Bang, Bang, Boom

Photo Credit: Denise Valle



     I've just rediscovered the trigger on the gun.

     Nothing new, but something quite familiar.

     Social media.

     We joke about how consumed our lives are with it, but today, I set myself up. It was dumb, really.

     I called myself a martyr of some sort before I did it. I needed to face my fear.

     So I walked up to my proverbial cliff. And I jumped.

     But the water wasn't as deep as I thought it was. And I was knocked a bit unconscious. I know. Unfortunate.

     Let me give you a bit of backstory.

     So back in late November 2012, early December I was beginning to process my 2012. The highs, the lows, the mediocrity. And I couldn't shake this overwhelming fog. Things were not as clear as I knew they could be and should be. How did 2012 get so weird?

     How did I miss it? Yes, romance was big on my heart. At the tip top of the year, I had met someone who I thought was as close to husband material as I'd ever met. We're talking a 9.99999 on all scales. Faith, Looks, Intelligence, & Humor. I was in utter shock that someone on the planet existed like this person. And our paths had crossed. Surely, that alone was confirmation that he and I were meant to be together.

     And then, on my birthday, I discovered he had chosen another over me.

     A pattern I know all to well.

     Needless to say, I spent half of my birthday crying like a baby. Asking God, the tried and true, "Whyyyy? But Whyyy? And how could this happen again??"

    What was I doing wrong?

     The culprit of my discovery, which is quite important, given the subject matter of this post, was none other than Instagram. Yeah. I said it.

     Attention:

     Nothing you post on the Internet and social media is ever truly private.

     Guys: We as ladies, basically use social media as a means to background check your butts, and to constantly gage the temperature of our relationship/friendships with you. I know. It's a bit sad. Like you need another hurdle to get over, in the ever expansive landscape of female behavior. But sometimes you don't communicate with us, so we're forced to do some digging around to see how you're really doing.

     Yes. This is quite shameful. And yet a hard habit for us ladies to break.


Can I digress for a moment. 
I'm having trust issues. 
It's dawned on me that people are not always as trustworthy as their smile would make them appear to be.  
You didn't have time to message me back, you've been so so busy you tell me, yet Facebook and Instagram are telling me that you just liked 5 of "Carla's" pictures and had time to leave a comment on her Facebook page and Instagram picture in the last 30 seconds. 
Well, guess what that tells me. 
I just got played. Or worse. Forgotten about. 
Rejection is never pretty--subtle or blatant, but it's uglier when drawn out. 
You could have just been honest with me in the beginning. But now, I feel doubly worse. And this stirs up my trust issues. You must be a sweet talker. "Also known as a liar," quotes my heart. And now we're at ground zero.  
It's true, our secrets eventually get exposed, it's just a matter of time. 
Why do people still think that they'll never get found out? I always find this astounding. I mean, is your ego so solid that you think you'll never trip up and make a mistake? Mmmmk. 
It was ingrained in me at an early age that "God sees everything, everywhere, all the time. Plus, I had intense family members who worked for the government reassuring me that nothing of our lives was really ever private in this country. Talk to me about some conspiracy theories. I got you. 
So, growing up, I suspected my whole life would be on display somehow, it was just a matter of time.  Therefore, it would be most beneficial for me to be honest in the dark and in the light.  
Granted I didn't really catch this revelation until about 19. But at least I caught it. Ha.

     So the above section basically sums up the cycle of my 2012. A deep seated feeling of rejection and feeling as though I had missed the mark somehow. I had let my heart down.

     And then it became 2013.

     And 2013 becomes my year of Singleness. Because somehow along the way in 2012, I've picked up fog. I'm not talking cute fog, I'm talking that dense fog that makes your heartbeat get a little funny when you're driving through it, only able to see 11 inches in front of your vehicle.

     Consequently, by the end of 2012, the dreams of my heart were so shattered regarding career, ministry, and romance, like glass spewn in front of my feet, I didn't know which piece belonged with what piece.

     So I needed to take myself out of this mind game. I had to. If anything different was ever going to happen...

     And so I held my breath. And I told my heart that I would not give it the very thing that it has been craving for oh-so-long.

     And I took my heart out of my hands, and told it, "Everything is going to be okay. I promise. I promise."

     I slipped my heart nervously back in the Hands that seem to hold so many other things with such care, love, and grace.

     But somehow it wasn't all settled for me.

     Yes. I'm single and will remain single all of 2013 on purpose...and perhaps indefinitely, but--

     What gets tricky is when you find yourself still loving someone despite their untrustworthy nature and the rejection experienced at their hand.

