I Was Just Thinking

I know when my world is imploding on me. I can tell just as good when I start to reason and rationalize and even second guess God. I talk out of both sides of my mouth trying to convince myself, and others, that I am okay…cool…never better. In truth I am not okay. I’m good. And, I’m getting better – but, I am not all the way there just yet. I have resorted to thinking that maybe, just maybe I need to reconsider getting back with my ex. This is when I know I am in dire trouble.

Let me expound. There are only a few things that really matter to me. Well, let me say there are only a few things that I will allow to upset my world. One is family; one is church; and one is work – in that order.

Family is good. We have a few stumbling blocks and hurdles but we always manage to reduce mountains to mole hills. Besides, that is the one thing that most people don’t get a choice in deciding on. You can ignore, dislike, cuss out – yes, I said cuss, and you can love them. The last one is probably the hardest part, but hey the greatest of all things is love and that is what it is. Just accept this: you are essentially stuck to family via a bloodline that you cannot get away from.

Now when it comes to church - Yeah, yeah, I know. We often feel led, guided or pulled to the place where we worship. Either the choir, the minister or something about that church drew you into the folds. But no matter how you got there, it was a decision that you participated in. You can stay and be a part of the ministries or not –it is your choice.

Work is like church in many ways – you made the choice – filled out the application and signed on the dotted line. And like church, staying or leaving is your choice. It is one you have to deal it.

Okay, so I said I am good with family. The choices in that matter are limited anyway so I can deal with that.  But when I look at church to me it should almost be like home/family. I’m like Stephanie Mills – that is a place where love should be overflowing not a place of strife and envy.  When church is a battleground I cannot help but to question my motives/reasons for remaining in such an environment.  In so many places we see where churches are falling apart; pastor’s behind the scenes deeds are coming to the light; adultery is part of the status quo and no one wants to say anything – they just continue to go along to get along. My good Lord, please have mercy! What happened to building the kingdom and bringing souls to Christ? God is now green – as in the color of money; and Christ is just an icon where praises are heralded in his general direction never intended to land anywhere near him.
Oh, and I can’t forget to mention work. We spend the majority of our waking hours at work. We live there, we eat there and we socialize there (sometimes).  We applied for the job and now that we have been in place for a while things have begun to change and not always for the better. Stress and jealously and nitpicking become our daily bread. The joy of the job has slowly receded until you don’t even remember ever liking the place.  Managers walk around like they are demigods, or maybe even such a higher authority that they have the right to look down from their perch wielding orders in such a fashion that shows no respect, kindness or empathy. Dear Jesus – what is going on?
When I began penning this I said “my word…imploding…etc…” but the truth of this matter is that it ain’t just my world, it’s a whole lot of people’s worlds. Folk are turning away from the church, falling dead on their jobs and generally living in such a miserable state that they are having breakdowns.  Suddenly we are diagnosed with mental illnesses that were coined a decade ago or have been an old standby for years (bipolar disorder and schizophrenia – just to name a couple).  We have taken God out of the schools, work and sometimes even church and have the nerve to wonder why we are a pill popping, drug addicted society appropriating and approving the most deviant/evil behavior.
I don’t know about you but I’m scared. Scared enough to ask each of you reading this to join me in a community prayer every day at 6:30 a.m.  Let’s pray for our families, churches, places of employment – our world! Let’s pray for not just peace in the Middle East, but peace in our hearts and the hearts of others.

Each of you has your own concerns and prayer needs I’m sure. Feel free to post them and allow others to pray with you.  Matthew 18:20 says “Where two or more are gathered in my name, there I am also.” So let’s gather in the name of Christ, the Son of the Living God, and see if we can’t pray and bring about change.

AHA Moments....

There is so much that we already know and aren’t even aware of it. My best friend always says that we are already equipped with everything we need to do what needs to be done. I agreed but with a snarky thought – “then why don’t I have it all?”.  

Recently I have come to realize certain truths that have helped me to gain a new understanding on so many things. Although not the first truth, but the one I find most relevant to everything else is that we need to be imbued with a spiritual maturity. No, I’m not suggesting we have to be old and gray in Christ to get there, but that we will receive an understanding once He knows we are able to handle it.
Much of what I say to others and what I hear/learn for myself is not new news. Often we know it we just don’t take heed, believe or understand it or how it is supposed to work in our lives. Yet once we are mature enough to handle it the veil drops from our eyes and we have our “aha!” moments.
I was researching something for my Bible class because I wanted more clarity. What I found was a story about a man traveling with his young daughter to get supplies for his business. The daughter asked him a question that he did not believe she was mature enough to understand the answer to. What he did was suggest that she take the case of supplies off the train for him. Her response was that the bag was much too heavy for her because she was young, small and not able to handle such a heavy load. With that he explained to her that the answer to her question was much too heavy for her to handle because of the same reasons.

