He Used To Call Me "Baby"

This morning I am thinking about my big brother, Anthony, and I am missing him sorely.  Last night, a friend posted an old photo of him on Facebook.  In the picture I saw his bright, warm smile and it unleashed a flood of wonderful memories.  It also unleashed a flood of tears that I tried, unsuccessfully, to restrain.  I thought about how I would call him or stop by his house whenever I was feeling particularly perplexed, overwhelmed, or sad.  He always seemed to have a way of helping me snap out of a funk.  Sometimes he’d do this with gentleness and tender words of encouragement.  Other times, he accomplished it by confronting me with (as he called it) the flat-footed truth.  I remember how, either way, he used to call me “Baby.”  He might say, “Baby, you hold your head up.  God has great things in store for you.”  Or he might say, “Baby, I believe the Lord is using this to show you that you need to grow up!”  But, either way, he never let me leave without giving me one of his incredible healing hugs.  During one of our last times together I was, quite frankly, in a funk.  I thought I was doing a pretty good job of hiding it, though.  He was so sick, and nothing I was dealing with even came close to that.  I just wanted him to be happy and comfortable.  I was sitting cross-legged on the side of his bed, working on an assignment for school while he lay resting.  All of a sudden, he said, “Come here.”  He had his arms stretched open.  I sat my laptop on the chair next to the bed, and I crawled up to snuggle close beside him.  He asked, “Baby, do you love him?”  And I started to cry.  I was so busted and so embarrassed.  To save face, I said, “I don’t know.  I’m not even sure I know what love is.”  I could feel his body shaking a bit, and I knew he was trying to repress his laughter.  After a while, he said, “Well, I think you know what love is.  You are one of the most loving people I know.”  I didn’t respond.  I really didn’t need to.  In that moment, I just needed to lie there, enveloped in his loving arms, and know that I was known.  My big brother has been gone for more than a year now.  Yet, I am sitting here imagining how he might say to me, “You know, I wasn’t asking that question for me.  I was asking it for you.  Now, let me ask you again.”  This time, I would tell him the truth.  Then I imagine he would give me a great big hug and say, “I knew all along that you loved him.  And, guess what?  One day someone is going to love you back, just like that.  So, Baby, get ready.”  Yes, I know it’s only my imagination.  Nevertheless, I am going to take his word for it.         

What About Bubba?

This morning I am thinking about a story I heard a woman tell on the radio yesterday.  She shared an event from her childhood, in which they experienced car trouble while out doing errands with their mother one day.  She said her mom had no sooner pulled over to the side of the road, when they saw smoke and flames emerging from under the hood.  I could vividly imagine it as she described the mom hurrying her two daughters out of the vehicle.  Holding hands, the three made a mad dash to get a safe distance away.  What she shared next caught me completely by surprise.  While they were running, her sister suddenly asked, “What about Bubba?”  In their haste, they had taken off and left their baby brother in the car!  It turns out that the little boy was retrieved without harm.  In fact, she wrapped up her story by saying, “We still tease him about that all the time.”  I was so relieved that, in the end, they were all okay.  Now, I admit that I sometimes find humor in the silliest things, but when she finished her story I started to crack up.  I laughed the rest of the way to work, and I was still laughing as I walked into my office building.  Throughout the day, I’d start to chuckle again each time I thought of that sweet little voice asking, “What about Bubba?”  As I’m sitting here now, the story is speaking to me again, not so much in humor as in exhortation.  Lately I have been profoundly aware of certain conditions, mindsets, and habits in my life that I need to abandon very quickly.  I perceive how these things are much like vehicles by which I have become accustomed to being carried, sometimes for decades.  Though they may have served me well for a while, they are starting to show signs of breaking down.  It is quite evident that they are no longer going to work for me.  In fact, they could cause me immeasurable harm if I don’t separate myself from them speedily.  As I consider how I will apply this truth I in my life, I hear the words:  “Don’t forget about Bubba.”  I’m smiling because I know exactly what this means.  It means that I should be ever mindful of the priceless lessons and the precious people who, over the years, have become a significant part of me.  To put it another way, I should take heed not to throw out the baby with the bath water.  I am deeply grateful for the special gifts of love and favor in my life that are intended to remain, while more transitory things may fail or even burn up.  I make no pretenses.  I’m not perfect.  Even as I earnestly strive to do what I know I’m called to do, I sometimes miss things that are really important.  Yet, I believe that before I can ever go too far, I will always hear a sweet Voice that jars me back to my senses.  I will retrieve and reclaim all the good that is meant for me.  And, in the end, I know I will be okay.                           