     And this is when I decided to jump off my cliff.

     But how will I do that?

     Duh.


     Instagram.


     Sometimes, just sometimes-- when you want to find something, you actually do. These are the moments that I don't really want what I think I want, but I act like I do. I soldier on, with my gun by my side and my hand on the trigger.

     Literally. No joke, it took less than 5 seconds to find the incriminating evidence that I needed to make me cry. Thank you, Instagram "Following" button, a.k.a. Possibly the Devil.

     But I kept telling myself this was all necessary, face the cold hard facts, so that he'll be dead to you. Completely.

     But the only person that felt dead was me. Concussions have a tendency to do that.

     I look around. I'm not dead. That's a good sign.

     To be continued...






Wisdom's Knocking:

"New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings..."
-Lao Tzu 








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Butt Grabber


Photo Credit: Nicole LeBoeuf



     Yes. You read that right. My first blog post of the new year is about a butt. Mine in particular. I know. How profound can I get. Oh, just you wait. There's plenty more where that came from.

     So it was a work day. I was finishing a classy live television show with one of my most favorite people and co-workers on the planet. We were both so thrilled that our day was ending early, and successfully at that. Everything was falling into place.

     And then...

     It was time for me to greet the gentleman owner of a particular company and handle some last minute business. My right-hand girl and co-worker was right by my side to help facilitate with any last minute assistance. All three of us were in a light small talk conversation. Meanwhile, I noticed that the owner of this company had an awfully sweet and jovial demeanor. I could see why he was a successful businessman.  He was proving to be a fun conversationalist, full of confidence. I was enjoying his company and our conversation. He mentioned something about Disco, and I found myself cracking up.

     And he, without hesitation, without skipping a beat, without an ounce of fear--smacked and grabbed my butt--in the midst of his conversation. And then he just kept on talking.

     I'm not quite sure what else he said after that moment.

     All I remember, is looking at my co-worker to verify if what took place was actual reality.

     The look on her face confirmed that it was so.

     And he's still talking.

     I find myself back inside my body. And cut him off mid-conversation. With as much grace as I could muster up, I excuse both myself and my co-worker from his presence. He's absolutely unfazed.

     As I look to my right-hand girl, she looks a little red with fury. I calm her down. And beg her to not punch the back of his head while he's not looking.


-------------------------------------


     Okay. See, what this post is really about is not my butt, rather it's about this whole idea of "ownership".

     I haven't yet written to you in full about my vow of singleness for 2013 and I how I fully arrived at such a decision. I'll share more about that journey in future posts.

     But in the midst,  I've been wrestling with what I've been calling a dream, a desire, the equation that would equal a fulfilled and whole life.

     The way in which God often speaks to me is in the form of questions. For example, as I was offering my Singleness as a meaningful sacrifice to spend more intentional time with God, a question began to rise up in my spirit.

     "What do you own?"

     I paused.

     Um. I'm pretty sure the correct answer is..."Everything that you give me, Lord..."

     He asks me again.

     "What do you own?"

     Crap. This means, my previous answer was off.

     Okay. I think a little bit longer about the question.

     "I own....I own...nothing, because it all belongs to You."

     And in such a reassuring and comforting fatherly voice, He asks me, "And, Patrice, do you own anyone?"

     And without hesitation--"Of course not, that's absolutely ridiculous."

     And then He was silent.



----------------------------------------------------------------



     See, much of my desire to have a husband was to simply say, "My husband". As if I controlled and had ownership over him. As if his existence and partnership could define my identity in a holistic way. And would somehow make me look better, fulfilled,  and accomplished.

     But honestly, these are the things that God already does for me, because of His outright crazy love for me.

     The root of having my very own man, my very own boyfriend, my very own husband was established probably around 8 years old. Yes, I was just one of those girls. And I couldn't wait to be "Someone's Somebody". Again, implying this theme of ownership. Plus, I loved exclusivity.  Who doesn't? A someone belonging to me. A place or person carved out just for me, therefore I could only fill its space. Such bliss and so identity confirming! Mine, mine, mine and would only be mine...forever. With no doubt that no one could remotely come close to replacing me, because that someone belonged to me.

     I wanted tangible romantic evidence that I would always be held, always be taken care of, always kissed, always listened to, always valued. And those desires were greatly connected to having a boo. Because wouldn't he do all those things, all the time...perfectly.

     I know. Delusions of grandeur.

