We Can Be Pretty in the Process

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life-happens-JPEGLife happens. That’s an undisputed fact. In the midst of the rollercoaster called life which often brings with it Six Flag sized ups and downs, one of few things remain constant and true. We don’t have to look or act like what we’re going through.

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Sickness, Death, Divorce, Family Matters, Work Woes, Financial Stressors, and Spiritual Battles may come bringing with them life-altering and life-changing problems. Often times, there’s not much we can do about them as we go about the process of being done with them. But there’s something we can do. We can put our best face and best foot forward not becoming like the pain, struggle or challenge we are enduring. We can still decide to wake up every morning with thanksgiving to God, a grateful heart and a smile on our face. We can still decide to speak encouragement to ourselves and others. We can still decide to be nice and allow others to be nice to us. We can still decide to do the essentials like comb our hair, brush our teeth, shower, shave and show up wherever we’re going looking like we’re not going through. We can even decide to kick it up a notch and put on our best from head-to-toe as a proverbial one-two punch to the devil and our problems. Yes. Life happens, but we can still be our best even as the rollercoaster goes up and down. Choosing that path won’t always be easy. Choosing that path won’t always make sense. Choosing that path won’t always be understood, but it will keep us poised for God to move and for those watching how we handle life to see His power based on our “pretty”. So no, the “up and down” process of life may not always be pretty, but we can always be pretty in the process.

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@AngelaMichele316

 

The Secrets of a Secret Marriage pt. 3

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The above video of our wedding day was such a beautiful reminder of God’s love for us, our love for each other and the journey of over 19 years (not including knowing each other since 10th grade when we would talk on three-way until his dad made him hang up). When I tell you that NEVER in a million and a half years did I imagine that my forever would include Aquil. I am sure he would say the same, and for similar reasons (that’s a book waiting to be written), but I am so glad God knew we needed each other.

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We had a lot of people ask for the who, what, where, when and how of our secret marriage we held on December 30, 2016, surprising a few of our family and friends who thought they were coming to a holiday party.

In my first blog post The Secrets of a Secret Marriage pt. 1  I shared special nuggets on how our plot to plan a surprise wedding took root and the unusual circumstances which led us there. Check it out here: https://angelamooreblog.wordpress.com/2017/01/11/the-secrets-of-a-secret-marriage-pt-1

In the second installment The Secrets of a Secret Marriage pt. 2 it was all about the food, fashion and unbelievable frugalness of it all. Check it out here: https://angelamooreblog.wordpress.com/2017/01/25/the-secrets-of-a-secret-marriage-pt-2/

Now, in the final offering I have to shout out my peeps who so generously shared their gifts to make our moment simply magical. We are so very grateful to be able to hire such gifted friends to join in this journey of what God allowed in our lives. I’m not saying you should book them for your next “whatever”, but that would be a wise thing to do.

First up is the preacher. Yep, for those of you who know my sister/friend Charmel Taylor, some of you might have been shocked to know that this sassy, southern belle who works so very hard helping take care of our country’s veterans, is so generous and supportive, raises an amazing son, cooks like nobody’s business, is uber-insightful about the goings on of this world and is as funny as funny can be is also a licensed and ordained minister. So there was no other choice for us to help make this special day spiritual and, again, special. In true Char fashion she plotted along the way to help me plan the surprise and offered us the most meaningful marriage vow exchange I’d heard in a long time, and she did it in time for the beef short ribs, grilled salmon and pork chops to arrive. She is simply the best!

Can we talk about the pictures??? Oh! My! Goodness! Our pictures were perfect! Birmingham-based Taneisha Tucker Photography is stellar. There are no other words sufficient. Her vision and work are incomparable, offering a high end photography experience with a unique, personable touch. I’m always in awe of her professionalism and ability to capture a moment and make it an undeniable memory. She is simply the best!

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Our videographer WOWd the crowd, and I don’t just say that because he’s also a talented musician. However, Patrick Johnson of Blaq Angel Media is the BUSINESS!!! He’s like the real deal when it comes to taking a single event and making it last forever. He works with such poise and humility, often maneuvering through the space with his keen, creative eye capturing shots, actions, reactions, and sound that mere mortals might miss. He is simply the best!

