking it twice, but I never imagined that "check to see if your shirt is on inside out" would be an item on my to-do list! Oh, and it is also funny because just a few days ago, I came in from a long day of writing, researching, and reading and as I made a bee line for the bathroom, singing "gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now!" I looked down and realized that I had put my underwear on inside out as well!! I am not a college student who is too lazy to do laundry and resorts to recycling undies! I am a grown woman with not one but two master's degrees! I am an intelligent person! I am clean, competent, capable, and highly critical when it comes to details! So why in the world do I keep putting my clothes on inside out??? Who does this??? (Umm...obviously, I do!)

I have a theory! I could easily blame the clothing manufacturers for making us a tagless society. Remember when it was harder to put things on inside out because there was always a tag sticking out and scratching the back of your neck..or worse...to let you know that you were wearing it properly? Ah, the good old days! No, I would not like to place blame. I would like to think theologically instead. French philosopher and writer Voltaire supposedly said, "God is a comedian, playing to an audience too afraid to laugh." Yes, that's more like it. There is no fault to find with the good people at  Hanesbrands, Inc. for their brilliant decision to make tagless clothing. The joy is in finding the punchlines that God delivers directly to me - often when I am swimming in my own seriousness. It is as if I have dialed that 900 number to hear jokes delivered right into my ear but this is better. These jokes are written with me in mind. If you think that God does not have a sense of humor, I would suggest that it is you who is without a funny bone! While it is preposterous to me to think that I could ever leave home in such a state of fashion faux pas - there comes a reminder that with God all things are possible! (Yes, even a funny fashion faux pas like inside out underwear!)

Just think about how awesome it is to know that God is just waiting for us to see how ridiculous we are as we struggle to make things fit into our neat little rows and boxes!  Think about a God of possibilities who just wants us to laugh. Imagine that aspect of God for just a moment.  Not from a prosperity gospel perspective but from a 'human beings living under the influence of a higher power' perspective. With God, it is possible to forget about the drudgery of a to-do list and just laugh a little. With God it is possible to love a little deeper and hesitate to hate. With God, unemployment becomes an open door to new and unimagined opportunities. With God, master's degrees pale in comparison to a life demonstrating a mastery of decency and compassion.  With God, problems don't just disappear, but solutions can blossom like flowers in a well-tended garden. With God, the burden of being well put together is lifted if only for a moment and it is replaced with the deep belly laugh that does more good than 50 abdominal crunches on an exercise ball!

With God, I no longer cared who saw me or what they thought of me and my inside out shirt. I knew in that moment that I was (and still am) deeply loved from the inside out - flaws and all - and that made me smile...all the way to the ladies room where I reversed the shirt and refreshed the lipstick before searching for the items on my shopping list!

While I certainly would not ask you to begin wearing your shirts and your underwear inside out, I will ask you to do one simple thing for me. Can you allow yourself to find something common and routine in your life and 'wear it inside out' for a moment and see what happens? Ask yourself, "what security do I find in doing this the same way every time?" What am I missing by living a life without divinely inspired laughter? God is indeed a great comedian but I don't want to waste my life living in the circle of hell marked "afraid to laugh".

If you don't do anything but allow yourself to laugh audibly (a real "LOL") from the thought of imagining me laughing hysterically on the ground in my inside out tee shirt in the Target parking lot...then it was all worth it to me!

Shalom!

For those of you who can actually see the video, this is a classic Diana Ross live performance. I could have chosen the more spiritual "Inside Out" by Hillsong, but I wanted something more comical so I went with "Upside Down".  Michael Jackson appears around 3:03 and if you have not laughed yet today, wait until you see the exchange of his dancing to her singing for that of her dancing to his singing!! Choreography has come a long way!

What (What) Would I Do If I Could Feel

     Last week, it rained in central New Jersey. I don't mean a gentle summer shower. Last week, those raindrops fell with determination! As the storm passed overhead and I heard the fat raindrops falling on the roof of my car, I decided to do something I had not done in a long time. I stuck my arm out of the window and felt each huge raindrop as it splattered onto my arm.  I realized in that moment that there is a specific beauty in the incarnation that is this particular brown body of mine.  There is no strange fruit here but rather limbs that move at my discretion.  There is a brain that connects impulses to actions -like putting my arm out of the window of a moving vehicle for the sake of feeling raindrops on my warm skin. I have a heart that beats without any conscious thought on my part.  There is a set of eyes that may appear to be slightly crossed when I am tired and a mouth that sometimes runs with the force of the mighty Mississippi but that same mouth can also bend into a smile that overflows its own banks...just like the mighty Mississippi. Forget the anatomy lesson for a moment and realize that in this moment, right where you are, you can feel. You have been created with the capacity to feel - physical sensations like hot and cold; emotions like happiness or hurt; inexplicable sensations like searing pain and exquisite joy; and if you are a preacher in what is known as the "Black Church" tradition....on a good preaching day, you can feel "your help coming on"!

