Intimately Worded with Michelle

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  • Choose You!

    When my writing reveals more vulnerability than I want to say, my soulfulness caters to my surroundings I cave. I stop writing. My creativity is blocked.  This is the third draft to this post; I began writing it a few days ago.  The walls I have had to build to steady, right my way and block the negativity of others chisels away bit by bit. As a mother, I do it alone. There are greater blessings I am learning in being a single mother. The role is a joy more that it is a hardship. I smile more than I hold on to what ifs. As a teacher, there are days children break my heart yet there are more days when I know the difference in what they see, what they do begins with me. There are no small winnings when teaching for that I am humbled. It is the season of spring, Lent and Resurrection Sunday….new beginnings, time for newness, time for changes.

    This year one of my intentions is to be more open when developing new friendships. Sounds easy enough. What I know: many things I will not entertain, life is just too short. In addition, personal experiences have led me to slot a number of issues as unnecessary.  I do not understand the point of going through unavoidable drama. I refuse to entertain it. We know we “see” crazy before full-blown crazy hits.

    It is ironic that these past few weeks a few good friends have communicated issues in their relationships, seeking my opinion. I am careful not to advise. Cautious in not stating my opinion. I listen, with care. Sunday, in conversation with someone and she feels comfortable enough to share this information concerning her dating wants and issues.  I am open-minded. I do not expound on the matter with negativity. She is 38 to 40 years of age, attractive, confident, Black, a single parent, employed and believes in Christ. Her: “My dating is brief and the sex is always awful. On a first date, this guy picked me up and immediately pulled out a condom once I got in the car. Can you believe that? I still went out with him. It was not worth my time. I got me an ace in the hole. He is my best friend, still. We use to date. I know all about his girlfriends. He is my best friend. Our chemistry is off the chain.”  Me: “Why are you two not together?” Her: “I’m not into women.” Me, naive: “I know you aren’t. Why are you and him not together?” Her: “I’m not into women.” My confusion shows.  Her: “In order to be with him you have to agree to have sex with another woman in front of him. He tells all his girlfriends this from the beginning. They agree to get in then when its time that say no.  Once they disagree to his initial requirement he calls me.”  I am shocked and whisper, “Lord Jesus.” She laughs and goes on to say, “That’s my buddy though. My very best friend. I still see him when I need my fix.” Inwardly, my mind is whirling from all the body fluids just passed around. (Mental vomit.) I did not give any advice. She did not ask. I did not ask any more questions. What I noticed, she was happy when speaking of him. This arrangement, and him, however the prerequisites are this is her comfort zone. Her want. Her happy.

    In my opinion, there is no way her thoughts are connecting with being who she wants to be. Her statement disappointments me greatly, “He’s my best friend.” How? Why? Why settle? Why conform for someone on a part time basis? Their “best friend-sex-ship” has lasted over ten years. I question her requirements on intimacy, privacy and the meaning of best friend. Our population does the excessive for something that has been around since creation. Sex, the pleasure principle! #ego

    The heart is fragile. If our experiences mold, strengthen and at times temporarily break us; why entertain activities that will lead to the demise of who you are and who you want to be?  We all are “being” something, someone; we are in a process of pursuit. The pursuit of prosperity, of bliss, of peace, of affluence, of joy….seeking our own happy.

    The early stage of a relationship represents “let’s try and see where this goes”, and opportunities to reveal one’s hope in what they want. Simple.  I will admit at the first sign of conflict, I am the first to say, “We do not have to do this.”  In all truthfulness, we do not. We choose to remain in the early stage believing we can “fix” or change the person of interest. By experience, we know so much more yet we are willing to overlook tangible signs and push forward idealizing our self-definition of change and hope.  We should be able to grow, increase from knowledge. Self should never fade. When in doubt never run so far left field that no one recognizes you, not even you.

    Love and hope enhance, they should not break you. We are unable to fix people. Our parents, Life can be our greatest teachers. Continue to embrace common sense and core values.

    My thoughts, my five cents when it comes to embracing something new:

    • Do not enter an arrangement that will devalue you in any friendship or relationship.
    • Communicate effectively and with authentic honesty.
    • Do not mislead. Do not allow yourself to be misled. Do not purposely deceive. State your intentions, your wants, and your discomforts.
    • Do not settle. Settling undercuts your self-worth deeply and with precise thoroughness.

