Duct Tape and Lint Pt. 3

Life didn’t come easy for Russia.  She worked her tail off for everything she had today and she was glad to do it because she discovered long ago that free ain’t really free, Hon’Tee there’s always some type of debt owed.  As she sat at her kitchen table trying desparately to hold back the tears that seemed insistent on falling she reflected back 16 years ago when she lived big, loud and recklessly.  Her baby’s daddy was one of the biggest dope dealers in San Francisco (to let him tell it) but he never allowed her to participate in the business.  He ran Harbor Road like a well-oiled machine.  He was feared and respected, nobody messed with Pookie and lived to tell about it.  He bought her whatever she wanted, and what the boosters didn’t have they bought at “real stores”.  They had a nice set up down the Peninsula away from the drama.  They talked about buying a house but never seemed to get around to it because they were too busy living for right now and besides, Pookie was convinced they would never run out of customers.

She prided herself on being a great mom to their only child, Lil Pookie.  She fantasized about private school, little league and all the things the little suburb kids had.  The only money she had from the time she was 16 was what Pookie gave her and when I tell you he had money, I’m not talking about a few dollars and I’m not exaggerating.  Not long after Lil Pookie’s first birthday life started to change subtly at first but the changes began to come in waves of mistrust of almost everyone Big Pookie knew.  He was always looking over his shoulders, insisted that she stay away from the City (San Francisco) even though that’s where the majority of her family and friends lived.  He allowed certain people to visit at the house but quickly cut that off because of his paranoia.  He cut off the money he freely gave her forcing her to ask for everything, he secretly activated the GPS on her phone and beat the crap out of her one day when she turned it off.  He accused her of cheating on him, stealing his money, all kinds of crazy stuff.  She had no idea how much debt she had incurred with him over the past few years.  She finally worked up enough nerve to leave Pookie after much encouragement and support from her paternal auntie Theresa and she relocated to Texarkana, Texas.  Two weeks after escaping from Pookie, the DEA raided their place and Pookie was now serving a 20 year sentence. 

She had been given a second chance in Texas thanks to her Auntie but today was one of the worst days of her life.  She was laid off after 13 years with the Texarkana Refinery but the severance package and her savings had run out.  She didn’t care about the creditors that were blowing her phone up but if she didn’t come up with the past due mortgage within the next two hours she would lose the home she bought on her own.  She was able to scrape the money together with an exception of $100.  Her mother promised to wire the money hours ago and it still had not come.  Desperate she went through every purse she had and found $96.57!  She checked her coat pockets and found her gold hoop earring, sticky candy, lint and another $2.03.  She rummaged through all of her jeans only to acquire more lint under her fingernails but she found $100.40.  She screamed Hallelujah, Thank You Jesus!! and then had a meltdown right in the closet. She hated debt: it was sneaky, conniving and manipulative.  She felt like its prisoner.  The more she thought about it the angrier she became and declared, no more, enough is enough.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

To look at Martinique she appeared to have everything together.  Her hair was always whipped; every fake eyelash was always in place, face beat so well it looked hand painted; nails done and her outfits were always well coordinated.  She looked like a million bucks even on the weekend in simple jeans, t-shirt and tennis.  Wait, I take that back, nothing is simple about Martinique.  Everything she wore or owned was recognizable by the brand (e.g. DKNY, Victoria Secrets, Kenneth Cole, Steve Madden, St. John, Coach, MK, Prada, Nike, Adidas, Vera Wang, Tiffany, Zales, Mercedes Benz, Kauffman Builders, etc.).  She lived by the quality and quantity rule, you see, it wasn’t enough just to have things, it was necessary that they be made of the finest quality, even what she consumed.  She ate at the very best restaurants and only shopped at specialty high-end stores like Whole Foods, Trader Joes, etc.  You would never catch her at Foodco or a corner store in the “hood” primarily because she rarely entered the hood but mainly because she looked down her religious nose at “places like that”.

She was the envy at work, church and her neighborhood.  She was absolutely gorgeous at 41 years old with her perfect hourglass figure that still turned the eyes of men and women.  She wasn’t conceited at all, in fact she didn’t view herself as beautiful because she suffered from major self-esteem issues that she learned to mask with things for the past 30 plus years. She was the darkest, prettiest and thinnest in her family.  She was teased and ridiculed constantly and her parents didn’t have the capacity to show her the affection she needed.  She turned her attention on academics and sports to escape the constant taunting and soon learned that boys would give her things if she would allow them to touch her in secret places.  With the help of some older girls in the neighborhood she learned how to refine her manipulative skills to get what she wanted from people, search for and use resources to her advantage.  For example: she couldn’t afford college but she made good grades, learned about financial aid and received a few scholarships, but she dropped out of college after completing her sophomore year to take an  intern position at Google and quickly worked her way up the Google ladder to a management position.  How did she accomplish so much so quickly?  That’s a great question but your virgin ears may not be ready for the answer. 

