I Shall Not Be Moved

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?

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!






Settling is for Quakers

Lately my “settle game” has been tested. Like a college student on edge with rapid fire final exams, I’ve been being faced with test, after test, after test on whether or not I would settle. From career opportunities I’ve mustered up courage and sense enough to say “no” to, to truly examining my deserved preferences in a mate, owning my pickiness and sticking to it like Elmer’s Glue from the 70’s (not this new-fangled stuff), even to knowing my financial aptitude right now and not budging from that budget, I’ve been serving up slices of “no settle” like nobody’s bees-wax.

Before I proceed let me just say I feel like, of late, I’ve been talking about relationships/boos and baes a lot on my blog. That certainly is not the center of my attention at the time, but the topic just keeps coming up in my circle. So while the frequent posts are not on purpose, they must somehow be. Anywho, I was talking to a relative about why we’re still single. She offered the notion that we’re just too “special” and there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re like that limited edition whatever it is which is worth waiting for. The same must be so for our boos because they are certainly taking the long walk home.


Anywho, again…I was also talking to an associate about another associate, who, by all accounts fits the bill in most of my “must haves”, especially the way he dresses. (Call me shallow. I care not…LOL!) Still, there were things important to me which were not present. So I’ll pass. Let me proudly say that the Angela of old would have overlooked those few, albeit important factors as she fatefully did in the past and settled only temporarily until it drove her NUTS because she knew better in the beginning. Not so now, honey. Not so now.

Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely know that there are things in life which occur by the gentle (or not so gentle) command of our caring God which cause us to do things which others, self included, might deem as settling. I’m not speaking to those things. If God almighty says it we have to do it. I’m referring to the things which we know without a shadow of a doubt are not for us yet we settle still. That’s not the business. That’s some trouble waiting to hijack your life’s story.


So I leave you with this as I hopefully graduate soon from Settling 401: The Advance Course. Settling is for Quakers. It’s as simple as that. Just because it worked for them doesn’t mean it works for you.



More Than a Movie

Today wraps the final installment of the “At the Movies” series at Church of the Highlands.

I’m so grateful for this opportunity to grow closer to God and my loved ones as we shared an hour and 15 minutes over the last four Sundays experiencing every emotion known to man, meeting all kinds of wonderful movie characters, eating pound cake in church, some enjoying Coke and popcorn and all leaving with one of the most important ones…hope through the love of Jesus.

While the At the Movies series has ended, and most of my readers were not able to experience what I’ve been blessed to know, feel, see and witness over the last month, I pray something as simply special as a movie speaks to you at your point of need. It can happen. Trust me. I know.


What Makes Faith?

A friend and I were talking about a situation recently, one that is stretching me to grow in an area I thought I was already fully grown. After stating my “claim”, this trusted sage said, “Oh, and here I thought you were a Christian.” Huh? What?!?!?! I blinked my eyes and said with southern sarcasm, “I am!” The response…”Well, you’re not acting like it. Where is your faith? You talk all that talk and now that this is happening, and you’ve been waiting on it to happen you’re acting like a little chicken. This is nothing new to the God you say you believe in. Gone way from here with that!” And just like that I got “read” like a Housewives reunion on repeat.


So I pose this question to you all. What makes faith? I think it’s the situations we face which cause us to stretch and grow, especially when we thought we were already fully grown, think we can’t go another inch, think we’ve already made it through, push us out of comfort, knock the wind out of us which make our faith. It’s the times we (rightfully) believe we deserve a break, have just come out of battle and face another way,  have had success in that area already and thought that “class” was over, can’t figure out the solution to save our life, have to daily battle fear within our flesh and HAVE TO HAVE absolute, total reliance on God as the only One to see us through which make faith and make the best testimonies of God’s great, great power.



Hey Girl, What’s Your Secret?

Have you ever seen something of another woman’s and wondered how she does it? Have you ever wanted to desperately find out more about it whether it be her outfit, how she keeps her house clean, how she’s stayed married, how she landed her career, what she does to stay fit, how she made it through her tragedy, how she reared successful children and stayed sane, how she manages her time, how she forgave, how she keeps both her marriage and her meals hot and fresh, or how she manages to slick down her hair ever-so-gently over the partial weave she rocks?

Have you ever wanted to ask her, “Hey Girl, what’s your secret?” but didn’t ask because of reasons deemed rational, but which are likely irrational? I know I’m not the only one who’s thought if I inquire I’ll come across as comparing, coveting, nosey, or even worse, trying to “bite” her style.


Next time you’re faced with a desire to know more about someone you admire just ask. Simple and plain. Ask. We are here as each others guides through this wild ride called life. No sense in going it alone when someone has the secret which can help make our journey more delightful.



You’re Not the First, But You Can Be the Last


Newsflash…what you’re going through is nothing new. You’re not special when it comes to the trials of life.


So here’s the skinny…

  • Your money is not the only money which acts as if it’s forgotten your checking account number.
  • Your ex is not the first ex to do something to make him or her an ex.
  • Your children are not the first children to forget your rules or how they were raised.
  • Your job is not the first job to fail to value you in pay or praise.
  • Your friends are not the first friends to disappoint their friends.
  • Your family member is not the first family member to abandon, under-appreciate or fail to support a family member.
  • Your dreams are not the first dreams to take the long, long, long route to arrival.