    I try my best daily to see the bigger picture in every aspect of my life. My hope, my want is to be in love, to be loved happily and with consistency.  Outside of self, my focus is my tribe. No matter how old they get we are a package deal. No matter how long it may seem remain hopeful. Seek more than momentary pleasure. Fight for and expect more. You define what your more is. One great thing about more, it changes and grows you. Choose you.

    “Instead of holding onto broken dreams hold onto Love.” Alicia Keys.

    Take care of you,

    A.Michelle!

     Singleness: 1,026 days and not settling

  • 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!

  • Carved New Horizons, Opened Doors

     

     

    angelou
    Dr. Maya Angelou                                   April 18, 1928-May 28, 2014

     

     

    Cooper
    J. California  Cooper         November 10, 1931- September 20, 2014

     

    Nikki
    Nikki Giovanni               June   7, 1943

     

    Toni M
    Toni   Morrison                                                                                       February 18, 1931

     

    images
    Gwendolyn  Brooks                           June 7, 1917-                 December 3,2000
    octavia-butler-photo
    Octavia Butler                                             June 22,1947 -February 24, 2006

    Black Women Authors expanded, continue to expand my  world.

    The authors shown above are my favorite. Hopefully, if you haven’t read their work you will make time to do so. Wondrous works.

                                            Black Women Authors, Writers….

    They mend our souls over so many obstacles, over so many other things, for so many years. Soul-reachers. Soul-Soothers. Confidence makers. Our next-phase- encouragers. Hope-pushers for the discouraged. Dream creators.

                                     Girl. Teen. Lady. Woman. Queen. Wisdom.

                                                             We are royalty. 

    Our “I am” Warrioresses….we know how to hold on, we know how to let go, how to breathe…with their words. Words grouped into stories, poetry, truth fabricated to educate, enhance, imagine, explore, to start, to stop and to begin again, to finish.

    Soul-reveal reads! They are our forever writers. Ase Ase.

    Celebrate Herstory. We are amazing by choice!

    A. Michelle

     

     

  • Broken Relationships

    Dysfunctional moments have the possibility to lead to decisions that will set us on paths unintended. How we treat each other, love each other is one of the greatest gifts we give. It is priceless. Yet, everyone one of us has someone we will not talk to nor deal with due to personal and private issues.

    Healing begins when we are able to let go. Letting go of the guilt, the anger, the remorse as well as the mindful playbacks of what ifs. Concerns about what could have been are mere distractions that can keep you unfocused on what is ahead. Apologize if the desire is there but prepare yourself—your readiness, your act of kindness has the potential of non- reciprocation.

    Life gives so many challenges. The opportunities of having more are multi in number. Continue doing what is right. When we take the necessary steps often times that is when the unpredictable happens. Our hearts mend with the intent to move forward.

    If we allow it, Life will cater to our pain—to the perceptions we have of others and ourselves. Friendships stale, our versions of love and being love can deteriorate. We bury our emotions; we skip over life lessons and expect resounding forgiveness from those our actions destroy.

    What I love about forgiveness is the two-way of it. Forgiveness removes the fault lines, those consequences of failed hope without a trace of residue. Do not push away, do not shut down on the things that matter the most. Matters of the heart are genuine steps to all you wish for; remain expectant in God’s better. Think of it this way….broken relationships are broken at times for new growth. Brokenness is not an ongoing exit for guilt, shame, arguments and doubt. Move forward.

    Love as our Creator commands. Forgiveness is counterintuitive to love. Forgive because it betters you. Let God do the rest. I worry less when I trust God more. My heart has taken its share of bruises; my soul wounds have been many yet trust God I do. This time of my life, this winter season has been the warmest ever.

     You have what you want in this life; make it work!

    Happy kisses,

    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.
    

     

  • Monday’s reflection

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    Happy Monday!

