Forgiveness 101: We Have Beef and I Have Sodas

I had the weirdest dream, you guys. I was at work working, and oddly enough, a not yet favorite person of mine for lack of a better phrase was in my office which is also odd because this person does not work with or near me, and is on a short list of last people on earth likely to visit me. Just as clearly as the words I’m typing, this said person was sitting just to the right of my leather office chair as my caramel-colored desk was covered with bags of food and several cups of soda random people were bringing in during the sequence of the dream.

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This “push me closer to Jesus” person was thirsty for something to drink and did not hesitate to let me know so. There was a sense of beggi-ness, or possibly humility that I’d not ever seen. Even through my dream, I could feel the story of Joseph and his brothers unfolding (Google it, or even better, read this awesome treasure of truth called the Bible), but then something happened that scared the hebedegeezes out of me. When “prayer pusher”, as I will from hence forth refer to this lovely human being, asked me for something to drink I didn’t do what I thought I would do. I didn’t offer one tiny sip of soda, or drinks for the road from my overflow. Instead, I started gulping those drinks down like a fish out of water who’d finally been cast back into the sea. I was so very disappointed in myself that I literally made myself wake up. Hopefully I was playing a mean, mean prank and was only going to drink a few sodas for GP (general principle) then gladly share what was left with “prayer pusher”, but it surely didn’t start out that way and I wasn’t going to sleep on to find out that it didn’t end up that way.

When I shared my dream with a certain loved one she said, “Girl, you should have swallowed ‘them’ sodas up like nobody’s business.” I was tickled because I know part of her was playing and the other part was slightly serious. However, I wanted to be like Joseph and be able to extend help to one who hurt me when most needed. More importantly I wanted to be like Jesus.

Now that I’ve somewhat digested the dream I see that there is still forgiveness left to offer from me. One thing I know about forgiving is that it’s like a delicate onion and often comes in layers, especially when the person is a repeat offender as people often are (because that’s just what we, as flawed people, do). Sure, there’s so much I’ve long ago let go of because those battles are over. That’s easy. But I will admit, I need to forgive “prayer pusher” and anyone else for things even as they ensue. That means as they happen I need to readily forgive. Why? Because God says so. (Don’t believe me…check out that Bible again.)

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Now, I’m not saying “prayer pusher” will ever be in a place of needing something desperately of me, and I certainly do not wish or want that, but I need to be ready to release whatever is needed should that need arises. In the meantime, I accept that I still have work to do internally because I don’t want anything or anyone holding me back from being who and how I’m supposed to be, even in my dreams. After all, in the words of Ms. Lauryn Hill, “How you gonna win when you ain’t right within?” And I will win… “prayer pusher” pushing me and all.

So yes, “prayer pusher”, we have beef and I have sodas…to share.

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@AngelaMMoore316

I’m Feeling SOUPer!

(Enjoy this post from my page Angela Eats the Ham. http://www.angelaeatstheham.com. Please like and follow.)

Have you ever asked someone to make something for you and they did and you loved it and it was so good you had to blog about it? Welp, I did. And boy is it blog-worthy.

Battling a pesky little sinus infection recently, which came along with a bit of allergies and a bout of asthma I asked a loved one to make me some soup. I didn’t ask for the chicken and vegetable soup for any medicinal properties, although I’m convinced it carries those qualities. I asked simply because I believe there’s nothing like soup from the kitchen of someone who cares to make one feel better even if one doesn’t yet feel better. Just a day after my request I was delighted to hear the ding of a text message to my cellular phone with the words, “Come over. I made soup.”

Boy, oh boy. I could have cut a mean jig had I not been afraid of being dizzy from the said sinus infection. Instead, I mustered up the energy on reserve I was clinging to and headed to Soup Central.

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The waft of the broiled, whole chicken, now simmering in a big, ol’, Cuisinart pot with fresh okra, Idaho potatoes, sliced carrots, translucent pearl onions, tomatoes, peas and other healthy treats permeated through my clogged-up nose like an extra-strength bottle of Liquid Plumber.

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As if the thought of the warm soup moon walking its way down my agitated throat wasn’t comforting enough, the pièce de résistance was those famous words I’d longed to hear, “I made grilled cheese too.” Say what now?!?!? You mean to say I get soup and four-cheese blend, ooey, gooey buttered grilled cheese on a semi-chilly September day?

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Needless to say, I indulged, and by indulged I mean I enjoyed two hearty bowls full of the broth-rich, steaming hot cornucopia of a meat and veggie elixir. I also took some home to freeze for later. Score! And of course, I felt better the next day. In fact, since then I’ve been feeling SOUPer! Some may say it’s because of the antibiotics and steroids my trusty doctor ordered. Perhaps that’s true. I’d like to say that soup and a sandwich had a big hand in helping me feel better.