Nobody

This morning I am thinking about the woman I encountered at the store yesterday.  I had noticed her, walking almost parallel to me, although I was mostly engrossed in a conversation on my phone.  When she turned slightly, I stopped to let her cross in front of me…or so I thought.  Instead of passing in front of me, she started making a beeline toward me.  As she approached, she proclaimed loudly, “You is so damn pretty!”  While taking in her tooth-challenged grin and her disheveled hair that was going every which way, I went from zero to judging in about two seconds.  “Listen, can you help me out wit’ some change?” she asked.  I shook my head, dismissively, and turned away.  On the other end of the phone, my friend was asking, “Who is that?”  When the woman walked away, I said, “Nobody.”  Immediately I was convicted by the callousness I had just demonstrated.  I tried to justify my attitude and reaction by telling myself, “Well, she shouldn’t have just rolled up on me like that!”  But it was to no avail.  I was not proud of what I had just done and said.  Later, I told my daughter about the woman.  First, she was greatly amused at the idea of a strange woman just walking up and calling me “so damn pretty.”  But, then she asked me, “So, what did you do?”  I answered, “I told her ‘No.’” My daughter’s silence hinted at her surprise.  I suppose she was expecting me to say that I’d at least engaged the woman in some kind of conversation.  Again, I felt a wave of conviction.  Since my daughter was a child, I tried to teach and model kindness, compassion and respect for people, regardless of their lot in life.  I wanted to show her that we have absolutely no idea about another person’s story unless and until we get to know them.  And it requires that we discard our selfishness and vanity.  Yesterday, I definitely missed an opportunity.  But, today I purpose to walk in the one thing I know, without a doubt, I am called to: LOVE.  As I go forth, there are two questions I am asking myself.  Who is so perfect and good that he or she has the inherent right to judge and condemn others?  Who is so wretched and vile that he or she is beyond a demonstration of God’s love and grace?  I conclude that the answer to both questions is “Nobody.”             

Can't Believe My Eyes

This morning I am thinking about a recent visit to the bank.  As I was on my way out, I saw that the door had a rather prominent handle on it.  My arm was already extended so I could grab the handle and pull, when I noticed the word written on the door: “Push.”  I seriously had to stop for a few seconds, while my mind processed this contradiction.  My inclination was to just go ahead and pull.  I mean, why would there be a handle on a door that was meant to be pushed open?  Then I remembered that I’d had to pull the door open to come inside the bank.  So it became logical that I’d have to push to get out, despite what that perplexing handle suggested.  Had I chosen to stand there and pull, I would have caused myself to remain stuck inside and, quite frankly, looking a bit foolish.  So it often is with the choices I face in life.  Sometimes, what I can see with my eyes tells me that I should take a specific course of action or make certain commitments.  By all indications, in a given moment it just makes sense…to either say “yes” or to say “no thanks”…to either give up or keep trying…to either speak my heart or to hold my peace…to either move on or to wait.  However, I have learned (and, I am learning) that it’s always best to look for a Word and make my decisions based on that.  There have been many times when my eyes deceived me.  Everything I could see clearly said: “You are weak,” or “You can’t do that,” or “You have messed up too many times.”  Yet, what I could see with my natural eyes was challenged by the Word, which said: “You are strong,” and “You can do all things,” and “You are forgiven.”  Invariably, when I’ve made choices based only on what I could perceive outwardly, I rendered myself stuck in some unproductive and unfavorable places…and, quite frankly, looking a bit foolish.  It seems I would have learned by now that I can’t always believe my eyes.  I guess this is one example of what it means to “walk by faith, and not by sight.”  I am thankful for this sweet reminder today, that I need not be made hostage by the dictates of my physical perceptions.  I know that, when I choose to go with what the Word says—even when it feels confusing and doesn’t seem to make sense—I will find myself enjoying the freedom of moving purposefully forward.                          

Surrender to Grace

This morning I am thinking about the wrestling match I had with my Yorkie, while trying to give her a bath.  To say that she doesn’t like baths would be a gross understatement.  It has been this way since I adopted her more than 10 years ago.  I know that she had been abused by her former owner, and I’ve often wondered what specifically may have happened that causes her such fear at bath time.  Whatever the case, she takes on strength and feistiness that are uncharacteristic of her tiny size and her usual loving disposition.  As I was bathing her, she flipped, turned, and squirmed while trying to get away.  She cried and she barked.  She also flashed me a wicked “if Yorkies could kill” look a couple of times.  I tried my best to calm her.  I said, “What’s the matter, Ginger?  I’m not going to hurt you.  You’re going to feel so much better.”  Then I heard myself say, “Ginger, if you weren’t wiggling so much, I could be done by now.”  As soon as those words came out of my mouth, I was got the message.  I smiled and said out loud, “Lord, You are totally showing me a picture of myself here, aren’t You?”  I made the connection to how I sometimes tend to flip, turn, squirm, cry, and try to get away when He is working on me.  Like Ginger, I still carry memories of past hurts and emotional trauma that make me fearful to fully relax and trust in His goodness.  But I can imagine Him saying, “What’s the matter, Mary?  I’m not going to hurt you.”  I am thankful for such moments and lessons that serve to remind me of God’s love and care for me.  What He does is always ultimately for my good, but I don’t always see that in the moment.  He knows exactly what I need and the process it takes to bring out the full beauty of who I am meant to be.  What really strikes me is the thought that, if I would just stop wiggling so much…if I would just stop resisting, He could be done by now.  So, today I purpose to give up my wrestling.  I will shift my focus from the pain and fear of what once was.  Instead, I will meditate on the love, peace, and wholeness that have become my story now.  With a grateful heart, I will surrender to grace for what is to come.               