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I know by now you’ve seen our décor. Yep, it was cute. I know. And I can say that because I didn’t do it. Jasmine Pickett of Jazzi B’s Custom Creations heard my thoughts, took it and ran with it turning a restaurant space into an elegant atmosphere. She thoughtfully created a feel of warmth, luxury and love that captured hearts and eyes as soon as they entered the space. She is simply the best!

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The path to our lives together was not perfect, but it couldn’t have been written by a greater Author. God deserves all the glory. We are grateful. We are grateful. We are grateful. Signed, #theAteam

@AngelaMichele316

I Don’t Want to Pray for Him

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“Nawwwww, girl. I don’t want to pray for him.” Those were the honest and eye-opening words a woman recently uttered concerning her ex-husband. A previously pleasant and light conversation with friends quickly shifted to talk about praying for an ex-spouse and the benefits, not just for the ex, but for the child involved, the person on the praying end of the prayer, the financial obligations remaining and the prayed for person’s overall peace of mind and well-being as a human being.

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The back and forward banter, mixed with some hilarious one liners and some purposeful testimonies, continued  as we recalled our own experiences with divorce and ultimately getting to the point of sincere and sometimes selfless prayer, which, was NOT/is NOT always an easy journey, at least for me. She explained her pain. We listened then explained God’s plans. She shared her very valid frustrations, mostly financial and time related as it relates to his time with his child. We listened, shared our own frustrations, which can continue years after the ink has dried, and still explained why prayer was the missing link in fixing what our mouths, our anger, our lawyers, and our own devised plots of “get back at ya” can’t do.

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Prayer, as simple as it might sound, really does work. What I know is that a working prayer doesn’t always change the situation or the other person. Often it can, but I’d be lying if I said prayer for your ex-spouse will instantly make all things right in your world. What prayer can do is change our perspective, our focus, and our expectations of our ex, and it can up our expectations of God to do what He’s always done, and that’s FAR EXCEED what we think, know or desire any man or woman to do. Prayer will have us looking at and loving our former spouse like a brother or sister in Christ rather than someone who hurt, betrayed or disappointed us. Prayer will shut our mouths and stop our fingers when we want to go off via the world wide web. Prayer will give us peace (and provision) when daycare fees are overdue and we see our ex flossin’ on Facebook in Gucci and Ray Bans. Prayer will allow us to say “pray for your ex, girl” when we know those words would have never, and I mean never, come out of our mouths before. Prayer is our own personal ticket to peace regardless of the actions of others. It gets God’s attention to know that we know who’s really the Man, regardless of the actions of man. Ya dig?

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@AngelaMichele316

I Don’t Want to Be Here

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I don’t want to be here. There, I said it. I said it for you and me too. I know you might not be able to publicly say that sometimes you don’t want to be at your job, with your spouse, in your family, around your kids, among your friends, involved in relationships which might have ended but the common ground  like children or court remain, in your current physical condition and especially in your current financial position. I get it. I’ve been there. I am there in a few areas. But we’re here.

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We’re here for a reason, peeps. Why, you might ask. I don’t know for sure, but I do know:

  • We’re still where we are to grow, and GROW UP for where we’re going.
  • We’re still where we are to receive help from those assigned to assist.
  • We’re still where we are to help others, even while we’re still where we are.
  • We’re still where we are until we meet, see, do, get or give exactly what we need to specifically and purposefully turn the page to the next chapter.
  • We’re still where we are to be able to have things to look back and laugh at sooner than we think. (And I’m talking those cheek-stretching, eye-watering, stomach-hurting laughs)
  • We’re still where we are to build up some spiritual fortitude which we will need later on.
  • We’re still where we are so that others who see us can see us when we get to where we’re going and know where we’ve been and be inspired that they can get there too.
  • We’re still where we are to show the world how to feel stuck , trust God, exemplify a positive attitude, still smile…and mean it.

