TO YOU, AUNT JACKIE

It was a family secret, not intentionally but we never talked about it. I now know where I get it from, maybe its old school; maybe its generational; whatever it is I now have it too. I sometimes believe that if I don’t talk about it then it’s not real; that it’s really not happening. I don’t think that they really meant to keep it a secret; maybe they grieved enough when they found out, maybe they didn’t want to travel down that road again, I don’t know, I wasn’t here. Being married to a man in the military kept me out of the loop on a lot because I was away from home. Maybe they forgot to tell me; maybe they didn’t want me to worry while I was thousands of miles away in Germany. Maybe…Why didn’t I ask? Maybe I didn’t want to know…All I knew was that she was sick. When I moved back home I talked to her on the phone every other week, our conversations were powerful; anytime you talk about how good God is then it can’t help but be powerful. We had a family dinner, I think all but three or four of her nieces and nephews came – we were all home either permanently or visiting. It rained so hard, I guess the devil was trying to keep us from coming together but we made it anyway. It was a Soul Food movie moment except we had fun in the places where they had drama. My Aunt Jackie cooked most of the food – I heard that she insisted. She didn’t look sick at all – wow it can’t be that bad, I thought to myself.

The Aunt Jackie that I saw that night was her strong, fun loving self. Her smile was still beautiful; infectious. Everyone was tip toeing around her; she was walking tall around us. It was standing on her strength that made that rainy, dreary night seem like a sunny day. While there I went back to the “pink room,” this was the bedroom that I wished for when I was a little girl. I used to want to spend the night just so I could sleep in the pink room. Even during grown folks gatherings my cousin and I would slip away to the pink room when we were little girls – there was peace and solace in the pink room. Someone later told me that my aunt’s bad days and nights were spent in the pink room; we never saw these bad days and nights, she put up a good front. I think I'd been home a couple of years before I realized that my aunt had breast cancer and had been living with it for many years but was in remission while I was away; I never knew. When I think about all of the people that I have known that are living with breast cancer I am reminded of their strength. It was this year that God showed me that what appears to be strength to others is sometimes a façade; a very good front for their family and friends. As I travel down this road with one of my friends I must admit that even though she is doing great I sometimes find that it’s me that’s not strong enough. I try so hard but the “family rule” keeps surfacing and I can’t help but think that if we don’t talk about it… It never fails but no matter how much I try not to show it I usually end up leaning on her. Recently she showed me a sign of weakness and though I wasn’t ready for it I had to find the strength because I owed it to her. As she poured out her soul to me my heart was breaking because I couldn’t give her a hug; we were on the phone. Maybe a hug wouldn’t help, I don’t know…but I felt in my heart that I had to strengthen my friend and for a moment my mind went blank. How can I be strong for her? “Just pray,” came the still small voice. When you don’t know what to say, just pray…It was prayer that gave us both the strength that we needed in that moment.

Shhh… maybe if we don’t say anything it may go away. Yes, that’s my own personal curse with dealing with things that I hope I can learn to get past. I probably would have left this earth with that mentality until I recently had the privilege of seeing Dr. Jamal Harrison Bryant in person. He said that “there are some things that we have to claim.” We have been taught not to claim things and yes, if it’s not a sure thing then don’t claim it but there are some things that must be claimed, because if you don’t claim it, then God can’t heal it. I love you, Aunt Jackie. I’ll be looking for you in the pink room. TGBTG

~Stay Prayed Up! CLICK ON THE LINK

DROP 3 SIZES....

