Intimately Worded with Michelle

Category: God’s purpose

  • Rejection…#BeginAgain

    heart   Life is anything but simple. It would seem only the elders have the answers. When I inquire of their wisdom: “Pray about it.”  “God is there.” Moreover, “You’ve lived through worse.” Great words. True affirmations. Life is still a working complication. No one has the answers to “but why?”

    I am walking, working, faith-ing in crisis mode. I have been for the last few years. Truthfully, each day is a battle. We fight in so many battles. Frankly, I am pretty worn out. My heart hurts. My faith has a little thread showing that keeps being pulled…you know the one piece that if you keep pulling, it will pull the entire garment apart. That is where I am– a place where I am continuously pushed into, the fighting with faith corner.

    I do not think I have any difficulty in learning life’s lessons. I find it difficult to believe my journey is more special than anyone else. Yet for God’s sake, what more do I need to learn? (Rhetorical.)

    Incidently, I do not think love is very tricky. I think the responsibility of it; how we carry it, is the intended lesson. My youngest is nine years old. He is the bravest person I know. What weakens me is his tears, his worries. How he will crawl into bed with me and squeeze me tight, crying because he does not want to lose me. He does not want me to die. I realize I am his world. I am all he has. The one he believes in. #singlemother

    Yet, I cannot promise him that I will be here to see his children. I promise him that I will do better about taking care of myself. My whole self. I shoulder the responsibility of his heart. His and all my children. It is just us and has been just us for the longest.

    I am happy that I am not a bitter, cold person. I think life is too short to become that type of person. I am not anyone’s doormat either. All I have experienced in life either by choice or by God’s design, I will admit I am the better for it. I have to actualize and acknowledge that I am the better for it.

    #Gogettr is my tagged license plate. It took awhile for me to decide on that term. It was after the divorce, after the custody battles, before Darius’ diagnosis, after Momma died, after the partial hysterectomy before unemployment and now, now, it complements the blank canvas to begin a new life at 45 years old.

    Last week three situations happened that circle my faith: Tuesday, an educated man, doctorate degree greets me on the elevator: “So you are #Gogettr?” I look at him confused. Him: “Your license plate. It fits you. That is you.” I smile. He does not know my heart is broken and that my idea of love has become disillusioned. Later, I look up Cambridge’s definition of go-getter:  someone who is very energetic, determined to be successful, and able to deal with new or difficult situations easily. I nod my head in agreement and think, hmmm, a spiritual prognosis. Only me.

    Friday morning, in training class on Person Centered Therapy, my table partner says: “You are amazing. You are beautiful. Your faith moves me. I can see it.”  His words make my life seem real, my faith tangible. Yet he amazes me because this stranger, this white man, married, a father, former military and in law enforcement makes me feel safe. I have not felt safe in a long time.

    Then there is my client, a businessman who initially approached me about working with him. Friday afternoon, I questioned him on me becoming self-employed, taking more classes. I told him I never saw myself that way, outside of being a licensed counselor and published writer. He responds: “You are smart. I can tell how you carry yourself in conversations. I am from the street. I have no clue about the field you want to go into but I will support you. Job loss after 15 years of service!! This is fate. Believe in yourself. Get out there. Learn all you can. Knowledge is power. God has a purpose for all of this.” He is my one and only client. He has no idea how he has affected my life but every meeting he tells me how he is grateful for me.

    It would be a lie if I tell you that I am walking on sunshine and I see rainbows after every storm. I will not tell you that because I do not. I am more reactive where I should be proactive in faith. The more I wail and cry silently the more God sends solidifying proof that He is working and all of this is for my good.

    Rejection: I think rejection is by far one of the greatest emotional hurdles of life. It happens to the best, the innocent and in every aspect of life. Knowing this does not make the acceptance of rejection easier, nor the pain tolerable. Everything we know of ourselves comes under self-scrutiny; from the size of our waist to how many inches our eyes are spaced apart. Our waistline we can control with great discipline but the latter we have no say.

    Demoralizing our self-worth, trying to understand the reasons we experience rejection is a tedious meaningless task and we give it so much work and so much energy. It is self-defeating. Advice from others, those little cliches vex me so. For example, “Hurt people hurt people.” So asinine. “Don’t have any expectations.” Now that is just plain stupid. “Let it go.” Whatever, you try it.

    I want a time where I can rest. Resting in God. I got it. Love Him, I do. Yet for once just once in this lifetime I want to rest in a pair of manly arms that refuse to let me go, to let me hurt. Arms that will let me rest, finally.