Now, you may not understand where I am coming from, but that was a definite “aha!” moment for me. I thought about my BFF Sherry’s belief that we have all we need to do what we need to do. This story helped me to understand that oftentimes we are not spiritually, emotionally or physically mature enough to handle some things and until we are the veil remains in place –

Personally I am going to try to keep my gratitude journal going. I may have said this before, but I am a blanket prayer. I want to say a prayer, once, and let it cover me for the rest of my life. Some folk think that is the way. I like to remember the Israelites who God gave manna from heaven and told them that there was no need to store it because he would give it to them daily. Besides, does the Bible not say “ask and ye shall receive”? Well, what if something changes after I do my blanket prayer? Do I just let it go or pray again? Me, I’m praying daily and all through the day.

When You Don’t Know What to Do…

When you don’t know what to do I always say pray. Pray for guidance and the release of those that want to be just outright stumbling blocks in your life. Well, if it’s about me, I say pray after I cuss, biatchandmoan, and generally want to run down the street screaming more obscenities than my cussing vocabulary contains. Then I say pray. However, if it is about someone else, I listen and then I say pray. Why? Because the truth is simply that prayer works.

I am not of simple mind or character and I realize that telling someone to pray can seem like fluff or a way to pretend empathy because you really don’t care what they are going through. But no matter how someone means it when they say it to you, just know that it is sound advice. It is the kind of advice we should take even when we don’t want to.

Admittedly praying may seem like wasted time – at times, but to me it is a way of getting into a space where you humble yourself and pour out your heart to God. I know when I haven’t truly prayed about an issue because I will still harbor resentment and the least little thing can set me off. But when I feel peace from within my center then I know I have rendered unto God my issues for I know He can take care of it.

Now, since I am not of simple mind, I must tell you that I do not believe that God always answers our prayers by dropping a boulder on someone or pushing them into ongoing traffic just to remove them from our lives. I believe while He sometimes removes the obstacles out of our path, He also gives us a new attitude toward a certain situation allowing us to see the issues through a different vision.
What I have learned about prayer over the years isn’t an awful lot but it is quite enlightening. First, I never ever pray for patience. That prayer has brought forth so many lessons and while learning is great, a lesson in patience should not have to be repeated too often. Second, I have learned to be very cognizant of what I pray for. Sometimes I ask for stuff and don’t need it so I don’t always recognize it when I get it. Or, it isn’t what I really wanted so I want God to take it back and allow me a “do-over”.

Third and close to last, I don’t pray for harm to come to others. It is easier to ask God to release them to their own good. For if you know like I know, when you mess up it comes back to you. The Bible does say you reap what you sow (Galatians 6:7; 2 Corinthians 9:6; and, Hosea 10:13 – all say it in some form or fashion). So don’t go wishing bad things on other people. Wish them well and do it from your prayerful heart and not that pissed off heart that makes you want to scream or run down the street buttanaked.

When you don’t know what to do, pray. When you don’t know where to go, pray. And when you don’t know where to turn…PRAY. – That’s it, that’s all.

What’s  Really Going On?????? – Part 1

I recently sat through a somewhat, to me, excruciating viewing of Iyanla and Oprah doing a Life Class on “The Terrible Things Women Do to Each Other”.  It was very interesting – and let me say that the reason I found it excruciating is because Iyanla can sometimes grate my left nerve with her in your face attitude. No matter the situation, I believe in respecting folk and sometimes it seems she forgets that. But that’s my rant – back to my point…

 Iyanla says that women are programmed to believe that there isn’t enough of whatever to go around so we have to keep it all for ourselves. Basically, the gist of what they were saying is that we act this way because we are/have been oppressed and that men don’t often exhibit the same behavior because they are programmed to do well and expect others to do the same. Personally I know some men who act this way and if we break it down to race – well…. But anyway.

 Just the other day I had a conversation with the group of girls I work with on etiquette and life skills. An incident had occurred and they had gotten into trouble at school. Not one of them stood firm in defending one another. All of them lied, denied and passed blame on another.  To me this was unconscionable. WTF?

 

Is this where we begin to learn the bad behavior of tearing one another down? Well, with more than just my best effort, I am going to work on helping stop this behavior with this group. And you know what they say –“each one teach one”. Hopefully they will take something away from our sessions and teach it to someone else.

As for us women...I must stand up and raise my hand to having been guilty of all the behaviors O and I talked about in their life class: BETRAYING CONFIDENCES:  I have told my best friend things that I was supposed to never tell a soul. But I have never betrayed her confidences.  GOSSIP: I have said things about someone that I got third party even though I wasn’t sure of the source or the info  - which is the same as gossiping. LIEING: I have lied out of fear; as a means of protecting myself and/or others; and I have lied when I have felt threatened. C0MPETING: I have competed for jobs, men, attention, etc…with the utmost justification. But I know you, dear blog reader, are not guilty of such wanton disregard for your fellow woman. Yeah right.