    We take feeling for granted, don't we? We are privileged to be able to feel like we do. As those divine water balloons crash landed onto my forearm, I heard my childhood friend Cheri singing the words of Nipsey Russell's Tin Man, "What,what would I do-o-o (if I could feel)?" In that moment, I realized that I didn't have the Tin Man's dilemma and yet I needed to ask the question just to remind myself of how fabulous it is to be able to feel!  I don't know what it is like to feel nothing. I have known numbness, but even numbness has a palpable weight to it. I would have to stretch my imagination to its limits to figure out what I would do if I could feel after a lifetime of feeling only the desire to have feelings.

    That's too much work! I would rather turn cartwheels in the neatly raked pile of feelings that I do have!  If  I could feel...and I can feel...I would feel...and I do feel deeply, passionately, and fully...at every opportunity. It makes you nervous, I'm sure, but trust me, I love being able to plunge into the depths of whatever I'm feeling because it is as if I have a bungee cord that pulls me back up into a space of safe reflection on the feelings!  If it gets too hectic, I can always retreat to the Porgy and Bess feeling of suuuu-mmer-tiiiiiime....when the living is eeeeeeeeasyyyyyy! The feeling that I am talking about is simply feeling with absolute abandon. It is the way we felt things before we learned to control our feelings and manage our emotions. (Can't remember back that far? Hang out with a two year old and it will all come rushing back to you!)

     Of course, feeling on such an intense level occasionally reduces me to tears but that is how the human body was designed. We are so accustomed to controlling our feelings for the sake of being professional or appropriate (and there is nothing wrong with that) that we forget how to feel when those restraints are lifted. The Tin Man considered carefully what he would do if he could feel because he only knew a life devoid of feelings. He asks, "What, what would I do if I could feeeeeeeeeeel?" "What would I do if I could reach inside of me/and to know how it feels/to say I like what I see? Then I'd be more/than glad to share/all that I have inside of here/ and the songs/my heart might bring/you'd be more/than glad to sing/and if tears should fall from my eyes/just think of all the wounds/they could mend/And just think of all the time/I could spend/just being vulnerable again..."

     That's all I am trying to say to you today. Take a break from the numbness and just feel.

Flip vulnerability on its head  and appreciate that level of raised awareness that is vulnerability.

Let your heart feel compassion for someone you don't particularly like.

Feel the oppressive heat of a Jersey July and put it in a safe place to warm you later as you shovel that cold December snow!

Let your arms feel the warmth of a loved one's embrace for just a little while longer today.

Let yourself feel that sadness in your broken heart...and then let yourself feel the weight of that sadness being lifted one prayer at a time.

Let yourself feel the joy of eating soft-serve ice cream...with sprinkles!

Feel the water splash on your body as you bathe away the sweat and grime and stress of a late July afternoon. 

Let yourself be free to feel something fully and completely just for today.
So tell me, "What, what would you do-o-o if you could feel?"

I'm with the Tin Man...I'm reaching inside of me and knowing how it feels to say, "I like what I see!"

May you FEEL the peace that passes all understanding....today and everyday!
Shalom!

(PS - if you must read this on a mobile device, please come back and enjoy the video later!This is a classic!)

But I Don't Write Poetry! (Second Attempt)

Tonight, at approximately 6:40 pm, I will read a poem that I wrote several weeks ago. Under normal circumstances, I don't mind sharing my work publicly. Under normal circumstances,  I would be preaching or sharing prose and I would be quite comfortable. Tonight I am sharing poetry...but I don't write poetry. So, you see my dilemma...or at least you see a part of my dilemma.

Tonight, two other writers and I will be sharing our stories at a reception for current and potential First Person Arts supporters. Now, if you know me at all, you know that I can "do" a reception. Show up, smile, laugh, listen, insert witty comment here, refill my sparkling water with lime, eat another crab puff and then find someone to join me in the shift from would-be-supporter to current supporter. (We won't just eat together, we will also write checks together. There's safety in group spending!)  Eat, drink, and be merry - I can do that! But I don't write poetry!