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@AngelaMMoore316

Don’t Hate the Wait

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Life can have a way of having us feel like we’re in a perpetual holding pattern at times. Whether it’s desiring a job or a better one, holding out for healing, praying about, wanting or getting over a spouse, seeking a change or a chance for growth, desperate for a financial upgrade, seeking restoration with a loved one or simply desiring an “Oops, I mess up or missed that do-over”, as humans we need what we need and we feel we need it now!

Rest assured, the Bible is filled with scriptures and stories reminding us that what’s perfect for us is being perfected for us. Don’t believe me? Just read.

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That perfect parking space, generous paystub, cool lunch dates and stellar schedule may be making their way to and through a “congratulations you’re hired” email or snail mail soon. That healing, help for the caregivers, reduced medical expenses and funny stories along the way may be one doctor’s appointment, therapy visit or treadmill run away. That new and improved boo, new boo or less boo-hoos may be on the other side of this soon-ending-season. That new/next/now may unfolding right outside the door to our prayer closet. That money (and mindset to manage it) may be making its way to our bank statements and through our bloodlines faster than ever before. That strained relationship may be straightening out and strengthening up in ways our minds can’t fathom just waiting on our schedules to be able to host the recurring reunions and those mistakes we all have made may, right now at this very moment, be being remixed by our Daddy better than Diddy ever did it. We just have to hold on and don’t hate the wait.

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 @AngelaMMoore316

Fathers Matter

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Another Father’s Day weekend is approaching and, as usual, my family and I are scurrying to try to tie up plans to celebrate the special dads in our lives. Not that the scurrying is in a last minute kind of manner, but year-after-year it becomes increasingly more difficult to buy things for the men who have everything or don’t require much, or come up with plans for the people are who simply and truly content with their family being around somewhere within a 500 yard radius as they lounge in a chair with a cold beverage and remote in hand. We ask repeatedly and early what gifts might bring my Daddy joy. The answer is always the same, “Don’t get me anything. I just want my family happy.” He means that as proof of all of the tags in his closet from gifts given long ago. I must also be following the expectation that most women end up with men like their fathers because even my beau gives the standard “drive me crazy” answer of, “You don’t have to get me anything special. I’m happy with whatever.” So this year the Father’s Day theme is an new-fangled fish fry. And by new fangled I mean someone is going to pick it up a whole bunch of all-ready prepared seafood from a restaurant and grocery store and we’re going to celebrate the amazing men in our lives young and older, from near and far with hopes of staying awake long enough to watch the NBA finals, of course, with cold beverages and a remote in one of the fathers hands.

Fathers matter so much. I think they’ve gotten a tremendously bad rap in society because of a few bruised apples. Some may not be present by choice or circumstance. Some might have made mistakes. Some might have had difficulty giving what they’ve never received. Some might have sorely disappointed. Some, may be ideal for the families with which they’ve been blessed, but no father…just like no mother… is perfect. And still, they matter so much. Their voices matter. Their presence matters. Their ability to show us how to overcome and keep going matters. Their hugs and embrace matter. Their prayers and public display of spiritual covering matters. Their life’s stories matter. Their hard work and display of integrity matters. The bass in their voice matters. The sternness in their foreheads matters. Their role of authority matters. Their insight matters. Their experiences matter. Their ability to lead, guide, direct and protect matters. Even their mistakes matter as a clear signal of what not to do or what to do better.

With the Father’s Day “faux” Fish Fry menu in tack I realized this year, probably more than most, I’m just grateful for my Daddy and fathers in general. I truly, truly am. My dad, like most of the men in my life including my brother, my uncles, and my beau have had quite a tough year. My once strong, tall, towering, business-minded, bill-writing, chauffeuring Daddy has been battling unexpected health challenges which literally knocked him off of his feet in February. He still has a road ahead of him for total recovery and healing, but has come so far. Within the blink of an eye, a lot of his primary roles in our lives have shifted or ceased as we all collectively focus on him…for once. Isn’t that the baffling beauty of life?  The man who asks for nothing now requires much. It’s an honor to be able to give it to him…with a cold beverage and remote in his hand.

