Oh God!

The country is at war. There are rumors of more. Threats of bombings. Healthcare disparities. Mass layoffs. Murders. Addiction. Environmental injustice. Racial tensions. The other day, I was watching a clip of a conservative influencer on Instagram where she said that Jesus was White. Yes, that Jesus...of NAZARETH! The current state of things has me wondering what God must be thinking. I mean, nothing is new under the sun, and He knows all things, but he has to be like, "What is wrong with these people?! I gave them my only son and a book for guidance, and they still can not get it together!" I hate to be morbid, but I even think about judgment day. P is Muslim, and he says that the judgment starts as soon as you die. I imagine going up to the Heaven line and hearing God yelling at souls, saying things like, "I never said that!" "Now you are reaching!" "Your skin color is just your skin color! How were you judging folks off of it?!" "Duh! What did you think I meant when I said you were all my children?" I bet the fear and shame will be thick enough to cut with a knife. 

I guess nothing will get you thinking about the afterlife like social decline and unrest. My old minister once asked what we would do if we came to church and our lives were being shown on a big screen, even our private moments? If I get to the pearly gates and God has a big old flat screen and a remote, I am going to scream! 

No one in my circle is unimpacted by the current state of affairs. Yet, it is easy to feel helpless because it feels like there is nothing to be done, and we all have to wait out the crazy. You can't think about all the bad things all of the time, but you can't ignore them either. So what is the verdict for the God-fearing girl who has high anxiety about the afterlife but who also enjoys a good little white lie every now and again? I guess all that is left is prayer. I'm so desperate to see a change in what is going on that I may even pray to White Jesus as well. 

The Flo Jo Theory

 As I have told you all before, I am ASTOUNDED that I am not one of those people who is completely unphased by death. I spent my childhood handing out with my old grandma and her old friends at a senior independent living facility. Someone she knew was always dying. And it was never really a sad occasion. Grandma and her friends would hear the news about someone who died in their sleep or had a heart attack, and they'd shake their heads, talk about what a shame that was, and go back to their ceramics. Being in that environment, I was completely death-jaded. It just felt like something you did, like picking up groceries or washing your clothes. 

Now, as I slide into middle age, I feel like I am as mature about death as I should have been then. When the avalanche of death hit my family, I was confused and irritated as if death was yet another subscription service that I didn't want to be a part of but was enrolled in. Yet as we know, death is not Hello Fresh, it's a scary, inevitable thing. 

That brings me to Ms. Nadine. She was a 40-something year old woman who attended my church. I e-met her during the pandemic when we were all going to church via Zoom. She was in my prayer group and was a very nice, perky lady. She was a mother and a caregiver to her mother who had Alzheimer's. And this woman had a heart for God. The joy she had after she got baptized. Let me tell you, you could feel the sunshine in her eyes through the computer screen. There was no way you could tell that she was in horrible, excruciating pain, but she was. One minute, she mentioned that she had bad stomach pains during a prayer call. Soon after that, I prayed with her about it in the wee hours of the morning. She was in so much pain, she couldn't sleep. Soon after that, she found out that she had stomach cancer that was spreading. We all prayed for her. She prayed on her own. Her family prayed. She died a couple of weeks ago. 

She was in a lot of pain after a long time of chemo treatments. The last time I saw her was Easter, and she had lost so much weight that I didn't immediately recognize her. Look, I get that people die. That I will die. That the people I love will die. But what I can't wrap my mind around is the attitude about death that the Christians in my life have. 

"I just called to tell you that Ms. Nadine has lost the race," my spiritual mentor told me. I honest to God didn't know what she was talking about. Then at church during a dedication the prayer group put together, the attitude was that she had now won the race because she was Jesus. It took everything I had not to boo my minister. Won the race? I think that Ms. Nadine would have liked to be healthy and alive to live and spend more time with her family, not pulling a Flo Jo in an imaginary sprint! I mean, what is wrong with people?! 