I will share the wonderful story of Lise Funderburg's great workshop on Object and Memoir in another blog or perhaps in my book but I have to introduce her here because she is the catalyst for my involvement in the First Person Museum.  In her workshop (at the Art Sanctuary's 26th Annual Celebration of Black Writing), she asked us to present or think of an object to share with the class. Every object has a story and we were to share both object and story.  The story that emerged on that day was the story of my "conspicuously absent" wedding band. (I should know by now that any time I resort to dark humor or flippant remarks, something is brewing beneath the surface.) In the last few minutes of the workshop, we wrote about our object and I dove right into the assignment. What I did not expect was the form and shape of my story. I found myself writing from a place that was unfamiliar to me. I was writing the story which emerged as a poem...but I don't write poetry!

When I finished writing my story, I put my pen down and went to the ladies room to collect myself because I could not believe what I had written. I came back to the room where others were still writing and I waited for the inevitable invitation for a volunteer to share what he or she had written. Someone else was brave enough to go first and after her wonderful story about a photo of her father, I thought, "No way am I reading this corny thing!" But it begged to be read aloud and I vaguely remember raising my hand and offering to share what I had written but then, I heard myself apologizing to the group for what was certainly an unexpected exercise in bad rhyme. I began reading the piece entitled, "This Thing - This Ring" and when I came to the last stanza, I felt my throat tighten and the tears burning my eyes and I used my public speaking trick to press through and finish the last few words of this story-poem. No one spoke for a moment and then Lise accused me of writing it at home and smuggling it into the workshop and I don't know if anyone else laughed, but I did. (And thank goodness  because I think I had stopped breathing for a good 5 minutes!) I was speaking publicly about my married life and the death of my marriage...and it led to an invitation to participate in the First Person Museum.

In just a few moments, on a sheet of cheap notebook paper, with one of my favorite pens, I managed to write the story of my troubled marriage, my pending divorce, my 'clergy conflict' and my resolve to continue to believe in marriage while accepting the end of my own. Tonight, in a room full of strangers, I will read the poem that tells the story of my troubled marriage, my no-longer-pending divorce, my 'clergy conflict' and my resolve to continue to believe in marriage while accepting the end of my own. With the ink still damp on my divorce papers, I will stand before the group and eulogize my "conspicuously absent" wedding band...but maybe I won't tell them that I don't write poetry...

The Day I Met My Dad

     It's father's day today. Unlike the mob scene on mother's day, church had plenty good room in the pews this morning. It won't be hard to find a place to eat if you don't have a reservation today. There are still lots of cards left on the racks at the stores today. Some people are celebrating the women who are raising children without the help of a full time father-in-residence. Some of us are mourning the loss of our fathers and some of us are celebrating the many men who have stepped into the gap in our lives. Today,  I rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.

     Those who know me well enough know that I am not offended by the words "Daddy's Girl." Yes, I am and so what?  My father is one of the greats but what makes him great is not that he lived up to the job description of a Dad/Father/Parent/Guardian. One of the things that makes my dad so great is that he loved me enough to hear me when I needed him most.

     It may seem odd to give this blog the title, The Day I Met My Dad, since he was (and still is) married to my mother and came home from work every day to the house where I grew up.  The Day I Met My Dad refers to the day that I was lying on a hospital bed looking over at him and trying to explain what it meant to suffer from depression despite the appearance of a successful and happy life. The Day I Met My Dad was the day that he learned that I needed to hear him say that he loved me. A man who had never said those words before began to say them to me at every opportunity. The Day I Met My Dad was the day that I stopped being his little girl and became his adult daughter.  I could write so much more but I will simply tell you that on that day, our relationship shifted in a way that defies description.  The Day I Met My Dad was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.  He still indulges me, rescues me, spoils me and endures my ranting and raving and pouting.  He taught me a great many things and a love of jazz is one of them. So today, in celebration of The Day I Met My Dad, here is a clip of Horace Silver performing "A Song for My Father."

If there was ever a man 

Who was generous, gracious and good

That was my dad

The man

A human being so true

He could live like a king

'Cause he knew

The real pleasure in life

To be devoted to

And always stand by me

So I'd be unafraid and free

I love you, Daddy! 

