Monday, November 3, 2008

Tears

What are tears? This was the question that plagued my mind as I began packing her bags. I felt my eyes beginning to fill up. What are tears? I go to her closet and began taking her clothes off the hangers and piling them on the bed. Her polka dot skirt, her zebra print shirt, her cute jean skirt with the embroidered flowers and fringed hem. I hate crying. I try to stop myself, but I can’t. The first tear wells up slowly, quickly slipping down my cheek. Than another and another and another. I touched my eyelashes and they are wet. What are tears? According to Webster’s a tear is simply a drop of salty liquid, which flows from the eye.

However At the College of Apostolic Ministries, my teacher Brother Kelly, emphasized to our class many times how important it is to weep before God. I can hear him so vividly talking to our class, telling us we need to pray for a weeping spirit when we pray. I don’t understand, what could be so important about our tears? Why would God want them? What are tears? I do not know, but I do know that the answer to my question is somehow wrapped around understanding the nature of love.
*
The cause of my tears is because the little girl I loved was leaving. Hadassah, who was 11-years-old, had lived with my sister and I for two and a half months, but now her mother had arrived from Liberia and she would be living with her. I try to be strong as I continued packing her bags, but with each item I packed, I felt like I was packing a piece of my heart.
*
How Hadassah came to live with me began about five minutes before church one Sunday morning. As I was walking out of the ladies prayer room and into our sanctuary my phone rang. It was Hadassah, one of the African refugee kids we pick up for church. Most of the African kids that came to church were from pretty rough homes. I quickly answered the phone.
*
“Hadassah? All I heard was uncontrollable crying. “What’s wrong?" I asked.
“My grandma doesn’t want me,” she sobbed. Hadassah had come to the United States with her grandma when she was seven and I had been bringing her to church for about a year at this time.
*
“What do you mean she doesn’t want you? What happened?” I asked.
“I was bad,” she said, as if that was something new, “ I mean really, really bad,” she continued, clarifying her self. “I stole stuff and now my grandma doesn’t want me. I am so scared,” she sobbed. “I wanna live with you Mary. Please, please, please let me come live with you!”
*
I don’t remember the rest of our conversation, but after church I went over and talked to her grandma, after much discussion, it was agreed that it would be best for Hadassah to come live with my sister and I until her mother arrived from Liberia. I never thought twice about taking Hadassah in. It didn’t matter to me that I was a 24-year-old, single, white lady and she was an 11-year-old black girl with a major attitude. If God wanted me to do this, I would.
*
As soon as Hadassah came to live with us I began working with her on the things she needed to change. Sometimes we would sit with her in my lap, rocking on the rocking chair in our living room.
“I don’t know why I steal things,” she told me. “I want to be good, but I keep being bad,” she sighed.
“You can change,” I would tell her, “but you have to ask God to help you.”
*
She began to open her heart to me, telling me about the kind of life she had been exposed and hardships she had endured. Hadassah’s own mother was only a year older than I. She said it was typical for an African woman to have kids by 15, often even younger. She said that was scared she would end up like all the African woman she knew, unmarried with many children.
I told her that it didn’t matter what kind of a life she came from, if she yielded her heart to God, He would use her to do great things. Although it may simple, it was working. People were constantly coming to me, telling me what a difference they saw in Hadassah. She felt like God had set her free from her habits of lying, stealing and cursing. It was like a burden had been lifted from her and there was a special sweetness about her now.
*
With Hadassah around life was always fun and interesting. I’ll never forget when we took her on a family vacation to San Diego. Hadassah and I were out wave jumping in the ocean when all of a sudden a big gulp of water went into her mouth.
“Who put the salt in here?” She said spitting it out, disgusted.
“God did,” I said laughing.
“Oh, well if God did it then I guess its okay,” she said.
*
Every night we read the bible together, and prayed, always remembering to ask God to bring her mother here quickly. Hadassah had her own room but she always preferred sleeping on the floor beside my bed.