If I may borrow from one of my favorite comedians, Bernie Mack, “Okay America we’re all family, right?” If you remember I told you last week about my quest for “good hair,” well I decided this week to move on down the anatomy by trying this new craze called the Body Magic. I’m sure you’ve heard or have seen it and if you haven’t just check the link on my blog. It says I can “drop 3 sizes in 10 minutes.” I know…I know…I said the same thing too – Yeah right! But I had to give it a shot because it fell in line with my “alter ego.” I mean if you’re going to transform yourself you just can’t stop in one spot. You know what the Word says, “be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind” and the mind controls a whole lot of things so stopping in one spot is not a transformation. Now on to the story – when my Body Magic arrived I couldn’t wait to put it on especially since I’d seen the transformation on live models at least 5+ times by the time my box arrived. “Drop 3 sizes in 10 minutes…” did you catch the 10 minutes part? Normally 10 minutes is a short span of time if you are rushing because you need to be somewhere in 10 minutes. It’s a short span of time if I’m upstairs and need to remember to run down and pull the cornbread out of the oven in 10 minutes. In these two instances 10 minutes seems like 3 minutes but along comes the Body Magic. After researching this on Youtube and seeing this chick twice my size wiggle into the garment I felt like it would be a piece of cake. 10 minutes plus and six (6) hands later I FINALLY got this darn thing on; we pulled and pushed and squirmed and wiggled, I sweated, breathed hard and almost passed out from holding my breath. At one point I wanted to call the Fire Dept to bring in the Jaws of Life. After about 7 minutes I thought about taking it back off to see if I had the right size but the more I thought about it the more I envisioned that it would probably be easier to push a baby back into the womb than it would be to do this all over again. 10 minutes – whatever happened to 10 minutes seeming like 3 when you need it? Tug….pull…“grab it here Breyona. Shay you hold it while we pull.” Tug…pull…hop…wiggle. Who in the world thought about putting all of these little hooks on here? It must have been a man. “Can a sister get one with a zipper,” I wanted to scream but I couldn’t because I was too busy sucking it in. Is this part of my transformation really worth it? My mind was running to and fro – should I, should I not…but I continued because I was inspired by remembering how I’d seen for myself how this thing really changed the shape of others. PULL! I had a flashback of NeNe on the Real Housewives of Atlanta saying that she was a size 10. Snap, one hook…PULL! Snap, a couple more….I think I can, I think I can…My mind was on if NeNe is a size 10 then I gots (ebonics) to get this baby hooked all the way. If Mo Nique can pull off flat abs and no rolls….If this thing can raise breasts like Jesus raised Lazarus then I have to PULL!!

When all was said and done I was missing about 3 fingernails but it was well worth it. I felt like star on the red carpet as I put on my favorite winter sweater that had been folded in the drawer for almost 3 years. Looking at my before (yuck) and after picture in my sweater I became light headed; OMGosh, did I look like this? The last time I tried to wear this sweater I looked a hot mess not to mention it was like putting on the Body Magic in reverse; it was caught between my waist and shoulders and it probably took me 15 minutes to take it off. Whew…Anyway…like I was saying I literally lost 3 dress sizes in, less say, 12 ½ minutes. I couldn’t take my eyes off of me – I had a Betty Rubble figure, cleavage and my bottom was like Beyonce’s – speaking of Beyonce word on the street is that she wears this garment too. I couldn’t help spinning from the front to the back shocked that there were not visible lines not to mention rolls in my clothes. IT WORKED!!! This was certainly not my grandma’s girdle of yester year; this thing was like a second skin and after the first day it was soooo comfortable but the main thing was I was CUTE! I was nipped and tucked before my very own eyes and if the saying is true and I continue to wear this 4-6 hours a day it will reshape my body – now that’s a transformation! I’m sure you’re wondering if I am being gullible. Well believe me when I say (like I said on the last blog – you just can’t tell me anything). Plus I’ve seen it for myself with my own two eyes with another one of the distributors; she and I go back a little ways and I remember what she used to look like. I saw her walk into a room and I gasped. …if someone said to me that they saw her and she looked like this I would not have believed them or I would have assumed it was from having bypass surgery. Skeptics, yes, I’ve heard some skepticism from people but I am my own witness. According to my truck’s license plate I am ABLIEVR when God has shown me something for myself. I’ve seen, for myself, the impact that the nutritional items and the garments have made. I have friends that swear by the Levive and the Cran Aloe; these are mothers that give their children a dose of this every morning; they have nothing but great reports. I’ve also heard the story of the grandmother that used to have problems in her legs and was taking it because her daughter brought her a bottle to see if it would help; all she knew was that her pain was gone. These are the stories that I believe; stories from real people that I know personally. This is why I took 12 ½ minutes to put on my garment because I am ABLIEVR. Now can someone please go get my good hair? I can’t pull myself away from the mirror. Psst…and if someone can please call a preacher I can use some prayer to get this thing off… TGBTG

~Stay Prayed Up! CLICK ON THE LINK

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TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE...

As I was driving home from church last Sunday I was so excited about the idea of creating a new me. Every thread of my being was centered on my future; on the journey yet to come. I was marinating in the residue of the message knowing that what’s to come is greater than what has been…you see the Word says, “And we know that all things work together for good.” Whew…the anointing that’s dropping from this message is so fresh that I can still feel it in my bones so stay tuned there’s more to come from this message at a later time.