 

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Yes, that’s a cold drink in his hand:)

 

 

@AngelaMMoore316

Thank You for Leaving

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Dear Leavers,

I say this with all sincerity and no sarcasm. Thank you for leaving.

Thank you for doing for me what I obviously couldn’t or wouldn’t do for myself. Thank you for being used as a mighty instrument of God to escort me to my new/now/next. Thank you for helping grow me in areas I didn’t know I was malnourished. Thank you for recognizing that either your role in my life had ended or my role in yours was expired. Thank you for playing a part in making me strong in areas which were weak. Thank you for causing me to upgrade my prayer life and my faith walk. Thank you for showing me places I needed help and in a hurry. Thank you for being a reflection of patterns, poor choices, ignored signs and mistakes which all belonged to no one but me, regardless of what all happened. Thank you for leaving your space at the table for those who belonged and were bringing something with them. Thank you for causing me to elevate my forgiveness, grace and mercy. Thank you for teaching me how to love and let go. Thank you for showing me I could shut my mouth. Thank you for being the catalyst for the amazing associations and for real friendships which soared after ours sufficated. Thank you for clearing the path for others to step up when you decided to step away.

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While your leaving didn’t make a hill of beans of sense, I’m glad it didn’t because if I could have figured it out I would have tried to fix it. While your leaving may have scared the hebedegebees out of me I’m glad it did because I was comforted, strengthed and encouraged in ways which rival the best of Biblical stories. While your leaving might have caused the wind to be knocked slap out of me I’m glad because I was able to experience Jesus’ sweet wind beneath my flailing wings carrying me to heights not before seen. And while tears might have been my initial response to your departure my lingering after affect was/is laughter…that gut-wrenching, eye-squenching, head-hurting, side-splitting, cheek-aching kind of laughter void of a single ounce of tea or any smidgen of shade, and filled with THANK YOU JESUS…thank you leavers.

So in all the languages known to man, or to me…Thank you for leaving. I sincerely wish you all well and appreciate your roles in my journey whether we again cross paths or not.

Signed,

Your Girl Angela

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@AngelaMichele316

 

Who In the World Let You Come Back?

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Recently, I’ve been battling my Lymphedema again. I was diagnosed, after a minor surgery to rule out the C word, and figure out why I had pain and enlarged nodules under my right arm. It’s not unusual to have bouts with my chronic illness from time-to-time, especially when I fly, when the seasons drastically change or if I do heavy lifting, which I’m not supposed to do. Given that I’ve done all of those things having flown this year to Baltimore and Anaheim with few troubles, experiencing the seasons changing from cold to hot with no troubles and having moved an entire house into another house with little trouble I thought I’d finally made it to full-on Lymphedema management stage, until a couple of weeks ago when the pain and swelling of my right arm came back with a vengeance. I mean that thing came out swangin’ knowing I couldn’t swing back.

 

I’ll be honest. I was mad. Like for real. I was mad. I was mad because I thought I could at least cross Lymphedema off of my “to-do” list, and place it on my “can’t be bothered” roster. I was aware of the maintenance aspect, and up for that challenge, but over the last couple of years, God has quickly taken care of me when the pain arrived and I could move on business as usual. This time, was different. Desperate for relief I did what I would normally do when a bout flared up. I revved up the prayers and prayer partners. I scheduled a massage and another one when that one didn’t fully do what I needed. I took time off to rest it. I resumed wearing my glove. I conducted my manual massages and all of that good stuff and no relief. I even called my Lymphedema specialist, the only one in this entire region, who just so happened to have moved to Murfreesboro, TN shortly after I no longer needed her. I didn’t hear back from her, as I’m sure her wait time now is longer than the six months it was when I was referred to her years ago. So my question to this temporary lymph node nemesis was, “who in the world let you come back?”

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Then, as Facebook and it’s On This Day app would remind me, today, May 25th, marks the exact 5th anniversary of my Lymphadema diagnosis. Talk about a God having a sense of humor. Not only did it remind me of the date it reminded me of what I said on that date. Here’s what I mustered up enough arm strength to type from my trusty Blackberry.