    I think I grieve effectively…smh, I even grieve with hope. As a writer, I write it out. As a mother, I pray it out. As a grad student, a counselor I still pray it out. Of all the heels, I have to wear I still pray it out to the One who was rejected by all. How ironic faith is, a conundrum paradox. God’s mending extends our strength. I encourage you not to settle. I promise not to either. Chin up. Keep it moving. There is great power in next. 🙂

    Let us begin again,

    Gogettr aka Michelle.

    Kisses!

     

  • You are beautiful

     

    I have this intrinsic viewpoint of myself. I believe it to be more humble than critical, an innocent naiveté. I speak and communicate with strangers yet it still blows my mind when others want to be a part of my world. All right, I rip myself apart. You do too. I am friendly enough, very independent and make my own way but not at the expense of others.

    I have been teaching for the last three months. I have prepared myself so that I will not fall in love with these teenagers. My expectation when transitioning to teaching was and is to gain their respect not to be their friend nor to gain love. My big picture is to finish graduate school, pass the exam and achieve licensure as a counselor. I am a year and half away from the complete process.

    I enter the teaching field based on a suggestion, good advice, a solid “to do” until graduate school is completed. My wall is up, my heart guarded and my emotions are in check. I want you to know these children, these teens that are deemed “at-risk”, who are less than respectful, that are mean, they are hurtful and hurting….they come find me now. They seek me out. The ones I have had removed from the classroom. The same ones who call me names, the ones who walk out of the classroom, and the ones who have fought one another in front of me…..they purposely come find me in this huge school. It is a new semester and I have a free fourth block every other day. It is my planning period. I expect them to ask me for something or to do something and I hear, “We don’t want anything. We miss you. You mind if we sit in here with you?” I breathe, we sit, and they talk. My heart melts….I have no clue why they want to be here with me. The children that are expelled….referred over to alternative school they search for little ole me. They come in between classes to speak, to give a hug, to smile and just to let me know they made it to school. It truly amazes me.

    I have teen females telling me their troubles. How being girls in their household leads to violent acts, how they are touched inappropriately and how, “Mom has had three different boyfriends. She is pregnant now.” They tell me how being gay and sexually active at 14 years old is, “what I know. I know how men are. I see what my mom goes through. How she takes his side. How she did not come out her room when he was beating me. She threw me out. I mean I’m back now and he is gone.” Her head down and my response: “Our children should come first.” Her: “We should.” I just hug her because I do not know what else to do. I want to bring her home with me. Not just her, all of them. Oh how my heart aches for they go right back into the same environment.

    As a counselor, as a mother I know how to do this. As a teacher, I am amazed, blindsided, lost, and heartbroken. I have so many questions. This hurt, their hurt is on a grand scale and it is a lot of them. Her story is not new to me and her story has happened to so many of them in this school. I completed an essay and had an open discussion with my professor. I ask, “Why do they share with me? I do not know them. They are students not necessarily mine. I just got there.” Her response: “You are trusting. That is what they see. You’ll figure out what to do.”

    While I am trying to figure out the best way to aid, help, assist who I am does not stop becoming, does not stop progressing. My soul stretches. The gray hair multiplies before my next salon appointment. I tend to wear my glasses more than my contacts. (I think they hide my crying, red eyes better.) I do not see any increased worry lines. I still manage to smile. I have to. I love on my children even the more. I am ever so grateful for my parents, my family and my extended family.

    Wednesday of this week, I am waiting in the line at the grocery store talking with my Brutus, my youngest son. An older woman walks up to me: “I love your hair. I absolutely love it. You know we spend so much money on our hair. I know you not spending $300.00 on this and it is beautiful. Do not change. God has blessed us as a people with so much and we try our best to make it into something else. I have dreads and people do not even do that naturally anymore. We so quick to hop away from us. This is what I love to see. I am not going to stop at your hair. I looked at your skirt, beautiful. Your shoes, beautiful. You are doing it and doing it divinely. I had to come and speak to you. I watched you talk to your son. You, your you is just beautiful. Keep it up. Don’t change!” I thank her tremendously. Yet, I still wonder why she and others open up to me. I tell my daughter the conversation and I ask her, “Women will compliment me quicker than men. This woman compliments me and I turn heads but not one man spoke to me. Why is that?” My Autumn, (she is 12) hunches her shoulders: “She is right. You are attractive Momma. Maybe men see more and are intimidated.” My resolve, she is watching me too.