@AngelaMMoore316

A Few Words for Women

Life Gets Better

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In life, I ‘ve learned a lot about what makes women think, what makes us tick, what causes us trouble and what leads to our triumphs. For about half of my life, through gentle teachings or having full-fledged, WWF-style wrestling matches because of my own mind, I’ve been made aware of a God-given sense of compassion and empathy, and spirit of discernment concerning women from all walks of life. Once leading a Women’s Ministry for nearly ten years, and originated or organized dozens of programs geared toward the betterment of women and girls I’ve come to hear, see and know so much about who we are, and more importantly who the enemy desires us to never become. Plus, I’m a woman, a grown woman, and I’ve lived through some things both at the initiation of others and certainly self-induced.

I’ve learned that twisted thoughts about friendships and relationships is one particular area the devil has been…

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Don’t Ask Me for Money

Don’t ask me for money. That’s a hard statement to make, but a necessary one indeed. At this juncture in life, an abundance of money is something that is slowly (but surely) making its way to me. It’s coming. I believe. But it appears to be on lay-away. As my moola takes the scenic route to reach me, the ability to give to others financially above the above and beyond I’m already doing for those things important to me, required of me or related to me (not in terms of family) simply doesn’t often exist.

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I’m a single woman, who works for a small non-profit, who is divorced, who had to spend her savings and a settlement during and after that divorce, who still has major financial battles related to the remaining and ongoing parts of that divorce, who is in the midst of a life/financial/stewardship make-over (Go, Jesus!), who loves to give. However in terms of coins, cash, dinero, nickels, cabbage, C-notes, cheese, guap, juice, banknotes, dough, duckies, dead pres’, paper, long greens, stacks, racks, cheddar, loot, ends and Benjamins, I simply don’t have it like I want it right now. I know the Ross Dress for Less jumpsuits, the dresses from My Sister’s Closet at the YWCA Central Alabama and my real sister’s closet in Maylene, Alabama may fool you, but that’s not through big funds. That’s favor, and often FREE. I know the presentation, posts and pictures of the fabulous life I recognize I’m blessed to live might paint a pretty picture, and believe me it is (beauty for ashes, baby, beauty for ashes), but again, my checkbook register can tell the tale of how a little looks like a whole, heckofa lot! (Go, Jesus! Go Jesus! GO!)

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No to bemoan the point of the temporary place I’m in, while I realize the reality of my skrilla right now, (Did I just say skrilla? I’m so #35211), I also realize the reality of my seed. No, I don’t have as much money as I want to have and give right now, but I do have valuable things with which I have been blessed that I am obligated to give until and after I get what I really want to give. We all have something to give no matter where life has taken us and how long we’ve been there.

So no, please don’t ask me for money because the answer can likely be “I wish I had it to give.” But I can offer my unconventional wisdom, my physical presence and support, my joy in connecting people who need to know each other, my wealth of community resources (some of them are indeed wealthy), my insight on finding and keeping a job, my expertise in events, communications, professional development, conflict resolution and getting and keeping media attention. Until my bread is ready I’ll freely share my testimony of healing, my unapologetic perspective from the Bible, my prayers, my home for football and festivities, my social calendar, my written and spoken word for motivation, my compliments, my genuine love of mankind, my family with those who are without, my hidden nuggets of found or forgotten clothing, never used wedding presents, extra furniture and fixtures, and the likes with those in want and in need. And as I wait for my wads I will cheerfully give my ever-evolving view of life with the fact that through the grace of God life gets better.

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It took a while for me to come to the view of focusing more on what I do have while longing for what I wanted, and seeing the value of giving what was in my hand until I had what’s in my heart. I now know my benevolence is not dictated by my bucks. Have you reached that point? It’s such a refreshing point of arrival, and I’m just willing to believe that it’s more valuable than a bunch of dubs, big bucks, lettuce or ducats. (I just adore the urban vernacular. I truly do.)

@AngelaMMoore316

Being a Wife Didn’t Ruin Your Life

I had a great night’s sleep after Charter decided to go out leaving me TV-less and wireless. That means I rose this morning earlier than normal with a thought on my mind for divorced women. Let me interrupt that thought by adding another thought. I hate the devil, and I’m pretty sure I’m not on his “favorite girl” list. I peeped his game in my own life a few years ago, and would like to call him out today.

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Back to the message at hand.

Dear, sweet, beautiful, valuable, worthy, trusted, overcoming divorced woman...Being a wife didn’t ruin your life and the divorce didn’t either. In my Master P voice, ‘ya heard’? That’s right. Being a wife didn’t ruin your life. Don’t buy into the BS (Backwards System) of thinking that your life has been ruined because you honored the holy matrimony of marriage, trusted your spouse, stayed when you could have (Biblically) left him before he left you, believed God, honored God’s words and way (even, and especially when you didn’t want to) or did anything pleasing in the sight of God regarding your now concluded union. Okay? Okay. (And let me say, this absolutely goes for husbands too, who might have had their worlds turned upside down by unforeseen and/or unwanted divorce. Wife and life just rhyme.)