I am having hard time with people. Ms. Nadine was a sweetheart who is dead. Meanwhile, there is some pedophile serial killer out there on a beach vaykay and living his best life. It seems to get more confusing for me with each death of a loved one that I experience. I am not sure what to do. I guess I should keep a bag packed with sweats and a pair of Nikes, just in case I myself have to make a spiritual run for it. 

Elevation Hateration

I have been soliciting a lot of prayers lately. Y'all, I am trying to get on the good foot in regards to my life. For four years, I feel like I have been emotionally and professionally all over the place, moving at the speed of an empty plastic bag sailing across a Wal-Mart parking lot. In less than five months I will be thirty-five and some things have to change. So I am praying for direction, job offers, income, confidence, and healthy hair- all the things needed to get my life back on the right track. And I was asking those closest to me to pray for this on my behalf. But my friend Twin warned against this.
Twin is one of the many non-related aunties in my life. She is in her late 40s, looks 30, keeps her skin hydrated, is one of the last Black women to still get perms, and she is about as holy as they come. When I saw her recently, I asked her to pray me up some good opportunities, and she said she would, but warned me against asking too many people.
"You have to watch who you ask to pray for you, because everybody don't have your best interest at heart," she warned, pointing her acrylic nail in my face with the seriousness and steadiness of an old bayu witch .
Hm. This was interesting to me, because I had been thinking that the more prayers going up on my behalf, the better. It never occurred to me that there could be someone out there trying to spiritually sabotage me.
But over the years, I have suspected that there were people in my life that were happy that I am a have-not. I have been told by people I shared this with to confront these "friends" about this, but how do you ask someone who you otherwise love if they want you to fail?
Sadly, going over the list in my head recently, I realized that the list has gotten longer since the last time I did it in my head, which made me sad. How am I attracting people into my life that don't want me to shine?
That is a question for another day. For now, I am praying like I have never prayed before for money and miracles. I even asked my mom in Heaven to give me a referral. I will let you know how this pans out, but you can't share it with the haters.

The Grieving Posts 4: The Jesus Piece

The other day I woke up feeling particularly upset about my mom, so I rolled over and texted P. It was very, very early and since he is a nurse that works those crazy nurse hours, I knew he was awake. I vomited all my emotions about everything in this text that was very long, and his response was simply, "You need to pray to Allah." Ugh! With his devout Muslim self. I should have known that was going to be his response.
For some reason, I was taken back to earlier last year when I talked to my friend Gail. She had been through it over the past few years. I am talking bad relationships, car repossessions, lost jobs, etc. When she called me, it sounded like the sun was finally coming out in her life. Seeing that she has always been a Super Christian, I said, "Don't forget to thank God for seeing you through." That is when she dropped a bomb on me: she is now practicing Santeria.
I wanted to be respectful of what she had just said, but I was still like, "What?!" This is a girl that was so God-fearing that she was afraid to do anything! She had once given me a stern talking to because I had told her I had had a conversation with some Mormons. Now she's gettin' Babalawo with it? It didn't make any sense. So, she went on to explain why she was beginning to practice and it all boiled down to her wanting to feel in control of her destiny and not wanting to feel like she was just a pawn at God's will. I understood what she was saying, but it also sounded like she was mad a God.
Yes, I lost my mom, but I'm not mad at God. I understand that as hurtful as this all is, it is all part of the cycle of life. However, I also do not feel like praying as P suggested either because I know that God knows what is going on. I have always felt connected to Him, so I also know that he knows how I am feeling. I am still praying to God for a good job. I am still praying for more money. I am still praying for a better hairstyle for my facial shape and a one-term Trump presidency, but for some reason, I just can't pray on my mom or anything that has to do with her.When the doctors came into the waiting area and told us that she had died, I prayed that He would let her into Heaven. Maybe that was all the conversation that He and I needed to have. Who knows? I'm no theologian, just a girl trying to deal.

