Suspicious

     I was sitting in the back of a car, behind the driver.

     Tucked neatly to my right was this handsome man. A man that I had only known from a mutual friend and Instagram. On the other side of him, behind the passenger was another friend of ours, one that we both subtly ignored.

     This was our first car ride together. We were friends only. At least in this instance.

     He gently let the side of his body make casual contact with mine as the car swerved in awkward ways. His hand using my knee as a way to steady himself.

     I thought to myself, ‘That’s a cute sly flirty move’, until he then said,

     “Uhhh, I feel sick…”

     And then I woke up.

     So yeah. That pretty much sums up 2017 for me in a nutshell.

     Seriously. I danced with a ‘gentleman’ a couple weeks back, and his small talk to me, mostly on the dance floor, was as follows:

     -       Do you come here often?

     -       Are you with anyone?

     -       Oh, I do a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I can neither confirm nor deny…but yeah, I’m an Engineer.

     -       So, do you have any kids?

     -       I need to get past these old fogies on the dance floor.

     -       By the way, I’m a stallion.

     Okay. Good to know. It’s like they know how to find me. Quality men. They just can’t get enough of me.

     And yet, according to my social diary, I have had (-1) dates. Yes folks, you read that correctly, that is MINUS ONE dates.

     Because the one *accidental date I had in January of this year, was with an imposter who bamboozled me and forgot to mention that he was married. And for my Christian ladies out there, yes, this homie had a very public job, said he was a Christian and had a church home. So please keep your core fam bam in the loop when it comes to matters of the heart. And don’t be afraid to tell the tried and trusted in your life (your ride-or-die prayer warriors) the scoop as well. I’m so thankful for family and friends that covered me in prayer during that weird season.

     But alas, I’ve forgiven him. Truly. I have no guile towards him. But this is of course a recap of this year, and for those of you just joining, I wanted to catch you up fast. And also, as a PSA, be diligent on your background checks (social media or otherwise)…because…Mhhmmhm.

     But last year this time, I spent 14 days praying specific things over my future husband. I know. It sounds a bit corny and dramatic, but I honestly don’t care. I loved it.

     I shared this prayer journey on my personal Instagram page last December and had friends and family join me in prayer over this mystery man. It was all very powerful and beautiful.

     So of course my hopes and expectations for 2017 were already heightened. The word God dropped in my spirit for the year was, “Promise”. And I thought for sure…”Aw yeahhh, it’s going dooooown. Honeymoon life here I come!”

     And I looked up.

     I waited for the package to drop.

     I had a handful of crushes, from Texas to London to Vancouver, but the delivery still wasn’t made.

     In the course of this year, I’ve received more heartfelt feedback on my blog stories than I’ve ever have before.

     Young ladies, older ladies, men even, all saying in chorus: Thank you. Your voice matters to us.

     That made me stop in my tracks.

     The song of Hope Deferred is a song many of us know by heart.

     And as I sang my tears this year to you, you sang back to me, “We still believe.”

     And I shook my head in disbelief.

     Because at this point, it’s all beyond me.

     I used to think, if I waited long enough, I could figure everything out, or appease myself somehow. But nope. It’s all beyond me.

     Life is still moving.

     Frantically.

     And do you want to know what my word for 2018 is? REST.

     Okay, God.

     Really? Por qué?

     Because there’s so much to be done, and how will it ever get done??

     REST.

     But what about this new work commute?

     REST.

     And what about the fact that no one asked to date me in 2017 (or 2016, or 2015 or..….you get the picture…)

     REST.

     Fine.

     So in the last several weeks, while you haven’t heard from me, I’ve been ever so slowly sliding into this position of rest.

     Letting the song now be sung over me.

     Rest doesn’t necessarily look like ‘falling asleep’, but rather letting peace fall on your face  -

     Then letting it hit your cheeks, touch your eyes, move down your neck, touch your heart, and eventually making its way down to your toes.

     It’s a process.

     And a huge part of rest is choosing not to worry.

     But relishing.

     Looking at the richness in our midst.

     I may have 99 problems, but I have 99,000 blessings.

     And I’m relearning that all over again.

     Moving is emotional.

