BFF (Part 3)

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Robin gripped the steering wheel as she spoke. Her lilac lidded eyes were narrowed as she focused on the road and awaited my answer. 


But I chewed on the lid of my coffee cup and kept silent.

"Come on. I'm waiting for you to tell me that I'm wrong for feeling this way. Tell me I'm wrong." 

But I couldn't tell her. Because she wasn't. And, 

"I would feel the exact same way." 

Reassured in her feelings, Robin let out a sigh that sounded rough and weary.

 We were on our way home from Lola's birthday party. After months of planning, it had finally arrived. But it was anything but fun. 

Feet throbbing from standing for 6 hours in heels while serving food.

Fingers skinned from twisting plastic flowers. 

Heads spinning from loud DJ music. 

Wallets empty from expense... after expense.... after expense... after expense. 

All while trying to keep a decade plus long friendship in tact. 

It was sad to hear about Lola's behavior. Robin had been venting to me about her rudeness throughout the party's planning process.

Her unreasonableness.

Her ego.

Indeed, it was sad.

But not surprising. 

In high school during a few brief moments, her mask cracked and through its crevices, I saw pieces of bad temper and egotism.

It was just a quick peek here or there. 

I saw it then. 

But Robin never did and thus was caught completely off guard.

It's crazy how certain situations can shake the mask completely off and reveal what else is inside. 

And trigger new opinions about an old friend.

Wait

There are moments in my singleness where I start to wander and wonder...

About where he is and where He is...

About if I expect too much...

About what would happen if I throw caution/wisdom/knowledge/conviction out the window and settle for whatever I can get...

But after that, I always come to the same conclusion: 

It's best to wait. 

Last weekend, a friend sent this poem to me. This woman says it so much better than I ever could. 

Not saying that I want someone who can spit Scripture at a moment's notice ('cause I can't). 

Not saying that I'm the epitome of Proverbs 31 (I can't even sew).

But someone who understands that Christ doesn't come off like a coat you can't wear anymore? 

Someone who's running the same race I am and towards the same finish line I'm trying to get to?

Yes, I'll take that.

Thank You Lord for the Monday morning encouragement.

Weak

In my grandmother's library, there was a book of Bible stories that I loved to read. The stories were short, making it easy for my 9-year-old self to understand. But what I liked the most about the book were the illustrations. 


There was one in particular that I remember, a picture that depicted the story of Samson and Delilah. In this drawing, Delilah was a knockout. Shiny ebony locks that cascaded down her shoulders, pouty red lips, and kohl rimmed eyelids.  She wore a dreamy, almost seductive expression as she looked at Samson, who seemed to be completely charmed by this woman.


I was talking to my life coach this week, and she introduced a thought to me that never crossed my mind. 


She heard a pastor once say that,  

"Whoever said that Delilah was beautiful? Her appearance isn't spoken of anywhere in the story. Her most notable feature is her ability to extract the secret of Samson's strength.  And how was she able to do it? She provided a place of solace and comfort, a place for him to lay his head." 

What a concept. 

Samson, after a day of leading Israel and fighting their enemies, recovers and rests in Delilah's arms and lap. She gently massages his scalp and smooths his curls around her index finger while cooing soft words of comfort and peace.  

I had always envisioned Delilah as this ridiculously gorgeous femme fatale, a Halle Berry twin with a body so curvaceous that all she had to do was whisper a request, and it would be done in 3 seconds flat. 

But the idea, not that she might have been an average looking gal, but that it was her disposition, her aura, and her personality that was so soothing that it made the strongest man in the world give up his might....

There is a lesson I can take from that (minus Delilah's terrible betrayal). 


I want to be a place where my love can rest easy...


be secure....


breathe deeply....


and not have his trust interrupted.


A place where he can become weak and know his power is safe with me. 

Watch What You Eat

Water Cooler Lesson of the Week:

Before you indulge in the office’s free lunch, consider the hands that made and touch it. 

A couple of months ago, a coworker of mine brought in a homemade carrot cake. He placed it on a nearby island for anyone with a sugar jones to enjoy. The frosting was creamy and inviting. The cherries on top looked fresh and sweet. But I was halfway through my slice of cake when I noticed Amy’s stern look. 

“What?” I said, with my mouth full.

She asked me, “Why are you eating from them?”

I searched her face for any sign of humor or glee. But there was none. She was all business.

But I had no idea where she was coming from. “What do you mean?”