The Delivery Prayer

Disconnect, the dude that didn't call me back, just texted me requesting sexts after being silent for over two weeks. If I rolled my eyes any harder I think my pupils would bleed. I will be 29 in less than a month. I don't really care what is in fashion in the dating world. I am WAY too old for this. God, deliver me from my loneliness in 2014 so that I no longer attract and entertain losers. May my confidence and high self esteem give off a foul odor that repels no-good men for miles. Give me the strength to be able to tolerate solitude if it means being spared foolishness. In your son's name I pray, Amen.

Water Worries

I don't feel like a big enough deal has been made about the brain-eating amoeba that was found in water in Louisiana a few days ago. It has had me scared to shower and drink water! Apparently that water is safe, as long as you don't get it in your nose. I don't know how that works so of course, I don't trust it.
I cracked yesterday. I had to have some water after nearly a week of hydrating on juice and Mike's Hard Lemonade. I have to say, I don't feel dizzy anymore.
As if I didn't have enough fears without brain-eating amoebas walking around. I guess I have to pray over the water like I do everything else in my life so it won't kill me. Man, this prayer book is getting FULL!

Bad Christian

Question: is it bad that the first sincere prayer that I have had in ages is praying that Faux-Mega would get off work early and answer my text to come over and make out? Sigh, I feel like it is. I know that it is. Unacceptable.

Say A Little Prayer

I woke up and realized that I have not prayed in a really long time. That could have a little something to do with why I feel like I am just being kicked through life. Not a good feeling. I pretty much feel like anything can happen, more so bad than good. At any moment, I am prepared to get the bit of bad news that will drive me to the cry of the century.
I wish I was six again. I felt so connected to God. When I prayed, I really feel like someone was listening. Now, I look at my situation and my bank accounts and don't feel a need to pray, because it is obvious that there is no connection- that there is no one there. And this is pretty shitty, because I have ALWAYS felt like God had my back.
Even in high school, I used to feel like God would whisper little warnings in my ear like be careful, don't eat that, be cool. Now, I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't.
The Taji and Connie situation is just one example of how jealous and nitpicky I am becoming. Again, another little character trait (besides consistent crying and bitterness) that I attribute to distancing myself from Him.
Today I will meditate. I have got to get this relationship back on course. Feeling Godless is a whole other level of lonely I would prefer not to stay in.

Thou Shall Not Text

When I was younger, I saw the Behind The Music of The Go-Gos. You know, the 80s group that sang "We've Got The Beat"? Well, even though they were really cute, most of the girls in the group were on coke really heavy, and one of them was addicted to heroin. She fell in love, went to rehab, and she said that first weekend that she was home she prayed the whole time. So hard, in fact, that her knuckles turned white. She was pleading with God to help her keep it together so that she wouldn't use. After that weekend she said that she never had a desire to use again. I liken the way she must have felt that weekend to how I felt yesterday trying my HARDEST not to text Faux-Mega.
Texting him would have been a bad idea for a shitload of reasons. One being that I already texted him last week, he should text me so I don't look as desperate as I feel. Second, I don't think he's meant to be in life. Texting him would have been a clear reaction of my hormones. And third, waiting for him to text me would have literally driven me mad!
But that doesn't mean that I didn't want a text from him though. I swear guys, I stared at that phone. I prayed over that phone. I did an Indian rain dance around the phone. I went through my messages and made sure I didn't overlook one.
I found myself pulling a Go-Go and just begging God to dismiss the urge to contact him from my system. I feel that God agreed that the whole sitch was a mess, and that I needed to just throw in the towel. So God, being the peach that He is, occupied my time by allowing me to talk to other friends.
The only difference between me and the Go-Go girl is that when the worst was over, I still kind of wanted to text him. This just proves my unwritten theory that heroin is easier to kick than a crush.

Today I tried to pray for myself. I bowed my head, but I didn't think anything. I didn't hear anything, and I didn't feel like anyone was listening. There was nothing to say. I feel like everything is...obvious. I feel like the connection with God that I have tried to strengthen over the past year is shattering as everything becomes increasingly more shitty. I don't know what to do. I don't know if I want to do anything. Overall, I just don't know, and that is just going to have to do for right now I guess.

