My Way of Growing Up

This was me four years ago, trying to find my way.

Why didn't anyone tell me that growing up would look like this?

Or was that what all of them were talking about when they said that someday I would understand?

All of a sudden, all the things I thought I'd never own I need,

And all the things I need, I find myself without.

2 bowls aren't enough because what if I have company?

Banking is now online so I can know how close I am to broke,

And I hear the words "good investment" as I stare at a $376 dresser.

I'm not as angry as I was in college,

But then again, I don't think I laugh as much either.

A nap seems like wasting time,

And fellowship is restricted to Starbucks.

Calling a guy a "friend" is now deemed a breakup,

But as time passes, the more I appreciate those "friends."

I want to be sexy, I want to attract a male,

But I don't want to wear pants that I have to pull up and shirts that I have to pull down.

At this age I should be drinking coffee,

But honestly I still like hot chocolate.

I wash my sheets and towels because I am supposed to,

But my unfolded clothes lay over my neatly made bed.

Everyone seems to want to lend me money,

But no one is calling to offer me a job.

I now floss and take vitamins,

But I hate that my planner is now as important as my running shoes.

I don't know what NASDAQ stands for,

But then again I can't name all the seven dwarfs either.

I researched doctors and insurance,

But I lost my passport.

With all this change, all this "growing up" something else in me is growing.

I am asking God no longer why, but where?

Where is He and how can I join?

So instead of leading, I am now listening.

Instead of wandering, I am searching.

But to leave, I would have to rent a storage unit.

And it broke my heart when I had to buy a hitch.

I don't know what it means to let go,

But I'm not sure I know how to hold on.

I don't like the teenaged shows anymore,

But I don't think I really like the news either.

I feel heaviness in my chest when I think about Iraq,

But I've learned to look people in the eye when I say I love you.

I used to make fun of my dad for not knowing any of the current songs,

Now I find myself turning the radio off.

I'm not sure things will ever be the same,

But for some reason, maybe that's ok.

I don't dance as much when I worship,

But I now kneel when I pray.

This quarter life thing,

It's worse, but it's better than anyone said.

So bring on the fine print and kitchen appliances,

I'm not afraid.

Cause the secret's out.

I can dance in front of the mirror, I don't have to stop.

And heaven gets closer with time.

So I'll ask God for direction,

And I'll accept the answer, being ok with my part.

But I still want my tiara on my wedding day

And I want to wear rubber shoes when I'm 80.

I'll smile, when I say "someday you'll understand."

Cause maybe that's what God could be saying too.

The Artist

Well hey, the boy said to the artist girl. I haven’t seen you around here in a while. I thought you might have lost it.

Lost what? she said. He really didn’t know what he meant by that so he changed the subject.

What are you painting, he asked.

A boat she said. In the age of contemporary art dripping with symbolism and clever visual sarcasm, he again didn’t know how to respond.

A boat, he repeated. You mean a ship.

No, I mean a boat. A small, broken normal wooden boat she said.

Oh you mean like an old, antique, boat floating in the weeds, he added. I get it, you are going for that whole classic appeal.

No, I don’t even think I am going to do the background. I just wanted to paint this boat that I remember seeing as a kid she said.

But that is so plain and boring, he said. What are you trying to express?

I’m not trying to say anything anymore, she said. I really just thought it might be fun to paint a boat. And this is the first painting I have ever imagined finishing she added. I just want to paint something small and ordinary because sometimes, I just don’t have a masterpiece in me.

A boat huh, he said. Sounds like you’ve lost your passion.

Yeah, I think I have, she said. But I gained a life. Something has changed in me…art is a way I worship, it is not what I worship now, she said. And when I figured that out, my paintings got smaller, and I didn’t need to always remind people that I am an artist. I haven’t painted much lately, but this morning I decided to come back here. Cause I knew I could finally be used to express what I have seen…and sometimes, I just see a boat.

It’s a really good boat he said.

You want it, she asked.

No, I’m an abstract kind of guy he said.

Really, she said. I used to think I was too, till I finally figured out I was just scared that what I saw, when I looked at the world was not enough.

