I Managed to Do Nothing (and Survived)

It’s official, two weeks/weekends in a row I managed to do nothing (and survived). Shocking, I know! Taking orders from a little wobble in some sunglasses that left me with a sprained foot and three torn ligaments I missed my godson’s special birthday celebration, passed on dinner gatherings, skipped my favorite school’s A-Day (Roll Tide Roll!), cancelled two upcoming conferences one of which was all the way in Connecticut, went two weeks without grocery shopping, am still hanging on to my Easter nail polish and the list goes on. I accomplished this champion feat because of my foot and much to my chagrin, because being still is often something with which I struggle.


Some people have a problem getting going. I have a problem not going. Don’t believe me? Just read my blog post You Do a Lot on why I am how I am. So when blindsided by this latest little speed bump I decided to be proactive about being inactive. In that time of stillness I slept and rested (there is a difference). I caught up on reality television (seven episodes of Carnival Eats in one day alone). I chatted with family and friends. I shopped online. I updated blogs. I wrote and organized. I planned for some upcoming plans. I realized I need to give away some shoes. I started a 30-day Bible devotional and I slowed down enough to actually enjoy my house on some beautiful, rainy days.


The older I get the more amazed I am at the big messages which often come from the little lessons in life. This is not my first ride in the “slow down” rodeo. I’m well-aware that rest must have been needed. I’m even more aware that I would not have voluntarily slowed my roll. I’m even, even more aware that GREAT things usually come after these little uninvited times of respite. So I’ll rest…and get ready.



God Does Not Punch a Time Clock

I hope this serves as a reminder that God’s timing is perfect. (I needed to be reminded…LOL!)

Life Gets Better

One of the hardest lessons in life I’m still grappling with learning is the fact that God does not punch a time clock. In fact, He’s not on our payroll, enrollment plan, benefits package or employee roster. He runs this!

All off my early life I’d planned on things happening by a certain time in my life, in a certain way, with (or without) certain people, at a certain rate of rapidness, and with certainty. Welp, the mere fact that I’m writing a blog post called “God Does Not Punch a Time Clock” should tell you that little, to nothing that I planned on happening happened when or how I planned on it happening.


I would like to say that I’m A-okay with that, but I try to be as truthful and as transparent as possible in my posts so I have to admit that more times than I can…

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If You’re Not Good

If you’re not good it’s okay to say so. How often has someone asked how you were doing, how things were going, how work was, how the children are, and so on and so on, and the automatic answer was “good”? Now, no Debbie Downers or Complaining Calvins requested, but some times in life things are not right and it’s okay to say so. It’s simply okay to say when you’re hurting, need help or are “feeling some type of way” as the younger genreation likes to say.

I sat recently with someone who’s answer to that age old question had always “good” sprinkled with a coy smile and a nod of the head, only to find as things got heated that things were not “good”. They weren’t even “okay”. They’d gotten bad. They’d gotten really bad.


The moral of this story is: People can’t help you if they don’t know you’re hurting.



The Fowl Are Just Fine (We Will Be Too)

I was up on a Sunday morning considering (not worrying, not consumed, just considering) some pending things I need the Lord to do for me soon and with celebration-worthy certainty. Like most of life, these things were things which are totally out of my hands, making them out of my control. (After all these years I still want things to be in my control…LOL!)
My quite time was interrupted by loud sounds of chirping and quacking. I looked outside in the front yard and backyard to see several different black birds, mallard ducks and geese having Sunday breakfast compliments of whatever my ground was providing. They were having a blast waddling around munching on whatever must have been within a grass blades reach. They were in several parts of my yard. I left to go to church, which was about two hours after I first heard them, and sure enough they were STILL eating. In fact, three of them had decided to plop down picnic style right at the edge of my side lawn and just chill.


It hit me. God will not allow others (birds, ducks, geese or anything else) to dine sufficiently in my presence without making sure I’m able to feast as abundantly in His, and off of what’s His. The funny thing about the whole fowl scene is that the place these animals found plenty is the place I woke up contemplating. And that’s what to do about my concerns regarding my house. (Blog post coming soon.) Seeing them so sure of all being well was a reminder right before my eyes of Matthew 6, and the fact that all is already well.


That’s good news! It reminds me of the undeniable fact that God’s got this, that, them, you and me too!!!!
The moral of this message: The fowl are just fine and we will be too. (Now go quack on that.)


The Deliciousness That is Dyron’s

Please follow my new blog site http://www.angelaeatstheham.com and enjoy this post about my wild and AMAZING night at Dyron’s Lowcountry in Birmingham, Alabama.


One Friday night in March I had the fortunate opportunity to share a meal with family and friends that elevated the expectation of my palate to an entirely differently level. I invited myself to a dinner previously planned by my cousin and sister. Dyron’s Lowcountry (http://www.dyronslowcountry.com/) was the name of the restaurant of choice. My first question after barging in on their plans was what’s the attire. I’m a southern girl who’s as serious about her fashion etiquette as she is her football and her food. I didn’t care too much about being overdressed, but wanted to find out with certainty what kind of dining experience to expect so I’d not run the risk of ever being underdressed. Let’s just say I could have worn a formal gown, six inch heels, and a tiara and the food still would have stolen the show.

Hunni, when I tell you…

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Hold On for Dear Life, Dear

Thrice recently I’ve experienced being in the presence of people who have felt that all hope was gone. One even uttered that faith had been lost. To hear that and see another human being at that point because of the trials of life is heartbreaking. I know it’s easy often to think people should just “get over it”, “move on”, “pray about it”, “deal with it” or “simply smile”, but sometimes some people can’t. And many times that’s why God allows them and their hurt, pain or issues to cross our paths so they can partake in a big dose of our encouragement. They don’t need judgment, tons of questions or questioning, just genuine care, channels for conversation, ample prayers, sincere support, plenty of testimonies and a couple of opened ears and an available heart to hear them.

