So much is going on in the world, big and small. Friends, loved ones and colleagues are reeling from politics, surprise separations, health challenges, financial struggles, job transitions and so much more. I don’t recall my prayer list being this long in a long time. Like for real. In the midst of it all, I thank God for His word which promises peace. I will let my Lord and Savior speak to and comfort us instead. I’m so grateful for God’s word, now more than ever.
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.
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.
@AngelaMMoore316
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?”
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.
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.
***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.
@AngelaMMoore316
Dear Meanies/Misguided/Mistakenly Wrongs of the World,
Don’t mess with my friends. There, I said it. From time-to-time I sense when things aren’t right with those I love. From time-to-time, those I love actually just come out and say what’s wrong. As faith-filled as I’d like to think I am, it hurts to hear that those I love hurt. I don’t take it personally, but I do take it to heart. I’m by no means a fighter or anything near it. I wouldn’t retaliate physically, or even verbally no matter how sometimes I wish I could, or how ABSOLUTELY funny the following photo is… (Take a gander…giggle.)
I digress. I’m back…
So, while that “2.5 seconds” quote does not at all apply to me, I will say this, when my loved ones hurt I feel it and I don’t like it. But my fight back is prayer. Listen, Linda or Larry. The worst (or best) thing that can happen to you is for someone to pray for you in the midst of whatever was done or is being done to the one you have hurt whether intentionally or not. Be warned, hurtful people. Prayer works. Talking to you won’t always solve it. Talking about you won’t change it. Acting out, shutting down, turning up or flipping out won’t fix it. But be warned hurters of the world, prayer will put you in a “make your enemies your footstool” position and you’ll find yourself in a place of propping people up who you’d just tried to tear down and you’ll be none the wiser. I’m telling you. You’ll be nice and can’t explain it. You’ll start being a used a resource and can’t understand it. You’ll be proactive, advanced and above-and-beyond in the very areas you were once just the opposite. You will be totally disarmed of the ability to be anything but a blessing, and you may even become healed yourself of whatever hurt caused you to hurt AND nice along the way. Trust me. Prayer works. So just know. I’m praying for you, boo.
So, to my friends who are hurting. Hold your heads up, hunnis. I’ve got you covered. To the people who have hurt them I’m praying for you. To any ones who’ve ever hurt me do know the prayer covering is mutual and there are people sincerely praying for you too. Yep. So think it not strange when things get better and even your own transformed actions seem a bit unbelievable. That’s just the power of some people wise enough to pray.
@AngelaMMoore316
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.)
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!
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!
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.
@AngelaMMoore316
Whew! Last week was a doozy. On Thursday around 11am knee-deep in boxes, garbage, too much stuff, plans, phone calls, scheduling, rescheduling, unexpected conflict and the likes I was preparing for the move from my old house to my new and I found myself sitting on the steps of my downstairs den about to bawl like a baby. Actually, I think a tear did fall. This was supposed to be a blessed day. I’d prayed for this moving day FOR YEARS, and had overcome the struggles in the weeks prior just to find somewhere to live and a resource to afford it. I’d even celebrated this moment in advance as I prepared to finally be moved. But it did not feel like a blessing as moving day progressed.
On moving day things got off to a great start. I woke earlier than planned. The packing the days prior from some certified angels on earth was stellar. The threat of rain appeared to be only a threat. The Two Men and a Truck movers were moving right along. My very own personal handy man was fulfilling his role as only he could in helping me handle business then out of nowhere the rain came, the progress slowed down, the rain came even harder, the heavy items presented major problems, the rain stopped/tricked me/started again, the clock of payment kept ticking (at an hourly rate I can’t even type) and all I could think of was WHY. Why was this happening to me? Why did I have to go through this years-long process and pay for it big time? Why would it start raining just as they were moving out the things with fabric? Why was I already so tired from recently having to balance more on my plate to be able to afford to move because of circumstances totally out of my control or causing? Why was it taking so doggone long to move all of my stuff causing my ever-ticking tab to skyrocket? Why? Why? Why?
I know my attitude the morning of March 24th toward a few key people wasn’t its best as I grappled with what I was feeling internally. I apologize to them. To make matters worse, as in my attitude, when we finally made it to my new house it appeared that my furniture wouldn’t fit. You can not imagine the frustration overflowing. At that moment, with the amazingly helpful men struggling and sweating to try to accommodate me and all my stuff, moving a heavy California King bed and other items which are paid in full and all I have, and knowing the clock which started at 8:30am and was well into the pm, I was on the verge of officially losing it. I wanted to QUIT IT ALL right there in the midst of the move. But I didn’t. For one, I couldn’t. I was too far in. For two, I couldn’t. That’s just not like me no matter how tempting. So what I did was rally up the troops. I listened to the sound advice, the kind comfort, the touch of love, the tough love, the sage wisdom and the firm facts of faith from those who were privy to what I was experiencing and I heeded their advice, trusted the process, and I let go. I simply blew out a really deep breath and let it go. I relinquished my lists of “what ifs”, “what am I going to do” and “this isn’t fair”. I reflected not on how I ended up in this place in the first place. I didn’t continue to calculate the growing costs in my mind. I just let it go and decided I shall not be moved…but I finally was moved…into a new home and on with my life. Thanks be to God!