     Like, I had a proper ugly cry breakdown the night before I moved my bed from Los Angeles to my hometown.

     It was gut-wrenching.

     These past few years, I took risks.

     And most of the risks didn’t pay off, but some did.

     But my heart ached for what I perceived as loss and lost time.

     I’ll never be this age again with this type of fervor.

     Or will I?

     A few months before this move, I felt a heavenly unction to start a small business. It was completely out of left field for me. But I followed the unction. And now you can see the birth of my new small business here: Together Good Co.

     It marries my work in television production with my networking and marketing of brands backstage, and of course my love for food and hospitality.

     But to be honest, I feel out of my depth with this. I mean, I feel incredibly excited when I talk about Together Good and when I work on things pertaining to it. But in the back of my mind, I’m like, did I just take another horrible new risk? Are my hopes about to be dashed once again?

     You know, I just feel overall suspicious.

     And yet, I feel at peace.

     A bit oxymoronic.

     Oh, but did I tell you, that early this year, an old boss of mine, through a gossip grape vine, stated their opinions about me in a not so favorable light. Which in turn led to me not getting certain jobs this year. Which as a freelancer is quite jarring.

     I honestly don’t remember the last time this happened to me in the workplace. But this news came around the summer of this year when I was already feeling a bit insecure about my worth and what I had to offer in my career and relationships.

     So of course that added a dagger and some salt to an already bruised back.

     But since then, and as recently as this week, there’s been such sweet, sweet redemption. Like, I can’t even get into the details, but all I can say is, “God sees the truth….” *sips tea and paints nails*

      But that was a hurdle I had to climb over.

     In starting this new business on my own, I was confronted with the whispers of “Are you good enough? Smart enough? Well-connected enough??” Mixed in with my personal favorite, “Everyone is not going to like you.”  

     In regards to the former questions about being “enough”. The answer is no. I’m not. But I know the One who is. So I lean into that.

     In a love letter written to us, it states, that in our weakness, God’s strength is perfected (2 Cor. 2:9).

     Wow. How’s that for autonomy?

     But that’s what I’m banking on. My part can be good and even beautiful. But God’s part will be essential.

     I’m not quite sure how this is all going to work, you know---2018 in a nutshell.

     But I’m choosing to trust.

     And I think you are too.

     It’s been HARD. Don’t let anyone (especially yourself) tell you otherwise.

     But it’s also been soft at moments. Don’t deny yourself that either.

     But my current questions going into 2018 are:

     Will I have the same gusto then as I did before? Because right now, I’m exhausted. And perhaps more importantly…Will God preserve my sexy for the right man?

     Well, if I’ve learned anything from my good friend Caleb, that answer would be a resounding yes.

     You see, I’ve been in the book of Joshua for…I think… about 3 or 4 months, I’ve seriously lost track.

     At the beginning of this year, I started making my way through the Bible again. Starting at good ole Genesis and trekking my way through. But this time, I decided to take my time and follow the promptings I felt-- to either go slower, wait a bit, or move forward.

     I was so excited to finally make it to the Book of Joshua. Because I thought, surely, my life is going to parallel the spiritual journeys I’m gleaning from, just like it’s been in my previous readings.

     I had finally made it to the “Promised Land” book. So here I was again, waiting for the package of blessings to somehow drop in my lap.

     But instead I was reminded of the revelation-- receiving a promise isn’t necessarily as smooth as silk or as easy-peasy as pie. It looks something like time passing, consecration, crossing an impossible river, and a circumcision all before marching around the walls of Jericho and experiencing a supernatural victory. 

     And Jericho would be the first of many supernatural victories, because at that point in the story, we haven’t even gotten to the other numerous battles that would secure the Promise.