The Jesus Piece

Do you remember me telling you guys that I was getting back on the God wagon? I'm not going to go into detail, but I will say that I have somewhat fallen off the wagon and plummetted to the ground.
Why? I guess I am just annoyed. I know that I should pray and all, but I also know that God knows what I need, and I am kind of peeved that I have to go to him when he can see that my life is in the shitter. And no, I don't think that he has forgotten about me. His love for me is clear. But my family has been evicted. They are living in an extended day motel. My mom has been unemployed for two years. My brother is in college and consistently a thousand dollars away from having to come home. On top of this, my face is breaking out. All I want to know is...WHEN IS HE GOING TO STEP IN ALREADY??? I guess I have to pray about it.

Plane Pain

It is time for me to do the traveling for my job again, and it's back to the same ol' bullshit. The other day I worked the elliptical so hard to burn some fat before my flight that I felt like I was going to throw up! I don't think that I have gained weight. I can still fit all my old clothes, but that doesn't say anything. By the grace of God I am still able to SQUEEZE into this T-shirt I got in the 8th grade.
Oh, woe is me! I hate having to worry about this! I can't honestly say that I hate being fat. Probably because it's all I know and because I'm really cute. But I do hate some of the bull that comes with it, like not being able to buy cute, cheap bras from Wal-Mart and having to worry about being kicked off planes.
My friends have told me not to worry about it because I got on last year, no problems. But it's still a scary thought, and unfortunately, they simply are not in the position to even wrap their sweet heads around it.
So I solicit my readers to pray for me! Pay that come Thursday morn', I get on that plane no matter how bad it HURTS, no one gives me any shit, and I have a fun and safe trip. Thanks bunches, and I will let you know either way.

Pray About It

Lately I have been scared to pray. Not sure why. I'm guessing because I just assume that God is tired of hearing the same bullshit from me. "Get me out of here!" "Give me a high score on the GRE even though I didn't really study." "Send me a man!" "Let this infection clear up on its own," and blah, blah, blah.
Then today I read my friend Quinton's status and he said that he didn't think he was praying enough.
I don't think, I know that I am not praying enough, and oddly enough I blame J.C...Jesus Christ if you're nasty. Get it? Janet Jackson? Never mind.
When I was a kid I prayed every night for no other reason than my grandma told me to. She was so persistent about it that I figured that if I didn't pray something bad would happen. So one day I decided I wouldn't pray, and I didn't for like a week. And after I didn't die, I just decided to pray whenever I felt good and damn ready. I wish that I would have had a random pain or witnessed a car crash or something that would have ran me back to my knees with my hands clasped and eyes closed.
Besides the faith lost as a child, I hate asking for things. I mean, isn't God supposed to know everything? My grandmother has Alzheimer's. I fear that my Aunt is going to kick my family out of her house and I will have to sell my ass in order to pay for my family to live in an extended stay hotel as well as to buy us prepackaged grits to eat for all three meals. My mom is unemployed. Plus I'm always tired and I live in consistent fear of life pretty much and feel that I am just two seconds away from a breakdown...if I had the energy to have one. Dare I pose the question, but how shitty does shit have to get before God steps in?
Man...that question gave me the chills. Sorry God, I was just jivin'.
Once my friend Frances described God as a really cool boyfriend. If this is the case, I'm in trouble. I'm like the worst girlfriend on the books. I nag. He gives and I take and take and take, rarely a thank you. I don't introduce him to my friends and I ALWAYS question his whereabouts. He satisfies me and I don't reciprocate. OK, maybe that one went a bit too far, but you get the drift. Hopefully, he doesn't dump me.
Well, today I talked to my buddy Rae that has hit some hard times. She was telling me all what is going on in her life, and I didn't know what to tell her, so I told her to pray about it. Now I have always hated it when people told me that. I always felt like people who tell you that just don't have any good advice and think that saying that makes them sound profound. But with all that's going on in life and in the world in general, I found that I told her to pray about it because there is literally nothing left to do.