 The most important thing I got out of this life class was something I already knew – WHAT YOU GIVE IS WHAT YOU GET! And you know I’m right. The Bible says we reap what we sow.  Each of us can think of some things we have done that were not really correct. In other words we have been triple O (Out Of Order) in our relationships with other women. But here’s a tip: Handle up on your own stuff and you will find little time to be dipping into someone else’s. And you can take that to your “I'm a do better” bank.

 
Ladies WTF is going on?  Let me charge you with this little tidbit: Be responsible for the energy in your own life that you inevitably share with the world… In other words watch your actions and if you don’t want what you do to others to be done to you – STOP DOING IT!!!
 

Now let me go work on Part 2. Oh, and please post your comments. All you have to do is click on the “No Comments” and choose Anonymous or another identifier. A screen will open for you to key in what you would like to say and really want to read what say you on how we treat one another.

As always, be blessed and be wonderful!

Why Do We Stand In Judgment of Others

I’m guilty or, at the least, I have been guilty of holding others to my sense of what is right and what is sho’ ‘nuff wrong; how much a person should take off of another person and for how long. I can be critical and judgmental but, I promise, never in a mean spirited way.  So, let’s just say that I use to think if people were too stupid to know up from down it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me. And I still do think that way – to a point.  I certainly don’t think that my sh!# smells like roses while everyone else’s stinks. We could all burn a little incense or scented candles when we get caught up in our own mess. Still, none of us own the market when it comes to being a little stupid – it is a free market after all.
In case I am not being clear, let me ask a few questions. How many of us have been in relationships where we were taken advantage of? Had a man who wasn’t really pulling his weight but we kept him around anyway? Been used up to the point of being too embarrassed to tell even our BFF? You know what I’m talking about. If you don’t methinks you aren’t telling yourself the truth.
We strong “Sistah’s” walk around with our noses turned so far up in the air that if hail starts to fall we are going to get hit smack in the face and Lord please don’t let it rain too hard or we just might drown. Every time we hear about another woman having issues with her man we are quick to say “umm unh, not me. Gurrrlll, I would/wouldn’t…” – you fill in the blank. We become so incensed with the situation and we swear no mother’s son would get away with that “if it were me”.  Maybe and maybe not.  The truth is we don’t know what we would do. As for me, I am a sh!# talking Sistah from way back and I have little patience for a man who doesn’t do the right thing. However, I have been in relationships where I was just a “puredeefool” letting a brother get away with stuff that now would garner me a cell at the Lew (and I’m not talking about the Louvre Museum in France).  I am, however, not a patient woman and I don’t like feeling like a “puredeefool” so my mindcation from reality only lasts for so long at which point somebody gots to get to stepping. But that’s me.
I tell you this, what I have learned over the years is that we don’t have the right to judge someone else and, unless we are asked, we need to keep our opinions to ourselves because telling them what we would do is really a misnomer.  I mean really, do we know what we would do? I would like to think I won’t ever again allow myself to be in a position to be used, misused, mistreated or under appreciated by anyone, especially a man who claims to care for me. Yet, it could happen.

Finally, I offer this – if you can help someone along the way then do it without tsking, judging, or acting as though your sh!# doesn’t stink ‘cause it does. Stop acting like you haven’t been on a major trip with some man. Personally, I believe in what the Bible says: “to whom much is given much is required”. 

Do We Need Another Hero?

Hey ladies, and guys if you are reading my blog. I have been pondering something for a while. So, we love Tina Turner and her music but, this isn’t about that never aging beauty. Years ago she made a song for a movie and the gist of the song was that heroes were no longer needed, or at the least no more were needed. I disagree.

Now, I may be about to do that TMI thing and tell you a little bit more about me than you really want to know but hey, it is what it is – so here goes.

I have come to the realization that a therapist would probably tell me that I have daddy issues and I would disagree. My stepfather was the best daddy any girl could want or have. He is tall, handsome, smart, could fix on cars, air conditioners, lawn mowers or whatever.  He loves deeply and has always been a source of good advice. The man was a super provider and I never, ever worried about anyone causing me harm because I knew Daddy Vern would handle it. In essence, he is my hero and I don’t have daddy issues. But, what has brought me to the realization is the types of books I read, television shows I watch, music I like and men I find attractive - whether they are good looking or ogres.  I like strong, bold men who are not afraid to take a stand or take charge.

Let me give you an example. If you ever watched the show “The Last Resort” you will remember the actor Andre Baugher who is by no means what I would call good looking. Yet, I found him immensely attractive in Resort. He was a strong, take charge, intelligent Black man who didn’t take any mess. He was my hero for that season. And, let’s look at my choices of novels: spy, detective, etc…. Mitch Rapp is one of my fiction heroes. He isn’t Black, too bad, but he is a man who can kick terrorists behind in short order.

Okay, you get where I’m going so back to Ms. Tina’s song – us and needing another hero. I will speak for myself: I need, want and will accept into my life another HERO! Yes, I have a certain look in mind but I am a Marvelously Mature woman who is not confused – good looks are fine, but a brother who can hold his own is freakinghot! A man who can appreciate a strong woman by letting her be strong because he knows who he is.  Gurrllll that makes me want to use words like supercilious as though it were a positive descriptive word.