Don’t let her management position fool you Hon’Tee, Martinique was a dressed up hood rat and she had no problem mixing her feminine gangsta with Google if she needed to.  Money was no longer an issue, in fact, it hadn’t been in years.  She could buy whatever she wanted when she wanted and would still have money left over.  Besides, one of her men was a stockbroker and the other one was a fire inspector for San Mateo County.  They both paid very well for the privilege of “touching her”.  However, as she sat at her kitchen table calculating her debt, she felt like her life was slipping out of her hands, similar to Russia, except she felt like she was slipping down the slopes of a bottomless black hole.  She tried desperately to maintain her footing, but each day it became more and more difficult to do so. 

Her debt wasn’t financial as Russia’s, it was spiritual.  She felt like she had sold her soul to the devil to climb the corporate latter but she also had an emotional debt because she had sold her authenticity to the stockbroker and fire inspector for “things”.  At 41 she was miserable, depressed and finally realized she had no idea who she was or why she was here on earth.  Martinque looked in the mirror and saw a mask that she decided to remove and when she did she saw the chocolate little girl that was still broken and confused.  She felt like humpty dumpty who had fallen off the wall but the glue from the tape would no longer hold her together.  She fell to her knees, cried, snotted and screamed for God to free her because she was tired from the debt she had incurred with no ability to pay.

Come to me, all you who are struggling hard and carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest.  Matthew 11:28 (NLT)

Because of his underserving Favor

Tania Not Tanya

Lint and Duct Tape Pt. 2

In Lint and Duct Tape Pt. 1 we discovered the difference between sister, Lucy a 12 year old techie tomboy with mechanical tendencies and her 13 year old brother who loved nature and anything to do with food.  This brother and sister lived with their paternal grandparents Daddy Sam (the mechanic) and Gram who cooked so good that people literally placed orders with her months in advance near the Holidays for her specialties (e.g. gumbo, fried turkey, black eyed peas, mac and cheese, dressing and her biscuits so delectable they seemed to melt in your mouth).  Gram wanted the children to be well rounded and self-sufficient domestically so she gave them chores that were age appropriate as they got older. 

Lucy did not have the makings of a domestic but Gram insisted that she learn the basics of cooking, cleaning and gardening regardless of how she felt about it and true to form, she utilized technology to assist with her learning curve (e.g. You Tube, Pinterest, etc.).  She cleaned like the best of them and truth be told she could cook pretty well too, even at 12 years old.  Roman tinkered a little with Daddy Sam in the garage on some projects but his passion was food: growing, canning, cooking and even creating his own recipes which meant he spent more time in the garden and kitchen and he was Gram’s number one helper around the holidays. 

We ended the blog with Lucy struggling due to her self-inflicted challenges with lint

because she wasn’t paying attention when she loaded the dryer.  None of us want to admit it publicly but we can identify with her pain.  The new task of laundry, however, was definitely a sore spot for her, especially with the last fiasco of ruining Daddy Sam’s socks and that’s where we will pick up.

After Lucy got past the fact that she had lost to the lint that made Daddy Sam’s socks look like black socks with polka dots -- 3D-- she knew it was time to make some decisions.  As an analytical thinker she considered the challenges she had experienced with laundry and discovered that she needed to do the following:  slow down; pay attention; read care labels; ensure clothes are sorted appropriately; and check the washer and dryer for remaining items before loading.  But one of the most critical decisions she made was that lint was her enemy.  She was convinced it served no good purpose and given that it was her enemy she was intent on learning everything she could about it (lint).  She discovered there are varieties of lint:

• Lint can be made up of short fibers, hair--human and animal, skin cells, plant fibers, pollen, dust, and microorganisms.  Lint is composed of threads of all colors, which blend hues and may appear to be a uniform grey; 
• Dryer lint is generated by the drying of clothes in a clothes dryer; it typically accumulates on a dryer screen which should be cleaned after every cycle for safety and energy efficiency;
•  Navel lint (also known by names such as navel fluff, belly button lint, belly button fluff, and dip lint) is an accumulation of fluffy fibers in the navel cavity. The reasons for its accumulation in the navel are a subject of speculation. One train of thought is that rubbing of navel hairs and clothing contributes to a build-up of static electricity, resulting in the collection of clothing fibers and to a lesser extent, dead skin cell; 
•  Pocket lint is debris including bits of fabric as well as small shreds of paper and tissue that are often found in pockets. It may be caused by running the clothing through a washing machine one or more times, causing the pocket lining or contents to compact and shred.

The discovery of naval lint was puzzling to her but it also made her appreciate her nightly baths and Gram’s insistence that she clean: her ears, nose, between her toes, derriere and naval for as long as she could remember.  While she had never personally discovered any naval lint she imagined that Gram must know about it since that was one of the areas she told her and Roman to clean.  “I wonder if Roman knows what naval lint is” she thought to herself, but Lucy quickly dismissed the thought because she was fascinated with the fact that pocket lint was a topic of discussion that could be researched.   She had another aha moment about Gram: for years she warned them about removing items from their pockets and turning them inside out before washing or placing in the hamper.  But she never really understood why until now.  In hindsight she recalled reaching in her pocket and digging around for loose change only to retrieve lint under her nails along with the change she was looking for and it absolutely grossed her out.  At the age of 12-1/2 Lucy decided that lint in her pockets was no longer an option and from that moment on made a decision she would take extra care to follow Gram’s advice of emptying her pockets and turning them inside out.  In her young mind, lint represented a careless haphazard life and she wanted no part of either of those things. 