*
One night I was drifting off to sleep when Hadassah woke me…
“Mary,’ she whispered. I tried to pretend I was sleeping. “Mary,” she whispered again, louder this time.
“What?” I said groaning in annoyance.
“I wanna sing like a black girl,” she said. I sighed.
“So what do you want me to do? Your black, just start singing!”
“Teach me!” She said.
“How in the world do you expect me to do that?” I said sitting up in bed now.
“Please Mary!”
“Dude Hadassah,” I said laughing. “I wish I could sing good for a white girl and you want me to teach you to sing like a black girl?”
“Oh come on Mary,” she said.
“Okay, okay,” I said giving in, “Repeat after me, Oh happy day,” I said belting out my best black imitation. This resulted in the two of us laughing hysterically.
“You don’t sound like no black girl,” she said laughing.
“See,” I said, “I told you I couldn’t teach you!”
*
Our lives continued on together, in a comfortable, fun way. But sooner than we had anticipated her mother arrived from Africa. We had prayed for this to happen every night before bed. Now it seemed like God had answered our prayers to quickly.
*
I remember the two of us sitting on the floor in my classroom at church, sobbing. I pulled her onto my lap.
“I don’t wanna go back Mary!”
“No matter what happens Hadassah, I love you,” I said. “and you’ll always be my baby.”
“How can I be your baby? You did not born me,” she said falling back into her broken English.
“Hadassah,” I said, “I may not have physically given birth to you, but I borned you in my heart!”
“I don’t wanna go back,” she said sobbing again.
“I know,” I said softly. I know, I know, I know. As we sat there crying, our tears fell onto each other, binding our hearts forever.
After Hadassah went back, I watched sadly as she slowly began to slip back into her old ways. She is 12 now and beginning to grow into a young lady. She is absolutely beautiful, but the childlike sweetness is gone, replaced by and exterior of false happiness. My heart tightens as I see her in her tight shirts and short-shorts.
*
It’s a Sunday evening and I am with my friend Jacqui, seeing if any of the kids want to come to church. I see Hadassah out playing basketball
“Hey Hadassah!” I say, “Give me a hug!” She comes running over and I pull her into an embrace. She smiles as she runs her fingers through my waist-length hair and tells me I look pretty with my hair down.
“I am praying for you,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says softly. I touch her cheeks and feel the smoothness of them; they are still just as soft as I remember.
“You know that you are still my baby, right Hadassah?”
“Yes, I know.” she says. We look at each other for a minute, remembering. Then the moment is broken. She reaches into my zebra print purse and grabs my last two sticks of sweet watermelon gum, “Can I have these?” She asks.
“Yeah, sure,” I say smiling. We say goodbye, then instead of going to church, she zooms off, in her super-mini, mini skirt and continues playing basketball.
*
The next day is Monday. Another morning has come and as I arise from my slumber,I know what I must do. I wipe my sleepy eyes and drag my body to the living room. I feel like going back to sleep, but there is something that compels me to go on. I plop down on the brown rug and I begin to pray. And as I pray I begin thinking about Hadassah.
*
“Oh God,” I cry out. “Get a hold of my little girl.” I begin to feel that familiar trembling. “Watch over her Jesus. Send your angels to stand guard over her.” I feel tears beginning to fill up in my eyes. “Don’t let her forget God,” A tear slips out of my eye. “When she listens to that worldly music, remind her of singing ‘I got the Holy Ghost’. When she puts on immodest clothes, remind her of the day she gave all that up. When she feels the heaviness of sin, reassure her that there is forgiveness at an alter of repentance.”
*
My nose is running as the tears continue to fall. I touch my eyelashes and they are wet. I taste the tears, they are salty. But its okay, I don’t mind the tears now, because I know that God put them there, just like He put the salt in the ocean. And although so much has changed with Hadassah, there is one thing that remains the same; I still love her.
*
What are tears? Now I am beginning to understand. I am starting to see why Brother Kelly kept emphasizing the importance of them in prayer and I know why God wants them. What are tears? Tears are so much more than just a salty liquid that flows from the eyes. Tears are what happen when you love someone so much it begins to leak out.