    I had a pretty eventful weekend with family.  Friday night, I shared a wonderful birthday celebration with my cousin, her sisters and longtime family friends. My Autumn went to a late night movie with her friends, (late is 9:15.) I can admit that I am an overprotective mother. To Autumn and Brutus: nope, I am not changing anytime soon. My Brutus was to spend time with his brother Darius at his home.
    I don’t go out much but when I do my wardrobe advisors are vicious in their comments…after I have completed dressing: Autumn: “I don’t like those earrings with that outfit.” She finds more and hands them to me. I put them on. Brutus enters my room: “I don’t like those earrings. What is Autumn thinking? Everything else is fine.” He finds another pair and I put them on. As I am leaving and Darius is entering to pick up Brutus, Darius: “You need to go back in and put on some clothes.”  I ignore him. (All of me is covered up as usual. They not gone worry me. I dress them.) Of course, all this makes me late. At times I think they torture me for fun. I want to believe that they have no clue how many times I change clothes and how indecisive I am about my “Me.”  #mytribe
    My greatest friends are my siblings, my cousins, my family. Oh how we laugh and cut up. Love is contagious. Goodbyes include, “make sure you text us when you get home.” I am a middle child. There was no outlet or organization I attended where I wasn’t surrounded by family. School, Church, work, shopping, anywhere and everywhere somebody always knew me, whose child I was. I think at times we take for granted what we have, what we are accustomed to yet our environment can become the very foundation of our makeup, our journey.
    As I drive towards Charlotte to pick up Bru I think of my journey as a mother. I have been a mother longer than I have been a child, a teen. My oldest is 26, college grad and living in another state. My second born, Darius is 23, on his own and getting ready to be a father. I remember how I didn’t like children, didn’t want children and I laugh. My greatest fear was that I wouldn’t be a good mother.  I was afraid that I would either forget or leave my child somewhere; absent-mindly neglectful. Now, I am to be a grandmother, whew! Still quite unbelievable to me. (I’m smiling)  Of course I get lost trying to find his place….I debate with my GPS because I don’t wanna travel the Interstate. (Don’t try to figure me out.) Yes, I know there is a setting to avoid highways.  At times I have to ask Autumn or Bru how to mute my phone. I pray they don’t send me to a nursing home, which is Damien’s common threat to me.
    I finally find his place 30 minutes later. It should have been a 15 minute drive per my GPS. Darius so protectively watches me walk from my car. He tells me I am back early. I tell him they went out for drinks. Him: “You could have went with them and got some of that swing back. Bru is fine.” Of course, Brutus is not ready to leave, so I nosey around; ask questions about the new place. Me: “You check the crime rate before moving over here? You like it? Yall feel safe? You did good Darius. I noticed on the way in the parking lot is full and it is Friday night so that’s a good thing.” We leave. Darius again watches us. I smile as he braves the cold. Brutus is sleep before I pull up to the stop sign.
    Damien and Darius grew up the way I did surrounded by family, cousins. They know and understand that generational love. My Autumn and Bru know but will not truly experience the full effect of it.
    Summers were fun time. Running through fields, jumping gullies, riding bikes with sheer abandonment. Damien and Darius remember catching frogs and tadpoles; cousins defending them from neighborhood bullies while playing “rough” football. They were tiny. “We can hit him like that, you can’t.” Oh the childhood fights, the protection. Love is contagious.  None of my cousins or sisters went a second go round of having children, LOL! Only me. I’m not sure if I could have done any better as a mother but I know I always did my best for I received the best. They are happy and so am I.
    #roots #TillmanTaylor #Waxhaw
    Nesting is a huge problem for me and I think it will forever be. My wish is to have a home huge enough for every child of mine and their families to co-exist in one place. I told them they each could have their own wing and each night we could meet at the dinner table. I think it is quite doable. Of course they laugh at me. Family matters, reflecting on life is a joy. Sharing life is an unforgettable constitution. I love Saturday mornings and my favorite day of the weekend is Sunday. Make life count for you and for others.
    Soulfully aging,
    A. Michelle!