Let me make one more point about Lucy and then I will cut to the chase.  Apparently she and Gram are not the only ones that are irritated with lint.  As she continued her research she discovered she was in error.  Lint does serve a purpose, it affords those witty enough to capitalize on the loose fibers, hair and skin sell accumulations by creating lint free products (e.g. wipes, cleaning cloths, nail art, towels, eye patches, sponge makeup applicators, clean-room gloves, cleaning swabs, etc.) which will ensure that they never have lint in their pockets.  What am I talking about?  Where am I going with this crazy blog?  

OK, Tania, really.  What is the point?  Oh my goodness, I am so glad you asked.  We’re finally at the twist in the blog.  I know I went around the corner, Skated on Top of the Hill and Walked on Rocks to finally get here but it was worth it to demonstrate how many of us live with lint in our pockets (including me) and we have accepted it as a way of life.  As for me, I’m sick of all the lint.   

What?  You still don’t get it.  I’m saying that I’m sick of debt.  It reminds me of lint.  It serves no purpose, at least not for me.  Oh, snap, it’s just like lint: it has afforded those who are witty enough to capitalize on those of us who have lived loose lives, by the way we manage the resources God allows us to steward (be responsible for).   Many of us are just like Lucy when it comes down to laundry: careless; we don’t pay attention; we manage our resources haphazardly and then we’re surprised at the results. Overwhelmed like Lucy, we get duct tape to remove the lint, I mean debt, only to discover we’ve created a bigger mess with the cockamamie plans we use to try to correct the problem.  For example:  embezzling money from treasures we manage (that’s called stealing); cheating on our taxes; trying to find a hook up for this that and the third, borrowing money to live lifestyles we cannot afford for appearances; robbing Peter to pay Paul; paying the minimum on credit cards/revolving accounts; opening accounts in our minor children’s names because our credit is ruined so why not ruin theirs; creating debt without considering the true cost.

John 14:28-32 (NLT):  But don’t begin until you count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building without first calculating the cost to see if there is enough money to finish it? Otherwise, you might complete only the foundation before running out of money, and then everyone would laugh at you. They would say, ‘There’s the person who started that building and couldn’t afford to finish it!’   “Or what king would go to war against another king without first sitting down with his counselors to discuss whether his army of 10,000 could defeat the 20,000 soldiers marching against him? And if he can’t, he will send a delegation to discuss terms of peace while the enemy is still far away. 

I’m not done, but I’m out of time, we’ll pick it up again later.  In the meantime, you may want to clean your pockets out so you can get ready for the overflow. 

Because of his underserving Favor

Tania Not Tanya

Lint and Duct Tape

Lucy was a 12 year old techie nerd who was about as domestic as her goldfish Byron that just died two weeks ago.  Her second love was repairing things.  She could repair almost anything with glue and duct tape at least that was the running joke with family members and close friends.  Seriously though her favorite past time when she wasn’t in front of smart device was helping Daddy Sam (her paternal grandfather) in his mechanic shop – which was the garage to the family home where she and her brother, Roman lived.

Roman on the other hand loved the outdoors no matter the weather, especially the rainy season.  During the spring he loved the way the earth felt under his bare feet and hands.  More than anything he loved to eat, not greasy hamburgers, French fries, hot chips and Pepsi like most adolescents.  He loved vegetables of all kinds, except okra, it was too slimy for him.  His love for food increased his desire to learn how to prepare his favorite dishes like Daddy Sam’s BBQ ribs, chicken and potato salad. 

Gram as they affectionately called Rosalie, Daddy Sam’s wife of over 45 years, was the best cook in the neighborhood and though they lived in the city, she created a garden in the backyard and planted herbs in the huge bay window of her kitchen.   She insisted that Lucy and Roman learn to garden but Lucy just about ruined her snap peas and greens one year so she evicted her, wouldn’t even let her near the garden unless someone with a “green thumb” accompanied her.  She always had a suspicion Lucy sabotaged her peas and greens on purpose because she hated dirt but didn’t mind getting car grease under her fingernails.  Go figure.  Gram believed Lucy didn’t like being in the garden because she was afraid she would get a tan.  But chile, Lucy was navy blue, she wasn’t gonna get any darker, poor thing, she couldn’t help it, but Gram loved her some Lucy.  Roman on the other hand took to gardening almost as if he had been doing so all his life.  The combination of fresh food from Gram’s garden, his love for it and interest in cooking were a perfect match. 

A couple of years ago Gram taught them how to fold and put their clothes away.  They both did well, but Lucy could care less about domestic chores, she was always in a hurry to run off and fix something or “get on the line” as Gram called it.  Now at the age of 12 and 13, Gram felt they were both old enough to begin doing their own laundry.  She instructed them on the art of sorting whites and colored clothes, heavy duty items, delicates, etc.  She reminded them both to empty their pockets and turn them inside out to ensure they didn’t leave candy, napkins or other items that could damage the dryer or clothing and to avoid the accumulation of lint which she hated.  Gram also instructed them on the importance of NOT washing towels with items like sweaters or linen to avoid lint from forming on the laundered items and to clean the lint screen after each wash to ensure the dryer operated correctly.  Lucy now realized part of her hatred of lint (in her pockets) was genetic or at least subliminally influenced by Gram hatred of lint too.