     But last month, while I’m in a corner panting for breath and asking for water, because I’m so exhausted from the year, I read this regarding Caleb:

     Then the sons of Judah drew near to Joshua in Gilgal, and Caleb the son of Jephunneh the Kenizzite said to him,

 “You know the word which the Lord spoke to Moses the man of God concerning you and me in Kadesh-barnea.  I was forty years old when Moses the servant of the Lord sent me from Kadesh-barnea to spy out the land, and I brought word back to him as it was in my heart. Nevertheless my brethren who went up with me made the heart of the people melt with fear; but I followed the Lord my God fully. So Moses swore on that day, saying, ‘Surely the land on which your foot has trodden will be an inheritance to you and to your children forever, because you have followed the Lord my God fully.’ Now behold, the Lord has let me live, just as He spoke, these forty-five years, from the time that the Lord spoke this word to Moses, when Israel walked in the wilderness; and now behold, I am eighty-five years old today. I am still as strong today as I was in the day Moses sent me; as my strength was then, so my strength is now, for war and for going out and coming in.  Now then, give me this hill country about which the Lord spoke on that day, for you heard on that day that Anakim were there, with great fortified cities; perhaps the Lord will be with me, and I will drive them out as the Lord has spoken.”

 So Joshua blessed him and gave Hebron to Caleb the son of Jephunneh for an inheritance. Therefore, Hebron became the inheritance of Caleb the son of Jephunneh the Kenizzite until this day, because he followed the Lord God of Israel fully. Now the name of Hebron was formerly Kiriath-arba; for Arba was the greatest man among the Anakim. Then the land had rest from war.

 Joshua 6:6-15 - *emphasis mine.

     This passage will make me wanna preach right here!

     But um, did you catch that…Joshua and Caleb spied out the promised land 45 years prior to the beginning of the fulfillment of Caleb’s promise!

     And my man, Caleb just puts it down like a Boss at 85 years old!

     “As my strength was then, so my strength is now.”

     CALEB. YOU BEDDA TELL THESE YOUNG WHIPPER SNAPPERS WHO RUNS THESE STREETS!

     And once I read that, my only prayer was:

     “Lord, let that be me………… I mean, I don’t need to be 85 to be married…But if that’s the case, CLEARLY I’m going to be the hottest 85 year old woman you ever did see. And my bae is going to be running those Chess Game Streets in tacky old man plaid outfits and complaining about bad drivers. And I’m gonna be like, “I love you, and your belly, and you’re all minez.”

     These could be Facts.

     But in all honesty, I want what Caleb had.

     God let my strength, and my fervor, my joy, and my hope ever be increasing, never waning, until the very end.

     Because I believe.

     But help my unbelief.

     And when I wrap my arms around the one I love,

     I’ll look up at the constellations above,

     Breathing that sharp cold winter air into my lungs,

     And remembering days like today, when the land was full of giants and atrocious impossibilities.

     And I’ll whisper to the wind, right behind his ears.

     No longer full of suspicion. 

     But instead rich with a new tradition.

     Singing:

             “My strength is just as strong…”

Wisdom’s Knocking:

“Pure love and suspicion cannot dwell together:

 at the door where the latter enters, the former makes its exit.”

-Alexandre Dumas

photo credit: mike gentry

Peaks and Valleys

     And in one moment I’m having thee greatest revelation of love I've ever experienced, and the next moment I’m in tears of unrest and confusion.

     Do you ever look back? Do you ever think that Egypt was better than an unseen promise? Because, in fact, you don’t have a grid for what you are suppose to expect or how to even expect it. You’re just told, “Expect It.”

     Okay. Cool. Thanks. Got it.

     Nope. Um. Don’t got it.

     I’m in the process of leaving Los Angeles, and I feel as though I’m slowly and effortlessly losing my mind. Like today, I’m getting on a plane, and it’s beautifully cloudy outside and I dream of living in a world of Kyle Finn Dempsey photos:

     Can that even be real life?

     Yes.

     Curated of course. But still real.

     But in December, I move. It’s the “In-between” move before trying my hand at Texas. I’m going home. Back to my hometown. Maybe for a few months, maybe for a few years. But I heard in my spirit that I was suppose to go and “stay”.

     *Looks dazed and confused*

     Hmm. God, how is that suppose to work? I thought I was moving to Texas in the beginning of 2018. But in true journey fashion, the road is a bit more curvy than first anticipated. And I thought I was okay with that…until I wasn’t.

     I’m leaving comfort and a routine for the unknown once again. It feels good in the deepest parts of my bones. And then it feels annoying at the top part of my forehead.

     But let’s scratch the surface a little bit deeper.

