Sittin' By The Dock Of A Bay

When you harbor bitterness, happiness will dock elsewhere. 

Learn to forgive fully and love unconditionally.

Bitterness is easy. We've all been wronged - terribly wronged. If you haven't been terribly disappointed, if you haven't been heartbroken, you haven't  lived.  I can remember in my late 20's I was hurt to the core by a guy I was totally taken with. We started dating shortly after my mother was diagnosed with cancer. To date, I've yet to meet a man that i've connected with intellectually, culturally and emotionally like I did with him. I can recall laughing with him until I was sure I'd embarrass myself once the puddle beneath became apparent. We'd talk hours upon hours - while I was getting dressed, while I was cooking, while I was breathing, while....Many of you remember getting phone bills WAY before bundle deals from the phone company. We averaged $600 phone bills. Every waking moment was sweeter because HE was in my life. We got each other, really got each other. I thought "this is what it feels like when you've met the one". Little did I know  that the entire time we were dating, "my one" had "someone" who wasn't me. Apparently, this guy was a multi-tasking fool. While that was deeply disappointing, even more disappointing was the Houdini like disappearing act he pulled when my mother was in her final hours of life. My expectation of his support was based on the relationship that I THOUGHT we had. His ability to totally separate himself emotionally from what I was going through was based on the relationship he DID have with someone else.   To find this out while dealing with the loss of my mother was devastating. I was officially bitter.


I became a skilled orator on how I'd been done wrong. If you gave me 5 minutes, I'd give you the cliff notes on my erstwhile love affair. I told my story time AND time AND time AND time again.  I'm actually embarrassed to think of the eyes that must've rolled when people saw me coming - Debbie downer in the flesh. I was so focused on rehashing, recounting, reliving and remembering the past that I missed out on more than I care to imagine.  My hurts lasted longer than the relationship. While I lamented, HE moved forward with his "one", got engaged and married. During this time, I honestly thought I'd moved on. I dated - quite a bit. None of those guys worked out. Hmmm, I wonder why? One guy even told me "you know I really like you, but you seem to still have very strong feelings for your ex. Maybe you should see if that relationship can be revived." Nice guy, right? Understanding guy, right? Yeah, I missed the boat on that one. I docked my bitterness at every single solitary port that beckoned me. 


One day, a good friend of mine and someone who actually pursued me romantically during my ministry of bitterness, said to me "Cynthia, you really need to get past this. Do you realize how unattractive you're making yourself? I mean how many times are you going to tell this story? What is it really doing for you"? That was my "aha" moment  - and miraculously my bitterness, bit the dust.  Since that time, I've not told that story, the story of unrequited love and bitterness. I can't even remember much of it. When I think of him now, I DO recall the laughter, the butterflies, the dreams of "what if". I remember the good.
There's a saying "by beholding we become changed". Those words are powerfully true. Whatever you choose to meditate on, make a priority will effect you. That's why in Philippians Paul tell us to think on the positive, the pure, the true, the just. A downward, bitter spiral is as close as your thoughts.


I have yet to meet my mate - but rest assured I am ready. My dock is free and clear from all bitterness and ready for all the happiness it can handle.  How about you? Is there anything you've been harboring far too long? Let it go, forgive those who've hurt you (memo- you've likely broken a heart or two yourself. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you). Behold the positive, behold the possibilities - you might be pleasantly surprised who and what cozy's up to your dock. 

                               

Let The Good Times Roll

He replied, “You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” Job 2:10

As of today, I've been unemployed for 16 months. That's 64 weeks. That's 480 days. That's a goooooooood clip. In that time, I have experienced the some incredible highs and some devastating lows. Highs - interviewed with the icon Madonna for an opportunity to run her non-profit. Yes, you read correctly. I literally sat across from Madonna in her apartment discussing her love for Malawi, her decision to start an organization, and her insightfulness on the gift of giving back. Lows - wondering if I have any skills at all when any and everything I've applied for has failed to materialize. My self-confidence has taken a beating - a thrashing - it has teetered on the edge of annihilation.