One Saturday while doing the laundry, Lucy wasn’t paying attention and she washed Roman’s favorite hoodie with a load of towels.  After drying the items, she realized her mistake after discovering that the towels had lint bunnies all over them and Roman’s sweatshirt was no longer smooth and fluffy, it now looked like it had acne all over it.  How she missed that black hoodie amongst all those towels she had no idea, but it didn’t change the fact that she had.  She knew he was gonna be ticked off when he saw it so she tried desperately to mitigate the damage by using a lint roller and was able to lift about 45% of the lint from the hoodie but it was still noticeable.  She ran to the garage and got her trusted duct tape hoping it would do the trick of removing the rest of the lint but it didn’t.  She decided to hide the hoodie hoping he would soon forget about it, besides, he was always losing something, maybe he would assume he left it at school and surprisingly it worked.

The following weekend Gram asked Lucy to wash the bathroom towels.  Even though they didn’t live in a hotel, Gram only purchased white towels which she washed daily.  In a hurry, Lucy grabbed the basket of towels, put them in the wash, added the detergent, Clorox, fabric softener and set the washer for “whites”.  An hour later Gram asked Lucy to remove Daddy Sam’s dress socks from the dryer, place the wet towels in the dryer and set it for 60 minutes on the heavy cycle.   Not paying attention (as usual) Lucy placed the towels in the dryer but completely forgot to remove the black dress socks.  A couple of hours later, Gram asked Lucy about the socks but she said she never saw them.  Perplexed, Gram went to the laundry room and discovered that Daddy Sam's black dress socks were now polka dots, fully covered with lint bunnies from top to bottom.  When Gram called for Lucy to meet her in the laundry room she could tell by the sound in her voice that she was in for a tongue lashing.

Gram said: “Lucy, I'm confused; I washed Daddy Sam's black pimp socks but you're right, I don't see them."   Relieved, Lucy replied “Yes ma’am, Gram, I told you they weren’t in there.”  Gram replied: “What I did find was these black polka dolt socks”.  At that point Lucy remembered that she had not looked as Gram instructed, at least not closely.  Realizing her mistake, she opted for silence as she stared wide eyed at the floor, as guilt and embarrassment oozed from her pores.  “Any idea how these socks were transformed from black to polka dot?"  Lucy continued to stare out the floor.  Gram spoke again: "Lucy not wanting to perform a task doesn't give us permission to half do it.  I need you to figure out how are you going to get this lint off Daddy Sam’s socks in time for church tomorrow?”  Lucy perked up and said:  “I have the perfect idea”.  At that she ran to the garage, retrieved her Zebra print duct tape, returned to the laundry room and told Gram she could almost guarantee she could remove the lint in plenty of time for church.  Gram chuckled and said:  “Do you mean the way you removed the lint from Roman’s hoodie?”  Lucy looked at Gram like a dear in headlights.

Lucy spent the next 60 minutes trying desperately to remove the lint only to become frustrated until she came up with the idea to put the socks on to offer more stability as she continued the painstaking process of removing the lint, similar to waxing one’s legs like she saw on You Tube.  The idea probably would have worked except Daddy Sam’s “pimp” socks were super thin.  She executed her method and ruined four pairs of socks by ripping holes in them with the dense duct tape.  Frustrated she sat on her bedroom floor and became more and more irritated as she thought about the amount of time she had wasted on something as stupid as lint.  What was the point?  She imagined that someone somewhere was making a killing on selling anti-lint products on this stupid stuff.  She concluded that lint serves no purpose other than to irritate people and ruin their lives.  And how did Gram know she tried to use duct tape to remove the lint from Roman’s hoodie?  She wasn’t even home that day.  “I swear sometimes I think that woman has eyes in the back of her head or cameras throughout the house that we don’t know about” Lucy thought to herself.  She took a few deep breaths and decided she would not cry over something so stupid, but she felt helpless.  How did she end up in this position in the first place?  Twice, well actually four times as she recalled: she left Kleenex in her black Dockers resulting in lint in both pockets and another time she washed her favorite red sweater with something that created lint all over it and on top of that the sweater shrank.  She decided from that point on to be an enemy of lint.  The best way to combat an enemy is to learn about them/it and that’s what she did. 

Listen, things are not always as they appear.  This is the makings of a great blog but you will never hear the end of it if you don’t read part 2 back.  I can promise you this, it will be worth your time and it will not end the way you anticipated.   I’m out of time.