I Am Changing

     Perhaps you have seen the movie (or if you are old enough, the Broadway Musical featuring Sheryl Lee Ralph, Loretta Devine, Vondie Curtis-Hall and Obba Babatunde) featuring the song entitled "I Am Changing." Whether you experienced this powerful song as sung on stage by Jennifer Holliday or on the big screen sung by Jennifer Hudson, I can not imagine anyone hearing this song and not feeling some connection to the chanteuse as she pulls from the depths of her soul. She declares that she is changing. She is not looking for anyone else to change. She does not need a change in her circumstances. She is going to be the change that she wants to see in her world.  She is going to stop being a bratty diva and she is going to be a more authentic Effie. (Confession for my Obama fans: I just typed and deleted "Now that's a change you can believe in" three times! Ha! Ha! Since it is in parentheses, it doesn't count.)

    I will not spoil the plot for the few who may not have experienced this powerful moment in the Dreamgirls story but I will simply ask this: Are you ready for a change?  Sometimes, we say that we want to change but it is simply too difficult.  It seems to me that the difficulty lies not in the change but in fighting the gravitational pull  of staying the same. Of course it is difficult to change if we continue to do the same silly things day after day. In another blog entry, which is currently in the draft stage, I will tell you about my catalyst for change. For today, I'm asking you to celebrate with me because the good news is that once you choose to make one small change, there is a ripple effect (I don't like dominoes because they fall down and I'd rather not fall if I have the option).  One small change leads to another and then another and before you know it, you have done the impossible - you have made the change that you wanted to see.

      My change is the move from wanting to be a published writer to actually being a published writer. I tend to forget that I do have a sermon and an essay published in  Dr. Cleophus J. LaRue's book, This is My Story: Testimonies and Sermons of Black Women in Ministry. (My blog, my shameless plug!) As a good friend said when the book was published, "The hard part is done. You've been published once and the first time is the hardest. Now, all you have to do is continue!" Continue? Was he crazy? I wrote those pieces like any other assignment while I was a full time graduate student. I don't have time for dreams anymore because I have to make a living and I can't do that while writing. I did not believe that I would ever have the time to pursue my dream. Now, I have more time than I care to manage - but I am using it to write. I write in the mornings. I write after and often during lunch. I write before my daughter comes home from school. I write before going to bed. When I am tired of writing, I read. I read the works of those who were bold enough to follow their heart and talent. I read the bible, I read everything Stephanie Meyer publishes, I read blogs, I read magazines. I read what I have written and sometimes I actually like it. I have always been a reader, but now, following Effie's lead, I am changing. I am a writer. I did not believe that I could make money by writing, but that belief is changing as well!
     There will be more exciting news for us to celebrate in the near future as I continue to embrace and engage my change. The question remains - are you ready to change? What do you require to make the change that your dreams require? The lyrics of the song make it plain that although Effie and I and (insert your name here) are changing - we can not do it alone.  We need help and we need to help one another. We need a hand and we need to get started. I must pause here to thank those who have given me a hand -  a word of encouragement, a critical view of my work, a meal at a real restaurant or the blessing of childcare so that I can pursue this dream. When you are ready, I will take my hands off of the keyboard and extend them to help you as well.  We are changing!

     If you are viewing this blog post on your phone or a restrictive server, you will not see the video of Jennifer Hudson singing this marvelous song, so for your benefit, here are the lyrics.  I recommend that you use them for inspiration to make a small change today! Be blessed!


Look at me/Look at me
I am Changing / Trying every way I can
I am changing / I'll be better than I am
I'm trying / To find a way
to understand / but I need you
I need you / I need a hand

I am changing / Seeing everything so clear
I am changing / I'm gonna start right now right here
I'm hoping / To work it out and I know that I can

But I need you / I need a hand

All of my life / I been a fool
who said I could do it all alone
How many good friends have I already lost?
How many dark nights have I known?

Walking down that long road
there was nothing I could find
All these years of darkness
Can make a person blind

But now I can see
I am changing / Trying every way I can
I am changing / Ill be better than I Am

But I need a friend / to help me start / all over again

That will be just fine
I know its gonna work out this time
Cause this time I am
This time I am
I am Changing / Ill get my life together now
I am changing / Yes, I know how
Im gonna start again / Im gonna leave my past behind
Ill change my life / Ill make a vow
And nothings gonna stop
me
now

Dear Kelly (Why I Run)

Dear Kelly,

You are an insightful friend and I appreciate the gift of your friendship.  I enjoyed our conversation about food and educational pursuits and I am still not sure how this question came about in a conversation that was supposed to be about your health. You may have simply been curious or just making conversation but your question was one that I had asked myself but failed to answer. Your asking compelled me to organize my musings and generate an answer.  Do you remember asking me why I work out so hard? I do. At first, I gave you the comical answer but as with all comedy, there is a deeper truth lurking beneath the surface. Here it is...