He thought about it. You seem different, he said.

She smiled a little.

You would paint better if you took all that jewelry off, she said. Your hands would be free.

You know its not about the painting right? He asked.

There was a long pause.

My real name is John. But I hated it cause it was like everyone else, so I changed it when I came to college, he said. Its amazing how easy it is to get even a new name.

Yeah I know, she said. Hey John, you want to go on the swings in the park?

I haven’t been on a swing since I was a kid, he thought. Yeah, but don’t you want to finish your boat? He asked.

No, I want to swing, she said.

The two artists became two people who wanted to swing…and somehow that was more than enough.

Dec. 6, 2005

1. One of the scariest times in life is when you realize that in order to make room to learn something, you must accept that there is a place in you that must first not know.

2. That just because something is good and right, that does not mean that I must have it as a part of my identity.

3. Sometimes I can’t decide if my reaction was complete immaturity or a step towards wisdom. But for some reason, I don’t think I need to act as old as I thought.

4. I do my best thinking in flip flops.

5. Almost every attribute I admire, looked at from a different perspective can be seen in a negative light. Confidence or cockiness, peace or complacent, there has to be a greater standard than just perspective.

6. November 8, 1981 I was born. July 17, 1997 I was born again. And since then, I have been born again and again and again.

7. I heard start of his testimony by saying “When Jesus started saving me…” and I had to find a pencil to write that down.

8. Sometimes I question theology just cause I want someone to ask what’s wrong.

9. I don’t think I would follow a religion where everyone agreed.

10. Pauses in conversation, when used right, can speak more to me than a thousand words.

11. I use extreme language when I am not at peace with being fully loved by God.

12. My life may be smaller than I ever dreamed, but that might not mean it is any less significant.

13. Truly believing that someone will find the right answer is usually much more powerful than offering the right answer.

14. A friendship can usually be measured by how many questions are asked.

15. The only way I am going to meet the man of my dreams is if I follow my dreams and keep dreaming.

16. ist and isms rob me of conversations and make me feel alone.

17. There are a few people who are at peace with who they are, yet hopeful of who they can become. It is those people that I like sitting by.

Going Back Now

I need to get to know myself again. I have lost myself in other people's stories. And while this can sometimes feed my need for being valued, there is something sinful in it all. God worked in me, He fought for parts of me that have been left out and spoiled. However, somewhere, I know that even a piece of grace the size of sand could wash me new.

So before I start writing again, I am going back. I want to see where I've been to help know where I should go...

Feb 22, 2005

King David…he is the refuge of the suffering, the hope of the abandoned, and the strength of the weak. He is a man after God’s own heart, and yet somehow the Christianity that I have adopted does not allow me to learn all that I should from him. Somewhere along the line, I taught myself to pity those of the Old Testament. They were the poor people, sentenced to a life of never ending work camps, without ever seeing pardon. They were on the judgment scale, and weren’t afforded the chance to have Christ come tip the scale with His weighty grace. And yet for some reason that I am not sure, King David kept trying. No one told Him that he would never get there, he just kept getting up after each beating. Did he know something about God’s desires, God’s freedom and His love that I have sold short because of my insecure response to Jesus? Could God like me even before I am smeared with blood? Cause I am convinced that David would have never written like that to a God that he didn’t know truly liked him first.

I am confused about confusion. I have been in intense Christian community for 4 ½ years now, and sometimes wonder if this whole thing is really just a circle and not the line I want it to be. I have noticed that if given enough time and seclusion, Christians will begin to pick on each other if they don’t have the world to be better than. And many times, when a person is picking on the church, a pastor, or even a friend, they are just desperately wanting you to look them straight in the eye and say they are ok. No, that pastor isn’t wrong, but it isn’t wrong to be confused either.