Because of his un-derserving Favor

Tania Not Tanya

Move Your “But” Out the Way – Pt. 2

I now yesterday’s blog left you hanging on the cliff with the question:  What do these examples have in common?  BUT before we get to the answer, it’ probably a good idea to re-cap and slightly expound on some of the points we discovered:

Aberdeen held her ground (or should I say kept her seat) when the high yellow girls in her classroom tried to give her “shade” because of her seating choice BUT she told them what they could do with their “shade” without saying a word.  Her body language said that and some.  Lastly she would never have a challenge with being late BUT she had a terrible habit of piddling around the house, tending to items that weren't a priority.  The bottom line is that she is habitually late no matter how she tries to excuse it;

Lamar and Shelby had an amazing time at the 49er v. Raider’s game until the obnoxious people with seats in front of them showed up at half time.  Lamar was about to say something to them BUT just as he opened his mouth the arena usher said it all for him.  Lastly, the couple was genuinely in love with each other however, it seemed like Lamar’s love was much deeper than Shelby’s.  Nine months ago when Lamar proposed, she said yes BUT not right now.  Really?  It was as if she was putting him off for every reason she could come up with.  He loved her BUT didn’t understand why she wouldn’t commit, which is the operative word.  Shelby was afraid of commitment because of past hurts and she had not revealed those deep dark hurts to him because of fear.  She knew Lamar was a good man, a dream come true, far more than she had ever imagined but the thought of marriage and settling down terrified her though it’s something she longed for.  Talk about an oxymoron.  She knew time was running out and if she didn’t get her mind right real soon, it might be too late.

Tabitha missed Sunday morning worship and the church functions far more than she would admit BUT the church hurt she experienced got the best of her at just the right time.  She realized she overreacted BUT pride stood between her and going back to the church or any church for that matter.  She is like many people, always casting blame on others as the excuse rather than taking ownership of the role they play(ed).  Three years is a long time to blame others and never once turn the search light inward.  BUT God has a way of send the help we need (even when we don’t verbally ask for it).  Alice was Tabitha’s life raft and she recognized it not long after Alice showed up.  She knew almost instantly that there was something different about Alice, not by her clothes or speech but the confidence that seemed to ooze from her pores.  Tabitha had shut down spiritually BUT Alice brought out the best in her and she was willing to let her guards down, but only with Alice.  Quiet as is kept, Tabitha’s issue was the religiousity she subjected herself to and she began to adopt.  She was so religious she got on her own nerves, BUT it is what was expected in her religious circles.  If you didn’t use the religious vernacular you were judged as carnal, worldly, half-saved, etc.  That lifestyle was the exact opposite of who she was as a person and when she tried to express those feelings she was ignored, criticized, etc. so out of frustration she left the church vowing never to return because she felt like a hypocrite.  Tabitha tried to blame others for her spiritual instability, BUT the bottom line was that she needed to own it hook, line and anchor.

Tania Not Tanya Nugget:  Listen to me, we all play a role in the drama that surfaces in our lives, for example: how we handle the drama, if we play into it, ignore it, address it head on, etc. Some people use the drama to their advantage, by taking on the role of victim to the 10^th power while others use the drama as the fuel needed to propel them past the ugliness.

Todd was a trip and he bout drove his wife, Lily, crazy sometimes with his attention to detail.  She was neat but not to the degree of Todd and every now and then she was intentionally messy to create friction and balance.  On those occasions it was Todd who felt like he was gonna go crazy.   He had a place for everything and everything had a place which explained why he was so neat and organized.  It took no effort at all to organize the groceries as he loaded his cart.  Trying to shop any other way would have made him break out in hives, literally. I have to admit he was definitely an expert at organization, even his groceries, BUT there was one small problem. His alleged full proof shopping experience had a flaw, he never created a list and 99% of the time either forgot item(s) or overbought.  Are Todd’s OCD tendencies a big deal?  Not really, BUT they could be if he doesn’t create some type of balance in his life soon.  OCDers tend to forget that the rest of the world doesn’t think or act like them and if they become judgmental towards others based upon their clean, tidy narrow window, life could become a huge mess, pun intended.

So here’s the question again:  What do the examples all have in common.  Before you state the obvious, that each example used the phrase: ”Move Your But Out The Way”, you’re correct BUT that’s not the answer.  The commonality that you probably overlooked is really quite simple, they all showed their “buts”.   I know you’re probably thinking I should’ve posed the question more tactfully but I beg to differ because you may have misunderstood the heart of my question.  Look at the commonality in the characters again: 

• Aberdeen is consistently late not because of her inability to wake up on time, her issues are much deeper than that, one of which is that she doesn’t respect time;
• Shelby is terrified of commitment based on past experiences but what’s sad is that she realizes she could lose the love of her life if she doesn’t get her mind right; 
• Tabitha wants to rekindle her relationship with God but she’s afraid of becoming something she isn’t – a religious prude; and 
• Todd is in denial 

The “but” I’m referring to is the same for Aberdeen, Shelby, Tabitha and Todd, it’s their excuses.  What is your but stopping you from achieving?  You get one shot at this thing called life so you might as well live it to the fullest without any regrets.  Talk is cheap, but it can cost you your dreams and that’s a huge debt to pay so why are you still talking about what you’re gonna do instead of doing it?  What are you waiting on?  You’re not getting any younger.  What have you got to lose besides pride, fear and/or money?  Do you think people are gonna talk about you?  News flash, they already are.  Do you think you might fail?  News flash, you probably will, but you can fail yourself to success if you do it the right way.  Are you waiting for the “right time”; Do you have too much stuff going on? 