Angela Scott Moore

May 25, 2011 at 8:53am ·

And the plot thickens…so there’ve been some serious complications from my surgery in March. I won’t complain, but instead will compare this to the other times I’ve seen God move in my life. Each time my body has been attacked my blessings have been attached. So as the plot thickens so does my praise!!!! (If I don’t respond to your calls, texts or fb posts right away forgive me. I’ll be back soon:)

And so it is. If it’s time for another round I guess I better hop back on the saddle and ride this thing on out. I felt bad for even being mad. Shame on me. I have no right to complain. I simply don’t.To quote that wise old 39 year old Angela Michele of old…”Each time my body has been attached my blessings have been attached. So as the plot thickens so does my praise!!!!” I’m shifting my focus to praising and planning the celebration while nervous at the same time because I have absolutely no idea what my God could be up to now because He’s already been SO, SO good. Anywho, I’ll keep you posted. You keep praying.

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***And while you’re praying for me, please pray for others who battle this illness in ways FAR worse than I. (Google Lymphedema please). Insurance doesn’t often cover treatment. Treatment for some is deemed impossible. Breast cancer is sometimes a component to this disease. The physical aspect can often pail in comparison to the mental and emotional issues attached to having a limb much larger than the other. My case is so very, very, very minor compared to so many. I truly have so much for which to be thankful. Please add those who battle the painful illness Lymphedema to your prayers.

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@AngelaMMoore316

 

I Lost My Credit and Found More Peace

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Peace has always been a friend of mine. I’ve sought it. Chased it down. Pleaded for it and tried my best to hold on to it for dear life, my own of course.

Few things have rattled me, baffled me, frightened me and lodged a full-fledged attack on my peace like the last few years. I won’t go into details, as they are not needed, and wouldn’t change a thing if I did.

I grew up in the 80s and watched my parents make the serious and difficult sacrifice to get out of debt.  So, post, financial makeover, I was reared to protect my credit like I protected my name because credit and my name were synonymous. Through college I never had credit cards. After college, I had “charge cards” to places like Casual Corner and paid it back to maintain A+ credit. When I went to purchase another car in 2013 after my Lexus of 11 years died, I was told I had credit so good I could by a “private jet”.

Beginning in 2013, things out of my control which should have happened didn’t happen for a very long time. I was also stuck in a home above my single woman’s, non-profit net pay, subject to hundreds of viewing people over the six years it was on the market, dealing with banks, realtors, letters, emails, calls and so on. Then, it happened. My credit dropped lower than a frisky 1990s co-ed in the Citizen Club in Tuscaloosa, Alabama when his/her favorite Uncle Luke, 12 Gauge or 69 Boyz song came on in the small, sweatbox by the cornfield. I was DEVASTATED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Beyond DEVASTATED, I was madder than James Evans when the gangbanger, Mad Dog shot JJ on that riveting episode of Good Times. (Check the nose flare, people.)

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My peace was under attack, and my ability to respond as Christ would was not too far behind it. That, for me, was no way to be. I don’t know when it happened. I really don’t know how it happened, but for the grace of and good sense from God, however, at some point, after I was turned down for a great job due to bad credit, after a credit card limit was reduced by more than $6000, after I finally received a viable offer on my house but quickly realized at this juncture I wouldn’t be able to purchase another house to own for myself, PEACE prevailed. It took over.

I didn’t fret or panic as much. I prayed more. I asked more people to pray. I started “living” again, enjoying the house I was currently in not counting the costs of tomorrow or ignoring the blessings of today or yesterday. I stopped being frustrated by those who didn’t understand the dyer state of things for me because they’d never been in this situation and didn’t know full details but treated me as if they did (God bless them). I stopped focusing on who wasn’t doing what was supposed to be done and TRULY praised the Lord for what He was doing. And by doing, I mean the fact that my last year in my last home God covered the mortgage all by Himself. Yes, the scary letters and phone calls stopped. The threats of foreclosure or deed in lieu stopped. And, with not a dime paid to my gracious banking lender, I lived. He did that! Yep!