    We reflect what we want to portray yet it is what others see that is /will be our greatest impact. Continue to believe more of who you are rather than in what you are trying to do. God has this God-way of making it all work for our good. Your efforts will impact, direct lives to overcome, have others stand strong, motivate change and encourage others not to quit.Be beautiful in every way. Let them see you, your beautiful you.

    Light the way,

    A.Michelle!

  • Something New, Teaching.

    Last week I began teaching teenagers in our public school system. I was so scared, still am. At times, I still believe this something new is all going too fast. This something new has affected all facets of my life. My life is changing. Things are different. I am different…softer in my approach or retaliation to others. There is so much training on what not to do that it is easy to lose focus on how we are to be….with children. They are children, little people trying to figure It out too—so many of them without any help.

    Teaching is not a role new to me. It was never a desire of mine to teach. My parents told me I was good at it. As teens, we believe parents tell us what we can do because they love us. However, teaching requires a great sense of responsibility and that I did not want. When the thought of teaching Sunday School became more than just a thought I fought against it with so many belittling reasons. I am not good enough. Who am I? Why me? I am not smart enough. The greatest one, if I teach I truly have to live what I am teaching. Lol! Every night of training, I had to push myself to go into class and each night as I was leaving I cried the whole way home. Three years later, the butterflies are still there but the love I have for learning and being able to influence others toward God’s love quietens the fluttering.

    When I started this job, every morning as I traveled toward school, I prayed for strength and protection. Every afternoon, while leaving I thanked God for strength and protection. Whew, I made it! While driving home I reflected on each day and I smiled. I wanted more. I am still smiling now. They grabbed my heart. Those children, other people’s kids grabbed my heart. They have given me the greatest hope and that is of finding ways to influence their lives. Yes, they are at times loud, sneaky, disrespectful, and cautious and closed off. Yet, for those few, there are more who just want you to listen, encourage, show concern, and hear them.

    Oh these little minions are easy peasy versus warring with God about my personal preferences. Finding my way and living out my life well that is the hard part. Becoming a better person while in a difficult transition requires brutal self-honesty. Learning to love where God has you requires dependency, trust, faith, forgiveness, hope, determination…..and so much more.

    My something new reminds me how God loves on purpose. A former colleague and a great female leader emailed me when she knew I was teaching: “Doing something you have passion for is the true key to success!!!” She is right. Be encouraged.

    Always be ever expecting in God’s better.

    Writer-Mom-Child Advocate-Blogger-Teacher,

    ~A.Michelle

  • Seasons of Change

    ​Our stories are written, predestined. When we believe and begin to live in our story the Universe unveils itself. As we live, we recommit to being the people He purposes us to be. Two thousand fifteen has been exhilarating, excruciating, full of loss and of redemptive hope and perseverance. I have cried more this year due to changes. Major changes within my life and within myself. I have gained clarity and confidence in the bleakest of times. I pride myself on living my life by putting one front in front of the other. I keep moving and I keep pushing. So when it was time to sit, to rest, to heal I had no clue how.

    ​A time to heal: ​The physical things that ma​k​e me feel whole, feel ​feminine​ were surgically removed due to years of pain. ​My hysterectomy was ​something​ that shook my core​, my psyche​. ​I had become so accustomed to the pain that not experiencing it anymore was a difficult adjustment. I have this Michelle habit of being independent to the point it can be quite unhealthy emotionally, physically and spiritual. So my recovery took a little longer than I wanted it to be.

    A time to mourn: ​​A week after returning to work ​I lost my job of fifteen years. ​ Mind-blowing to say the least.  I have worked since I was 15 years old. ​Yet, I was able to be home when my children returned from school. Treasured time! I made new friends within my Church. People prayed for me. I realized that although I believe I’m on my own well I’m not. My family, friends and sisters will not let me be.  I lost my job but I have gained so much. ​God directs me so much better than I do Him. I’m listening without questioning. His leadership qualifications are pretty good. (smiling) ​
    ​A time to dance: I ​will begin a new career  that frightens me yet I am happy. God makes a way. Regardless, of how much we don’t want to and how much we struggle with what we fear the most. He makes a way for us to do what He has purposed us to do. He works it all out for our good.
    ​
    ​​This blogging world— ​this community of writers, who have the ability to write their hearts ​ in black and white​ are ​kindred spirits. Worth​y of ​knowing. ​You guys open my world, thank you. ​This experience causes me  to want to read more, write more. Kudos via this social media world: One,  I am
     learning Hebrew via France!  Two, I have connected with a community of entrepreneur women who want to share their stories, reveal to you their successes! Finally, I’m pretty good at this….this blogging thing. (I am smiling.)
    ​

