Lust: A Poem

You drew me in

And had your way

Without me having a word to say

You had me in a trance

I tried to get back to God

But, I felt like a thief

Being robbed

I take all of you

You take all of me until there's nothing left

But, emptiness, bitterness,

And the agonizing pain of spiritual death

Because when I laid on that bed

I forgot that I was already wed

I had already pledged my love times infinity

To the ultimate mate... The Trinity

See, I let my guard down

This never happened before

When you slept with me

You were sleeping with four

Four

Inside of me is one, two, three

The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit

So, when I first saw you

All three told me not to get near it

See... When I lied with you

They had to lie too

Inside of me

Their table was already reserved

So, they had no choice

But to stay and observe

They said, "No! Look out!

This is your warning!"

But, I didn't listen

Until the next morning

Woke up sobbing

Not sure what to do

I wanted to run

But, I was stuck like glue

This evil paste, such a waste,

Wouldn't let me run or hide

It was too late

Because we were already tied

Tied

Tied

I was so ti(r)ed

Tired of the guilt, the shame, the defeat

When we became one

I became weak

Slowly diminishing the responsibilities

As the bride of the bridegroom

I wanted to let Him back in

But, honestly, I had no more room

This Lust had taken over me

Body, mind, and soul

I tried to run... I really did

But, it wouldn't let me go

It wouldn't let me go

Back to the three that truly cared for me

Back to the three that held my identity

Back to the three that I had divorced... illegally

God said,

"I'm married to those that backslide."

Yeah, I knew that

But, I was too busy trying to hide

Hide

Hide what had died

Hide all the pride

Hide what was growing inside

And, I did

Hide, that is

When he found out

All-of-a-sudden, it wasn't his

It wasn't his?

It wasn't his?!

Everything that I became was his

This attitude was his

This anger was his too

I said, "You took all of me

And now I'm dealing with all of you!"

When we laid together

Some things transferred

I never had these problems

until we occurred

I had left me

I didn't know who I was anymore

Turning this temple of God

into Lust's little whore

A harlot

Like Delilah or Gomar or Rahab

But, I couldn't blame you

I had to take myself to rehab

So, I enrolled myself into a program

Called The Truth

I needed to figure out how I got like this

After being so much like Ruth

The first step was rough

It was to get past denial

I admit I was adulterous

Because I had already walked down the aisle

Wearing my scarlet letter

It was time for me to get better

Good

Better

Best

The Truth had my heart pounding inside my chest

I had dismissed The One

In search of someone

Someone

Anyone

To tell me I was pretty

Someone

Anyone

That enjoyed me being witty

But, that someone came with a price

That someone came with a price

A price

A price

That someone

Came with a price

Another nail

Into The Ultimate Sacrifice

-bnc

Keepin' It Real 2: A Response to My Own Blog

So, I have decided to state a few things about myself in an effort continue my path back to true authenticity… Brace yourself. Here we go:

1. I have an absurd and dreadful laugh. I mean it too. A lot of people know this already. But, no guy that I ever went on a date has seen me in action. I’m already a loud person, but this laugh is the icing on the cake! It is very, very loud and very, very obnoxious. There are no words to explain it. No words. The best way I can try to explain it is this… It seems to be a combination of a moose mating call, the scream of person on the scariest rollercoaster ever and the shriek of a startled chicken. Yeah, that explains it. Well, maybe… Just know that if something is truly funny to me, you will hear it because I don’t know how to stop it from busting out of my mouth.

2. I cannot dance. For some reason, when hip-hop music comes on, my body gets very confused. I tried the party-scene when I was in high school. But, I just looked a mess trying to dance like the other girls. And, my cousins used to just laugh at my insane club dances. I didn’t go often. So, when I did, I would try to combine all types of dances together to get it all out and I would dance the entire night. Then, I would leave sweaty and with a cramp in my side only to realize that none of my dances attracted any of the guys that I was interested in. (They probably thought I was crazy.)

3. I am a true Beyonce fan. And, by true, I mean that sometimes, I think that I am Beyonce. (Is that crazy? Noooo… can’t be!) Just to listen to her music, I have to put on my Beyonce outfit. This consists of… Wait. Never mind. Too authentic. I ain’t ready for all of that... All I can say is that she is a BEAST! Illuminati or not, the girl can sing and dance at the same time and NOT LOSE HER BREATH! This amazes the crap out of me! What I said in #2 is true. I can’t dance. But, when Beyonce comes on, ain’t no stopping me! (when I’m by myself, of course.) I’m in my room swinging my hair around and trying to keep the notes at the same time. Reality kicks in every now and then and I have to sit down to take a break. But, for the most part, I am BRIEonyce!

4. I hate to cry about life, but I’ve cried at almost every movie that I have seen. I mean it too. I abhor crying. I can deal with others crying, but I hate showing that kind of vulnerability in me. Ha! I’m a robot! My friends hate going to movies with me because they know that I will at least tear up. But once, when I cried over a guy, my own best friend didn’t know what to do because she had never experienced this type of cry before! (We laugh about it now… ) Oh! And, when I get the ugly cry at church (you know!), I try to face a wall or something! (Even though it is impossible sometimes…God just be putting my business out there! Lol!) Pray for me, saints! Lol…
It’s crazy because we honestly think that creating a “new self” is smarter than just being yourself. But, in all actuality, it is easier to just be you. Just be you because you are enough!
Let's get interactive here... Feeling like you too want to get some stuff out? Wanna take some steps back to authenticity? Leave a comment on this blog site. Tell me one thing that others may not know about you.

Go girl! Sang!!!

Keepin' It Real: How I Almost Lost Myself

Authenticity is something that my generation doesn’t seem to really understand well. I know this for sure because I struggle with it too. With this mad society full of computerized personalities, it is much easier to create the person that you want to be on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, or whatever is going to come out next. You know what I’m talking about…

Instead of using a random picture in our computer files, we find the most attractive, most seductive, or most glamorous picture of ourselves to serve as our profile picture (even if it was taken 4 years ago). Anytime one of our heartless, inconsiderate friends tag a more unappealing picture of us, we are quick to untag it and act as if it never existed. I do it all the time! Bad angle or not, it’s still YOU in the picture! Lol…We create the person that we want others to see…

It can be hard to stay authentic. I’ll never forget one of the first times that I noticed my use of the “fake me.” I was 17 or 18 years old and I had been popping off at the mouth one summer evening. My cousin (I’ll call her Cousin#1) and I went to go by other cousin’s (Cousin #2) house because she needed to get something from her. Cousin #1 didn’t have a car. So, I was her official designated driver. I didn’t mind going over Cousin #2’s house, but we really weren’t speaking at the time because of some beef that happened a couple of weeks earlier. But, I took her over there. Cousin #1 got out of the car and got her stuff from Cousin #2. Well, apparently when Cousin #1 was leaving the porch, Cousin #2 said something under her breath about me. I didn’t know though.

Cousin #1 gets in the car and we drive off. As we are turning the corner, she informs me that Cousin #2 said something about me. Well, I was being big and bad that night. So, I started acting a fool. I’m all yelling and everything trying to act like I was going to do something to Cousin #2. Now, Cousin #2 was little, but she was tough. All throughout high school, she got in fights with girls that wanted her son’s father. Me, on the other hand, hates even being around fights. All throughout grade and high school, I would try and get away as soon as I saw people arguing. While everyone else was cheering and laughing, I wanted to puke because it was just so malicious to fight! Even though I had never been in a fight in my entire life, I couldn’t care less because I was really feeling myself that night. I told Cousin #1, “We are going back over there because she ain’t going to talk about me like that!” I could tell Cousin #1 was shocked by my reaction (and a little scared for me…lol).

We drove back around and I got out of the car. Cousin #2 was sitting on her porch talking on the phone. I stomped my big and bad self up the porch and ask her does she have something to say to me. She says no. As I turn around, I hear her whisper a very derogatory word about me. Immediately, time stops and I turn around!

“What did you say?!”, I said.

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought!”

I turn around and start walking back to the car. And, I’m thinking that the situation is over. I can’t wait to get back to the car and let Cousin #1 know how I punked her! As soon as I reach the driver’s door, Cousin #2 was right behind me! She starts yelling stuff and hits me in my face! Oh, it was on…

The fight didn’t last long, but it sure felt like it. By the end of the fight, my 5’9” body was on the ground with her 5’ body over top of me. (I will say that she did UNFAIRLY trip me…) She was pulling my hair and I wouldn’t let go of hers either! I can honestly say that I’m not sure if any of us ever really got a good hit in because we were too busy trying to pull each other’s hair and do the windmill.

Now, I’m no fighter. So, I’m not really sure about what constitutes as a win or a loss. But, I will say this. Even though I was on the ground at the end of the fight, she had lost half the hair tracks in her head and I still had my hair…. Soooo…. Ok. Ok……. I l-l-lo- los-los. I can’t say it.

After this fight, I felt not only tired and sore, but stupid! (And, to top it off, Cousin #1 didn’t have a license. So, I had to drive my wore-out body home myself! Ha!)I knew I wasn’t a fighter! I knew that I really didn’t want to fight my own cousin! I knew it! But, I wasn’t being authentic… I was trying to be the baddest chick! I almost lost myself.

What. A. Joke. (That night, we made up… haha!)

Authenticity has lost its way. In our world today, you can create the person you want to be even if you really aren’t that person at all. For example, I got a lot of reaction from putting my 3rd grade school picture on Facebook. Most of my Facebook “friends” had not known me at this stage in life. So, they were shocked, appalled, or just plain tickled by it. Others tried to console me. :) Some commented, some texted me, and one even called me and asked if I was okay! LOL… Now, everyone knows that I don’t look like this little girl anymore… But, this little girl is me. I may not look like her, but, authentically, I am still part of her. Everything thing that she went through and felt in life led up to the image that I am portraying right now on Facebook, Twitter (briesky86- quick plug!), LinkedIn, Bits by Brie, and my life in general!

Look at the image that you are portraying… is it authentic? Yes?! Great! No?! Uh oh. Sorta?! Yeah, that’s most of us. It’s smart to be reserved, but it’s not smart to foolishly act like a totally different person. That can get you laying flat on your back (like me)!

Don't lose yourself. Be authentic.

Tootles!

bnc

Why Are You Still Single? (The Story of My Life)

Oh. My. Goodness. If someone else asks me this question, I will scream! I mean really… what am I supposed to say? “Umm… because I have twelve toes.” “Well, because I at night I turn into ogre like Princess Fiona.” Or how about, “What?! I’m single?! Nobody told me!!!”

Every time that someone inquires about my love life, I just want to shout from the top of the Eiffel Tower, “I’m single because I have standards!” Now, I know what you are thinking… “Your standards must be too high.” Really?! That’s what you’re thinking, huh? Well, you get a big fat F on your forehead for missing the lesson here. Allow me to explain.

You see. For most of my childhood years, I went through a stage that I liked to call “The Ugly Years. The Ugly Years started when I was in the 3^rd grade. I remember the first day that I was enlightened on how ugly I was to another student. It was Picture Day at school and my mom had done my hair in a gorgeous style. She had put spiral curls in my seemingly long, flowing hair. She had put a beautiful flower print dress on me and sent me on my way. I was excited! I couldn’t wait to sit down and flash my pearly whites (that included a set of slightly larger “buck teeth”) to the photographer. I was confident about my hair and outfit. I was convinced that I had what it took to pull this task off. I was certain about myself. However, there was one thing that I was not certain of… That, my friend, was the weather.

I hadn’t experienced many issues with my hair before. I was young. Therefore, I hadn’t figured out the ins and outs of a Black woman’s hair. I couldn’t comprehend the significance of maintaining dry hair. I hadn’t been through the test and trials, the valleys and the dark places that having Black hair can take you. So, I went to school that day on what seemed to be a dry day, took my good ol’ school picture, and went outside for recess. Honestly, I’m not even sure what happened during recess. All I can remember are three things… 1.) I went outside with a head full of curls. 2.) Rain. 3.) I came back inside with an afro. No, not a polished, picked-out, even fro. But, a DON KING, lopsided, tangled mess-of-a-fro! And, I was embarrassed…

Long story short… One of the 4^th grade boys (that I had a crush on) came to me and made me aware of how ugly I was with my fro.

Ok. Enough of that story. (lol) Moving on…

For years, I tried to be “the girl” that guys liked. I ruined my chance with my 4^th grade crush because of the fro incident. I had low self-esteem and a lack of confidence for a long time (due to other situations after the afro story). But, I grew up. I had to realize that I get one life to live and I get one person to live its entirety with… me. So, I was either going to live my life with some miserable person (me), or I could live my life with a fantastic, beautiful, confident person (me)…

I’m at a point now where I have no time for BS. Seriously. A man with “game” is of no interests to me. Forget game. Have some integrity…. It’s funny because in my teen years, I was oblivious to all the crap that guys throw at you. Other ladies know what I’m talking about.

Things like:

· “You’re special to me.” (Special how? Apparently, you think I’m special ed for believing this.)

· “You are different than the rest of these girls.” (This may be true now. But, eventually, you are going to get sick of this “different” girl and want what all the other girls are giving away.)

· “I’m going to marry you.” (Huh? You don’t even know if you’re going to college or not… How can you see this in the future?)

Yeah, we all fell for stuff like this, ladies! It’s like we walked around with purposeful amnesia. Forget that this boy has slept with a dozen other girls at the school. Forget that this boy is barely passing any of his classes. Forget that this boy has never shown any type of respect towards other females. He’s the one!

I don’t think so.

A couple of weeks ago, I was approached by a guy spitting a boatload of game. I swear that he sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher. He kept talking and I kept laughing to myself (and aloud). But, this guy was persistent and passionate about his game. He really thought that whatever he was trying to whisper in my ear was going to work. (Even though I was still resisting to acknowledge much of what he was saying). After a while of this crap, I started feeling like I was in high school all over again. Like I was seventeen again. Like I was sitting in my school’s cafeteria... again. All I could think was, “Come on! Come with something better than this!”

Don’t tell me that my smile is beautiful. I know that. I paid for it.

Don’t tell me that I’m different than “other” girls. I’m aware of this. Everyone is different from the next person.

Don’t tell me that you could give me the life that I want. You don’t know what I want. Plus, I love my life and you don’t even have a job.

Instead of all this wasted air, tell me something about you because I know about me. Tell me that you are working on yourself. Tell me that you may not be perfect, but you're walking in God's perfect will for your life. Tell me that you may have a messed up past, but it won't interfere with your future. Tell me that you plan to be a faithful husband and a committed father. Not just a husband and a father. Tell me that you have integrity and you're a man of your word. Tell me that you are a Man of God. Tell me that you may not be where you want to be, but you are doing everything it takes to become the man He wants you to be. Not just merely trying. Tell me that you have a JOB. A real job. A legal job. Not making millions (I’m no gold digger), but at least making something. Tell me that even though you hate your job, you’re going to stay until God says move. I need to know that you aren’t a quitter. Tell me that you have a 1-year, 5-year, and 10-year plan because I do. Tell me that you know The Word. I mean, you don’t have to quote the entire thing verse by verse, but have the principles down, please! Tell me that if I try to “come on” to you, you will end the relationship. I need to know that you are doing more than waiting on me, but that you’re waiting on marriage. Tell me that you fully understand your duty to love your wife just like Christ loved the church if you are expecting her to submit to you. Tell me that you have completed something significant in your life. A degree, a business, a nonprofit... Something!

I’m over game. I’m over playing around. I’m over little boys. I’m over being a little girl.

That is why I’m single… (for now) J

Tootles peeps!

bnc

Here it is! The 3rd grade picture! :)

***Disclaimer: I have spent time with some great guys and we just weren't a match. So, if you are reading this... Please know that I am not talking about you the least bit! :)

Just Shut Up and Talk: My Review on Eat, Pray, Love

Ok… so, I went to go see EAT PRAY LOVE yesterday with two college friends (one of which is a “pen” on this blog) I had been anticipating this trip for a while now. Every time I got the opportunity to see a preview for this movie, my stomach would do back flips! I even stopped myself from going online to see different previews because I didn’t want to ruin the experience… (Cuz that is what I normally do)

First off, Julia Roberts is one of my favorite actresses of all time. She is known for her blockbuster hits like, Closer, Ocean’s Twelve and My Best Friend’s Wedding… But, I love her because she still produces the same caliber of work in even the lesser-known movies (The ones that I really love)… This includes how she transforms into a “rebellious” college art professor in Mona Lisa Smile or the young wife of an older father of three in StepMom. Oh, and everyone loved her performance in the all-time favorite hit, Pretty Woman. I mean, come on. She played the heck out of that prostitute roll! She is elegant and effortless in her polished acting skills. So, I just knew that she was going to be wonderlicious in this new movie, Eat Pray Love. (Yeah, I made that word up. So what?)

Second of all, I had heard the story. I’m a religious viewer of Oprah. Every day at 4pm, I am either Tivo-ing or watching Oprah on my small 19” television screen. So, of course, I had already heard of Elizabeth Gilbert and her best-selling book, Eat Pray Love. Her story was fascinating to me. The thought of living in three different countries within a year sounded exhilarating, daring, and a great plan to “center” oneself. I’m a lover of traveling. (No surprise after I traveled to four different countries within 12 days last spring break) One woman audacious enough to travel one year with no other “road dogs” to take along?! Brilliant!!! I wasn’t sure if I was in agreement with the way that she ended and began relationships before she left for her soul-searching trip. But, I was totally for the trip itself!

So, needless to repeat, I was ecstatic about going to see this movie! Before I left, I made sure that I was completely prepared for this journey to the movies. I put on a comfy outfit that consisted of stretch pants, sleeveless shirt, flats, and (or course!) a cute movie sweater. I was ready to enjoy this movie with great friends. So, I gladly paid the $10.00 it took to get a ticket, got a great seat, and sat down prepared to be swept away by the brilliant acting expertise of Julia and the invigorating power of traveling abroad! After a slew of previews (some funny, some not), it was finally time! The movie began…

Blah, blah, blah… Let’s skip to the end.

When I credits started to roll, I was so tired that I had the mind to just try and sleep underneath the movie seats until the morning. The movie had tired me out. I was bored and confused at the same time. And, to be honest, I didn’t know why. My friends and I all agreed that the movie was not what we expected… but, we couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was missing. Weird. After dropping my friend off and getting home, all my energy had left the building. So, I hit the sack without giving the movie a second thought. But, I promised myself that I would offer some brainpower to this movie in the morning.

Morning came and I activated the brainpower… it took me a while, but I found out what I rubbed me the wrong way in the movie. It was Liz. She moved from relationship to relationship in search of herself. The problem with that was after all that searching, I don’t feel like she succeeded in her relentless search for Liz. From beginning to end, she listened to words of wisdom from Delia (her best friend), Stephen (her husband), David (her young boyfriend), Sofi (her friend from Italy), Richard (her friend from India), Ketut (her advisor from Bali), Felipe (her last love), etc. And even though she talked throughout the entire film, she did not listen to herself… her inner self. She only decided on a couple of things without being told by someone else what to do.

Now, don’t get me wrong… there is absolutely nothing wrong with seeking wise counsel from someone else. I do it all the time. (Just ask my mother.) But, there is something wrong when you are almost completely dependent on other’s opinions. Yes, everyone that Liz talked to was wise beyond measure. My question is… when is Liz going to tap into her supply of wisdom? I ask for advice from others often. However, usually, I either already know what I’m going to do or I make the final decision after speaking with someone else. Liz did not seem to do this. She would take the mess of her situations to the other person and they would pretty much make the decision for her without any of her input. I disagree with this. I would not be as fervent about this topic with Liz if the movie had ended different… (SPOILER WARNING!) At the end of the movie, Liz had made up her mind that she was going to leave Felipe even though she wanted to stay with him. She, of course, went to Ketut to discuss the issue and he advised to her stay with Felipe. That is all she needed. As soon as she was done meeting with Ketut, she went back to Felipe and made out with him (and sailed off into the “in between”)

Hold it! Think about this! Would she have made that decision without Ketut’s advice?! No! Come on, Liz!!! Time to start thinking for yourself and making some decisions on your own!

Soooo… they say that life is full of lessons. I agree. There is a lesson from this movie (that I got, at least). The lesson is “Learn to Listen to You.” That’s right. Listen to yourself. People will always be able to give sound advice and that is all fine and dandy. However, you know yourself best. So, it is up to you to decide how happy you will be in a situation. Listen to others. Seek and receive advice. Sit down for coffee, tea, or pasta with a good friend and take in all the instruction that they have to offer. But, then, when you get home, sit down and tell yourself what you want. Close your mouth and listen to your heart. Your heart. Not what everyone else is saying, but what you are saying.

Just shut up and speak to yourself. I’m sure that you have a lot to say…and hear.


-bnc

Why Shopping Makes Me Feel Incredible... and Despicable

Ok… I went shopping. Yes, shopping. I went 1 and ½ hours away (with no food in my stomach) to one of the major cities of the US in pursuit of the loveliest, most appealing pair of shoes, articles of clothing, and gobs of accessories for this season. To say the least, I am a shopping fanatic. Seriously. If given the opportunity, I could shop for hours, maybe even days. I could go shopping with no food in my stomach. I could go shopping with the tightest, most uncomfortable shoes on. I could go shopping with 10 hangnails and a broken wrist (if that is possible). Example: On this particular trip, my friend and I decided against eating to make sure that we got enough shopping time as can fit in our schedule. Skipped eating?! Well, we went shopping then ate. (We didn’t starve ourselves the whole day. Come on now. I love to eat too.)

There is something about shopping that invigorates me to no end. I mean, seriously. I get such energy from just spending money on pretty clothes and other things to make me prettier. It’s like I get this rush all over my body when I am looking tirelessly through racks and racks of clothing just to find one bright shirt that would look good with the new shoes I just bought. I’ll be honest. This invigoration and energy does seem to reduce itself when I am actually pulling out my Visa card to be swiped. Nevertheless, I am still excited about the new items that I will model in the mirror as soon as I get home!

So, I’m sure that you read the title before getting this deep into the blog. Well, I hope you did. If not, I’ll give you a minute. Go look at it!...
Time’s up! I am positive that you are just a tad confused. I spoke so highly of shopping. I really seem to love all that it entails. Aching feet, hungry stomachs, dwindling bank accounts, fatigue, etc. I deal with it all just to the chance to sport a new outfit. I have somewhat described why shopping makes me feel incredible. So, how does all this make me feel despicable? I’m glad you asked.

Shopping has a dual effect on me. Yes, I enjoy it. Yes, I will travel many miles just to do it. Yes, I would sell a child just for the opportunity to spend an enormous amount of money in some high-end retail store. (Of course, I don’t have kids. So, this statement may be very false when I do. I just wanted to add some extra drama.) But, just like any other situation in life, after shopping I usually have a time to reflect. Time to reflect on how much money I spent. Time to reflect on what I bought. Time to reflect on why I bought what I bought. Time to reflect on the whole experience. And every time I come back from a day of shopping, I ask myself, “When will I have enough?”

For you to understand where I speak from, I must take you back to my childhood. So, step in the time machine and let’s take a trip all the way back… Oh, let’s say to the 7th grade. Yeah, the 7th grade. It was the year of 1999-2000. The year that everyone was frightened by the “Millennium Craze.” But, I was a 7th grader. I didn’t care about this. No, of course not. I was only concerned with me. I was not popular in any way and I could count on both hands how many outfits I had to wear to school. My family wasn’t poor. But, we were sure broke. So, I had about 2-3 pairs of jeans to wear to school and the other days of the week I would wear these long (and I mean long…) COGIC skirts to school. (COGIC is a Pentecostal denomination of the Christian faith that I grew up in.) These skirts went to my ankles and usually had some dreadful floral design engulfing the entire material. Yep, one of those kind of skirts. I had a couple of shirts that I switched around from week to week. And, I will not even get on my shoes. Oh, no. Too embarrassing... There was hardly a day that I left my house happy to look the way that I did. I know that almost every kid goes through a phase of experiencing some type of embarrassment or low self-esteem. But, no one informed me of this “phase.” So, I endured it alone.

Now, what does this have to do with my shopping habit? Almost everything. Shopping is a way out of returning back to the years of unattractiveness or a way to soar above the perilous waves of irrelativeness… for a lot of people. When I get home, I look in closet and see a “missing” piece of clothing every time! (Example: I bought shoes this weekend. They are green. And, now I need green jewelry to flow with the outfit concept.) I automatically give myself a reason to visit the store again… ugh! But, there is a reason for this…Look at our country! We thrive off new fads (that are usually nothing but fads from yesteryear.) We “survive” in this society from greed and the pursuit of money, fame, power, BEAUTY! We have a set definition of what “beauty” is. I am African-American. So, this is what I relate to mostly. A beautiful African-American women is typically described as light-skinned, with “pretty” hair (whatever that is), a Coke bottle shape and a light shade of eyes. This is SO not me.

So, am I beautiful? Of course! Who says? Ummmm…. ME!

But, do I feel this way because of my new clothes, because someone else told me I am, or because I told myself? Honestly, because of all of it. With this blog, I do not plan to act as if I have it all together. Oh, no. This is my new diary… So, welcome to my life! I am being truthful here... I’m not sure why I think that I am beautiful. I want to say that it is something that I believe because I told myself. I really want to. But, if I didn’t gain any sense of beauty from what others think about me than why do I blush when someone tells me how gorgeous I am. And, if I don’t believe that I am beautiful from my new clothes, why do I shop like it is my last chance to buy anything? I really have to reflect and ask myself these questions… I believe that God has made me for a purpose and I believe that He created me just the way that I am supposed to be. So, is that the reason I feel beautiful? Sure. But, I am also human. So, I’m not sure if that is the reason in totality. I have to remind myself of this reality because if I place too much of my confidence in one of these reasons, what will I do if that source of beauty falls through?

What if I’m broke one day with no money to get new attire? What if everyone that once supported me and told me that I was beautiful vanishes or turns their back on me? I know that God will never fail me. But, what about those days when I feel like He isn’t listening to me? I have to be sure that I am still who He intended me to be. Balance is key.

So, do you think that I will slow my obsession with shopping down a bit after this epiphany? You do?! Well, guess again. I do not intend to in anyway. (Remember, balance is key.) But, I do intend to create balance and assure myself that come rain or shine, I am still who I am. No changing that!

Babies: What's All the Rave?

You know… They say that everything comes around twice and there is nothing new under the sun. This is true. Just take a look at history… High waist trousers came, went and came back. Vintage furniture came, went, and came back. Aviator glasses came, went, and came back. And now… Having a brood of children has come, went, and come back. Our country has went from mothers have a slew of children, to becoming working mothers, to becoming working women with just a couple of children or none, back to having a house full of children. Celebrities are praised for having kids (especially if they have twins) and reality TV has started a race to see what mother can have the most kids. Eight, ten, nineteen? We ooh and aah at the reality of taking care of more kids than your fingers can count. We ogle and drool over celebrity babies and their awkward, yet intriguing names. I mean really… Kate Gosselin and Angela Jolie are two of the most pictured people in pop TV and magazines. And, for what? Having as many kids as a football team! Forget that Angelina stole someone else’s husband and bragged about it and Kate practically drove her husband away with her nasty, crude remarks. Their mothers! So, let’s worship them! Yay!

Not.

So, the other day, I was having a very stimulating, yet irritating conversation with a woman that I greatly admire. It all started when I sparked a debate on whether The Duggers (from 19 and Counting) should continue having kids. I saw a commercial about the last baby that they had, Josie, who was born prematurely. I stated something along these lines, “They need to stop having kids. She is getting older and that is probably why she is having problems with this baby.” The woman that I was speaking to proceeded to tell me that it is God’s perfect will for us not to use contraceptives… I almost fell out of my seat. NOT TAKE CONTRACEPTIVES?! That’s absurd! What about family planning? What about population control? What about all those people that can’t afford kids? If contraceptives were not invented, poverty would be on the rise, crime would be on the rise, illness would be on the rise, and I would go insane from all the kids here! How could God want that for the world?!

Well, as I write this blog, I still don’t completely agree with that statement. But, who knows? Maybe I will change my mind later… either way, it got me to thinking… a lot.

For years, I have seen friends, cousins, and my brother have children. My niece was born when I was at the ripe age of fifteen. When she was born, our lives changed forever. We had another person to love, to care for, to play with, and cuddle. But, we also received a person that needed diaper changes, required more money to be spent, woke us up during the middle of the night, and a person that threw up all the time. It was fun. It was exciting. And because she pretty much lived with us after my brother left for the army, it was a lot of work! Almost every year after that, either my brother, a cousin, or a friend has had a baby since. So, I have been surrounded by kids for a long seven years. From childhood, all the way to the adulthood that I am now trying to survive. I have seen the ups and downs of parenthood. I have seen the triumphs and the failures of parenthood. I have babysat for a couple of hours, had children under my care overnight, and I have lived with kids for months at a time. I have cared for little cousins that call me aunt. I have cared for children who are not biologically related to me, but call me aunt. I have been a teacher to children, a babysitter, and I currently work with the youth at my church. I have children named after me and godchildren that I have seen birthed into this world… yet, I am not sure whether or not parenthood is a task that I desire to take on.

I am different. I have never been the girl that was excited to get married and produce offspring. Yes, I want to have a husband. For sure. One day. But, kids… I’m not sure. I am a dreamer. I love to sit down and imagine what my future will be. However, any time I think about my future, I see myself with multiple degrees, a fabulous job, traveling with world, and giving back to the world. In some of these “dreams”, I see myself with a husband. Someone that I can travel with, go see a movie with, share our interests together and have a desk across from in our study to talk about our jobs. But, I never see children in that equation.

There are so many reasons why I feel this way. Firstly, being a parent is a HUGE responsibility. And, I mean huge! There is typically no more sleep, no more “me” time, more money to be spent, and a lot of time given to training children to be successful adults. I’m not sure I am capable of this, or that I want to take on a responsibility like this. Secondly, I hate disappointment! I hate putting all my strength into something just to see my project go to ruin or waste. This happens all the time with children. Tons of parents give the best part of their life to a child only to watch the child squander all their hard work by living an unsuccessful and disgraceful lifestyle as an adult! This gives me chills because I know that if I were in this situation, I would feel like a failure. And, lastly, (although I can think of more reasons) I already have the task of being an aunt or god mom to a somewhat large group of children. Many of which, love to be around me and enjoy their time when we get together. I realize the position that I hold in the lives of these children and I want to fully give all that I can to them. I want to be a safe haven for them. I want them to spend summers with me or come talk to me when they feel like they can’t talk to their parents. I want to pay for some of their college or financially sponsor them when they have a dream they’re pursuing. I’m not a perfect aunt or god mom. I forget birthdays and I really should spend more time with all of them. I want to work on these relationships before I begin any others. Even my own kids… these are just a few reasons why I am currently reluctant to state that I am a good candidate for parenthood in the future.

The Bible says, “Be fruitful and multiply.” You can take that literally to mean “have kids”, by which you are multiplying your seed. Or, like me, you can take that to mean “do something to help someone”, by which you are multiplying your beliefs, values, and character to others. (Of course, you need to ask God yourself to translate this scripture to you. Don’t take my word for what it means.) As a Christian, people use this scripture all the time to tell people to have children. But, if you do not belief that parenthood is for you, what do you do? Some people may think that I am selfish, irresponsible, scared or speaking too soon. And, honestly, maybe that is all very true! But, doesn’t that prove that I am not the candidate to produce offspring? Uhh huh… gotcha!

In five or ten years, I may change my mind. I may look back at this blog and laugh at myself. Maybe! Or maybe, I will get married and look back at this blog and still wholeheartedly agree with it. I’m not saying that I want my ability to have children taken away from me. And, I’m not saying that this is my final decision. But, I am seeking God and my decision to have children. I know. I know. I have a long time to make this decision… a long time! But, as I get older, this is something that I think about more often and plus, it’s a fun topic to blog about!

Tootles!

-bnc