I know I’m a piece of work – hell, I’m work. And any man coming my way needs to have his ego in order. Not that I would denigrate it, but he certainly doesn’t need to be overly sensitive to that strong woman vibe that lives here…to be continued

I gots more to say but I would love to hear from you. Care to share what you think about us needing another hero?

The Case of the Traveling Undies!

Have you ever had the honor of wearing a pair of traveling underwear? You know what traveling underwear is, right? “Well if you don’t, let me give you a general description. Traveling underwear, for all practical purposes, is panties, shapers and/or slips worn under your clothing. The main purpose of the concept of underwear is to cover up, shape up or conceal. Traveling underwear is underwear that either does not do its job, or does it half-assed, by traveling south.

It can be embarrassing I know, but hey, it happens. Just the other week I was walking around with a pair of the uncooperative travelers on.  All day long I was either stopping to hitch them up – much like the way the younger generation of men gesticulate when their oversized jeans drop below their butt cheeks. Anyway, so I’m hitching and also taking bathroom breaks to do a full on pull up throughout the day. I can hardly wait to get home and take the offenders off.

Now you may ask why I did not pull them off earlier in the day when I realized they wanted to go on the southern tour – and I have an answer. I don’t do commando. I know several women who do and enjoy it, but with the leaking that accompanies the aging of the Marvelously Mature, I’d rather have something to absorb the leaks other than my clothing. But let me continue with my story.

So, I get off work, go to my grandson’s school to do the mentoring thing and then take him to the store to purchase an outfit that he insisted he needed for the 70’s event the school was having. I got out of the truck hitching my shapers up as close as I could get them to my waist and over my ample derriere.

We walked into the store and did our usual shopping tag team: “Nick, stay near me.”
“Okay.” He says and does not because five minutes later: “Nick where are you? Boy didn’t I tell you to stay near me?”

“Grannie I was just looking…” “I don’t care. Do what I tell you child. Yada, yada, yada…”
All of my dialogue is said through clenched teeth probably because I was holding on to my traveling underwear for dear life.

Ten minutes later we have the outfit, have checked out and I am shuffling toward my truck. I can’t walk fast because the travelers are now down around my knees and about to drop to the tops of my boots. Just as I get to the truck, and think I have avoided the embarrassment of anyone seeing my drawers fall, Nick stops and looks at me frowning. He says, “Grannie, what’s that?” and points down. I look down and WOW!  There is only one way to describe it. My shapers have not just dropped to the tops of my boots, they are pooling around my ankles.

But ever the Marvelously Mature woman that I am, I open my truck door and slide into the driver’s seat (I had to slide in because I couldn’t pick my feet up without tripping over the southern travelers. “Boy get in the truck and mind your own business!” I snap – teeth still clenched. “But Grannie are those your…” Nick hush and put your seat belt on!” Poor baby. My drawers are falling and I’m yelling at him.

Now, a sane person would have trashed the undies as soon as she got home. I of course can claim no fame to sanity. Although I did throw that pair away a few days later, apparently it has siblings and I have a choice. I can throw all of my shapers away and start anew or I can take my chances and keep sliding them up my thighs praying that this isn’t a pair that belongs to the southern traveling family.

 I’m doing the latter – have you seen the cost of shapers? But this time I’m going to keep an extra pair of real underwear in my bag and if the travelers have managed to be a part of my wardrobe and start moving to the southern region, I will just pull them off and replace them with those old reliable Grannie drawers with the true elastic in the waist – bet they won’t start traveling.

What Are We Afraid Of?

 I ask this question because it deserves an answer. While there are some who accuse me of being a know-it-all – and I’m not – I certainly don’t have the answer to that question even for myself. I can come up with some psuedo-psycho dribble that you have heard over and over again like: “we are afraid of success”.  I’m not. And what is there about success to be afraid of? Success puts you in a better mental space, if it is the success you seek, and who can argue with being in a better space? But the question begs for an answer.

I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of if you will share your fears.

I Met the Evil Twin…

So you know recently I posted here on Marvelously Mature about my experience with the nice and gentle man I met a few weeks ago. He was oh so chivalrous.  To some of you it may not be a big deal that a man was caught in the actual practice of being courteous. To others of us, it was a phenomenon.
Well guess what. I met the evil twin to the gentle man.

I took my grandson to basketball practice, a common weekly occurrence. The place where practice is held is an elementary school’s gym and there are no bleachers. The only way you can have a seat is to bring your own or let your butt hit the floor. Oh and there is also a toddler sized green chair that is almost always available which is usually where I sit. There are other parents there, many of them young women who let their butt’s hit the floor or, of course, bring their own sports chairs. I would bring mine but it has a seat that sits so low to the ground I may as well sit on the floor. The problem both with my chair and sitting on the floor is that I would have a hard time getting down and a near impossible task getting back up. (In case you were wondering why I didn’t bring my own chair).