     Years ago, I was once told by a sweet older parishioner after church…”Sometimes you just need a good shag.” Her New Zealand bluntness made me laugh.

     (You’d be surprised the things people tell me— before, during and after church.)

     Her words also sounded very similar to a prayer of mine to God.

     “LORD. I just need SEX. Like now now. ”

     Oddly enough, when God and I talk about sex, He’s never panicked or disgusted. I mean--He is, in fact, the author of it.

     But instead, there’s a sense of a calm resolve and sweet patience as I rant and rave to Him.

     And then I let Him talk to me about intimacy. The goal, the journey, the highs and the lows—and how it’s not just about sex, but does include sex, but also how beautiful it all can be.

     And then I log back into the promise.

     It’s weird to know what you think you need, but are delaying gratification for.

     A promise of something better than Egypt…

     I just think I want someone to hold my hand through this particular threshold—a physical hand—a man-hand.

     I want someone to be kind to me as I lose my mind.

     Anytime I find myself majorly sexually frustrated, it’s usually connected to a deeper sense of intimacy. A lack or a bankrupt chasm in my ability to get still and listen.

     It’s not so much about a sensation of an orgasm being craved, as it is being held and known.

     And yet, it is about touch and tenderness. But wrestling with how those very tactile elements translate in an ethereal, weighted and meaningful way.

     The friction in my heart comes from the idea, that deep down inside, I somehow think that I am being tricked.

     Like God has no problem being nice to you, and making all your dreams come true, but I’m in one long extended test, because I’m stubborn and a handful and just slightly weird, among other things.

     Also, I’ve had like 3 intense Instagram crushes since I’ve written you last. And I’ve been a bit desperate to be noticed. And they’ve all just been sooo cute. Someone from my past, someone from my present, and someone who could be in my future, but no one is sliding into my DMs (for my older readers: Instagram’s “Direct Message” - It’s like an answering machine—no like a written telegram, but on social media and you can leave messages with strangers. It’s amazing and weird and beautiful, and apparently people get married after “sliding into those DM’s”…)

     And I’m like, do ANY of YOUS want to date me and kiss me? And WHY THE HECK NOT?

     So yeah, I think I need to wean myself off social media in the next few months. Because, clearly it’s bringing out the best in me.

     But let’s go back to a few paragraphs ago—I feel like I might be getting tricked. Let’s explore that Patrice.

     Why do you think you would be tricked?

Because in the past, when I believed that a guy liked me, I embarrassed myself and got the signals wrong. Time and time again. We are talking over a decade of experience here.

Or when I thought the season and the time had come for me to start a family had arrived, but proved illusive and seemingly passed me by.

 And when I thought a boy hated my guts in college, it turns out he was so in love with me, he didn’t know how to act around me. See…#TRICKED

     But let’s go deeper. So you feel that God is untrustworthy?

     Um. Yes. No?

     Not necessarily all the way untrustworthy, but definitely Jehovah Sneaky. Like—“Oh, I didn’t see that coming…” Or, “Oh, that’s what you meant when you said I’d be incredibly rich….like rich in love…Oh. Okay. Cool……………”

     But do you believe that God gives *good gifts?

     *Crickets*

     I used to believe that.

     I guess I still do. But that belief feels faint.

     I haven’t practiced my place of belief.

     Wow.

     I just got that revelation as I was writing this to you.

     “Practicing my place of Belief.”

     I’ve let my circumstances magnify my limitations, giving me a full time job (with extreme overtime), of trying to figure everything out—the how, the who, the when, etc.

     But my only job and posture as I walk out of Egypt is to Believe.

     To Believe that God is Good, that He is Kind, and that He gives good gifts to us personally.

     And in the beautiful weight of those highlights, choosing to align my life with those Truths daily.

     With that revelation, my inner posture shifts.

     I should be chillin like Sleeping Beauty. But instead, I’m more like Half-Napping Beauty, getting up in a panic every 14 minutes or opening one eye ever so slowly every 3 minutes.

     In any event, I’ve been counting time, instead of enjoying restful countenance and Presence.

     Of a Good God that can be known and experienced.

     And a Good Life that can weather the fiercest of storms.