A passage from my favorite book talks about "buts" too, listen to this:  You were running a good race. Who cut in on you to keep you from obeying the truth?  Galatians 5:7 (NLT)

So here’s the question, are you ready?  You sure?  What does your “but” look like?  Here’s another one:  When are you going to move your “but” out the way? 

I can't end this blog without mentioning the "buts" that we're not responsible for: For we wanted to come to you—certainly I, Paul, did, again and again—but Satan blocked our way. 1 Thessalonians 2:18 (NLT).  There are absolutely times when our "buts" are not our fault, they are divinely allowed to grow us up, teach us a lesson or simply so that God can be glorified in bring us through and out of the "but".

I would continue, BUT I'm all out of time.

Because of his promised Favor

Tania Not Tanya

Move Your "But" Out the Way

Aberdeen was up at the crack of dawn, she had laid her clothes out the night before, made sure she had all of the necessary items in her backpack, her lunch and snacks were packed and ready to go in the fridge because she had every intention of arriving before class to avoid the panic of rushing.  But true to form, she left the house later than she anticipated.  She parked her car hurriedly and walk-ran into the lecture hall for the first semester of college as a sophomore at Howard University just as the Professor entered and approached the smart white board.  She wasn’t paying attention to where she sat, it was just important that she do so before Professor Cobb began his lecture because he had a reputation for blasting people if they were late.  No sooner than she sat down in the seventh row; first seat (closest to the main isle) the person in front of her said: “Excuse me, you’re gonna need to move, that seat is reserved for Priscilla and she will not be happy if you’re sitting there when she get here.”  Confused, Aberdeen stood slightly, turned around to see if she saw a name on the upper or lower section of the seat but when she didn’t, she sat back, folded her arms across her big wide bosom and gave the unnamed person the blank stare look without batting an eyelash as she simultaneously perched her lips with a slight poke and raised her left eyebrow like a true Reah-Richmonite.  After about 6.5 seconds the person in front of her (who by the way never introduced herself) slowly changed from high yellow to hot pink as she turned around and faced forward realizing she had met her match.  Two minutes later, Aberdeen felt someone tap her on the shoulder rather aggressively.  As she turned and looked up to acknowledge the finger that had poked her she met the teeny little eyes of another skinny little high yellow chick who had a weave as long as she was tall (all of 4’10’) and eyelashes about a foot long.  She looked at the little girl and gave her the blank stare too, except this time she batted her eyelashes hecka fast repeatedly as if to say: “Girl, bye!  You betta move you but out the way”; but she never opened her mouth.  As timing would have it, Professor Cobb roasted the little high yellow girl for being late and told her to find a seat.  The entire lecture hall began to snicker as the yellow girl turned tomato red and stormed up the stairs to a seat in the back.

Lamar surprised Shelby with tickets to the game that a client gave him at the last minute.  Shelby was so excited she could hardly contain herself.  Lamar was a diehard Raiders fan and she was a 49er faithful.  This game against their favorite teams was gonna be interesting to say the least because they had wagered a bet with each other that was going to be life changing.  Lamar agreed to go back to school to get his GED if the Raiders lost (even though he was a successful business owner) and Shelby agreed to set a date to get married if the 49ers lost.  Wait, somehow that doesn’t seem like a balanced deal, but I’m just the story teller, it’s what they agreed to.  Lamar proposed nine months ago and Shelby said yes, but not right now because timing wasn’t right (e.g. working full time, school and every other excuse she could come up with.)  When they finally found their seats, they were both like little kids in a candy store, high fiving, fist bumping each other, giggling, taking selfies, you name it because the seats were excellent.  They had a perfect view of the stadium, directly in front of the field goal.  The only problem is that the guys that arrived at half time took the empty seats directly in front of them.  They were obnoxious, loud and drunk, especially the short stocky one who kept standing up blocking their view.  Shelby who is a petite 5’0; 118 lbs woman tried to remain positive, but it was becoming harder by the play.  She gave Lamar the eye like:  “would you tell him to move his but out the way”!  Just as Lamar was about to say something an usher approached the guy and threatened to remove him from the arena if he didn’t stop throwing food onto the field and standing up blocking the view of others. 

Tabitha stopped attending church about three years ago for reasons she refused to discuss with anyone, not even Alice, the co-worker she had grown to respect and appreciate.  It was a closed subject and no matter what approach or how skillful people thought they were, when they attempted to venture past the boundaries Tabitha set, she was like a keen lioness waiting, watching and ready to pounce on anyone who attempted to go where no one was allowed to tread.  But there was something different about Alice, in fact Tabitha decided that if Alice asked again she would tell her why she stopped attending church.  Alice was as real as they come, she was approachable, down to earth, knew her Word and loved her some Jesus down baby, but she wasn’t fanatical about her religion or should I say relationship.  She was different sho’ nuff, but not weird or overzealous. She didn’t wear the Jesus earrings, necklace, scarf and t-shirt or use church vernacular as if she was speaking in tongues like most of the “Christians” she had been associated with.  For example:

Inquirer: Hi, how are you?  Saintly Saint:  I’m blessed of the Lord most high; or
Inquirer:  Join us for drinks?  Saintly Saint: Oh, no; drinking is a sin, Inquirer: Oh; or
Inquirer:  Have you heard Mary J’s new CD?  Saintly Saint:  I don’t listen to worldy music.  Inquirer:  Thinking to him/herself… What the What; Worldly music?  So do you commute from out of space?  I ain’t talking to him/her no more.