On the fatal night I walk into the gym and exchange greetings as I look for the little green toddler chair. When I spot it I see a young man occupying it already. He was about 6’4”. Maybe 210 lbs. I smiled to myself because I just knew he would see me coming, know that I usually sit in that particular chair, and offer me his seat. HA!

The man didn’t even look up. Instead he stretched his legs out and pretended he was overly engrossed in his cell phone. So I wait. Surely he is just going to finish whatever text he is sending and offer me the chair. Right? Wrong.

Ten minutes later I am still standing there. Seriously, I was about to ask him to allow me the privilege of sitting down when an older gentleman insisted that I take his seat. I declined. Hell, he was older than me. But he continued to insist and told me he would go to his truck and get another chair – which he did. Oh, and I told him no because I wouldn’t be able to get back up once I sat down. He said he would help me to my feet. I rolled my eyes in the direction of the evil twin.

About ten minutes before practice was over the twin stands up and saunters to the other side of the gym. I looked at him and shook my head. He didn’t even make eye contact with me. What is happening to our young me? I would guess him to be in his early to mid 30’s. By all appearances he looks like he has some sense but as they say “the proof is in the pudding” and the pudding in this case was his manners.

My son is 25 and my grandson is 7. I would be hard pressed to believe either of them did not have enough common courtesy to offer a woman a seat, open a door, carry a bag – or whatever whether the assistance was asked for or not. Years ago I used to ride the 44 Oakland  bus in Dallas, Texas. This bus generally took passengers to a lower income neighborhood where crime stats are very high. I also rode the 64 Ferguson to another part of town where the mid to upper-middle class folk live. The men on the 44 Oakland, young and old, would stand and leave seats vacant for female passengers. And no one seemed to assume they should take the empty seat if they were not female. Once the bus got on its way and there where empty seats, then the men would sit down. Not so on the 64 Ferguson. You could be old, blind, on a cane or in labor and those middle class boys would just sit there and look straight at you. Giving up their seats was not an option.

I ask, is this how we are raising our sons or are they just forgetting their home training? I guess next practice I will go look in my mother’s garage and find one of those metal folding chairs. At least then I will have a sit I don’t need help getting out of and I won’t have to wonder if some young man will be sitting in my green toddler chair as I stand on my old arthritic knees J. Where oh where did the gentle knight of weeks gone by go? I need him to hold a few etiquette workshops for men.

A Pleasant Experience with a little Ego Boost Added

Hey everybody. Hope your weekend was wonderfully blessed.  As for me, mine was pretty nice. Busy, but nice. I started my day with karate practice and then a basketball game – which we lost, but no worries, there’s always the next game. And no, I ain’t the one taking karate or playing basketball, my grandson is.

After the game I went home fully intending to get my bedroom in some semblance of organized chaos. Well, it remains in total chaos because I found myself lying in the middle of my bed, organization be damned.  Earlier I had received a phone call from a friend asking if I was really too tired to attend the jazz session at TBAAL that we had already paid for. “I was just thinking that we really need to do something for ourselves for a change.” she said convincingly. So, I agreed that maybe we should go and I would be ready around 6:30. Yeah right.

As a general rule I am at the latest, on time and seldom late. But for some reason I was drag- assing around and didn’t actually leave my driveway until a quarter to seven.  Only then to be told that I was being picked up which is a “hooray!” moment for me since I really don’t like driving.

The chariot arrived, we went to dinner and then headed on over to TBAAL to hear the masterfully, talented Shaun Martin and his band. Wonderful!  Fantastic! And, so very entertaining. If you have not heard this brother then you are missing out on a soulful, jazz experience.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. My title suggests that there was an ego boosting encounter involved. And there was.

So, we park and walk over to pay the parking lot meter - technology is truly replacing people.  Observant woman that I am I notice this huge SUV pull into the lot and park. I jokingly ask my friend why people buy such big “A” vehicles and we both laughed since I own the same brand of vehicle that I was talking about.  

I notice this brother walking toward us and since we had just had dinner complete with grilled onions, I asked if he possibly had gum or mints. He smiled and said he did in his car and would fulfill my request as soon as he paid for his parking. So, I waited and watched as he walked to the very vehicle I had joked about only moments before. When he returned I asked for two pieces of gum and told him I was just disparaging his vehicle. Then I told him that I owned the same type of truck. We both laughed and began talking as we walked toward our destination – he was on his way to enjoy jazz great Shaun Martin as well.

Long story short, this guy with the beautiful Nissan Armada, and the gum, was such a gentleman. I mean someone, somewhere, has given this brother the tools to make a woman swoon – this woman anyway. Look, as I stepped from the curb he reaches for my elbow to assist me. Then he reaches back and does the same for my friend. As we walk and talk about the wonderful vehicles that we both own, he appears to really be into the conversation. And he does not forget to assist us again as we step up onto the sidewalk.