“You know we don’t eat from them. You only see them here but who knows what their habits are like at home. You don’t know what their kitchens look like. You don’t know if they’re clean. And some of them you know for sure aren't!”

Another friend told me a similar story of a former coworker who would always share her dishes with the office. My friend never partook of the offered treats due to the fact that said coworker went dumpster diving on a regular basis.

My appetite suddenly gone, I looked down at my slice of cake and slowly flipped it over into a nearby trashcan.

Recently, a dessert of a giant chocolate dipped, candy confetti encrusted fortune cookie was placed in the kitchen. I watched as whole palms groped the cookie, noses swept over the chocolate, and coffee-odored breath moistened the sprinkles.

While watching, I saw Amy out of the corner of my eye. She smirked and gave me a knowing nod.

That’s why we don’t eat from them.

There's still time

The cry came suddenly. 


A cry that turned into untamed, pain-filled sobs. 


The sobbing soon became the loudest sound in the church, completely outdoing the soft playing gospel music. I, along with everyone else seated in the wooden pews, fell silent and agonized with her. Each moan of her sorrow cut to our hearts and caused our vision to blur. 


I watched Amy as she made her way to the casket to look at her father for the final time. I heard her sniff and softly weep as she gazed. 


It was such a sad scene to view so I closed my eyes to pray... 


And think...


About my own father...

I wonder how much longer he will be on this earth? 

Do I spend enough time with him? 

Does he really know how much I love him? 

About my family... 

When was the last time I told my mother how much she means to me? 

I don't think my sister knows how much I care about her. 

My aunt is such a good woman. I don't think I've ever told her that. 

About my friends... 

Naomi is always so supportive. I really appreciate her. 

Dylan is a wonderful friend. He's always checking on me. 

Chrysanthemum truly is my best friend. I don't know what I'd do without her. 

I don't want to say accolades that can no longer be heard. 

Or buy gifts that can't be enjoyed.

Or give love that can't be felt.  

I don't want anything to be left unsaid when it's time to say any final goodbyes. 

So I'm deciding to say everything, to do everything now

While there's still time.

Great Expectations

This feels heavier than faith. 

Thicker than hope. 

Firmer than belief. 

I'm reclining on air with my feet crossed at the ankles, my hair nestled in the palms of my hands.

I'm jumping double dutch on the ocean while wearing chrome stilettos that grip the water like cement. 

I'm cartwheeling on quicksand without sinking. 

Without any fear of sinking. 

It's more than faith. 

Closer to certainty.

For the past sixteen days, I've been listening to the rhythm of assurance that beats within me. 

It's an inexplicable melody that only I can hear... for now. 

I look to heaven in amazement.

Excitement.

Gratefulness.

This year, I'm expecting something great. 

____________________________________________________________

..."for You answer our prayers..."

-Psalm 65:2

Incomplete

Even though it was Sunday, it didn't feel like it. 


The afternoon sky was painted a milky gray. Thousands of fat raindrops plopped onto flimsy umbrellas and streamed down Evan's car windows as he drove down the wet street. 


"Maybe I'm going through a quarter life crisis," he said. "There are so many things that I thought would be different."


I nodded in total agreement. I began to air out my own qualms about my life. But the inability to articulate my frustration made me speechless for a second or two as I searched for the right words.


But Evan filled them in, saying, 

"You just know you're not where you thought you'd be." 

I'm absolutely not where I thought I'd be. 


I step outside myself and gaze at my comings and goings at this moment in time with my lips parted, my brow wrinkled and my eyes widened, all in disbelief. 


This portrait of my life appears incomplete. 


There are dark spots of ink there that I wish I hadn't spilled.


White spaces that need to be filled.


Scenery that I wasn't expecting. 


A missing face that needs to be penciled and colored in. 


I'm absolutely not where I thought I'd be. 

But I'm exactly where God wants me to be.


I don't hold the paintbrush. He does. And He knows exactly what to do with it. 


He will add just the right color. 


Sketch in the flawless visage. 


Blend the ink blots expertly into the rest of the image.  


All at the right time. 


There are times when I look at the picture as it is now and frown. 


Yell. 


Scream. 


Cry. 


But then I think if the painting was up to me, would it be as beautiful as it will be when Jesus is finished with it? 


Absolutely not. 


I won't be incomplete forever. 
__________________________________
Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.
-I Corinthians 13:12