  • The Roots of Thanksgiving

    roots of thanksgiving
         Since my mother passed three years ago my Thanksgivings are completely different. Our Thanksgivings are so different. I’ve always cooked during this time and I enjoy it. My emotions range from being absolutely grateful yet missing her and my siblings tremendously to wondering what to do. Overwhelming. How do you start new family traditions when the Center, our Nucleus has transitioned?
         Family is everything. ​Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because I get to see all my Family—well Daddy’s side. My aunties, my cousins, my nieces and nephews, new additions to the Family. My family is huge and I love that. I travel from Charlotte to Waxhaw. My oldest lives in Virginia and his girl is from Virginia as well. In October I asked could we spend Thanksgiving with her family and the answer was yes. I wanted a change of scenery, to do something different. A week before Thanksgiving Damien calls to say, “We are coming there.” Me: “So I have to cook?” Damien, sarcastic as usual: “Well, yeah.”
           The morning of: I am up early cooking. Damien is as well. He doesn’t sleep in anymore. He comes in the kitchen, “What’s ready now? What can I eat now?” Me: “Turkey necks and rice but who eats that as breakfast, this early?” Well, Damien does. Later, I ask him to taste test my gumbo, “That’s good. Damn, that’s good.”
          Damien has to return to Virginia Friday so our time together is rushed. Seamlessly, all falls into place without me having to organize anything. We will stop in Waxhaw, two of his buddies from college will join us. Isn’t that awesome, that his college friends want to be with his side of the family? The crazy, loveable, country, ghetto, thuggin, I-love-God-but-will-cuss-and-or-cut-you, we-all-gone-eat (neighbors and strangers too), most Black family in all the world. I am so proud to be a Tillman.
          We drive the long way into Waxhaw. New developments that we haven’t seen. The town is beautiful with Autumn leaves, the colors are magnificent. The countryside, the woods bring back so many memories.  I greet my cousin “B”, who looks nothing like 61 years of age. She hugs and kisses me, “Look at you short and sexy. Keep it up.” My other cousin Sharon is just beaming with a beautiful joy and has been for the past year or so. She will not tell me her secret. She is absolutely gorgeous. Then there is my cousin Vince Edward and we argue-love as usual. He’s older than 50. He says he isn’t. I say he is. Then there is my Auntie, the matriarch, head full of gray and silver……she fusses. I smile. I listen. I tell her my baby is going to have a baby and she smiles so, she laughs as if this is the greatest thing in all the world. I tear up because I see my Daddy in her smile. I remember how important family was/is to him. No matter what went on in my life I know I was loved…am loved.
          My family….my Damien and Darius have girlfriends, long-term girlfriends. There hasn’t been any others brought around for me to meet except these two, JaNee` and Dominque.  I reflect on how their girlfriends are becoming more like daughters than friends. We have dinner at my place, Damien’s circle and my children. All is well. The laughter, the conversation and their camaraderie made my heart smile. The one from Delaware hasn’t ever had nor heard of turkey necks before and condemns us as country bumpkins before he devours them.
          My family….when Dominique bites into my collard greens, closes her eyes and sighs w/ deliciousness. She says, “This is so nasty.” We laugh. She is womb-ing my first grandchild and again my heart smiles. I remember how I would only eat my Momma’s collard greens. She would give me my very own dish to take home.  Domi has the most peculiar taste buds and I know her pregnancy has warped everything. There is still a great debate about the title of my new role. I’m not ready for the title “Grandma” because my mother was Grandma. (Doesn’t feel right, lol.)
    I like Grammy— like the Grammy awards. My children roll their eyes at this idea.  Everyone else is called Nana, Mimi, Glam-Ma or Me Maw. I don’t like Glam-Ma either.  Decisions, decisions. (huge smile)
          At one point I try to exit the room to escape the heaviness of the season, missing my parents, our time together and JaNee` says: “Next year at this time you will have the pitter patter of little feet, a baby crawling reaching for you. Expect big things next year. Different, new. Big.”  I smile, realizing that she is learning me. She won’t let me wallow, I step back in the room and tell her, “You are right.” We talk some more.
    My roots, my family, my children and now my children’s children.
    My Thanksgiving. My Life!
    Tearfully and amazingly grateful,
     A. Michelle!
     P.S. Dominique returned the next day for more collard greens.

     

  • Secret Admirers

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    A memory…flowers didn’t arrive at my home but one day while away from the office for lunch my desk held a delivery. A  gift basket containing body crèmes, spray mist and soaps. The card read: “You deserve the best. I am willing to be that for you.” No name. I became frightened. I think, trying to figure out who it could be. I smiled slightly. My stomach danced with butterflies. I went back to work. I worried. I called my fiancée, knowing he didn’t send it. I didn’t tell him about the gift basket.

    Later,  I opened the gift and the smell of the body crème was divine, rare, expensive. A scent I never smelled before. I definitely knew my fiancée didn’t send it. Very nervous, I didn’t take it home. I kept it at the office. My co-workers questioned me, wanting to know who sent it. They loved the smell of it. So did I. It wasn’t loud like perfumes tend to be. The scent was comforting, cozy, light, delicious…lingering. I didn’t go around asking questions I honestly didn’t know who sent it. Who could this person be? To know what to buy me, to cater to such a specific scent, a person I knew nothing about.