In my 39+ years of life, I've faced my share of Goliaths (as i'm sure you have too). Twelve years ago - I faced the Goliath of death. My mother never had so much as a cold until the illness that would claim her life came about. My mother was such a strong force that if cancer could be punked, my mother would have played the part of Ashton Kutcher. In my mind, in ALL of my family's minds, cancer didn't have a chance with Joan Chea. When it seemed that cancer was gaining the upper hand, my mother rallied back. She was on the mend. I had visions of my mother speaking across the nation about how the Lord brought her back from the brink of death. I KNEW this would happen. Of course He would heal her, why wouldn't He? Hey, I payed attention in my bible classes, in family worship - this guy Jesus WILL answer my prayers. That's what ALL of y'all told me. Ask and ye shall receive. Seek and ye shall find. I prayed, my father prayed, my brother prayed. Any and everybody we knew prayed, asked God for her healing and claimed her healing. Though she rallied, my mother would succumb to cancer thirteen months after its debut. I decided somebody lied to me.

In 2007 I faced the Goliath of disappointment. I met a little girl from Uganda - Jane Kemigisa. Jane came into my world as a client while I was working as an social worker for an international medical organization. Jane was orphaned under unimaginable circumstances. She was a precocious, curious, wise, chocolate drop. She was full of potential and possibility. A family stepped forward saying they wanted to adopt her but in the end they were unable to do all that was necessary to make it happen. Jane was going to be sent back to an uncertain future and the thought of that did not bode well with me at all. I stepped up willing to take the plunge into single motherhood. This little girl deserved a chance. I didn't have it all figured out, but I decided she and I would figure it out together. I jumped in, started to get my stroke down and suddenly was gasping for air. The opportunity to adopt this child was taken from me as quickly as it had been presented. At this point she had been living with me for six months. I was in love. I was heartbroken. I would later pack up all her belongings, board a plane with her and take her back to her homeland. I was devastated. Goliath had knocked the air out of me.

The Goliath of a broken heart has cut my tail so frequently that the sting has become familiar. He shows up at least once every couple years. Sue me, I'm a hopeful romantic. I've dealt with 'men' who have taken to me instantly - scented my life with compliments, texts, phone calls, promises of a future, what if's and the sort only to see it evaporate into the stench of manipulative propaganda. They have spewed copious amounts of....let me put it this way, it comes from a chicken but you can't make chicken salad out of it. I've dealt with the guy who didn't celebrate Christmas the year we were dating. But not until AFTER he received my gift of a cashmere coat. I've dealt with the guy who barreled full steam ahead into a long distance relationship with me (after I'd asked him if he was SURE he could do this) only to tell me two months later that he couldn't handle anything "heavy" right now, especially long distance. I've dealt with the guy who said he honored my stand of celibacy then got pissed and cut me off when I wouldn't give in. I've dealt with the guy who was the antithesis of support when my mother was in her final hours of life. How DARE I expect any support from him? We'd only been dating for a year at that point. If it weren't for my hopefulness, the word 'love' would take on the distastefulness of those other four letter words.

On the flipside - while I didn't get the job with Madonna - I interviewed with MADONNA - IN her apartment. I was flown to NYC, put up in a very nice hotel and was afforded the privilege of interviewing for an organization that is changing the lives of countless children in Africa. That opportunity showed me what was possible.

While my mother did pass, I was afforded the opportunity to work through some of the stuff that accumulates in mother/daughter relationships. I was able to give her flowers while she could still smell them. I came to realize what is REALLY important in the grand scheme of life. I was able to dot many of i's and cross plenty of t's.

While I wasn't able to become a mother to an amazing little girl - I was afforded the opportunity to play the role that was meant for me to play in her life. I gained real world experience in the world of parenthood. She was later adopted by an American family that has the emotional, spiritual and financial means to give her the life she deserves.

While I am still single, the men that I've gotten to know have exposed me to the world of politics, the culinary world, medicine, music, law, entertainment, marketing and lobbying (to name a few). I've learned a great deal about cultures from the good ole USA to Europe to the African continent to the West Indies. I've had incredible conversations, enjoyed side splitting laughter, outstanding meals, spine tingling kisses, wonderful trips an abundance of romance and have had plenty of smiles about what might be. All of those experiences have made my life richer.

In addition to the above I have had incredible life experiences that many would envy. To be fair, to be honest, and without question, my good/amazing/wonderful/life changing experiences FAR outweigh my bad. There would be no good were it not for bad. It is the ying and yang of life. I never EVER question why favor, blessings and good things come my way - but I weep and gnash teeth when the bad comes. Sounds a bit foolish, no? I'm with Job on this one.