Alice wore confidence like a custom designed outfit except it was evident from the inside out.  It was almost as if she was an undercover agent who had mastered the gift of blending in without compromising, only to flash her badge when it became necessary at just the right moment, not a minute too soon or too late.  Tabitha witnessed Alice in action when people gave her shade; she witnessed co-workers intentionally leave Alice out of the loop with the intent to set her up but somehow Alice always came out on top making the haters look like idiots.  In spite of the intensity of the drama that surrounded Alice, she never changed, kept a smile on her face, continued to do her part as a team player and kept it pushin.  Once Tabitha overheard part of a conversation from the haters (aka co-workers) in which one of the cowards bragged about telling Alice “she betta move her but out the way” while they were standing in line at the concession stand.  But Tabitha knew that was a lie.  Alice was a Christian but she wasn’t a punk.  None of those cowards had the hutzpah to talk to Alice like that and secondly she remembered the day in question and there was no exchange of words at least not verbally, maybe the coward said it in her mind but the words never ever, ever left her lips.  Naw suh, no ma’am.  Besides, Alice wouldn’t stoop that low to a juvenile attack like that.  Tabitha may not be attending church regularly, but she could recognize the favor of God three miles off and she didn’t want any parts of that buffoonery Hon’Tee (not that she participated anyway) but those heffa’s was gone fool around and get stole on and Alice wasn’t gonna have to lift a finger. 

Todd was a stickler about grocery shopping.  He had a rhythm and method that he fine-tuned over the past 20 plus years.  He preferred to shop mid-morning during the week to avoid left over items that had been picked over by the worker bees who were forced to shop after they got home from work.  He shopped at the same store primarily every week; started with dry goods; cleaning supplies and opted for the refrigerated items towards the end of his trip.  Packing his cart was an art.  He ensured larger heavy items were on the bottom and stacked the items according to categories: meats were usually near the back on the left, can goods adjacent to meat, fruit and vegetables placed in plastic bags where towards the front, cleaning supplies were adjacent to the can goods, bread and eggs were in the small space near the handles of the cart to avoid crushing them.  He was in a hurry this particular Wednesday because he had to run another errand before heading home.  He entered the line only to realize he forgot something.  He asked the person behind him if they could keep an eye on his cart while he retrieved the items and the person agreed.  By the way, this was part of his routine too because he always forgot 1, 2 or 5 items but refused to make a list, insisting his “system” worked for him.  Anyway, when he returned to his cart he noticed a woman had moved ahead of him.  He looked at the person behind him and asked what happened, the person shrugged their shoulders and shook there head as if to say: “Look dude, I wasn’t gonna tell that loud rowdy woman that she better move her but out the way”.  Todd was about to say something to her but he had a feeling he should just let it go.   

What do these examples have in common?  No.  Nope, not that either.  Naw, you’re not even close.  I will tell you what it is or maybe I won’t, at least not now.  I just realized I’m completely out of time.  We’ll have to pick it up next time.  

Because of his promised Favor

Tania Not Tanya

Trust Pt. 2 -- The "Reel" Deal

I know I’m gonna date myself on this next statement, but I don’t care, ain’t no shame in my game.  When I was a kid my dad was a master mixer on a top of the line reel to reel recording device.  He created masterpieces of singing from a variety of church folk and sermons, most of them his, and a variety of others, for example:  He took that big contraption (which probably used “D” batteries with him to hear Dr. Martin Luther King at the San Francisco Cow Palace and to Memphis, TN to record Bishop Charles Harrison Mason, founder of the Church of God in Christ.  I remember the recorder sitting upright on a table he had set up in a makeshift work area where he would spend hours listening, splicing and/or repairing tapes.  I didn’t have as much interest as my dad, but I was amazed at his.

Tania not Tanya nugget:  Splicing is the act of cutting the tape at the required point and rejoining it to another section of tape using adhesive tape, or sometimes glue. It’s another term for editing.  The splicing tape has to be very thin to avoid impeding the tape's motion, and the adhesive is carefully formulated to avoid leaving a sticky residue on the tape or deck. Usually, the cut is made at an angle across the tape so that any "click" or other noise introduced by the cut is spread across a few milliseconds of the recording. The use of reels to supply and collect the tape also made it very easy for the editor to manually move the tape back and forth across the heads to find the exact point of the desired edit. Tape to be spliced was clamped in a special splicing block attached to the deck near the heads to hold the tape accurately while the edit was made.  Only a skilled editor could make these edits rapidly and accurately.  The recording tape was made out of cellulose acetate plastic (a substance used as film base in photography) is coated with iron oxide (chemical compounds composed of iron and oxygen).