     Because now I’m remembering, as I peak my head slowly up from this dusty valley…

     God promised us is that He is forever present and absolutely trustworthy --amid our current frustrations and insecurities (especially so), and as He gives us strength and joy in the unchartered landscape of adventure and dreams -- He alone will always prove to be the peak to every mountain we ever hope to climb.

Wisdom’s Knocking:

“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me.

In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you.  If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.  And you know the way where I am going.”  Thomas *said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, how do we know the way?”  

Jesus *said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me."

- John 14:1-6

The Oath

     I’m back in love with marriage.

     I know. I know. It always seems to happen so swiftly for me. But actually not really.

     There’s an undercurrent of sneaky Hope that just doesn’t let go of my neck in the midst of my messy process. And before I know it, I just surrender to it. Because why not.

     It really becomes that simple for me.

     But make no mistake-- I was dismayed and bitter after my last blog post to you. I was actually a bit shocked of how much I exposed to you regarding the true state of my heart.

     Nevertheless, I realize now it was important for you to see and to know that I don’t just wake up happy and in a constant posture of believing the best.

     I have to fight for it.

     Just like you.

     My travels to England last month left me a bit love drunk.

     Let me explain.

     I had planned for this trip since last December.  Honestly, I wanted to take time out of my busy schedule to be with God. The previous year had been a whirlwind, and I was ready to find my bearings again. To find me again. To find home again.

     I didn’t need God to do anything particularly spectacular for me. On this pilgrimage of sorts, I was simply bringing my heart to Him. “Have your way”…”I know Your way is best.” ...“You see me completely and wholly.” ...“I still love You, even though I don’t understand.”

     For my heart, I simply wanted to get out of my familiar place to meet my Favorite.

     I had to say no to other things, other good things, even logical good things, to say yes to this trip.

     And I’ll never regret that yes.

     In short, I was given the privilege of serving with a church ministry during an incredible conference in the countryside of England and in doing so praying with a team of other amazing God-lovers.

     It was as if my heart had come alive again.

     In preparing for this trip, there was homework to be accomplished. Which meant, intentional prayer times with God were in order as well as listening to focused online teachings and of course Bible readings.

     It was in the preparation that my heart started to get wrecked in the best way.

     Peace was being restored to my soul, even before I set foot on the soil of England.

     Mind you, I hadn’t ministered or done a great deal of praying with or for people, since my father passed away, a year prior.

     I had stepped down from teen youth ministry and my heart took a much needed sabbatical after 7 years of running very hard in both my work in television and my work in ministry.

     But I longed for the day that I would be able to pray and love on broken hearts in need.

     In my wanting to kneel down at his feet, God met me in the most generous and kind way. He restored my faith in love.

     Now before I go any further, I have to interject—

     Have you ever met someone you just feel automatic chemistry with? I mean in a platonic way. You just vibe and click with this person effortlessly. And then you end up being life long friends?...

     Well imagine that happening with about 20-30 people at one time.

     That’s what England was for me.

     This was my second time back in a span of a year, and I'd already met and known people there who had forever shaped me—but this year, it was like Explosive. Like Fireworks in my face.

     It’s never just a place. It’s always the people.

     And in true to Patrice style, I fell in love with everyone. It’s like this euphoric state (without the drugs ;) where everyone is beautiful, amazing, wonderful, talented, and magical in their own unique way. And I just want to hold their faces and just stare at them and say thank you-- over and over again.

     So yes, God restored my faith in love.

     What a loaded sentence that one.

     I mean, so many of us harbor our broken hearts, our failed attempts, our righteous bitterness, thinking that somehow it is destroying the enemy, when in fact, it is debilitating our own hearts.

     After my Springtime crush hid in the shadows of indifference. I licked my wounds, but also realized how gracious we both had been.  In reminiscing about that season, I venture to glean the positive from our short encounter:  In brief, I’m braver than I think. And he, being a wonderful dancer, showed me that there are still gentle-men on the dance floor. As is the case in life. Gentlemen still do exist. I know. It’s shocking. But true nonetheless.

     And now we close that chapter completely. I pray he finds what he’s looking for, and not only get what he wants, but also what he needs.

     But meanwhile, God restored my faith in love.