    He approached me the following day. A co-worker. A nice guy. He was quiet. I thanked him. I told him I didn’t cheat. He responded: “I wasn’t asking you to. I want more than that.” He walks away. I have no words. I am so confused because I never gave any reason for him to like me. I was engaged. He watched. I smiled. We never spoke again. At this time, this writing prompt #Secret Admirers, I think of him. I smile. I can’t remember his name nor his face. Older, wiser, love abused and misused I appreciate him. What an authentic, original way to initiate, create and pursue a possible love interest.  A scent so rare so indescribable…eighteen years later and I have not forgotten about it. No butterflies, no longer frightened but the risk to have more, to have what he wanted in me remains. I have never experienced the smell of that fragrance again. I cannot find it. Secret admirers: they give us more than maybes or possibilities; they have the ability to ignite an undeveloped want into a future standard.

    Wondering,

    A. Michelle!

     

     

  • 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.

  • You, my audience

    My hope is that you will see, my dream reader, within my words is Me.  I love a lot. I can encourage others yet give so little effort in encouraging myself. I am the greatest supporter in whatever your dreams are yet I will push my dreams aside because of fear….I doubt myself more than I doubt others. I will fight for you, protect you and forgive you. I believe that love conquers all. Yet, despite how strong Love is it is the most fragile and greatly misinterpreted concept, misguided method in history—present and future. But I know Love reigns as the greatest champion in all the world.

     A few insiders that make me Michelle…..I read magazines from the back to the front. I will read my favorite book and watch my favorite movie over and over again–and each time get something new out of it. This fact is very seldom due to age, when I eat french fries with a meal I consume all of them first. One has to eat fries while their hot. Cold fries are a waste of time and energy, be respectful.  I am first to reach out, touch and comfort a hurting person but will pull away if a person touches me. Oh, I give great hugs, too! A person told me this, “I love your hugs. They are not half way or soft. They are so real. Needed.”

    I love God. I believe in Jesus yet I’m no one’s chump. I think our population has watered down the characteristics of Jesus. In my opinion, He wasn’t a pushover. My confidence, guarded self-esteem is solely based on knowing God loves me….yet I ain’t no shabby chick. I am no wall flower. I believe I stand out in a crowd because of this huge smile I have. As a teen I always shyly covered my smile with my hand. (It is huge and kids are mean.)

    I am wanting and in wait to meet the love of my life. Yes!…at my age, after divorce, after four children (ages 26, 23, 12 and 9.) I love Love even though we don’t seem to agree, click or meet. (Laugh)

    I have moments of uncourageousness that have led to one profound truth: I hope. I hope a lot. I think settling is a travesty, a comfort so unwelcome to the heart, so unfair to others and to you. I choose not to write from hurt –somehow the beauty of it (writing) is taken away and “they” win.

    What are the things I hide from others? ….hurt feelings–I package them away. As well as the full bluntness of my anger, my tongue is vicious–I’m working on that. My moments of self defeat….well I take that to God. He listens His way and checks off my to do list on His own time. He has a sense of humor.

    So I hope you read my blog, my two cents, my words with an intimate knowledge of unbiased truths of me by Me.

    With hope,

    A. Michelle!

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  • That Publish button…my bloggy blog statement

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    When I write….It all passes through me. I see more in black and white than what’s in my heart. I can fix this…when I write.

    ​ My feelings, emotions are more coherent. They are tangible, loud. Emotions feel, taste, they bite. My tiny voice is loud, substantial, coherent no longer misunderstood…when I write. I’m strong, powerful, vulnerable and so transparent. It scares me, still…when I write. 
    When I write, there aren’t any rules. There are no, “You can’t.”  No incorrect grammar rules (ok, I have to make sense) but I can make up words within my own writing context, “uncourageous”— (what a wonderful word) and you as the reader know exactly what it means!  As a female raised in the South, no rules is a new phenomenon and the release is pure ecstasy.
    (Don’t get too deep with the latest intonation. lol)

    My heart seems to have no rhyme or reason but my words bleed truth, bleed, reveal my  soul. ​ My matters of the heart are not without healing, when I write. The invincible is plausible, the impossible is reasonable. ​​ I can do more, achieve more when I write. I am more than super; I am a wonder, when I write.  I feel normal yet I know this writing is unique, a gift, my very own gift. It is mine….and it frees me….it connects me…it heals me. It is me, all of me.​

    My tears spill over into smiles or a  “Wow. Now I see” ​ confirmation begins to develop new ideas. ​ My joy, the kind no one can take away centers me. God meets me write there…..and quite simply, “There” is an intimacy experienced–no longer an imagination…when I write.

    Vulnerably yours,

    ~A. Michelle!