We arrive at our destination and he expresses his gratitude for our chance meeting. We exchange names and part company. Now while I did see him again during the night, we did not speak again. But his overall genial attitude was a breath of fresh air. He did not seem pretentious or a bow-wow contender. He just seemed to be a man who appreciated and respected women.

When is the last time you had an encounter with such a genteel man? I know for me it has been a while. On the average, I encounter the suave type brother regularly. I’m not sure if it is because I am older or full-figured that I usually feel invisible to these guys. Of course I get my share of attention from men, but sometimes the supposedly cultured brother is insensitive and so full of himself that if you aren’t exactly eye candy you can fall off the curb and he won’t look back.

Two things happened that night: first, the jazz set with Shaun Martin was wonderful; and second, my ego got an unexpected boost. Again I ask: “When was your last encounter with such a gentleman?” Please share….Sonia

Dreaming? So What's Your Big Dream?????

Dreaming? So What's Your Big Dream?????

When I was a young girl I wanted to be an airline stewardess (flight attendant was not the coined phrase at the time). Anyway, whenever I would hear a plane overhead, I would sigh and wish that I could hurry and get older so I could be a stewardess. Now mind you I had never been on a plane, did not know one single person who worked for an airline - except the food handlers, and I am and have always been afraid of heights.

Did I mention that I also overlooked the fact that height and weight had to be proportionate? I was also a kinky haired, dark skinned Black child. Still, I did not let any of that deter me. I was bound and determined that when I grew up I was going to be an airline stewardess.

As I grew older that dream stayed with me. Even when I married young and even when I became a mother with only a high school education. I really can't tell you when the dream was buried. The truth is that being a stewardess seemed exciting and easy (I had obviously not done any research). I didn't know how long I would have had to be away from home; where I would be assigned to fly to or even how much the job paid. It never occurred to me that the passengers on the plane would be anything but nice and kind.

Somewhere in my young adult life I did figure out that I was not prepared or equipped to be up in anyone's plane talking about taking care of someone else. I can see it now. The first time we hit an airpocket and the plane dropped or tipped to the left, the passengers would have had to take care of me. Or, had I ever dared to look out of the window when we were thousands of feet in the air - ohmygoodLord. And what if someone ordered orange juice, I came back with apple juice and they got ugly? It would have been the first boxing match in the sky.
So what happened? I settled on whatever came up. First was being a wife. Now I have to admit that was never one of my big dreams. However, since I had said 'I-do' I tried and failed miserably. Then came being a mother. I did pretty good with that and while I had only dreamed of twins, the five I had just expanded that dream.

Yet somewhere along the way I stopped dreaming. I allowed life to consume me and suddenly my goal was to do something, anything that would (a) help me take care of my family, and (b) show my kids that you could do whatever you decided to do. But I wasn't dreaming. I had forgotten what it was like to dream of flying in the clouds - afraid of heights, weight not proportionate and all. I was focused on raising my family which was the right thing to do, but I could have focused on me too. But that would have been selfish. Right?

Of course not. I truly believe one of the biggest problems we face as women is taking care of self. We feel good when we put others first, or so we tell ourselves. We nuture everyone but ourselves and that ain't good.

We've got to remember how to dream. If we don't know how, we need to learn how. And, we need to not just dream, but nuture those dreams into reality. Yep, that's my big dream now - sharing the power of the dream.

Am I still nuturing? Yes. It is part of my make-up. Do I neglect my dreams to help someone else? No. My dream is to help. Some of us are meant to build rocket ships and some of us are meant to help those doing the building. Nothing in life is happenstance. In my world I believe there is a rhyme and reason for all things. One of the things that I learned about finding your dream/passion is to look back at what you do well - and enjoy. For me it has been providing understanding; sharing information; assisting others to move forward and I love it.

So what's my big dream? Its two-fold. I dream of working with young girls between the ages of 10 and 16 to assist them open the door to their dreams; and I want to do workshops with women 50 and older as they embrace life the second time around; as they learn to dream.

That' my dream. Assisting others in realizing their own dreams. Wow! Doesn't that sound like fun? By the way - WHAT IS YOUR BIG DREAM?!!!

I can not figure it out. Why do men feel the need to fabricate their persona and what line of work they are in? I know some of us do it as well, but I’m not talking about us right now.

Seriously, why be a CEO of your company – that no one has ever heard of, instead of a paralegal? You don’t have to manage Mickey D’s, flipping burgers isn’t a crime. Okay, you may have a problem getting an upwardly mobile woman to pay you any attention, but hey at least you can say you have integrity and refuse to lie about your occupation.

All I’m saying is ain’t no need to lie. CEO’s don’t use their tongues to wet the lenses of their eyewear before picking up a restaurant napkin to wipe the spit they left off. Ewww. Shoot, if Boo from Booger King licks his lenses it would not be out of place. If Boo accidentally, or on purpose, forgets to pay for my Big Mama burger then that’s par for the course. But when big baller, shot caller, CEO does it, that is so unacceptable.