     I asked God a dangerous question, after the disappointment of the Spring. What does an oath in marriage truly look like and feel like?

     I was particularly fascinated with the phrase, “In sickness and in health.”

     We hear that phrase all the time.

     And it sounds romantic.

     But is it really?

     I know of a couple that couldn’t handle the ‘sickness’ portion of marriage, especially when the sickness lingered for years. And now sadly, they are divorced.

     And yet, I was still fascinated with the phrase. “In sickness and in health.”

     Little did I know, I would learn and see first hand what this could look like.

     There’s something so powerful and painful about walking with someone through an illness. It’s humbling, tiring, unrelenting, and oppressive at times. And in that context, the oath remains. Love is to remain. Not fear. Not hardness of heart. But love.

     I find that utterly phenomenal.

     I mean, it’s easy to love life and people when you are healthy.

     What’s the saying? “Health is wealth.”

     You really grasp the meaning of that once you’ve been in the hospital for any sort of reason.

     To be able to rest in your right mind and function as an active person is truly ablessing.

     But to now be in a relationship embraced by an oath you spoke, saying to God and witnesses: I will still choose this person at their worst because I love them, and I believe in my heart that they are always worth it.

     I mean.

     Whoa.

     These words are absolutely incredible.

     And weighty.

     But I was still fascinated with this idea of how one walks with a person through pain and sickness. And yes, God does this with us. But how do we do this with our flesh and bones? How though?

     When you ask God a question, often the answer comes, but in ways you never expected.

     And this past weekend, I saw first hand…the how…of the oath.

     I received a text no one wants to ever get.

     One of my best friend’s husband was rushed to the hospital.

     He had lost control of his motor skills, was slurring his words, and no longer recognized who she was.

     He had been a healthy guy in the middle of an important work presentation when this all happened.

     We mobilized a group of our other besties and started a prayer chain.

     I drove to the hospital and prayed next to her and her husband as he lay sedated on his hospital bed.

     She prayed brave prayers.

     “God, he is yours.”

     He would wake up occasionally in the night--agitated, and he still didn’t recognize her.

     “I have a wife?” is what he said at one point in time.

     And she would speak with such peaceful, calm love. “You’re safe.”

     Every time he woke up in the middle of the night, she would rush to his side, hold his hand, and explain to him with such patience the events that had happened, where he was, and that he would be okay.

     He, in a confused state, would lay his head back down, and quickly fall back asleep.

     She would turn to me, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

     At this point, the doctors didn’t know or understand what was going on with her husband. Not a stroke, maybe a virus, high fever, all inconclusive.

     As we stayed up all night next to her husband’s bedside, do you want to know what she also did in the meanwhile? She prayed for my future husband!

///

I hope you’re crying now. Because I am.

///

     She’s in one of the worst situations of her entire life and marriage, they have an 11 month old baby, and she is concerned about my love life?!

     If that ain’t the love of God y’all, I don’t know what is!

     And at this point I’m dumbfounded.

     How is the love of God THIS kind.

     Like really, people.

     In the midst of everything going on. Literal life and death.

     And God still speaks so directly to my heart.

     All I could do was HUMBLY say Yes and Amen.

     Lord, I will believe.

     I do believe in this crazy thing called marriage.

     And I do believe that you have an incredible man waiting to walk this journey out with me.

     If God is faithful to give the promise, He is faithful to keep it. I don’t have to work out the how, but simply say yes, I believe.

     And there in that hospital room, on no sleep, God restored my faith in love once more.

     And around 4:30AM in the morning her husband tosses and turns awake again, but this time, miraculously he recognizes his wife and he recognizes my face as well.

     Both she and I raise our voices and our hands in praise simultaneously.

     Her husband, still being a bit groggy, asks, “What happened….?”

     And she explains the story once more, but this time, he is tracking and can recall his last memories before everything went haywire.

     And there is beautiful life in his eyes again.

     And she is overcome with gratitude and strength.

     And I am overwhelmed by the power of an oath.

     Because in the midst of the chaos--with impossibilities lurking at every corner…

     Love is still present.

     And though everything else may fail,

     Love will remain.