Today, I sat in my car for a moment before going into the gym because I felt a profound and palpable sadness welling up inside of me. I knew that I would not be able to run at all if I gave in to this feeling, so I grabbed my Ipod and my ID card and rushed into the club. The tears began streaming down my face in spite of my resolve to get ahead of them. I quickly brushed them aside so that the man behind the desk would not see them and wordlessly ask me what was wrong. I rushed into the ladies room and allowed the tears to fall and I muffled the sobs that broke through as well. I stood in the stall feeling confused and angry because I did not know where this came from and I wanted it to end.  Finally, I collected myself, blew my nose on that rough industrial strength toilet paper and trudged over to the sink where I washed my face and instead of giving myself the evil eye and demanding decorum, I just smiled a weak smile and thought, "It's going to be okay."  In one final gesture of self torture, I hopped on the scale which provided a digital confirmation that I have only lost one pound from all of my hard work and managed to laugh at myself for falling into the trap of playing the numbers game.

My renewed smile and I walked up the stairs and began the trek to the treadmill.  Settled into my routine of a brisk walk with an increasing incline I remembered your question again. Why am I working so hard? I remembered a scene from the film, "What Women Want" where an advertisement is created for Nike running shoes for women and the woman expresses the freedom she feels when running. I realized that I want to be free too.  While playing the role of my everyday avatar, I frequently find confinement and restriction. Most days, I feel like Sisyphus, pushing that boulder uphill only to return to the same dreaded task tomorrow. It seems to me that if I have to work this hard only to end up in the same place as where I started, I might as well gain some cardiovascular benefits while doing it.

The treadmill will not clutch it's telemetry strip because of the hue of my skin or the kink of my hair. The treadmill is neither impressed nor intimidated by my educational pedigree. The treadmill welcomes me whether I look happy to see it or not.  The treadmill does not feel slighted when my headphones are in and I seem tuned out.  I am not judged for choosing to walk when I could and should run. I am not  mocked when I run with poor form. I am neither overqualified nor under-qualified to work here.  The treadmill asks no questions and offers no solutions or suggestions. The treadmill literally just keeps it moving.

Whether walking or running, I am thinking. I am processing. I am solving. I am releasing. I am just being. I am listening. I am hearing. I am praying. I am moving. When I am on the treadmill, I embrace the God in me because when I am on the treadmill, I just AM. It does not matter if I burn 3 calories or 300. It does not matter that I don't have a job or a "better half" right now. The only thing that matters is that I am here. Like Miss Celie in the famous scene in The Color Purple, by God, I'm still here. I am still here and I have value beyond measure. I can translate my dreams into reality and transmute negative energy into positivity! I am evolving. I am growing. I just AM, I tell you. I just AM!

I began walking on the treadmill because my clothes were a little bit too tight and my ego was a little bit bruised.  Now that I have a better sense of my self and my abilities, I walk on the treadmill for the health benefits and because every day, I run a little bit more than I walk and one day, I'm going to run the entire 5K (3.1 miles) from start to finish.  I am not in any hurry to reach that goal, but I am having fun along the way and that's all that matters!

Again, I thank you for asking me the question. I am grateful for the answers that I have found. I run because I can and because it frees me up to just BE. What an awesome gift. The freedom, luxury, and privilege to just BE who I AM if only for 45 minutes every day.

Kelly, I pray that you will also find that special place in your own life where you can just BE. May you find that God space that empowers you to say, I AM. May you find and live in the peace that passes all understanding granted and given by the God who IS!

Peace and Love,
Carla


Stevie Wonder sang it so well:

Free like the river
Flowin' freely through infinity
Free to be sure of
What I am and who I need not be
Free from all worries
Worries prey on oneself's troubled mind
Freer than the clock's hands
Tickin' way the times
Freer than the meaning of
free that man defines
Life running through me
Till I feel my father God has called

Me having nothin'
But possessing riches more than all
And I'm free
To be nowhere
But in every place I need to be
Freer than a sunbeam
Shinning through my soul
Free from feelin' heat or
knowing bitter cold
Free from conceiving the beginning
For that's the infinite start

I'm gone - gone but still living
Life goes on without a beating heart

Free like a vision
That the mind of only you can see

Freer than a raindrop
Falling from the sky
Freer than a smile in a
baby's sleepin' eyes

I'm free like a river
Flowin' freely to infinity
I'm free to be sure of what
I am and who I need not be
I'm much freer - like the meaning
of the word free that
crazy man defines
Free - free like the vision that
The mind of only you are ever gonna see
Free like the river my life
Goes on and on through infinity