Back in the day there was a nightclub here in Dallas called RJ’s by the Lake. Man, the ballers up in that joint were fast talking, ho’ing, and flashing that gold card as they picked up the tabs for you and your girls. One night, myself and a few of my friends went to RJ’s. That was during the time Ms. Anita Arterberry was singing. That girl sounded like Anita Baker for sure. Anyway, as usual there was a line out the door and down the sidewalk. I couldn’t do it. I hate having to stand in line at Wal-Mart and I sure as hell didn’t want to stand in line to get in no smoked filled club. Then I spotted this brother getting out of a Benz. I noticed how one of the bouncers rushed over to get his keys and take the car to park it. I told myself that was a man in charge and maybe he would be able to cut this line thing short for me and my girls. So, I walked over to him and asked him if he could get us in. He smiled, ran his finger down the side of my face (yuck, men don’t wash their hands too well.) and said yes. He played football for San Francisco or somebody – I don’t remember. I do remember someone saying he was part owner of the club. We didn’t care. All we knew was that we were in.

Long story short, the brother bought drinks for us all night long. Back then I could drink like a fish, now old age says take it slow. When we were ready to leave he wanted to know if he could take us to breakfast. Uh, yeah!. And, when breakfast was over we all went home. He went to his home and we went to ours. Wasn’t no freaky deaky stuff happening although if he had asked I think most of us would have jumped at the chance to warm his bed.

That was just one such incident. I’m not saying men were perfect back then, I’m just saying they knew how to add panache to their lies. Today men just think we are so stupid they can tell us anything. CEO my round behind! All a man needs to do is tell the effing truth. I can like the brother driving the garbage truck just as well as I can some stuffy CEO who thinks his stuff don’t stink. Few men are buying drinks, hell they don’t even hold the door or give up their seats anymore. My best friend says her grandfather told her men haven’t really changed, women have. We have lowered our expectations and we are willing to accept whatever a man dishes out. Come on ladies, let’s stop the madness. The next time you meet Mr. Right now and he tells you he is Mr. So and So CEO, Google him.
I’m just saying. - sj

Online Dating


If the truth be told, I think online dating is scary. Have I partaken of the event? Yep, and escaped unscathed with a new attitude about meeting my neighbor’s, brothers, cousin’s, uncle’s, plumber’s friend. Seriously. At least the man comes with references.

Don’t laugh. Think about it. When you go to the online dating sites they ask you all sorts of questions designed to supposedly match you -with a high degree of accuracy they claim, with the man of your dreams. The problem, as I see it, is that while you may have told the truth – for the most part, he most likely did not.

You selected “a little overweight” and he selected athletic build. You are probably not very much overweight and he has, more than likely, never had an athletic build. You are 5’8” and he says he is 6’. Yeah, more like 5’6”, maybe 5’10”, but several inches from 6’. Have you ever noticed how the height of a man claiming to be 5’10 and a woman who is 5’10’ show a marked difference?

You have some college and he has a PhD. You work for a living and he is either a high powered attorney, head of some large company you have never heard of or, he owns this multi-million dollar business that Google can’t find. Amazing. He has 0 children and has never been married. Oh, and this is his first time doing online dating.

The man is too good to be true. The entire time you guys are communicating via the www, he makes you feel so important, so pretty, so wanted. You are no princess, you are a full figured queen. As a matter of fact you are something else and that something is in love. OMG! The best part of all is that he is in love too and can not wait to meet you.

In a perfect world he lives near enough to make the visit easier for you both. You’ll be the woman with the red dress on and he will be the man in the fedora. Yeah, I said fedora. And on that special day you show up early enough to get a good seat hoping you can spot him before he sees you. So you sit and you wait and you sit and you wait and just as you are about to give it up, disheartened and disappointed, you hear someone call your name. You look up and stare into the eyes of the ugliest frog you have ever seen. But hey, after your initial shock you decide it ain’t so bad. Okay, so he’s not exactly what you saw in the picture he emailed to you and he is a bit shorter than he said he was, but hey, he showed up – right?

Two months, four days, and five hours into the relationship, you have had enough. While you are trying to think of a way out of this online mess, he is making plans to move in with you. When you tell him you don’t want to see him anymore, he suddenly becomes your stalker. No worries, he still has his page up on that dating site where you two first fell in love and soon he will convince another unsuspecting woman that he is the man of her dreams. Then, and only then, will you be off the hook.

Nah, too much trouble. I want a man with references. As a matter of fact, my oldest daughter once suggested to me that we should create an application for potential suitors. I can’t see a man actually filling one out-unless of course it allows him to participate in a buffet of women who willingly overlook the obvious. But you can do it for him. Hmm, baby girl, we need to work on that idea.

Anyways, let me repeat myself – I prefer a man with references. If he is unattractive, you know it up front. You know where he went to school; how many times he’s been married; how many baby mama’s he has; if he has a job, and on and on. Yep, a man with references trumps an online liar every time.