*Hadassah’s name was changed to protect the privacy of that individual.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

"Dance in the Rain" (1999)

Go dancing in the rain
Blow bubbles in the air
Catch snow flakes on your tongue
Brag about someone you love
Enjoy the simple things in life
*
Enjoy the simple things in life
Look at a sunset
Count the stars in the sky
Take the time to day dream
Let someone hold your hand
*
Pretend the clouds are animals
Listen as the birds sing
Always look up to someone
Count the stars in the sky
Remember to have fun
*
Lick the brownie bowl
Get frosting on your nose
Add sprinkles to your ice cream
Remember to have fun
Say bedtime prayers
*
Laugh till you can't breath
Build a sand castle
Ask lots and lots of questions
Keep your child like wonder
Get frosting on your nose
*
Skip, jump, gallup, hop
Swing really, really high
Think about your creator
Stand in awe of the ocean
Laugh till you can't breath
*
Roll down grassy hills
Splash through all the puddles
Desire to do great things
Swing really, really high
Enjoy the blessings this life brings

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Holding His Hand (July 2008)

I sighed happily as I snuggled beneath my covers. The spring 2006 semester of college was over and for all I cared I would never be going back. After all, who needs school when you’re in love and getting married? Even though my boyfriend had not actually proposed to me, we had spent many hours on the phone talking about our wedding, and planning our future. I knew before the summer was over I would be engaged. I couldn’t help but smile; all my dreams of love and romance were finally coming true. Before I drifted off into dreamland I hugged my pillow and whispered a prayer of thanks,
“God you are so good!”
.
Several weeks later, I again lay in my bed beneath my covers. However, this time I was not smiling and whispering prayers of thanks. My head was buried in my pillow and my body shook as I sobbed the tears of a broken heart. I couldn’t understand how one day a person could be holding your hand, whispering sweet “I love you’s” then change their mind. My heart was crushed.
.
It had been easy to give God thanks a few weeks ago when everything was going good, but what about now? I had always said I loved God, but did I know how to trust Him? I had always lived my life for Him, but now I would learn to hold His hand even when I couldn’t see the path he was leading me through.
.
“I just don’t get it God! What are you doing? What in the world is going on?”
“ I have a plan for you Mary.”
“But God it hurts so much”
“Trust me.”
.
As a little girl, I always knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was going to be the best mommy in the whole world, just like my mom. I would marry a Godly man and together we would love our kids, read them stories, and bring them to church. I secretly dreamed of making my family blueberry pancakes for breakfast. Now it seemed like that would never happen.
.
What I didn’t know at the time was that what seemed like the end of my dreams was the beginning of something new. God was about to unfold a beautiful plan for my life.

.
“Will you trust me Mary?”
“But God all I have ever wanted is to get married and be a mom!”
“Just trust me.”
“I promise to raise my children right…”
“Just trust me.”
“I’ll bring them to church…”
“Just trust me…”
“I’ll teach them your ways…”
“Just trust me…”
“God, I’m so desperate I even promise to be an obedient and submissive wife.”

“MARY! Will you please just trust me?”
.
Finally the message sank in and I began to trust Him. Still there were times I wondered if I would ever get married and be a mom. God knew all the questions and ponderings of my heart, He didn’t say yes and He didn’t say no, instead He took my hand and led me in another direction.

.
When the fall semester of school started I enrolled myself in as many classes as possible. I had planned on not returning to school this semester or taking on another semester of editorship for the college newspaper, but my breakup changed all that. I had to stay busy to keep my mind off the pain. Still, I found myself in the bathroom stall, in between classes, silently sobbing. Every night I cried myself to sleep. It was in these desperate moments of brokenness that a desire inside me began emerge.
.
Despite my broken heart, I wanted to love. I remembered getting a fortune cookie that said, ‘Your ability to love will help a child in need.’ I knew in my heart that God wanted me to share my love. I began looking online for volunteer opportunities. The one thing that caught my eye was volunteering with sick kids at Phoenix Children’s Hospital. However, the process of being approved as a volunteer was quite lengthy. In the meantime, I continued to stay busy at school. One day my journalism instructor gave me an assignment to write an article on an English Literacy class that was being taught to African Refugee women.