It has been good for me to live on my own. Even at Taylor, I was living with people that I took classes with. There very rarely was an experience or emotion that I had to go through alone. But now, there are times that things happen to me that will go unnoticed. Its not that I am not in community, or that I don’t have people that care. And I wasn’t ok with that, didn’t know how I could still be valuable without being witnessed. Then I thought about cranberries…

From my understanding, cranberries are put into a lake and the best ones float. So time and balance sort out what is the best. I don’t know if it is laziness or maturity that has lead me to this state, but now, when someone criticizes me, or when I have this whole new thought, I find myself putting it in the lake and pushing it away, because I know if it is meant to be kept and cherished, it will float.

This may seem lonely; well actually it is. There are nights where prayer becomes my proof of existence, but then again, it gives life a new value. This isn’t just a sea of events and I am not a victim of my relationships…I can live with a little more confidence and security than that. Every thought, every reaction and sermon is a cranberry. Once and a while, I get to go and collect, and those are the good ones. Those are the ones that I get to share, laugh and build a life with. I can now love a person that isn’t with me every day, because I am saving for them the ones that fought to be saved. (yeah so we all know I am not there yet, but hey, if I say it, then maybe I am a little closer)

One last thought. I have given much consideration lately to myself. Due to the nature of my personality, my environment, or my ministry, however you look at it, I seem to always be experiencing something. The term “being ok with not being ok” was spoke to me recently with power. But also, I began to doubt even what all of us are trying for. In the secular world, I am taught that I should accept myself. African Americans have an identity, it is ok to be preppy, you can embrace your femininity, and anything from being smart to being a blonde bimbo can be accepted. You just need to find the right amount of insecurity matched with confidence, and people will open their arms. Then I became a Christian and somehow I begin to get this picture of what a perfect believer looks like. So I begin the dichotomy of loving a hating myself at the same time. I am a sinner, doomed to disappoint and living with a need of salvation. I am fallen, I am faithless, and yet I am a new creation and His tool. So many times I walk out of a church so full of self involved love and hate, that I look around and find the same thing…people in desperate need of just saying I am ok. Instead, I am left with trying to convince a 16 year old to leave her supportive alternative friends, who say she is ok with black hair and piercings, for a life of constant disdain and dissatisfaction. Is it ok to be ok? Because if anyone through the “be humble” card to me, I might run out of the room screaming.

I come back to David. He hadn’t seen Christ yet, well at least not like we got to see. And yet, somehow, sin and all, he still felt valuable enough to come back to God. Maybe, Christ wasn’t meant to give us an example so that we could have an unobtainable model of perfection that we could forever quote and use to stand on. Maybe, we would have known our need for God, even without ministers always pointing out our sin, because we would have known we were already liked.

Its not that I don’t love Christ deeply. It is that I am tired of seeing Him used to fill our insecurity. I am tired of thinking there is one perfect church, minister or Christian out there…cause as far as I am concerned, I think Jesus was here a while ago…and a lot of us are really trying.

So I am either going to be confident or cocky, assertive or overbearing, funny or inappropriate, insightful or a drama queen…but ya know what, maybe that’s ok. Maybe I won’t know if a lot of my personality was ever right, but maybe me not knowing makes me ok with returning to God again and again. Would I come to Christ even if I knew possibly I could get to heaven without him? I know that is a dangerous question…but I still think I would. Cause I would like Christ, and I would see that He was so much bigger than what I could have imagined.

I saw the Wedding Planner. Yeah, it was on Valentine’s Day too. And this guy that is an “escort” looks at the girl and says “I would rather be fighting with you than having sex with anyone else.” I thought of what an incredible prayer that would be. Is it ok to have an escort be your mouthpiece to God? Cause for some reason, I am more than ok with that.

My Beginning...

Somehow, I am going to go directly back in time, find my tender heart, and walk it forward to the present. I am going to search and pray until I find the part in me that was once where God lived. I'm not doing this because it feels good or because it allows me to be valued, liked even. I am doing this because I know I will never love the people I love as I should, never even know or value myself, if I do not reclaim my sacred ground.

I have feeling it will hurt. Even coming to grips with what I have lost makes my chest hurt. But through sacrifice, through my offering of time, I pray that I will return to the path of my story, to the woman God had in mind when He made me. Like a child sensing her mother walk into the room, I too feel God watching and waiting patiently. Could it be that finally, I am ready...