The fact of the matter is you’re not the first to go through anything you’ve gone through. However, you can be the last to allow it to define you, permanently damage you, hinder you or steal your joy.



I Had a Dream

I had a dream, and no, it was not because of the grilled fish and turnips I ate for dinner…

I had a dream that I was living in a Hampton’s style neighborhood connected to a LARGE resort hotel called the Wynfrey, but nothing like the one we have here.
Rikki Ross​, Edith Arms​, Kristalyn Lee​, Nishia Elizabeth Ross​ and Charmel Taylor​ were all there. Charmel, Edith and Kristalyn asked me to borrow $10 cash for something we needed as we were checking in (which means I had cash MONEY and they all knew it…Yippee!!!).
Edith left me in the lobby after she got her $10 and hollered as she sashayed off that she was going to her “Penthouse”. (And she did!)
Rikki, had her own Hampton’s style townhouse and had cooked a dinner so delish that my Mama drove from her own Hampton’s style house to Rikki’s gorgeous pad to pick up her previous night’s leftovers to snack on (Shocking, I know!)
Charmel checked in in a CUTE ski-like ensemble then disappeared in a black, stretch Escalade with her boo. (We waved, cabbage patched and blew kisses as they pretended not to see us behind those dark, dark windows. We saw them!)
Nishia was planning to host her parents at her house where we pulled up to find the ENTIRE extended family there sitting out on her porch grilling like we were in West End instead of this fru-fru place my mind concocted (That means her house was huge! And it was!).
Kristalyn must have been married or dating someone because she left me on the way to my house literally skipping to his (or their) house and even turned down shrimp scampi because she was in a rush (Shocking, I know!).
And I…well, I too must have been married. I lived in a BIG house with a salon and personal hair stylist connected to my home (in sort of an in-law suite fashion) because my face-unseen, deep voiced gentleman told me to run over and get a new hair cut if I wanted to so I did. And as I did I watched women and children come in and out of the salon connected to my Hampton’s house with Louis Vuitton luggage.

Whew! I need to go back to sleep and get some more of that dreamy goodness. Some things I know for sure…
-I love my family and friends and want them to thrive, grow, get, give, prosper and kick it like nobody’s business!
-God is speaking and I just need to listen.
-Maybe not exactly as dreamed but something big is going to happen to, and through those I love and me (vacations, material coverings, life-long coverings (there is a difference you know), family fun, and blessings to share with others).
-God has a sense of humor and a loving way of sending sweet reminders.
-And that grilled fish was tasty!



If We Must Be Botched…

A quite afternoon at home left me channel surfing landing on a new reality show called “Botched”. At first, I must admit, I was going in with my judgment glasses on planning to see a bunch of gasp-inducing people and subconsciously preparing to draw my own conclusions on them and the cosmetic surgery issues with which they were dealing.


I watched the episode featuring a former reality star with stage name derived from a city and state I hope to visit in June to see Brandy on Broadway as Roxie in Chicago. I digress. This starlet’s nose and girly issues were troublesome, however not nearly as severe as the other two people featured on this particular episode of the show. The plastic surgery mishaps they’d been living with did not disappoint in the gasp-induceness I expected. I can only imagine how they must have felt each and every day of their lives they’d lived with these issues. It was actually gut-wrenching to know that, for whatever reason, be it their own or another, they’d been living with surgical mishaps which had not only affected them physically, but emotionally, socially and a bunch of other words ending in “ally”.

So I watched “Botched”, like the former big, bad “it takes a lot to shake me”, “if it bleeds it leads”, “show me the blood” newsie that I used to be. I watched not having to turn my head, settle my stomach or cover my mouth in disbelief. I watched “Botched”, eyes full-on my flat screen with baited breath to see what wonders the plastic surgeons could work. I won’t spoil the episode talking about any wonders that may or may not have been performed. What I will focus on instead is the side story to the botchedness of it all, and that’s the supportive family and friends.


Here’s the tea. We all are, or were botched at some point and in someway, meaning that something we thought was going to go right went wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy wrong. We may carry our signs and scars on the outside like the people in the episode I watched, or we may carry them internally, which can often be worse. The worse of the worse is to carry our wounds, lumps, bruises, disfigurements, ill-adjustments, sags, bags, mistakes, hazards, “you (you, not you’re) a mess” and all that other stuff on the inside and/or outside, and to be alone while doing it. There was a beautiful underlying story to the gory that was “Botched”. A colorful array of family and friends who obviously had been there through the botched days were there front and center to celebrate the better that was ahead. Tears, cheers, (and yes, a few cocktails and beers) were paired with genuine, visible, overwhelming support and joy, which must have meant the world to that not-to-be-named reality starlet and the other subject featured on the show.


So, I’ve decided, if we must be botched we shouldn’t be by ourselves. We all deserve a “go along group” to be there on the front-lines and with back-up support in the times of jackedupness and certainly in the times of joy.