Wisdom’s Knocking:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.  When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

-- I Corinthians 13:4-13

The Tenderness of Tonight

     I hear that desperation is an unattractive quality…*shrugs shoulders*

     By the way…I’m single. I’m single. I’m SINGLE, world! In case you were curious.

     With that said though, I have less hope than I did last year that I’ll actually get married. I just don’t know if I want to. Ok. DUH. I want to. But I don’t know if I want to. Look, I don’t see how this could be confusing for you at all.

    It’s just all too exhausting to hear about, think about, pray about, and hope about right now.

    Similar to how I felt in January of this year, I think I’m at that point again where I’m tapping out.

    Los Angeles is a weird city for love, but I’m quite sure every major city in the world would say the same thing.

    Alone together.

     It’s so stupid.

     Millions of people wanting to connect, wanting to be known, to experience true intimacy beyond sex. And yet, there’s a great divide—an ugly chasm that few are able to cross.

     I know you taste the hint of my salty Bitter Betty seasoning.

    Nothing came from my out-of-state crush that I wrote to you about a couple months back. In fact, in true Patrice form, I may have overstayed my welcome and embarrassed myself a little.

    You know when you’re talking to someone you’re attracted to, and you try to leave space and silence in the conversation for that person to say… “Why, yes, I want to see you again, in fact, I want to take you out.  Because I think you could be the mother of my children...” Okay. That last bit was strictly for me, but you get the idea.

     Well, not only did he *not say those words, but I was given the no-contact and no-texts back treatment.

     Well beautiful sir. I hear your silence loud and clear.

     Hope deferred.

     And seemingly ‘unchosen’.

     You’d think this sort of rejection gets easier, and yes I do bounce back—but I have to acknowledge to my heart that I did care and did hope, and that’s a beautiful big deal. And yes, the outcome delivered a dose of grief to my heart, but I never want to become numb to my own heart and the things that God is speaking to me in the midst of my pain.

     The Word says, “He came to heal the brokenhearted…” So in essence, I won’t remain brokenhearted if I acknowledge and bring my pain to God. 

     I know this to be true by personal experience. The healing is real—it’s tangible and redemptive. And I come out on the other side, skipping and singing new songs of hope, with a heart enlarged and ready to love again. It’s nothing short of a breath-taking miracle.

     But meanwhile, no one's had any idea about my current thought process. And of course, I get words like, “Your husband is coming…your wedding is going to be amazing…let’s pray for your romance story to begin…etc. etc.”

     If you try one of those lines on me right now, I may just punch you in the mouth.

     Three days ago, I got back from England.  And I thought, once again, “Wow, I could seriously be in love.”

     I know. My life seems to be full of so many incredible juxtapositions.

     I met so many amazing people there. And I literally felt like I was in love with everyone I saw.

     And so I gave space to one individual in particular.

     I wanted to know what he would do in the silence.

     I love awkward silences. Just when they’re not awkward, but rather, when a person knows how to fill it calmly with their presence.

     And as he and I stood face to face, I waited.

     And then I think to myself…who wants to do long distance romance anyway? That sounds horrible.

     And I start to become less and less invested…unless he asks……… then of course I’m all in. Naturally.

     But nothing.

     And our stand-off becomes a quick cordial friend-zone type of good-bye.

     I was almost tempted to grab his face and kiss him, just to see what would happen.

     But I refrained.

     I simply acted *extra friend-zone friendly, so he wouldn’t think I was actually attracted to him. #selfpreservation

     So now, no one is the wiser…

     It’s just that I so badly want to be kissed--Gently, intently, and within the realm of commitment and covenant. Not to be mistaken for a sloppy make-out session with a drunk guy from a bar or a co-worker (both have been offered at one point in time…)

     But rather kissed under the moonlight, with Otis Redding’s, “Try a Little Tenderness” playing faintly in the background, with the scent of peace and rest swirling in the air around us…

     If not for me tonight, perhaps for you…

     My faith for your love story grows. Even in the midst of my own wrestling. It’s a weird thing actually. I’m not quite sure how that happens. But I often pray for you and that your heart would find a place of rest, purpose, and romance as you have the privilege of waking up on this side of heaven.

     I can’t make it happen for you.

     And you cannot make it happen for me.

     But you can be with me.

     And I can be with you.

     And isn’t that what makes life bearable and dare I say…enjoyable at the oddest of times.

     Even in the midst of what might seem reckless or random.

     We still get to cling to one another.

     Like silk touching skin.

     Like purple turning blue.

     Like waves caught in shells.

     An understanding understood.

     That warm faint--- and up-ahead light.

     Breathing past the dissonance.

     Is the tenderness I’m embracing tonight.

Wisdom’s Knocking:

“Oh she may be weary
Them young girls they do get wearied
Wearing that same old shaggy dress,
But when she gets weary
Try a little tenderness”

--Otis Redding, “Try a Little Tenderness”

(Writers: Jimmy Campbell, Reg Connelly and Harry M. Woods)

Video Link: https://youtu.be/UnPMoAb4y8U

Brewing

     It’s becoming more real.

     This whole idea of moving outside of my comfort zone and into a greater sense of purpose.

     But in essence this is what we are made for: a life of love and adventure.

     Where each day holds significance and the promise of something beautiful – not always comfortable, but beautiful nonetheless.

     As it’s starting to sink in, what I’ve committed to do with my words, there is that temptation to recant.

     To shrink back, to pretend I never said such things, and to go back to the status quo.

     What if I’m missing the mark? What if the risk is too great? What if I don’t really connect with anyone while I’m in this new place? And what if, after a month, I’m forced to return home because of some sort of inefficiency?

     But there it is.

     I have a home. A home to come back to. A home that is cheering me on and believing in me --often more than I believe in myself. And because of this, I feel as though it's safe to fly, or rather, almost an obligation to do so—to go out and soar even. Which is an opportunity and blessing I don’t take for granted.

     Because our faith must still be exercised—fueled by love and put into the throes of purpose. But never stagnant and stale.

     There are so many people that I love here in California. And this will always be a home to me in all kinds of ways, because they are there.  Not to mention, a string of stories that forever connect me to this land.

     And yet, I feel called out in this next chapter of my life.

     In the new year, I’m looking to officially make the transition. This transition may begin before then, but February is looking like the month of magic.

     And in true Patrice form, I’m giving myself a year in this new place to see what doors God wants to open up and lead me through.

     If by the end of this year, in this new place, all feels stagnant and weird—well then, the adventure may need to come to an abrupt close, and I’ll rest in the arms of my California tribe once again.

     But if there is more beyond that time frame that is meant for me to be a part of, I will tenderly and thankfully embrace it.

     And yes, before I go any further, I know you’re wondering where the heck I’m moving to…

     Put it this way, I totally played myself…because last year this time, I was there…and then I was there again….and then again…and then in December of last year, I wrote about how life changing this place was for me, all the while, not fully getting hip to the fact that it might have been a divine setup all along…

     So if you want to know the place I’m preparing to move to, read: “Brightly” –Because yep, that’ll pretty much get you up to speed.

     And afterwards, we can talk about the people and places you think I should connect with there. My heart is totally open, and I’d love for you to be apart of this new journey with me.

     Because what does it mean to create space for a new sense of home in my heart? A new life? Truth be told, I’m not sure yet, but I’m willing to risk and find out.

     Meanwhile, I can’t ignore this overwhelming sense of peace I feel throughout this whole process.

     It’s as if my spirit has been waiting for me to step out for quite some time. And I’m able to spread my wings afresh.

     You and I were made for a life of adventure and faith—something beyond the status quo.

     And let me quickly preface:  Adventures don’t have to be a huge move, or something crazy extravagant to impact your life; but rather adventures need to be incredibly heartfelt—with your real emotions and heart engaged, paying attention to the world around you, and being willing to learn. Always.

     But the foundation of that adventure should entail stepping outside of your comfort zone. And you, and you alone, know exactly what that means and looks like.

     So here we are.

     I’m brewing.

     I’m hopeful.

     I’m curious.

     And I’m stepping out in faith.

     And as I look up at the stars tonight, those same stars that you can see from your city…I hear them singing the song they’ve been singing over me, ever since I can remember:

    “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

Wisdom’s Knocking:

“Don’t be afraid to expand yourself, to step out of your comfort zone.

That’s where the joy and the adventure lie.”

- Herbie Hancock