     Only God can fulfill in such a way. And I'm learning that again, somehow for the first time. A paradox, but nevertheless truth.

     What's interesting about the "tangible evidence" of my life being taken care of, is first jumpstarted by faith. Believing God is real, that He loves me, and He truly wants to take care of me and will. Point blank. That's the starting point. The rest becomes a fun and crazy adventure, watching how God does the impossible in my life day after day.

     No I don't "own" anyone or anything. God owns everything. We take nothing with us when we die, but simply who we are. But you and I get to steward the gifts in our lives. Meaning we get to take the absolute best care of every single person, thing, or circumstance in our life for a set amount of time.

     They are on loan to us.

     But the one thing that is ours, and ours alone, is God's unfailing and fierce love towards us.

     We already have a place in which we belong.

     Because He is ours, and we are His.





Wisdom's Knocking: 

"There is within the human heart a tough, fibrous root of fallen life whose nature is to posses, always posses. It covets things with a deep and fierce passion. The pronouns my and mine look innocent enough in print, but their constant and universal use is significant. They express the real nature of the old Adamic man better than a thousand volumes of theology could do. They are verbal symptoms of our deep disease  The roots of our hearts have grown down into things, and we dare not pul up on rootlet lest we die. Things have become necessary to us, a development never originally intended. God's gifts now take the place of God, and the whole course of nature is upset by the monstrous substitution. 

Our Lord referred to this tyranny of things when said to His disciples, "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it." (Matthew 16:24-25)"

- A. W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God, Page 22





My Un-Romance of 2013

Photo Credit: Lindsay Coleman


     I hate sounding like a broken record. Repeating the same things over and over again, with no new result.

     And then I look to my inspirations. My friends, my family, God. They're all artists in some way, in some fashion.

     They leave a unique fingerprint on my heart that no one else can overshadow or take away.

     I've been missing out on so much love.

     Love that's been right there in front me.

     Why do I, feel the need to want and want and want those things that are allusive. Farther away.

     Because when I get close to those things, I then want and want and want something further out.

     And so the cycle continues.

     I hate sounding like a broken record.

     I've spent more time thinking about you and thinking about what you'd think of me when I say what I'm about to say.

     Year after year, I've proclaimed that a particular year would be, had to be, couldn't help but be, my year--the year in which all my romantic notions and expectations would be fulfilled. We've prayed about it, had dreams about it, cried about it, laughed about it,  had visions about it, confirmations about it, and so on and so forth.

     But in an attempt to not outsmart my circumstances, I'm proclaiming that 2013 will be my year of Singleness.  The year of no romance for Patrice.

    Now, I know some of you will be tempted to text and call me immediately after reading that last sentence. But I encourage you not to.

     Because 2013 will be a year of great love for me. I'm convinced of that.

     Romance is already all around me. And I love celebrating it.

     I love looking at the grandeur of a sunset, the beauty of the lines on my mother's face.

     The magic of when two eyes meet and there's a special connection, if only for a moment.

     I love the way in which God speaks to me through the teenagers I mentor at my church. And how God loves me in the ordinary and mundane to-dos of my life.

     I love the sensation of writing and hearing from someone who has connected with my words.

     It's all wonderfully and magnificently romantic.

     But somehow along the way, I've lost sight of timing and truth and how my heart truly fits into my own romance story. I need to clear my head, and I think 2013 is just the place to do it in.

     I don't want to miss the now, looking at the not yet fully formed future.

     You see, I hate sounding like a broken record. And I hate looking like a fool. And somehow, I feel like I've effortlessly accomplished both in these last several years.

     And yes, my heart is still hurting a bit from this year's failed romantic expectations,  and perhaps it's also a bit guarded, but that's not the only reason I'm throwing in the towel. I feel myself half-living in certain areas because I feel cheated in some way. Which is a complete lie. My life is full and complete and overflowing with love and goodness. And if something (or my own views and perspectives) are preventing me from seeing that, they need to move aside and get readjusted.

    I mean, aren't you interested in hearing other topics from me in this blog, beyond the one I've been addressing for the last several years? There's so much more.

     But please believe, I'll continue to encourage and believe with you for your beautiful God-given romance. I know it's on its way. But for me, the verdict is still pending. And that's okay. Things are not always as they appear or how we think they will or should be.

     And that's the truth I have to consider.

     So in 2013, I'm intentionally choosing a new journey. A new outlook.

     And now the repeating record just stopped.




Wisdom's Knocking:

"I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald