Heart matters
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How to react when someone laughs at you
So the other day, I was hanging around, minding my own business when I noticed someone making fun out of me behind my back. You guys, it shocked me so much that I had no words. And this is coming from someone who talks in her sleep. It shocked me because, firstly, hello we completed our schooling many, many years ago. What playground is this and who on earth decided we’re going to be 12 again? Secondly, why behind my back? Why not to my face? And lastly, the thing that they were gossiping about is actually such a heart sore topic for me right now; I could not even believe that someone would tease me about it.
Okay, so for those of you who have actually seen me in real life (yes, people, I’m not a robot, I actually do exist in reality), you’ll notice that I walk with a limp. The limp has always been slight and unnoticeable, but over the past few years it has become a lot more prominent. The reason why I limp is because my one leg is shorter than the other. This is due to the fact that my positioning, while I was in my momma’s womb, wasn’t normal at all. My one leg was bent under the other, in utero. This then caused the left leg to not grow at the same rate as the right leg.
Now, guys, let me tell ya, I’ve lived a pretty normal life up until this point. I feel like laughing as I’m typing this, because seriously this long leg/short leg situation did not affect my childhood at all. Like, it was a non-issue.
And then, a few years ago, I started getting a pain in my left hip. The hip pain I could deal with. But it was soon preceded by these mind numbing headaches that I swear was birthed out of the pit of hell. These throbbing headaches are so intense that it makes me nauseous and causes blurry vision. When I’m having an episode, the only way I get relief is by lying down on a flat surface (try explaining that to a suspicious husband who thinks I’m trying to pawn the kids off on him all the time) or by resting my head against something (which is not ideal in an office setting or when you’re on a stage, if you know what I mean.)
One day, after a particularly bad migraine, my chiropractor informed me that the many years of having one leg shorter than the other has had an affect on my spine. My spine is now bent (basically leaning to one side) which is not normal. This is the reason why I have permanent tension in my back and neck and, yep, it explains the mind numbing headaches.The solution? A splint in my shoe. This would be fine, except that over the past few years, the difference in length between my two legs have grown from like, 1 cm to about 4 cm. So the gap is considerably big right now. The splint would be very noticeable and probably very uncomfortable. I would also only be able to wear certain types of shoes etc.
Okay so why am I telling you all of this? I mean, besides for the fact that oversharing is kinda what I do around here. Well, the other day I caught someone making fun out of my limp, you guys. It was so ugly… they just laughed and laughed and mimicked their little minds away and I just sat there shocked, pretending not to see. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know how to stand up for myself. The comfortable Luchae would be like, “Uhhh, are you trying to mimic me, coz you’re doing a pretty terrible job, here let me show you how to do it.” But the uncomfortable, shocked, hurt me, just sat and looked, you guys. Like a child. On the playground. Being bullied. I felt like I was being bullied.
And then it dawned on me. This person actually has no idea what they are talking about. And this isn’t me being vague – they literally have not asked me about the limp at all!
If they had asked, they would know that the headaches (due to the short leg/limp) is the reason why I go quiet sometimes. It’s the reason why I don’t always participate in physical activities. It’s the reason why I don’t wear high heels often and can’t stand for long periods of time.
But they did not ask. And so they were misinformed. Humor me as I use the word “misinformed”. I have to, you see. Because no one can be that hurtful on purpose, right?It would mean that they also laugh at little kids who have down syndrome and people in wheel chairs and those who have an eye condition or a speech impediment. I just HAVE to believe that this is not the case… that these people are not really that mean/ignorant/easily amused. They probably just need a little bit of knowledge and information to help them understand my situation. Right?
Be that as it may, going through this experience reminded me that their reaction to my pain is not a reflection of ME, it’s a reflection of, well, who they are. So there’s that. Take it as you want. But more than anything, it reminded me just how ignorant I am when I mock someone else for their pain, without fully understanding their story.
My Hubstopher told me to call them out on it. But I didn’t want to. I mean, I am not a victim, and I wasn’t about to give something this ugly a pedestal. But now, in hindsight, I wonder if I should have. So here’s where you come in, friends. Please share your opinions and thoughts below, I would love to hear it.
Have you ever felt personally victimized? Can you relate? What would you have done in my situation?
Disclaimer: I do believe that God can heal my leg and I am fully expectant for a miracle.
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Giving up is the worst thing
Hands up if you enjoy feeling like a loser. Yes, I see that ‘LOL’, I get it, no one enjoys feeling like a loser. But alas, the world is a fickle place and even if you have all your metaphorical ducks in a row, chances are you pretty much won’t win in every single area of your life, every single time. I mean, we clutch… we flop… we fail. We fall down (take a nap) and get back up again. It’s part of the process. I’m talking about the nap, but yes, the failing is important too. I mean, the failing kinda makes us great.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. And I hear you, girl. You’re thinking, hey Luchae, you shouldn’t be telling ladies that they should aim to fail. What sort of a demented psychopath are you?!
Well, firstly, calm down Harriet, there’s no need for name calling. And secondly, you’re right doll face, you should not be aiming to fail. But if you’re expecting things to be rosy and perky all the time, you’re in for a treat. And by “treat” I mean “rude awakening”.
I experienced an, uhm, rude awakening of this nature the other day and it was not pretty. I totally didn’t even put it on Instagram – it was that ugly. This rude awakening was so rude that it made me feel like giving up. Why bother continuing on this journey, if I’m doing a bad job, right?
And in that moment, I realized what those famous, clever people meant when they said that failure isn’t falling down, it’s refusing to get back up. Giving up is the worst thing.
In my moment of rude awakening, I had to remind myself of this truth. I had to pep talk Luchae into not giving up on, well, Luchae. And then I literally had to pull myself up, and make a mental decision to continue moving towards my God-given destiny… regardless of what was happening on the battlefield.
You see, the way you handle yourself during the battle reveals your true character. This is the stuff that character is made out of. It all forms part of your story. And if you consider the journey, winning or losing isn’t really thaaaat important. In fact I’ll even go as far as to say that every loss is actually a lesson anyways – our flops are actually stepping stones to something greater.
So as I sat there, staring at the very thing that was making me feel as if I suck at life, I decided to pop my collar and do what I do best. No, not eat chips and chocolate at the same time. Instead of wallowing in self pity, I decided to take the bundle of poop that is the situation and magically turn it into a bowl of ice-cream, by adding a dash of positivity, a dollop of forgiveness and a sprinkle of good intention. (I’m sorry, i don’t know why poop and ice-cream is in the same sentence).
I would be a nana head if I allowed this perceived failure to decide how I feel about myself and my future. And anyways, it does not mark the end of the road. It’s a detour. And my favorite thing about a detour (besides for stopping for a snack) is the uncharted terrain that we get to explore, as we navigate towards our destination.
I don’t know why I’m sharing this today. Maybe somebody out there on the interwebs, needs to read it. So if it’s you… if you’re sitting with a massive hurt or failure, on your heart right now… please know that your ending is far more beautiful than you can imagine. Don’t give up now.
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The 5 most embarrassing things I’ve said on my blog
If you’ve met me on any given day, you’d know that I am super good at being spontaneous… in an awkward way. Like that time when someone, at a local conference, asked me where I’m from (referring to the company I work for), and I replied with “Port Elizabeth”. Duh. Anyways, so I’ve seen this awkward spontaneity spill over into my blog. Most days I’m pretty okay with it, because I figure it makes for interesting reading, if anything. But sometimes its so awkward that my close friend would call me and be like: “I can’t believe you blogged about THAT!” Maybe it’s bravery. Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s because I type these things up at 1am, while trying to avoid the need to munch down on carbs. Whatevs. It is what it is. So, because I seem to like drama, I’m adding fuel to the awkward, by reminding you guys of some of the most embarrassing things I’ve said on my blog. You ready? Okay, great. Here they are:
I shouldn’t be alive
For my birthday, one year, I decided to chat about the many near-death experiences I’ve had. Some of you called it inspiring. Others sipped on their tea, enjoying the cringe-factor, while reading my personal stories of stupidity. One post, in particular, really sparked alot of interest. The post was titled “I shouldn’t be alive… I could have been aborted.” In the post, I shared about my moms teen pregnancy experience and how she could have chosen to have me aborted. This post meant alot to me because I pretty much went through the exact same experience and now have a wonderful Kyle to show for it. I know that it’s a sensitive topic and it was a bit of a personal share, but I don’t regret it one bit.
Letting him be the man
One year, for women’s month, I wrote a post called “letting him be the man on Women’s Day“. The post was meant to encourage wives to, you know, honor their husbands etc. It basically spoke about how I rely on my own Hubstopher and how much I ENJOY that I can rely on him. In retrospect, the post was great and all that, but totally did not hit the nail on the head, in terms of Women’s Month and the kind of stuff that we are going through, as females in a male-dominated world. A few days after I had posted it, I went back to re-read it (as one does, when one has a psychotic spreadsheet brain) and I just cringed the whole day after that. I’ve decided to leave it up anyways. And now I’m telling you guys about it. So there’s it.
Discrimination in my life
One of my posts is called “When discrimination has nothing to do with race or gender” and speaks about how I often felt discriminated against, because of my religion. Now, firstly, I’m not embarrassed to call myself a born-again Christian. I’m very proud of it. But I must admit, I did feel a bit awkward, posting about such a rife topic. I don’t get into debates about religion or politics, just as a simple rule of thumb. You want to know more? I don’t mind answering questions. But I don’t stir up the offense-pot, if you know what I mean. So this post took a lot of guts to write… and post… and now talk about. Aaack.
Not coping
My “Four kids later and I’m not coping” post was so painful to write, you guys! It was so embarrassing to share the fact that I feel like I’m failing at life. But my blog is my therapy, to a degree, and I needed to put those words somewhere. I was so thankful for the kind messages you guys sent me… the ones that told me I’m not the only one feeling overwhelmed and that I’m doing a good job etc. You guys rock. Truth be told, I STILL don’t feel as if I’m coping. And I wonder if I ever will. I guess we never do… feel like we’re coping, that is. Unless you’re like, Beyonce and Oprah is your mother and she’s married to Nelson Mandela.
His ex is not psycho
So my “his ex is not psycho” got a lot of attention and I had to basically clear up that, hello, I’m not talking about anyone specific. Well, I mean, besides for the specific person that I mention in the post and even so, I feel like I was vague enough for it to not affect the parties involved. Anyways, it was a bit of an embarrassing situation for me, since I am friends with my own ex’s and I realized that the post may have painted them in a bad light. Sometimes a topic really hits home – but is not necessarily something that I have first hand experience with. It kinda made me realize that some people may mistake a blog post as a bit of an upgrade on a subliminal status update. Which is not always the case, I promise.But hey, to be honest you guys, I love that I get to share some of my crazy with you. I do it with the hopes that you can relate and find some sort of solace or inspiration through my story. Or that it’s helped you to take a break from your own crazy world, and have a good ol’ chuckle. Again, thank you for reading.
Without you, I’m just out here monologue-ing and staring into space like a Forester. Thank you for being the beautiful to my bold. (<— that totally just happened by itself and guess what I’m going to leave it there. Embarassing for what?!)
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Switching off to switch on
So being ill the past few weeks has really put a damper on my otherwise banging itinerary. I mean, hello, my blog is called “spreadsheet brain”… I have ish to do! Being constricted to the confines of my bed totally killed my vibe, if you know what I mean. But it helped me to put some things into perspective. A spreadsheet brain selah moment, if you will. I call it “switching off to switch on”. I know. I’m so wise and stuff.
For starters, my kids are growing up you guys. Have you ever taken a long look at your child and thought to yourself “oh wow, you look different today.” Well, that happened to me every single time I opened my eyes last week. I mean, yeah, I slept the days away as if I was in a time vacuum, devoid of all human emotion and thought process. But hey, it made for some interesting conversation when I eventually woke up. Like “so you say today is actually Tuesday?! Wait, what month is it?” And also, “What?! You’re almost 4?! When did that happen?!” It kinda kicked me in the head and made me want to hug their faces for a few minutes longer each day. And I mean, sure, I’m talking about the cute smallies but I’m more referring to the growing teenager who will be finishing high school next year, too.
The shock to my system at realizing that my kids are growing up, also made me realize that I am getting older, yo. And with it comes the added benefit of like, seriously taking care of my health. What do you guys do to, you know, “take care of your health”? I’m sure it involves eating your veggies and actually doing some sort of physical activity and all of that. But do you also stock up on multi-vitamins? And what sort do you use? Yes, I’m using this blog post to get information from you guys. Love me for me.
I also realized that I haven’t spent time with my husband in a very long time. I mean, sure, he’s been particularly annoying lately but what does he smell like, now again? I remember a time where I use to lean into him, while we were sitting in church, just so that I could catch a whiff of his glorious “Chris smell”. (Stalker alert) So last week, while I was laying in bed, looking particularly attractive, I’m sure, I caught a glimpse of him getting ready for work and it hit me… I can’t remember what he smells like! I haven’t smelled him in such a long time. Also mainly because my nose is so blocked, they should investigate the components of my mucus, and use it to build unsinkable boats. I could be a millionaire you guys. Anyways, I digress. I’ve been thinking of scheduling a monthly date night. Oh don’t look at me like that Patricia – yes, we don’t have regular date nights. Its not even because we have a lot of children… its more because two of them are under the age of four and we literally have like, one babysitter. But my near death experience (okay, fine, call me dramatic if you must) reminded me that I need to put in some regular quality time with my Hubstopher. What do you guys do for date night?I also had a revelation that I need to spend more time with my parents and siblings. I’m sure they’re not sitting around, with baited breath, waiting for me to come and lay on their couches and drink their tea. But I do miss the folks and almost dying last week (cough) made me realize that I need to value the time I have with them. I’m very much a loner, in the sense that my whole day revolves around the moments that I get to be at home in my pajamas. I get it, I may come across as an extrovert, but I’m as introvert as they make ’em! But hey, you only have so many hours in a day and so many days in a lifetime and I guess spending majority of it alone at home, or busy with work, kinda doesn’t make sense if you’re not making time for the people who matter.
So those were my moments of revelation these past few days. You know that thing that people do, when they are mimicking a mind blown… like “Kapoooof”… well, picture me doing that right now. Kapoooof.
Anyways, what’s new with you, friends? Come, lend me your news. (That sounded weird, I actually don’t know why I typed that. You’re free to ignore it and move on with your day.)
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Life lately: I get it, I can be annoying sometimes
You know those annoying people who are bright and cheery all the time… you know, the type of people you want to throw a stapler at. Well, that’s me. I’m that person. I can be annoying sometimes. I’m bright and perky majority of the time, and I don’t know how to make it stop. Actually, I don’t think I want to make it stop. But I had a brief encounter with a major grump this week and the look of annoyance on his face, at my over the top cheeriness, literally made my inner Jessica Day cringe.
Granted, the bloke isn’t someone in my friendship circle and I fortunately don’t have to deal with him often, at work. But his annoyance at my exuberance (look at all my big words) really cut me for some reason. I even apologized to him for my excessive cheer, saying “I’m so sorry for being annoying all the time”. He grimaced in reply, his facial expression giving off feelings of: “damn straight you are!”
In hindsight, me apologizing for being perky was like me saying “I’m sorry for being who I am”. Or “I’m sorry for not being who you want me to be”. And then it got me thinking… who am I meant to be anyways? Do I want to stay true to myself or do I want to be the type of person who makes other people happy all the time.
Anyways after having a few deep conversations this week, I had a massive revelation about identity and what that even means. I realized that being who God has called me to be is far more important than making people happy or striving to be perfect.
I guess it means if I want to be joyful and cheery, while farting rainbows and glitter and singing songs about love, then that’s exactly what I should do and who I should be! But it also means that if I’m not feeling perky or if I’m not having a good day, it’s okay to show it. I mean, I often “put on the cheeriness”, even on a day when I’m not feeling cheery, because I know that’s what people expect. But by doing so, I’m not staying true to myself. I’m being what other people want me to be. It’s unnatural. It’s tiring. It’s disastrous.
Anyways, said offender emailed me a few days later and I replied with a perky “Hi there, hope you’re well!” even though his initial email did not even offer me a greeting. I was like, take that you grumpy ball of grump, kapow kapow! He probably rolled his eyes at my reply. He probably wishes I would go far away. He probably needs a hug.
And then it hit me: I’m not annoying. He is annoyed. (Kabooom, mind blown!) Just because I don’t fit into his perfect little box of “how people should behave” doesn’t mean that there is something wrong with me or my personality. It just means that he needs a bigger box, maybe.
So whatever your default… whether you’re the serious one or the sporty one or the one who can quote movies. Whether you’re the over the top diva or the business minded analytical thinker or the smart mouthed mover and shaker. Whatever your personality or character traits may be, know that you are the product of a grand design. And trying to cover that up, to please other people, is like rubbing a little bit of “bland” into your uniqueness.
Putting on a mask is sooo last year anyways. Put on the mask of your face rather. Okay that’s just weird. I guess what I’m trying to say is: it’s okay to be the YOU that God created. He kinda knows what He’s doing.
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The girl I once knew
I once met a drunk girl, in a random, crowded night club bathroom. She was beautiful. And drunk. Did I say that yet? We both were. We hit it off like only girls can when they are intoxicated, swearing to be “best friends for life” and declaring “girl power” and “viva tequila” and all other sorts of nonsense that makes sense when you are inebriated. The following morning, I found out that the girl had been in a car accident, en route home from the club, and had lost her life.
My brief encounter with her left an indelible mark on my life. I mean, I had no idea who this girl was. As sentimental as I am, I did not think that a strange drunk girl, in a random, crowded night club bathroom, would effect me the way she did. To be honest, I knew nothing else about her, besides for the fact that she was beautiful and, clearly, friendly.
I did not know if she had any children or if she even wanted to have kids. I had no idea what line of work she was in, or if she was one of the many unemployed young people of this country, or if she was a student. Heck, I didn’t even know her age!I didn’t care to ask her about her family history, or the type of man she wanted to marry or if she even wants to get married. We didn’t talk about her favorite fashion designers or series or whether she eats as much carbs as I do.
She was just a stranger – a beautiful lady in a random, crowded night club bathroom – who I instantly clicked with because we both recognized the woman inside of each other. That night, I learnt the art of being exactly who I am meant to be, whether people like it or not.
The girl I once knew – the old me – would have been okay with, you know, watering myself down to suite other people’s needs. I mean, who wants to stand out like a sore thumb? Who wants to be the person that everyone is gawking at? Not me. I had too many self-confidence issues, anyways. I wanted to blend in as much as possible.But a chance meeting, with a stranger, in a random, crowded night club bathroom, opened my eyes and showed me just how short our moment on this earth is. I mean, when you witness a beautiful life here today, gone tomorrow you realize the value of time. And I don’t have the TIME to be caught up in negative feelings of inadequacy and unforgiveness. I don’t have the TIME to be anything or anyone other than who I am called to be! And I don’t have the TIME to do anything other than what I’ve been called to do. Tomorrow is not promised, what are you doing with today?
So this Woman’s Month, I’d like to encourage you ladies to be okay with standing out, if it means you are being true to yourself. Be okay with going against the grain of your family’s history and tradition, if it means you’re being who God called you to be. And be okay with MOVING ON, when you need to. Your past and your failures do not determine your worth, your purpose or your future. Find out what God has called you to do, and pursue that wholeheartedly.
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These pics were taken by my very talented blogger friend Yolandi Barnard of Styles by Yolandi, as part of her Woman’s Month campaign. Landi is giving away a prize to the value of R2000, yo! To enter, simply head on over to her blog and pair up these ladies with their descriptions. Good luck! -
Someone you know is being abused
When I was in my teens, I witnessed my friend’s mom get slapped across the face so hard, by my friend’s dad, that I thought the woman would drop down dead. The exaggeration is not there to cause drama, yo. It really seemed that hard. The mom didn’t know that I had witnessed it.
I waited, with baited breath, wondering what her response would be. But, instead of crying, she literally picked herself up and carried on living her life, the sting of his giant man-hand still tingling away on her dainty cheek, as she prepared supper with a fake smile on her face. That’s the thing about abuse. If it doesn’t happen directly to you, then someone you know is being abused. Whether you’re aware of it or not.
Abuse is a sneaky, tricky little menace. For starters, it can make you (the victim) feel as if you deserve it. Or it can make you feel as if it’s actually not such a big deal and you need to stop being a pansy, suck it up and move on. Or, worst of all, it can let you believe that it won’t happen again.
But it probably will.
You know what I’m talking about right? I mean, if we look at physical and sexual abuse statistics, in South Africa, we’ll see that pretty much all of us have been exposed to some form of physical or sexual abuse.
Because the truth is this ya’ll:
– Abuse is not just physical. Mental and emotional abuse is a REAL thing.
– One in five South African women, older than 18, have experienced physical violence in their lifetimes.
– Femicide. Rape. Sexual assault. These are not just “ag shame” things that happen to other people.
– There are a reported 360 incidences of physical and sexual abuse against women in South Africa daily. 360 women per day. 360 bodies. 360 lives changed. Every day.That’s 1 in 4 women, abused by her partner, every day. That’s a woman, killed by her current or former partner, every 6 hours.
If you’re a girl, you have the added responsibility of shouldering the pain of your sisters. We do this by creating an awareness around physical and sexual abuse against women.
We do this by NOT ALLOWING a man the power to disrespect our bodies… even if we believe that we love him. We do this by taking back our rights… by encouraging gender equality… by saying NO MORE.
We do this by not staying silent when we are aware of an abusive relationship – even if the perpetrator is a friend or family member! Making excuses for your son, brother, uncle, husband means you’re choosing his comfort over someone else’s pain. Covering up his abusive behavior, towards another woman, makes you an accomplice.
Raising boys have made me that much more aware of the type of influence we allow in their lives. Are my son’s treating girls with respect, or as if they are a piece of property… a commodity to be used? A lot of this is based on the type of music videos I allow them to watch, the series and sitcoms they consume and the type of conversation’s they hold with their friends at school. Are we doing right by our boys? And, an even bigger question: are we doing right by our girls?
So theres’it.
What are you doing to commemorate Women’s Day, this year? I mean, besides for empowering and educating you and yours. Here are a bunch of websites that will give you more deets about events happening across the country:KZN
Nelson Mandela Bay
Cape Town
Johannesburg
Check out more on Vibescout.Image: Freepik
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His ex is not psycho
If you’re a female and you’ve had your fair share of relationship drama, chances are you’ve been labelled “psycho” or “psychotic” once or twice in your life.
No doubt by a fuming ex-boyfriend who is desperately seeking bravado and/or redemption in the eyes of his easily entertained group of friends and/or his easily influenced new love interest.
I mean, he needs to let them know that he is better off without you. And the new love interest needs to know that she is, duh, a gazillion times better than you are. And, more importantly, the man needs to feel like “the man”. I get it. (Not really)
But why she got to be psycho, bruh?
And hey, new girlfriend, do you honestly believe that the irrevocable breakdown of their relationship was all due to his ex turning “Gone Girl” on him? The truth is this, ladies, his ex is not psycho.
Heartbroken, probably. Trying to heal, most likely. Still getting over the breakdown of their relationship, definitely. But psycho? I can’t say I agree.
“Why the monologue, Luchae?!” I hear you cry out in confusion and amusement. Well, allow me to explain: The other night I had a convo with a very troubled young lady who had recently been through a break up. I mean, the girl was totally cut up. But she was especially hurt that her ex referred to her as psycho. I mean, I can vouch for this girl. She is smart, beautiful, compassionate and has all her ducks in a row. On a scale of one to Joffrey Baratheon, she’s probably a -8 on the psycho barometer. I mean, she’s totally a Stark, if we’re going to talk GOT.
And yet she was called psycho by a seething ex who thought that the girl had no right to message him a week after the break up because she was hurting. He did not want her to talk to his friends. And he did not understand why she was still emotionally attached to certain things that they had shared when they were together.
Did I mention that they had been broken up for less than a month after a very lengthy relationship?
So this girl – my friend, Lady Stark – was meant to, you know, strip herself of all emotion and sentimentality the minute he decided that he was over the relationship. Lady Stark had to immediately – IMMEDIATELY – be devoid of all feelings for him regardless of the emotional investment she had poured into the relationship.
If you had to ask me (which you didn’t but here I am, still giving you my opinion), HE was acting a tad bit psychotic. HE was the psycho. I mean, come on, we are human beings and we all process differently. Maybe you need a week to get over it, but bruh, I need six months. Does that make me psychotic? No. It makes me human. You go on ahead and be the Robocop of the feelings world. But allow me to keep it real, stay true to myself and more importantly HEAL the way I need to.
Anyways, my point (I do have one, somewhere in my handbag, sorry I really need to clean this thing out) is this: Ladies, if your new boo calls his ex psycho, please ask him to stop. She does not deserve it. And neither do you. You don’t need him to insult her, in order to lift you up. And hey, even if she does some questionable things due to hosting a broken heart (don’t look at me like that, you know we’ve all been there), be gracious at all times. Be kind. Be strong enough to look past her temporary moment of weakness.
Don’t be the woman that allows a man to break another woman down! Especially when it’s uncalled for and unnecessary. We’ve given men the power to speak things over us for far too long! Well, I say: NO MORE!
At the end of the day, at some level or other, we’re all somebody’s ex… somebody’s “one that got away”… somebody’s “biggest mistake of my life”. But more than that, ladies, we’re all sisters.
Flawed, maybe. But psycho, definitely not.
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Doing it for “the church”…
Chris and I often find ourselves meandering from one big church event to another, while trying to keep our family alive on all the days in between. We are actively involved at our local church and we attend church related activities twice or thrice a week. The other day my dear ol’ Hubstopher said to me: “We need to stop being so busy!” And that’s when I pointed and laughed, as my smartphone lingo suggests: rolling on the floor and laughing my butt off (how does one even do this) at the mere thought of spending a single week in absolute peace and monotony. The truth is that we excel when we are being used. And not ‘used’ as in ‘married to a gold digger’ used. Used as in: available to serve and help. Doing it for “the church”, as some may suggest.
I know it can feel like a lot to someone else who doesn’t “get it”. In fact, I was once told: “oh, your Pastor must enjoy all this free help”. It made me cringe. I cringed not because my Pastor was called out on the fact that he has a wonderful team of volunteers who love serving for free. No, I cringed because someone was daft enough to think that we do this purely for a person.
We don’t help out at our church because we want to make a pastor or a leader happy. Actually, we don’t “do it for the church” at all. We help out at our local church because we want to serve God with our lives and our gifts and abilities.
And we serve God by assisting our local church (with our lives and our gifts and abilities) under the covering of a God-fearing Pastor. We serve by putting the needs of others first and by being mindful of the congregation. You know, we do it for the people who only come on a Sunday, when we’ve been here the whole week.
I see people complaining about their religious institutions on social media, quick to point out hungry children that could be fed with church offerings and destitute families that could be saved with church resources. That’s great. Your heart is maybe in the right place. So why don’t you do something about it? Our journeys are different, my friend. God may have called you to reach those on mission fields. And He may have called me to reach those who sit in pews on Sundays. Comparison is a thief.
Anyways, this was not what I wanted to talk about today. I’m not sure how it escalated this quickly. So take it as you read it. I know that the debate is rife. People have a lot of opinion about how much time and money you’re suppose to give to “the church”. But I’m not here for that.
I’m just here to say that if I had to re-evaluate where we are at and how we got here, I totally don’t regret my small attempt at sacrificing my comfort for someone elses. After all, Jesus did it too.
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Father’s Day and single motherhood
I remember our first Father’s Day without Kyle’s dad. I was a young, single mother, trying to make ends meet (so very cliche) and I was not excited about celebrating a father that was not around… a father who had decided to move to another city, leaving me to parent our kid alone. In my head, he did not deserve to be celebrated. In fact, I wanted to throw a major pity party and an underhanded comment here and there, whenever someone mentioned anything related to the day. I had decided that Father’s Day was not for me and my child. I mean, Father’s Day made me more aware of my single motherhood. Father’s Day and single motherhood were not a team, in my books.
Now, come on single moms, I know our mantra with regards to dead beat dads. It’s usually something along the lines of: “You can’t expect to be honored on Father’s Day if you’re not actually fathering the child!” There, I said it. And hey, I’m not talking about simply donating your reproductive organs towards creating another human being. There, I said that too. (Somebody call Oprah) Father’s Day, to a single mom of a kid with a dead beat dad, is a non-event. Basically a day spent rolling your eyes and/or crying your heart out (kid’s age dependent).
But the thing is, Kyle’s father did take his daddy job seriously. The guy was a good dad to my boy and I knew it. He loved his kid. And even though he moved to a different city, he still took care of him as best as he could. And I knew that too. I knew all of these things. But even though he did not tick all of the “dead beat dad” boxes, I still had this preconceived notion that my boy’s dad was not deserving of a Father’s Day. And to be honest, it had nothing to do with the type of parent he was.
Okay word vomit alert, here’s the truth: I did not want him to be celebrated because I was hurting. And if I’m hurting, then he should feel discomfort too. My own hurt and anger clouded my judgement and instead of acknowledging what my boy needed, I only saw my own pain.
And the thing is this, single mom, we don’t mean to make our hurt and anger the most important thing in our lives. But when we choose hurt and anger, over the happiness of our children, then we kinda put the pain on a pedestal.
We give the tears a tiara and wonder why it’s ruling our lives.
I had to learn how to choose forgiveness and joy, instead of wallowing in self pity. I mean, healing is a process… it’s something that we need to own, before we even have it. So I had to walk in my healing and allow my boy to celebrate his daddy on Father’s Day.
Watching Kyle and his daddy grow their relationship has had the greatest rewards. It has also helped to shape the way he received Hubstopher, as a bonus dad, in his life. I can’t imagine the amount of damage I would have done, if I chose my bitterness over Kyle’s happiness.
Someone once told me that everyone’s story is different… which is correct. We are all on our own journey . Our family dynamics and relationship history may not look the same. And I’m not saying that the way I did things will work for you. But I am saying: if you’re not sure about where you’re going with a situation, take a step back and re-evaluate your motive and your heart. Because some things may feel good in the moment, but it could create a life time of heartbreak.