Now, Let Me See

This morning I am thinking about how amused I was to “find” a pair of my reading glasses yesterday afternoon.  I absolutely knew that I had them on while I was doing my early journaling.  And I seemed to remember putting them on when I was in the grocery store. Then I would have sworn that I used them in the car to check messages on my phone.  However, when I arrived back at home, they were not in my purse.  “I must have left them in the car,” I surmised.  Turns out, I had not.  There was a major task I’d planned to get started on for work, and I would definitely need my readers to do it.  So I resolved that I would just have to go get another pair.  First I wanted to get started on dinner, though.  As I was passing through my bedroom to wash my hands, I saw them.  They were sitting on the nightstand, right where I’d left them.  I chuckled as I realized the readers were never missing or lost.  I had just absent-mindedly taken off without them.  I must admit that I sometimes do the same thing, in a spiritual sense.  Just as I depend on my natural readers to help me see words in print, I prayerfully depend on the lens of God’s wisdom to help me see…really see…the people and situations I encounter throughout each day.  Yet, sometimes even after praying for wisdom, I will absent-mindedly take off without it.  And it’s quite noticeable.  Without His lens of wisdom, my understanding quickly becomes very blurred.  Without it, situations appear much dimmer.  Without it, I perceive people and things that are of great significance in ways that are much too small.  Oh, what a difference it makes when I put on His wisdom!  I find that it brings clarity and focus of vision, which far surpasses what I’m able to discern on my own.  It’s funny how I sometimes try to convince myself that I was wearing wisdom, when I was not.  I tell myself, “I seem to remember putting it on before that meeting.” Or, “I would have sworn that I used it to respond to that person’s questions.”  But, then it becomes clear that I’d really been relying on my own sight…my own understanding, which is often clouded by cataracts of un-yielded pride, prejudices, fears, and ignorance.  The good news is that I don’t have to continue on blindly.  I don’t have to go out looking for any replacement lenses, either.  I need only go back to my Source, and there I’ll find that wisdom waits for me to put it on again. 

Where I Belong

This morning I am thinking about the first day of my high school Latin class.  The teacher was standing at the door, greeting and welcoming students as they entered.  When I came in, however, she asked, “Are you sure you’re in the right class?”  Even after I showed her my schedule, she still seemed unsure.  Clearly, a Black girl taking Latin…as an elective, no less…was causing her quite a bit of dissonance.  (Who would have guessed?)  I had to quickly process and productively respond to the ignorance and judgment of someone who didn’t know me at all, but somehow thought she knew my potential.  It was a scenario with which I had become all too familiar over the course of my schooling.  Beyond their skill to teach reading, writing, and arithmetic, I encountered a few teachers who were also quite proficient in delivering a hidden curriculum that had its own potent lessons and challenging tests.  What seemed to be a recurring lesson for me was that there were certain classes, or programs, or levels of achievement where I wasn’t expected to be.  In the minds of some, I was out of place.  I didn’t “belong.”  There was my first grade teacher who, upon discovering that I could read the second grade books with ease and understanding, asked my mom if I had been retained.  Then there was my middle school counselor, who insisted I be re-evaluated before scheduling me into a gifted class because my IQ score from elementary “seemed too high.”  So, besides mastering all my academic content, I always seemed to have an additional assignment—the task of proving that I did belong.  It may sound strange that I like to reflect on these and other such experiences when I want to encourage myself.  Yet, they truly remind me of how much I have learned, ways I have grown, and things I have overcome.  At times I feel myself becoming weary, but then I remember that I have been lovingly and purposefully endowed with the grace for greatness.  Therefore, it would be utterly foolish for me to let the issues and hang-ups of others relegate me to ordinary or “just okay.”  Now, the happy ending is that I ended up being one of my Latin teacher’s favorite students.  In fact, she urged me to take her Semantics course the following semester.  I am grateful that she came to really know me.  In reality, though, there are those who never will.  There are those who will always see me as “only this” or “only that.”  There are those who will dismiss me and tidily tuck me away in one of the neat compartments of their own prejudice.  I’ve had to come to terms with the truth that every open door won’t necessarily have a welcome mat in front of it.  I just have to know in my heart where I belong.  And, this one thing I do know:  Despite what anyone thinks, I absolutely belong any and everywhere God has blessed (and will bless) me to be.  I sense that He’s already opening new doors, and I will confidently go in.