For those of you who are not familiar with a reel to reel, they work very similar to a cassette recorder except everything is much larger and delicate.  Primarily because the reel to reel tape is fully exposed unlike that of a cassette tape where everything is smaller, compact and the majority of the tape is protected by the outer cover.  Cassettes also have downsides of being easily worn out or warped if left exposed to sunlight making tape repair a huge obstacle because you would have to open the case before you could even get to the tape.

Believe it or not even today, some artists of all genres prefer analog tape's "musical", "natural" and especially "warm" sound. It’s common for artists to record to digital and re-record the tracks to analog reels for this effect of "natural" sound. In addition to all of these attributes of tape, tape saturation is a unique form of distortion that many rock, blues and funk artists find very pleasing.

Obviously the reel to reels are precious and should be handled with care as they can be easily broken.  All it takes is someone dropping a plastic reel on a hard surface possibly causing permanent damage to the reel in addition to the tape (the life of the recording) also being delicate.   Too much exposure to heat; abuse, over usage could all cause damage to the reel which could be irreversible, losing the priceless data forever.   

My Dad has always taken care of his things by keeping them neat and clean, no matter what it was.  His reel to reel collection wasn’t an exception either.  From what I remember he kept them in cases (sleek little durable cardboard boxes customized for the reels).  He labeled each one with his "unique" penmanship for identification purposes so that he could easily retrieve just the right one when he wanted it.  To this day, I don’t ever recall him lending his equipment to anyone or allowing others to use it unless he was instructing them.  Why?  I can only assume because he didn’t trust others with his valuable items which brings me to my actual topic, Trust.

When people asked my dad to help them with their raw data, unedited tape, it required that they trust him, because once he began the process there was no going back.  He took the raw data they entrusted him with not knowing exactly what they were going to get, but trusting he would return the finished product to their specifications.  He never charged anyone a fee, nor did he force his services upon anyone, everything was always voluntary at the owner’s request.  Once they entrusted him with their priceless memories he went to work with the raw data, hour after hour listening, rewinding, listening, rewinding.  Sometimes rewinding slowly by hand and other times allowing the natural process of the unit to do the job but he never over did it because too much stress could cause the tape to break.  Watching and listening ever so carefully for the perfect opportunity to begin the delicate work of splicing the tapes to create a masterpiece.  Splicing required that he cut the precious tape, discard what wasn’t needed only to reconnect the severed tape to reunify it, not in just one area, but in many areas only as a skilled Master craftsman can.    

And so it is with Our Father, who is in Heaven.  He takes the raw material of our lives, all the junk, drama, nasty, stinky sin that caused us to be angry, mean, raggedy, hurting, individuals living like condemned inmates on death row who have run out of appeals, and He splices our lives back together as a Master craftsman, but only if we trust Him with our raw material.  You see, His one and only desire is to make us whole so that when people hear us they hear the melodious sound we produce as we “play it forward”, especially those who knew us in our raw uncut state. 

Trust God you say?  But how can I trust a “god” who made me suffer the years of abandonment, abuse and neglect?  He didn’t “make” you He “chose” for that task because He knew you wouldn’t break.  He needed an example, someone like you He could trust to be an example for others to see go through their stuff and come out with their sanity, thriving and making it happen.  He chose others, but they blew it along the way, but not you sweetie, and if you just trust Him a little while longer, He’s going to blow your mind with things you “have never seen, heard or imagined” (2 Corinthians 2:9) or not; it’s left up to you.  You can keep your ugly stinky raw material or make a step towards trust, even if it’s an eeny weenie teeny step. 

But how can I trust God when he took so much from me?  Took from you?  Every single day He gives you is a gift, it’s called the “present”.  With it come twins, grace and mercy.  Yeah, yeah, yeah Tania, I don’t want to hear all that stuff, I can’t take the twins to the bank or the grocery store.  Well you could if you would stop whining like a little baby and listen.  Trusting God is not something you can actually explain, it’s something that you decide to do and no experience is needed, only action.  Putting one (spiritual) foot in front of the other.  How, you say? The same way we talk about living a victorious life:  praying, reading his love letters, fasting, find a seasoned blood bought believer and asking them to mentor you. 

·       But I don’t know how to pray.  Open your mouth and tell him how you feel, what you need and that you’re scared, etc.  Have a conversation with Him, just start and stop making excuses.  Or not, it’s left up to you;

·       But I don’t know what Love Letters to read?  Open your mouth, ask Him to show you what to read and then open the Book (or your phone app).  As you begin to familiarize yourself with the Love Letters (the Good Book (the Word), my Favorite Book, the Bible) you’ll start to discover things other areas to read.  Listen just start and stop making excuses.  Or not, it’s left up to you.

·       But I don’t know how to fast.  Boy bye!  We give instructions every Wednesday, quit playin’.  But why do I need to fast?  Because some things come out through prayer and fasting. (Matthew 17:21)

·       But I don’t know where to start, again, open your mouth and say: “I trust God”; say it again, say it again, say it again.  OK, how about this, say it until it becomes real (not reel) to you.  Think it, hum it, sing it, rap it, whisper it, yell it (unless you’re at home or at church J).  Text it to yourself, email it, post it, put it in your calendar as a daily reminder

I’m out of time for now.

Because of his promised Favor

Tania Not Tanya