One last thought. A man who looks for love online is just raking up booty calls. Everyone knows that a man, short, tall, fat, ugly, whatever, does not have to do online dating. He can meet women at the grocery store just as easily. I don’t buy the excuse of being too busy to really go out and meet anyone so online is the best thing. Come on let’s be honest. Any man worth dealing with isn’t online. I could be wrong, but I highly doubt it. Best thing to do is go for the one with references.


I’m just saying.

Hey! What’s going on in your world today?

Me? Well, I was sitting here thinking about my blog and life; and, work and life; and, retirement and life; and, well, working for the rest of my life. Don’t want to do it.

Don’t get me wrong. I want to do something, but I want that something to be, at the least fulfilling…something I am passionate about not just the everyday 9 to 5 drag. I want to do that something that wakes me up in the morning and haunts – in a good way, my dreams at night. I want to take one of my gazillion ideas and make it work for me. But, I find myself full of excuses as to why I can’t do that right now. There is this little matter of money, need for health insurance and, lifestyle habits that I’m not interested in changing – like paying my bills and eating out every now and again or, shopping for me and my grandkids. Of course there are other considerations, but you get my drift. Letting go of the income that you depend on to living on uncertainty is a big step. A GIANT step really and one many of us are not willing, or ready, to take. I am going to explore this line of thought more as I blog, but today I want to talk about how we are so invisible that it is disheartening.

This blog, Marvelously Mature, is about and for African American/Black women who are 50 years of age and older. It was created as part of an assignment that I took on in grad school and, I must admit, I have just let it drift in the ether. Now I plan to blog once or twice a week about how wonderful, courageous, beautiful, eccentric, creative, etc, etc, etc – we are.

So today I decided to check out what other MarvelouslyMature African American/Black women were doing in the blogsphere and I found not much of anything. There are sites, blogs and articles about our health and fashion for the most part. What really amazed me was the number of sites dedicated to me as a sistah when it comes to my dating life, the clothes I should be wearing and celebrities who are over 50 and looking good. And my absolute favorite [sic] is the NY Times article about why Black women are so fat.

What I wanted to find was information on how to retire; recreate myself; follow my passion; become financially healthy; exchange ideas; talk trash; share recipes; share experiences…you follow me? Now, I’m not saying this stuff ain’t…yes, I said “ain’t”…out there, because it may well be. What I am saying is that if it is it is buried so deep in cyberspace that I can’t find the right combination of search words to locate it. I would love to locate such information and put it in an easy to find location available to everyone.

Still sitting here trying to work through some things, but I know what direction I’m heading in, or at least the direction I need to be headed in – the one that has been my path for years…Celebrating This Beautiful Black Life God gave me. I want to make us more visible and arm us with information that we can use to gracefully embrace the wonderful women we are evolving into.  That said, I would love to hear from you. If you have information that the MarvelouslyMature woman can use please share. Until next time…

Sonia

Hey, What "Cha Dreaming About?

I am reposting this blog because I want a do-over!!! I first posted this in February of 2011. I had this grand idea – right? Then I went to sleep and let it grow cobwebs. Well, I'm back with the same "grand idea" but with roller skates on! So, I am re-posting with a vague promise to update it weekly. If you read it I will write...Now on to the repost!

The older I get I find myself running headfirst into “AHA!” moments and I just know I need to share them. As a matter of fact, the women I want to share these glorious moments of inspiration with have run into them as well but, for the sake of argument, maybe didn’t realize they were supposed to take heed. That’s where I come in.

Something has happened to turning 50 – we are no longer considered old. We don’t feel, look or act the way 50 is reputed to act. Back in the day I am sure 50 was 50, not the new 40. The problem I am running into is that some of us didn’t get the memo. If you are like me you really didn’t plan for this stage in life. I mean, we knew we would get there, I guess we just figured life would take care of things – if we thought about it at all.

So here we are. Marvelously Mature with a full life ahead of us and we haven’t figured out what it is we want to do with this wonderful opportunity.  The dreams we once had of doing “us” have faded into our memories or, we just don’t know if we still have it in us to follow those dreams. You know what I say? I say follow that dream or dream a new one. This is your life and as baby boomers we are living longer and often have more responsibility taking care of parents, children or grandchildren than any other generation. We have to do it all! And in doing it all for everyone else we have forgotten to do something for ourselves.

Let me tell you what my dream is.

I like to fix things. Okay, I like to fix people. When I was a young girl and something bad would befall someone, or I knew someone was unhappy – I wished for a magic wand that I could wave and twist and twirl until fairy dust and stars scattered to make everything right in their world. I still wish I had that magic wand.  Now I would use it to assist people dream; dream about their future; follow their passion; live life to its fullest! And that is my dream.  A dream that I am living as I write this blog and publish my online magazine entitled Marvelously Mature.  I am so ecstatic to learn that the possibilities of what I can do are so numerous that I can pick and choose as I so desire.

Join me on this quest to share my dreams and assist my sisters of the fabulous Marvelously Mature crowd to seek and find their dreams. That said.

Hey, What Are You Dreaming About?

Sonia