Prior to writing this I’d been joking about getting me some “good hair.” It’s not that I don’t already have “good hair,” I’ve been blessed in this area all of my life but I wanted a change – something different. I wanted a style that I was not obligated to keep. You know how it is with fads, some folks want tattoos I wanted hair even though I have enough of my own, so along came my alter ego – she’s the one that doesn’t like to sit in the salon all day and night yet she likes to be Oprah ready at a moment’s notice. Oprah ready? Well for me Oprah ready is looking a certain way when I answer the door should Oprah ever ring my door bell…Oprah ready…Now on to the beauty supply to gets (ebonics) me some good hair…As I write this I have to laugh because to me it’s so funny how other people think they can tell you what looks best on you – I know that for them they are making a sale but thank God I’m not easily swayed on the judgments of others. “Yea dat looks agood on you.” Is she looking at the same mirror that I’m looking at? “Let me see that one,” I said. It was a cute layered look; a cut that I wanted for my own hair but was too afraid that it would mess up my pony tail days. Sitting there looking like Miss Piggy she says to me again, “Yeah dat looks agood on you too.” We did this a couple more times and by now I realized that she didn’t know me, she didn’t know my style, and she didn’t know my alter ego. At this point I began the search myself – this, no, that, no until finally I saw it. All at once she came to life on my head – HOW U DEW-N? I was indeed Oprah ready from the neck up. “Let me get you another one from under the counter,” she said. “Nope, I want this one and I want a discount.”

Why am I telling you this? Well it crossed my mind as me and my good hair (ebonics) was on our way home that no one knows me like I know myself. I know what makes me look like a fool, I know what I can make look good even though it’s ugly and I know when someone is telling me something that’s just not right for me. At the end of the day I know me and the only other person that knows me better than I know myself is God. So for each new day that we are given remember that you know what’s best for you and if it settles in your spirit, then it’s great for your soul. No matter what anyone else may say – to thine own self be true! TGBTG

~Stay Prayed Up! CLICK ON THE LINK

A REVERENCE FOR GOD

I have been replaying this thought in my head for days now…It is a message from God reminding me that somewhere, somehow I’ve misplaced the reverence for Him that I once had. I must admit that I can’t remember when it faded away. Could it have been when I changed churches or when I began wearing pants to church more than I wore dresses? Could it have been when I spent more time looking in the mirror for work than I did before leaving the house for church? I mean I still believed that I loved the Lord, I still trusted Him, I still prayed but I let something get in the way. It was this revelation that made me realize that I didn’t give Him the utmost respect that He is due or that He deserves. Where had it gone? When did it go? This change was gradual, one that I didn’t really notice until recently. It was a change that, once it was discovered I didn’t like the way I felt or the way I treated the Father who’d been so faithful and honest to me. Can I blame society? You know we have become a people of Jack-in-the Boxes that pop up only when tragedy or devastations strike. It’s only when towers crash to the ground, hurricanes destroy an entire city, homes are flooded or near foreclosure, marriages are broken and jobs are lost? We pop out when someone is gravely ill or when our child is strung out on drugs, it is then that we spend every available minute calling on Him to “fix it” and as soon as He does we’re back to our old selves. Can I blame my new church because they do things differently than my old church? Can I blame myself for spending more time on my feet than on my knees? Did I lose it because things have gotten so nonchalant in life and on television? Had I begun agreeing with everything and not questioning anything? Freedom of this; freedom of that… Did I put my reverence on a shelf then and forget about it?

During the ages of 18 thru 22 I lived with my grandmother. I was grown so I came and went as most grown “kids” think they can do. My Saturdays usually extended over into Sunday so for me Sundays were considered as MY day. However my grandmother, a devout Christian that I often saw reading her Bible daily and praying on her knees constantly, had several Sunday rules that no one dared to cross – one was no washing clothes on Sunday. This was God’s day…In her house if they hadn’t been washed Monday thru Saturday then they wouldn’t be washed on Sunday either. This was a small thing but for her it was her reverence. For my grandmother there were certain things that just had to be, no question, simply because of her respect for God.

Where oh where have my reverence gone…oh where oh where can it be? The Lord’s still here but my reverence is gone – and nobody’s moved it but me…Sunday, my day of worship, it shouldn’t be like my Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday. Sundays should be SPECIAL. The day that I worship should be the day when I release all of the hell that I’ve endured all week into the Hands of the Father and then allow Him to replenish my soul. It should be the day when, like back in the days of my grandmother, I should come in with a calmer spirit thankful for God’s grace and mercy; a day of peace and a day of rest. It is the day that should be set apart from the normal days of running to and fro, set apart from sending and answering emails on the BlackBerry, set apart from having a glass of wine or a cocktail or two with friends, a day set apart from allowing something or someone to make you angry enough to do as Peter and say a bad word or two. Yes everyday must be a day of reverence, but Sundays must be different; it must be a true day of REVERENCE. It must be a day to give back to God the respect that He so lovingly has given to me. Hmm…God deserves my respect, that’s the least I can do - so now that I know better, I must do better… TGBTG

~Stay Prayed Up! CLICK ON THE LINK