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Now granted, I lived knowing each day my credit was dropping lower and lower and knowing that the eventual Short Sale I had to accept would take it lower than an intoxicated passenger in the limbo competition on a Caribbean cruise ship, but I lived through it to meet the most wonderful realtor who took me in figuratively like a young cousin telling me her testimony and working hard for two years to sell my home while also offering to literally allow me to stay with her when it looked like the bad credit was going to prevent me from even being able to rent a house (talk about SCARED out of my mind!) I lived to finally “meet” an amazingly, kind new landlord, who welcomed me to his property with full disclosure of my current credit profile (and we’ve never met face-to-face). I lived through to be able to give away SO MUCH good stuff to people who really needed it from the nine years I enjoyed my previous home. I still have more to give. Any takers? I lived biting my tongue and truly being able to pray God’s best for all involved. I lived to arrive to the most “homey” feeling neighborhood I’ve dwelled in since my days in West End, where I walk in my home that my God, my two jobs (#TitheGoneUp) and I can afford and I feel happy, thankful and full of peace. To God be the Glory!

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As I sit and listen to the serenading birds enjoying the natural lighting beaming through my rental home I still don’t know where my already demolished credit will land after the Expedian report shows my April short sale, but I’m not bothered. I trust that a God who can pay a big money mortgage for more than a year and can restore the credit of so many friends who have shared their testimony and can keep me from acting out of who He created me to be can cover my credit like a Vivica A. Fox snug wig straight out of the net. I trust Him.

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@AngelaMMoore316

My Mama Didn’t Graduate on Time

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Little things I learn about my mom through the simplest of conversations can be my biggest lessons in life. A random afternoon conversation while I was traveling from one job to the next diverted from talk about the weekend to the statement, “Did I ever tell you I didn’t graduate from college on time?”

“Huh. What?” was my reaction, but I held it in as my sweet, almost 70-year-old earthly inspiration told me the interestingly, funny tale of how a beloved professor her senior year, who had entrusted my Mama to teach her Shorthand Class (Google it) in her absence, and often used her as a representative, gave her a “D” resulting in my Mama’s inability to graduate with the Alabama State University Class of 1968. I listened as my Mama told me how she tried her best to sway the teacher into a better grade. Not only did this professor give her a big, fat D, she and the college leader turned down the smooth talkings of my grandfather as he tried to convince them through subtle name dropping to graduate his oldest daughter. They both succeeded in being unsuccessful.

On the verge of truly feeling sorry for the 20-something year old who must have been devastated and embarrassed to no end by not graduating on time, my flirtation with pity on her was quickly interrupted by her sweet, reassuring voice and the confident phrase, “Oh well! Everything worked together for the good of those who love the Lord! It all worked out for me. Had I graduated on time I wouldn’t have gotten that GREAT government job that ASU selected me to work for in Federal Court that year. At my Daddy’s advice I finished the retake of the course I got a D in. I was assigned to do student teaching in the great Robert E. Lee High School and my teacher, Ms. Dixie Hicks ADORED ME. She got married and recommended me as her replacement… and I got your Daddy. The rest is history!”

And just like that, I was served up a mighty lesson from a seasoned teacher in the classroom and in life.

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  • Oh well!(That pretty much sums up a lot of things which hurt, but will end up helping.)
  • Father knows best.
  • Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to. (They often turn out better.)
  • Sometimes an A, B, or C can’t compete with a new career. (Regardless of a D.) (And by the way, guess who wrote her recommendation for the job…yep, the professor:))
  • The thing you think you fail at will be used to help others. (My Mama went on to teach Shorthand (Google it again) to high school students for decades. Like literally, decades.)
  • Sometimes a Bae or a Boo end up lasting MUCH longer than an A, B, or C, and certainly the sting of an ill-fated D. (My parents are officially 46 years married in June 2016, still hold hands and still go out on diabetes-approved hot dates!) (Ha! Take that D!)

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@AngelaMMoore316