.
The class was being taught in the office of the Paradise Shadows apartment complex where a lot of African refugees live. Paradise Shadows is located in the Palomino Square area, a rather rough part of Phoenix. When I got there I saw kids running around, playing everywhere. They stared at me curiously as I walked to the office to begin observing the literacy class for my article. I tried to listen and take notes, but the whole time my mind was on the kids. About half way through I headed outside for a break and began talking to some little girls.

.
They were so eager for my attention, showing off their braids and asking me to take their picture while they did a little cheerleading routine. I was having so much fun, that for just a few moments I forgot about everything else going on in my life. Soon it was time to leave and when their little brown arms wrapped around me in hugs, something began to pull on the strings of my heart. I knew immediately that these were the children God wanted me to love.



That was on a Tuesday evening of October 2006. That Saturday, I got my youth group together and we headed over to Paradise Shadows for outreach. We blitzed the place with church fliers and told all the kids to meet us on the playground. On the playground we sang songs, took prayer request and played with them. These kids play hard and wild. The boys were jumping out of trees and landing in the splits. By the end of the outreach we were hot, sweaty and tired. But, my youth group had fallen in love the kids as well.
.
The next day was Sunday and some of the youth and my family drove over and started picking people up for church. We have been bringing people to church ever since and I don’t think our church has quite been the same. Our children’s ministry expanded. I began assisting my friend in her Sunday school class and soon became a teacher as well for the little girls class.
.
Since that time I have had the opportunity to bring many of the kids to youth conferences and camps. One girl even came to live with me for several months until her mother came from Liberia. They have taught me about their culture, language, and even had me taste some African food. I have taught them about matching clothes, dressing modestly, hygiene, manners and much more. Together the older girls and I figured out how to curl their hair and I taught them my all time favorite girls game of M.A.S.H. Most importantly we all taught the kids about Jesus.
.

I can now say that I honestly feel no sadness about my break-up. God used my broken heart to begin reaching out to the children and He used the children to begin healing my broken heart. Because of my brokenness, I was forced to dig deeper, move beyond myself and grab a hold of something bigger. There is nothing more amazing to me than seeing their arms stretched towards heaven, tears running down their cheeks as they surrender their lives to God.
.
Now when I lay down at night I can smile and honestly say, God you are so good! The reason I say that is not because I have a new boyfriend and I think I’ll be getting married soon. The truth is that I am still very much single. It’s also not because God took away my desire to get married and be a mom. I still dream of holding my own baby and making my family blueberry pancakes.
.
The reason I say God is good, is simply because He is. I see now that His hand is on my life. I look back to when I was a little girl and see that even then He was working on me, preparing me, for what I am doing right now. I don’t know what all God has in store for my life, but I do know that as long as I keep holding His hand, He will keep on leading.



Okaaaay, let me explain...

December of 2006 was the last time I had written anything. I had gotten involved in a lot of things at my church and writing was kinda pushed onto the back burner. Well, this past May, 2008, my pastor's wife came to me and said that she had heard about a writing contest she thought I should enter. The story was supposed to be a story of faith in God, in your own life or in someone else's. 
.
When I got home that night I started thinking about what I should write. I have written many stories of faith that God has done for other people, but I wanted this story to be about what God has done for me. I have never had a serious illness or some kind of big, remarkable miracle, that has happened to me directly. I have basically grown up in church since I was 2. I got the Holy Ghost when I was six and it has ALWAYS been my desire to serve God. 
.
As I was thinking, I began to realize that in life I have learned that sometimes the BIGGEST act of faith is simply trusting in God. I didn't get my story done in time for the contest, however, the above story, Learning to Hold His Hand, is the result. 
.
After writing this story in July, I felt like God was pushing me to get back to writing. Since that time, God has continuously been giving me story ideas. I have already completed another story and have some more in the works. My sister told me recently that she believes God wants to use me with my writing. She told me that she doesn't believe God would give me the ability to write for no reason. As I write I pray to God, asking Him that above talent or ability, that He would bless my writing with annointing.
.
So as I picked up my old pen to begin, I thought, ok God, it's great to be writing again, but who will read all this stuff?
.
  That my friend is you! ;-)