Good Hair

I’ve worn dreadlocs for the past 11 ½ years. Some see locs as a form of rebellion and an anti-establishment manifesto. For me, deciding to loc my hair was a major step in my journey to total self acceptance. See, I grew up in the age where being "light skinned with long hair and pretty eyes" was the standard by which the black community measured beauty. Debarge reigned supreme on the airways and those who weren't naturally blessed with "good hair" sought refuge in leisure curls, jheri curls, wave nouveaus and good old fashioned super strength relaxers. Nothing could be done for skin color or eye color, but hair? Absolutely. For those outside of the black community, the term "good hair" refers to hair that is curly, soft, wavy, straight. It is often times a byproduct of miscegenation. Take one look at my picture and you will surely conclude that the miscegenation in my blood line was kept to a minimum. Nevertheless, susceptible to the majority, I fell in line and like a good soldier received my war scars of scabbed scalps, over-processed hair, hot comb burns, nights of sleeping on my knuckles, and a rainbow's worth of hair coloring.

I am fortunate to be a first generation American of indigenous Liberian and Guyanese descent. I wear my heritage with unmitigated pride and aplomb. My father is a member of the Kru tribe - hence my nod and mention of his indigenous lineage. He's not part of the repatriated African American contingency - he is through and through, to the bone, uncut, motherland product. My mother was a melange of African, Caucasian and East Indian (Madras) blood. The result of this union produced two deeply chocolate kissed, ample bodied, slightly relaxed wool-like coifed haired children. Given the times, this mean that growing up I felt abnormal.

I moved to New York City in 1996 one week after completing graduate studies at Golden Gate University in my hometown of San Francisco. I could not WAIT to move to New York. I had begun a love affair with the city as a ten year old girl. Back in 1980 my Aunty Shirley ran food services for Macy's at 34th Street. My brother and I spent a Christmas break with her. Every day we'd take the train in from Montclair, New Jersey and would descend into the wintery wonder that was New York City. Can you imagine what Manhattan in all its splendor looked like to a little girl from the city by the bay? It was then that I KNEW I'd return one day. So now it's 1996 and I'm moving to NYC - Brooklyn's Crown Heights neighborhood in particular. I'm excited, yet totally clueless as to how this move will irrevocably change my life.

Ask anyone who has spent any time in NYC and they will tell you the city is overrun with amazingly attractive, stunningly gorgeous, disturbingly exotic men and women. The racial mixes and 100% pure varieties represented there are mind-blowing. While this next statement may seem unlikely given what I previously stated, one of the gifts NYC gave me was a sense of self-confidence and peace with who I was/am. See, I came to a realization that there will ALWAYS be someone who will one up your beauty, intelligence, etc. However, they can NEVER trump your ability to be you. The minute I decided to accept and celebrate my 95% cacao kissed skin, nod to the motherland mane and ample form, people started gravitating towards me. All of the things that made me unique and abnormal had now made me....unique and abnormal. Unique meaning: being the only one of its kind; without an equal or equivalent; unparalleled. Abnormal meaning: not normal; deviating from the usual or typical; extraordinary. New York City's gift to me was the realization that I was one of a kind and extraordinary. Aren't we all? The master creator took care in crafting each and every one of us. Who I am, why I am and what I am, was/is ALL part of HIS master plan. Who you are, why you are and what you are was/is ALL part of HIS master plan. Psalm 139:13-16 tells us so.

I have been unemployed for just over a year now. Quite a few times in the past year well meaning friends and acquaintances have asked “do you think you may be missing out on opportunities because of your hairstyle”? My answer has been “maybe – but having locs doesn’t make me any less qualified than having straight hair makes me qualified”. My hair, good, bad or indifferent is who I am - free, natural, qualified, enlightened, worldly and real! To me, that is good hair.

Divorced and Ignored

Dedicated to Trini.

A picture may paint a thousand words, but a thousand words does not necessarily paint the right picture.

I was talking to an old friend today about post-divorce single parenthood. I've known Trini for 21 years. We met at a Christian college in the deep south. You couple Christian college and the deep south and you get a feel for the fervor and commitment to traditionalism in which we were steeped. We were catching up on all that has transpired over the years since we last saw each other. Trini got married, gave birth to three children, a boy, two girls and....got divorced. As we were talking, she said that after her divorce she felt like she had a scarlet letter D across her chest. Where/when did this letterman effect happen - going to the grocery store? No, at church. It's something that I've heard all too often, she said " single divorced parents are the most ignored group in the church". As a single I have felt that way - I mean outside of the obligatory "singles ministry" which gets and A for effort but typically earns a C- in its execution. Married life is celebrated, supported and prayed for. Singles? You're on your own (pun intended). I know this both from being a single and from serving as a Single's Ministry leader. It is virtually impossible for one ministry to meet all the needs of those who fall under the single banner. Let's see, there are: divorced, never married, divorced single parents, 18 year old singles, widows/widowers, twice married and twice divorced, 40 year old and never marrieds, never married single parents, widowed single parents... I'm sure I've missed someone. All these different "titles" if you will, have differing needs, concerns, challenges, etc. It is naive and presumptuous to think that one size can and will fit all in our churches.