So, if that’s you dear, hold on for dear life. Don’t quit. Don’t lose faith. Don’t believe the lie that joy, peace and hope aren’t your option. Don’t feel like you are all alone. Don’t believe that hope serves no purpose. Don’t think that you are the only one dealing with what you’re dealing with. Don’t think you’ve done anything to deserve the temporary transition you’re in. Don’t believe that one dream denied cancels all others. Don’t think you are not loved, needed and necessary. Don’t think your life is no longer of use. Don’t believe one person in (or out of your life) determines the quality of your life. And whatever you do, don’t believe anything your head tells you that doesn’t line up with the notion that BETTER is yours.


Hold on for dear life, dear. Hold on.



I Can’t Dance…The “Bad Boy” Remix

A couple of years ago, while driving home snapping my fingers to a CD I had a shocking revelation. I can’t dance!!! Yep, you read correctly. At the tender age of 40ish I realize that I can’t keep a beat on my feet…or in a seat. As if posting this blog post two years ago wasn’t enough, the blatant reminder that I can’t dance further hit home while I was at a comedy show and one of my favorite songs out of New Orleans from the late 90’s came on. I tried my best to do as the song instructed. But I couldn’t anymore. I literally couldn’t do it. (I won’t tell you the song, but I’ll just say that the rapper’s name is very child-like, Wodie…LOL!)


I started reflecting on the other little “secrets” that make me Me. And after all these years I’ve realized that they no longer embarrass, but I choose to embrace.


1. I Can’t Dance-I used to be able to sweat my hair like the best of them, but somehow, somewhere that ability to boogie escaped me. Initially in the car and comedy club this bothered me, but I have to be real, God probably dissolved my dancing so I wouldn’t use it for evil…tehehehe!
2. I Can’t See in Sunglasses-There’s not ever a threat of me being a rapper or a 90s style Diddy/Bad Boy diva! I can’t see with their main accessory. Sunglasses and I don’t get along!!! Ask me how I know. The purpose of this repurposed post is to share my latest reminder. While walking into the dry cleaners with my fresh pair of $6 Sugar Bowl gas station glasses I took a few, gingerly steps, twisted my foot something fiece and am updating this post with crutches to my left and right. Yep, sunglasses and me are that bad. But I’m okay:)
3. I Waste Food (Often!)-Food is one of my best friends so much so that I started a new blog at http://www.angelaeatstheham.wordpress.com. So much so also that food likes to go where I go. 90% of the time I eat, what I eat ends up on me. At first this used to really bother me given the fact that I’ve taught dining etiquette and was voted Most Poised in high school, but then I realized this was God’s way of making sure I remembered that I’m nowhere near perfect. Plus, the leftovers serve as great conversation pieces as I get to lavishly recall my tasty meal and the mess it made.
4. I Can’t Do a Cartwheel-I’ve never felt the freedom of flipping on the grass with the wind beneath my wings. I’m tall. I’ve always been tall. (I’m scary. I’ve always been scary.) There’s something about being really tall as a child, that for me, just wouldn’t let my legs do what they needed to do to make it over my head. Does it bother me now? Why would it? Until they change the height for Olympic gymnasts to 5’9 I’m good.
5. I Made Cs-Surprise!!! People often say, “You’re so smart”. I agree:) But honey, nobody told that to my report cards and GPAs. They did not get the “she’s smart” memo! It used to bother me that I was average academically. Especially after that lovely less than 2.0 GPA my freshman year of college. But then I thought, part of that was my fault. I hated to study, and I liked Kappa parties!!! And the other part I believe developed a sense of compassion in me to dig deeper into people to see what’s really there and to seek out those who might fall under the radar, but are really leaders in the making.

6. I’m different. The strangest of things tickle me to my core. I’m unapologetically goofy. I have a sense of humor that’s a hodge-podge of a bunch of personalities and I’m embracing in my older age that I’m different.

So there you have it. I dished my own dirt again. Of course there’s more, but a lady never tells it all. Even as I typed (and updated this blog post) I giggled to myself thinking about the things I just shared and some of their companions that will never come to light. They are what makes me unique. They have nothing to do with what the world would say makes one special, but I tell you, I felt extra special with each letter I pecked. They make me who my Daddy made me and that makes me special.

PS…I wish I could get up and do a “I had a revelation” celebration dance, but you know I can’t…smh. Come to think of it,. I guess I’ll stick to SMH (Shaking My Head) rather than SMH (Shaking My Hips)! (There I go, cracking myself up again, which I guess reaffirms my welcomed goofy.)



I’ve Got a Case of Spring Fever


Spring has sprung! Yep, it has. It’s evident in the pollen, the quacking ducks, the blooming trees, the sneezing, the itchy eyes, the rain/sun/pop-up storms, the time change, the longer days, the sound of the Kona Ice truck, basketball finals and the chirping birdies.

I got tickled at myself thinking of the signs of spring of old. In my 20s the change of the season was often marked by fits of fancy about romance. I won’t go into too many details on that as a couple of my ex-boos read my blogs…LOL! (Hey y’all!)

But now, in my 40s, the change of the season has been marked by feelings of personal restlessness. I’m not young and restless and by no means a complainer or not grateful for the progression of life, but of late, it seems every March or April I start feeling like it’s time for a personal change. And when get that feeling it get it big time! I wanna change things in my closet, change things in my career, change my eating habits, change some personal goals, and change a bunch of other stuff not blog worthy. It never fails, though, during this time a need for change springs up in me like those stinky, albeit beautiful Bradford Pear Trees in the south.


Am I the only one with that fever? Cue Peggy Lee!