I’ve never been in a physical fight a day in my life, well, unless you count the time I punched a boy to the ground in the early 80s because he was picking on my brother. (Hey, guy I punched. In case you’re reading this, “my bad”.)
Anywho, while I’ve not physically fought, I’ll-be-doggone if I haven’t had my back up against the proverbial rope, ducking and dodging, spiritually swinging and flailing in faith with all my God-given might, having to go round-for-round more times spiritually than I would desire, or thought I deserved. It’s times like this, when I’m in a spiritual fight-fest with whatever new or repeat enemy I’m facing that I have to ask myself, “Are you a pretender or contender? What ‘you gone do’ barbecue or mildew?”
I recognize about human life, even Christian life, that often we breeze through the good days with a swagger that rivals a champion fighter. The float like a butterfly, sting like a bee is on fleek, as the American teens say, when things are easy. But when the unexpected, unfair, unwanted trials of life cause us to really “get in the ring”, go toe-to-toe and show what we know against raging forces we sometimes forget our Father has already fixed the fight and we count ourselves out not knowing victory is at hand.
Here’s what I know. We are contenders, not pretenders. Our faith and it’s rewards are realer than real. We are heavyweight champion-worthy testimonies to the Power which works within us. That’s it. It’s settled. At some point we must learn to stay in the ring, come out swanging (Yes, I said “swanging” not swinging) and keep on swanging until we WIN! #CueVictoryDance
@AngelaMMoore316
Recently I had an opportunity to travel to an in-state college to recruit for my job. I made the two and a half hour trek south of 65 and 85 to parts I rarely venture (as I am an avid University of Alabama fan/grad), and braved the athletic enemy’s territory for the sake of my calling. I arrived early, not aware of how traffic would be, and was able to sit in my car for a spell to check email and listen to some of the finest hip-hop the Columbus, GA neighboring station could provide.
At 4:30, the expected time for vendor arrivals, I unloaded my car, looked back at my University of Alabama alumni tag, as if I were about to cheat on it, and strolled into the orange and blue haven. (Side note: I must admit, the campus and building were beautiful, as they were the last time I visited. The BIG picture of Cam didn’t hurt either.) I registered at the table stocked with hospitable, smiling faces. I reluctantly fought back the urge to take a selfie in front of the orange and blue all around attaching to it something about the reigning National Champions. I received my packet of welcome info, including the number I was assigned to set up for the Career Fair. There were 59 assigned tables. I was number 56.
Upon site of 56 just above the 59 my first thought was, “Wait! What? I don’t want to be 56!” I immediately thought I would be WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY across the arena in the forgotten section unvisited by eager students ready for life after college and truly ready for the barbecue after this college fair. I just knew my slot was one destined to a big, ol’ hunk of nothing. I was prepared to fight through full-blown sourpuss mode the entire four hours I was scheduled to be there.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, right after the fresh-faced student walked me into the arena the fourth table from the door had my name on it…well, not my name, but my number. Not only was table number 56 right at the door used for everyone to enter, I was smack dab in front of the double-lined buffet of hot, smoky barbecue chicken and tender, sliced turkey, green beans, tossed salad, sweet tea, chocolate cookies and the famous cheddar biscuits which put Jim-n-Nicks on the map, at least in my mouth.
When I received my assigned 56 out of the 59 I completely counted myself and my number out. Then boom, with a just few simple steps forward I was like the 2015 National Champions. I was #winning!
The moral of this story is: I/we win REGARDLESS. We just have to keep stepping.
@AngelaMMoore316
My church, Church of the Highlands, observes 21 Days of Fasting and Prayer starting the first Sunday of each January. This time of the year, and when we do it in August are always a tremendous blessing for me. It’s also a challenge too. I’ll be the first to admit that when taking spiritual gifts assessments, the gift of intercession (prayer) isn’t on the top of my list. I don’t know if it’s on my list at all, as other gifts are what I’ve been given. I’m so okay with that, because I know I know how to talk to my Daddy (God) in my own special way, and I know I know some people who REALLY know how to go the distance for themselves and others like me because intercession is their undeniable, number one gift. What a blessing!
With that said, I’m a simple prayer girl. I try to talk to God throughout the day, much like I would talk to a friend. Often it’s sporadically (with the exception of our “Good morning. Thank You, Jesus” chit chat early each day), and often it’s as things happen, right off the cuff whether in the car, at work, or in the shower, and it’s mumbled from my mouth or urgently delivered straight-forward to Him like He’s right there with me (and He is), as situations are unfolding. I cover the biggies in life regarding my loved ones and me and want to become even more disciplined and strategic about that, but I also want to be even more intentional about coming to Him regarding things perceived to be not so big of a deal. God cares about us, which means He cares about it all, big or small. No thing is too simple to pray about and believe God’s best concerning.
Have you ever thought about praying for the following for yourself (or others)?
@AngelaMMoore316
Life Gets Better 