The enemy wants you to believe one thing, versus that which is certified TRUE. So I’m about to spoil his tricks…

  • You didn’t get stuck with the kids. You are simply the one primarily trusted to rear them at this time. What an honor!
  • You are not trapped where you are. You are just under reconstruction with plans for an epic come up and come back.
  • You didn’t leave and lose your career to help your ex-husband. You were professionally, temporarily rerouted to ingnite gifts and passions you didn’t know you had for where you are going. And you’re going somewhere big!
  • You didn’t get the short end of the stick.  What you will get is the ability to use that “short” for something so much greater in the long run.
  • Your finances and credit aren’t ruined because of the actions of others. You are simply perfectly poised for a post worthy miracle.
  • Your love life isn’t over. You are merely under repair for the perfect spouse for you in God’s time and through the beauty of the amazing story he is unfolding.
  • Your children don’t have to suffer. Yes, their lives will be filled with lessons possibly learned earlier than desired, but the ability to love, be loved, have a healthy relationship with both parents, heal (spirit, soul and body), enjoy life and not follow in the footsteps of divorce is theirs.
  • You are not alone. Your marriage might have ended, but there is a God-ordained village around you waiting to support, love, encourage and care for you when you need it most and from some of the most unexpected faces/places. Look for them and let them in.
  • You will not always hurt. You can and will heal if you allow healing to do what healing does…and that’s heal you.

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There you have it. Again I say, being a wife didn’t ruin your life and the divorce didn’t either. They just added an extra layer of purpose and power. So if you’ve ever thought that divorce did you in, thinking yourself “dumb, stupid, stuck, trapped, forgotten, or naïve” for believing, trusting, loving and trying your very last best for what you promised God you would try your best for, tell the devil where he can go. Oh wait. he’s already there. No need. Just carry on living and trusting God for greater.

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@AngelaMMoore316

9/11: An Ode to America

#9/11 #NeverForget

Life Gets Better

Dear America,

Today you mark a day which many will never forget. September 11 is a day scarred by the most cowardly act of external violation on your precious soil. Lives were murdered. Fear ran rampant. You were forever changed, but still out of that utter darkness came rays of hope. September 11 is a day, now of service and commemoration, as your people do what they’ve been known to do, and that’s do their best as flawed humans to snatch the good out of the worst situations.

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Really, in retrospect, America, that’s been the overriding story of your existence. The worst comes, even if you create it yourself, and inadvertently brings along the best with it. Whether it be from your founding fathers who made the trek across the sea to settle as they fled their version of oppression, to those same founding fathers implementing a terrible, new-fangled form…

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Thanks, Dudes!

Here’s a growth moment for you…

I was sitting on the phone chatting with a dear friend, something I rarely do, and that friend mentioned a hang out in Atlanta I used to frequent with an “ex-of-old.” Boy, oh boy, did we use to have a ball at this Georgia establishment, especially if it involved him riding off on his motorcycle looking all Larenz Tate-ish from Love Jones with the Fugees blasting from the nearby Saturn, Eclipse or 300ZX. (Notice I said, “him riding”, your girl was a chicken and would follow or meet him there in my champagne gold Maxima.) Bless my heart. Anywho, I digress.

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In remembering those fun days, the sting of whatever separated us was nowhere to be found. The “oh-my-goodness” my world is over (or so I thought) that I probably thought at the end of the association didn’t cross my mind.  The antics I ensued in in my humble form of “revenge” was now reduced to a mere giggle (or gut buster depending on who I was recalling the memory of the immature things I’ve done in the past).  And let me just be real, because that’s what a blog is for after all, I am super sorry for all the get backs I tried to give. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t do anything remotely worthy of LMN (Lifetime Movie Network) because remember, I’m a chicken, but I could come up with some mischievousness so quickly it would even shock me. Don’t believe me? Then don’t dare ask my sister about how I messed up her first acrylic nail appointment with my 20-something tomfoolery. And don’t dare talk to my old friend who was like a brother in and shortly after college or my bestie since kindergarten. LOL!!!! (Bless my heart and my quick thinking mind.) 

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I racked my brain following that conversation about that Atlanta hot spot. I starting scanning my “relationship” file and realized that flaws and all on both sides of the coin, circa the late 90s, I was blessed to closely know and grow from some really cool dudes who have all grown into some really great husbands, fathers, businessmen, leaders and the likes. Some I would even comfortably call my friend with no ungodly thoughts attached one way or the other. Whodathunkit?!?!?

I realized that, while none of my past relationships of long ago were forever (thankfully) they all left me with some great memories, needed growth and some pretty swell guys who are etched in my life’s story, forever, whether they knew it or not. What they didn’t leave me with are any scars, damage, regret or remorse which we often believe we must carry through life like some badge or “been there, done that” honor. That’s a blessing and the beauty of choosing to grow. God will grant us the ability to see and settle on the good in others because that’s exactly what He does for us. The good is all I see, because at one point they were good enough for me. (And I think I’m pretty grand, which means they must be too.) So thanks, dudes. I would shout you out or tag you by name, but that wouldn’t be wise. You know who you are.

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@AngelaMMoore316