Too Good To NOT Be True

This morning I am thinking about a particular tidbit of conventional wisdom I’ve heard and repeated so many times that I’ve taken it for granted, never questioning or giving it critical consideration.  It is the idea of something being too good to be true.  I am wondering when and how I bought into the twisted notion that goodness and truth must somehow be mutually exclusive.  I’m intrigued as I contemplate how, when, and why I came to internalize the assumption that if something is really good, then it must not be true.  (Or, I guess, conversely if it’s true, then it must not be good.)  I find myself confronted here with a deeper, more compelling question though.  Have I inadvertently convinced myself that if something is really good, then maybe I’m not good enough to have it?  Do I subconsciously fear that I am unworthy of that which is extraordinary and wonderful?  As I expose my heart to the scrutiny of this interrogation, I am being made aware of an underlying, subtle deception within.  It camouflages itself in the commonsensical.  It speaks to my logical mind, putting forth a strong case based on facts and evidence that are, ironically, produced by deception itself.  Certainly, I have experienced relationships and other endeavors that initially seemed so positive and full of promise, but later turned out to be not so great.  And I would say to myself, “I should have known it was too good to be true.”  In retrospect, I wish I had been able to discern that the issue wasn’t really a matter of something being too good to be true.  In reality, I sometimes just latched onto things that weren’t truly good…at least not for me.  I can see how, over time, I allowed deception to sweet talk me with its bitterness:  “Be reasonable.  You’re nobody’s fool.  You are a smart woman.  This can’t really be what it seems.  It’s too simple.  It’s too soon.  It’s too much.  It’s too perfect.”  The more I entertained its arguments, the more deception wrapped itself around my mind like a blindfold.  And it spoke to my vulnerabilities and fears, saying, “Don’t trust it.  It’s too risky.  Play it safe.  Don’t move.”  I can’t imagine how many gifts I’ve forfeited or how many open doors I’ve walked past, having my mind veiled by a cloak of unbelief.   But I am so grateful today for understanding and enlightenment!  God is good AND God is truth.  There is no schism.  There is no either-or.  And, so it is with the gifts He delights to give me as His child.  They are good AND they are true.  Each day I pray for the wisdom and grace to perceive, embrace, and enjoy all the amazing and beautiful things God wants me to know, be, do, and have.  So, I resolve to give thanks for His love and favor toward me.  I will keep my eyes and heart open for the love, friendships, opportunities, adventures, new beginnings, second chances and countless other blessings from His hand that are too good to NOT be true.

Lions, and Tigers, and Bears

This morning I am thinking about the part in the movie “The Wizard of Oz” when Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Man are in the haunted forest.  Dorothy nervously asks about the possibility that they might encounter wild animals as they pass through.  Once the Tin man introduces the notion of lions, and tigers, and bears, it’s as though she becomes fixated on the idea.  She says it out loud.  “Lions, and tigers, and bears!  Oh my!”  She even begins to repeat it, with her companions joining in.  Interestingly, it is within only a few moments that the Lion appears.  I’m really curious if that scene carries an intentional metaphor for calling forth into being that which one chooses to believe, focus on, and speak.  Perhaps.  In any case, the message this carries for me today is not lost.  For better or worse, that scene—or something like it—has certainly played itself out in my life on occasion.  At times, I’d become obsessed with unsettling thoughts and questions about what I might encounter within a given situation or relationship.  I wasn’t worried so much about actual lions, and tigers, and bears.  I did, however, anxiously wonder about some of their metaphorical counterparts…things that, for me, were genuinely frightening.  Rejection, and loss, and pain.  Encompassed in a dark forest of fear and doubt, I’d find myself talking out loud about the very things I dreaded.  It never really dawned on me how I was actually invoking those things through the verses of the pitiful song I’d play over and over in my mind: “What If?”  What if I make a fool of myself?  What if it doesn’t work?  What if I make a really bad mistake?  What if I get hurt again?  By God’s grace, I was not completely consumed!  I’m so thankful that I have learned I can also call forth good and beautiful things to my life.  It’s wholly a matter of my choice.  Time and time again, I have seen the wonderful manifestation of blessings declared.  So, I am learning to sing a new song:  “Wisdom, and favor, and grace!  All mine!”  Wherever I go, I want this to be my glorious refrain.  I want to speak it out loud.  And, who knows?  Maybe those around me will join in.