    ​M​y counseling journey is  ever​ phenomenal​; with each course I am told I will be great at it. ​Yet, the responsibility of this profession is daunting. I have this huge heart and I want to “fix” everyone without medication. Love is free…me the idealist. My work as a guardian ad litem increases my love ​ for humanity, for our children and their families. I am unable to break confidentiality and the weight of being loving within a system that is not can often times be soul-wrenching.  My sister-friend Nikki ​advises​, “​The “problem” with people like you (ha ha)  and I is we see and notice things that others sometimes don’t. Human suffering is so personal – even when it is someone we don’t know well, that we end up carrying heavy burdens.  Some might find it a curse but I consider it a gift.” Another confidant, Teacher, Mrs. PhD congratulates me for, “Standing in the gap…” ​​​

    Our world is so much bigger than our individual circumstances; the tangible and the intangible​.  Greater beginnings. If we truly think about it every lesson learned takes us to a new ending. Take  time to find the clues that will help you begin again. Trust me, they are there.

    Resolve & Resolute,
    A.Michelle!
    ​This season, take time for you. I pray you are loved with the love you ​have ​always wished for. I pray if your heart has been broken that you heal lovingly and with the expectation there is more.  I believe we are all connected to ​one another to ​improve, learn and draw from ​each ​other ​for our better.
    

     

  • Crossroads, where I am.

    Phewwy. Yuck. I do not enjoy being here at the moment, in this space. At the Crossroads. At the Crossroads, no, no, no. New Crossroads, a little better for a title I think as I am writing the posted blog. If we pause and truly think about it we all are at a crossroads. We each have to make daily decisions that will impact our tomorrows or with some personal duress, someone else’s. As we try to live in the moment we are also planning, processing, progressing for tomorrow. I know God is intentional. I know that anything we go through and will go through has not taken Him by surprise. Oh, but can I have a physical, touch it, know it plan, Jesus??! Oh, then the scripture of Faith is dropped into my hearing, my spirit.
    My heartbeat in these new crossroads has a rhythmically odd thumpty-thump-oh-my-pause pace. I am uncomfortable in this season of my life. I don’t quite understand it. I am dumbfounded and unable to encourage others. Daily, I would send affirmations via personal email and Facebook to friends and family. My give back from God; a morning aspiration for the past five years. It would seem after all I have done, been through and all that I have tried and am trying to do I should be able to do what I want, get what I want without question. Without this unbelievable stretch of stillness in time. “Be still and Know”….and still I whine, stomp my foot and pull at His shirttail “But God, do you hear me?”
    I am advised to “sit” and hear God. Listen to Him. Pray for the next right move. Yet, I assure you I’ve always tried my best to do that. After twenty-five years of growing up in the country—where we had to travel to another city or town for groceries; where lights and the television were shut off during a storm; where a whooping came like the summer rain, unexpected—sitting still, listening to God is what I would know best.
    I don’t say this to those who encourage me because I would come off sarcastically inept and insensitive. “Have any of my decisions been made without Him?” Whether I was obedient or not, I still made the decision with God in my mind. I did what I wanted knowing God would reprimand me one way or the other. As faithful as He is this free will He gives is the ultimate Aha. Conscious, that Holy Spirit “uh-uh” isn’t funny.
    I have been given the greatest of opportunities: to be home. I take the Little Ones to school. I’m home when the Little Ones get home from school. I am able to write for hours at a time with no interruptions. I am able to help with homework. I am able to do my assigned homework and give my all instead of rushing to complete a 6 page essay on a one hour lunch break. (Grad student. The geekiest fun is a pressured deadline.) I have time to study and enjoy my Bible lessons in order to teach Sunday School. I have Time. Time to fulfill the dreams and opportunities I have always wanted without stress.
    The children are great successes in school. My GPA would make you smile and say proudly, “Well, will you look-a-here.” Yet, here I am stressing, not sleeping, worrying, and crying. I have Time! And I am the most frustrated organized, got-to-have-a-reason-right now, obedient, hopeful, why-me-Lord woman in all the Earth. (That’s my personal opinion.) Oh, I forgot educated. Big sigh.
    My Life! My own individualized because God loves me scratch pad has just been erased. I can’t see. I don’t know! If I knew I could do. I can plan. I can “Michelle” my way. Oh, how I want to “Michelle” my way through this. Oh well. God knows best. He does. I believe that. I know that. I have witnessed it over and over again. New career. New Pastor. New Crossroads, that’s where I am….on the other side of God knows best.

    Walking by Faith trying to See around.

    Me,

    A. Michelle.