My brother spent 9 years as a divorcee and shared similar observations. I've heard that all of a sudden the invites you used to get to the married couple/family potlucks get lost in the email/snail mail/evite. When the newly divorced walks into church the still married cling to their spouse a little closer (as though they might catch whatever you "have" that caused you to get divorced). And don't you dare be half-way attractive. Men, you've now turned into some lothario, roaming to and fro from church house to church house, full of pent up sexuality waiting to pounce on any woman who will give you the time of day. Women, you are needy, seeking affirmation and attention. You are the single mother who is just waiting for an able bodied man to look in her direction. You're desperate and will do ANYTHING to get out of the situation that you have brought on yourself. Of course, that is what's going on. If it were anything less - that would mean that those who remain married are susceptible to this same fate. That reality, to those who stand in judgement, is far worse than their treatment of brothers and sisters in Christ. It IS unsettling - no , not the divorced, I'm speaking of the us vs. he/she that many Christian married couples adopt instead of reaching out to a brother or sister that is hurting.

I've been fortunate to have a front row seat to relationships and marriages at varying stages. I remember speaking to my brother and saying "I never realized how much of a DAILY chore it is to stay married. Every single day you have to choose to overlook, ignore and forgive". His response "many marriages are one incident away from all hell breaking loose". That is why my wise Aunt says, "you have to figure out if the juice is worth the squeeze". Some studies suggest that 50% percent of first marriages, 67% of second and 74% of third marriages end in divorce. Sure, that's the world you say. What do the statistics tell us about Christians and divorce? Surprisingly, some studies have found Christians have a higher divorce rate than atheists AND agnostics. WHAT??????????? Being a Christian doesn't insulate you to the challenges in life nor does it mean that you are less susceptible, it means that we put our faith and trust in something/someone beyond ourselves to carry us through whatever comes our way.

There is a puzzling phenomenon in our churches. There is this unspoken ether of shame that is often cast upon all that don't fit the traditional model of a bible thumping, tithe paying, picket fence having, 4 door sedan driving family.

I am very open about my struggles. I am at the precipice of 40 years of age, single, God fearing and am also 65% spirit led and 35% flesh led. And let me tell you, the 35% flesh is giving the 65% spirit a run for its money. Whenever I've had the courage to address the issues that I would understandably encounter I get these "looks". Why is reality so disconcerting in our churches? Our churches are to be hospitals not hospices. The result of our church's inability to address these needs results in the wounded, the struggling, the confused, the everyman/everywoman looking beyond the church doors and worse yet, diverts them from the doors altogether.

I would love to hear from you on your thoughts/observations/experiences with regard to church life post-divorce.

I've Got The Power!

I’m a FB junkie, that proclaimed, it stands to reason that I come across a litany of jokes, musings, rants, raves and quotes daily. The following is one I came across the other day - If you want to know a person's true character, give them power over you. Whew! Part of the reason I decided to start a blog was selfish the other selfless. I am a student of life – I’m one of those people who learns from experiences and applies the learned knowledge moving forward. While many of us don’t learn from other’s experiences, some of us do. It is my sincere desire, wish and hope that my words, my experiences can in some way serve as a barrier to even a smidgen of pain, disappointment and/or anxiety. But I digress, getting back to the quote.

In my 30+ years of life I have given “people” power over me. Consequently I have been abused, misused and a whole lot of other things. The question is – why have I given anyone power over me? In my daily walk as a practical Christian I am constantly in a neurotic tug-of-war with my creator, my provider and the lover of my soul. I find myself simultaneously placing and ripping my cares and worries in His and out of His capable hands. Yet, I meet a man (intelligent, spiritually aware, succe$$ful handsome and oh yeah, fundamentally flawed) and willingly hand over the reigns of my life emotionally and physically. In the words of Mark Twain I dance like no one is watching. I sing like no one is listening and I love like I've never been hurt. Never fear, I have the assurance of Mr. Twain that this will all lead to living like it's heaven on Earth. In all fairness to Mr. Twain, I’ve seen so many versions of this quote, he may not have even said it.

Life's journey is....a trip!