When Prayer Is Bad - Part I

I was taught that prayer is always good—that we are to always pray and that our prayers are powerful.  And while all of this is true, I’ve recently started to see how prayer can be bad.  Let me explain.

During prayer one evening in December of 2013, God showed me that my prayers were all wrong.  For several months I had been asking God questions about my love life—was He sending me someone whom I could love and start a family with or was He leading me on a life-long adventure that would involve just the two of us?  Although I could see enjoying either scenario, seeing the joys and challenges that each presented, I really wanted to know,  and I knew that God could tell me,  just like He told me that I would work in entertainment six years before I went on my first audition.

Now while it’s ironic that God showed me that my prayers were wrong while I was praying, what is also noteworthy is that I wasn’t even praying about my love life in that specific moment.  I was actually praying about the disappointment that I felt about a film that I was set to “star” in being postponed.  (For those of you unfamiliar with how the business of entertainment works, “postponement” in Hollywood can mean many things.  It can mean just what it suggests, that the project will take place at a later date, either months or years later, or it can mean what it often means, which is that there is some hiccup (usually financial) and that it will never happen but the producers are either too hopeful to realize it or too proud to admit it.)

Well after I found out that the film had been “postponed,” I began to feel the weight of the disappointment.  Only six days away from walking onto set, I was mentally and emotionally prepared to take on my character. I had cleared my schedule, learned my lines, developed my character, rehearsed with the other actors, hired a coach, done the table read, and worked with the make-up artist to figure out how to age me for the role.  I was ready.   And then I learned that I didn’t need to be.  Well…not yet … or… maybe never?  I didn’t know how to handle the news.  I knew that projects could disappear suddenly and had experienced them falling through before, but this was my first lead role in a film, and I had spent months preparing.  I deflated and then I cried.  I quickly told myself to just assume that the film was dead; it was easier to deal emotionally if I assumed that it was over rather than continuing to hope only to be disappointed again down the road.

But as I told myself that it was over, I realized what I was doing: I was trying to protect myself.  And in that moment I realized that I had to make a choice: either I could tell myself that the film was dead so that I could protect myself, or  I could maintain hope that it would still happen and trust that God would take care of my emotions, even if the project fell through. 

I decided to trust God.  So during that prayer time, as I was asking God to help me deal with the disappointment—both real and potential—I asked Him to show me ways that I was trying to protect myself in other areas of my life.  That’s when He brought up my romantic life.  He began to show me that my prayers during the last several months had been wrong.  I had been asking Him to speak to me about my love life because I wanted His words, (whether a “yes” or a “no”), to protect me from the potential disappointment that the future held.  If He said “yes, I have someone for you,” then I could continue to hope.  If the answer was “no,” then I would know to grieve now and move on, preparing myself for a life of singleness.

No wonder He hadn’t answered me for all of those months: My prayer was all wrong.  I was looking to his “prophetic words” to instantaneously calm the part of me that feared experiencing tremendous disappointment, instead of trusting in the essence of who God is, which is goodness. 

Today, I no longer pray for God to reveal the future to me, (although I’m open to it).  Instead, I ask Him to help me experience this Psalm daily “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…” –Psalm 23:6

Adventures in Online Dating

So what have I been up to lately???  Well besides being insanely busy with my freelance work, I started doing some research that led me to an online dating site. (If you wanna know more, just ask.) I wanted to share my experiences here on this blog ‘cause everything’s online now anyway, right? (jewelry, husbands, babies!)   Here’s what I’ve discovered:

·         Online dating is a world of its on.  It’s a world where you can be anyone you wanna be—a retired firefighter, a successful businesswoman, or you (only 15 pounds lighter and 10 years younger).  You can be that person for as long as you want—well, until you have to meet someone face to face and they realize that 12 is your clothes size and the number of times you’ve turned 25.

·         Online is where you present your idealized self—the one you’ve always hoped to be, the one you’re working on, slowly.  (Sure, you love to work out!  You just don’t do it often because you’re too busy.)

·         Looking for dates online can feel like you’re shopping for clothes: “too big, too short, not my style…”  (If you’re not careful, it can lead to dehumanizing people: click, delete, click, delete.) 

·         It’s easy to feel overwhelmed with all of the choices, like when you receive a gift card to your favorite shoe store and they’re having a sale on the whole store!  (WAY too many options.)

·         You can learn a lot about someone by the pictures that they choose to display, especially their main profile pic.  My favorite pictures are those that show those pearly whites.  (The “I’m a thug” photos don’t really radiate “Hi, I’m a friendly man who could father your children.”)   My profile picture is above.  What do you think that it says about me?

·         A lot of people write similar things like “I’m laid back, easy going.”  Or “Communication & trust are most important.”  I like it when someone says something unusual. One guy I came across had a riddle in his description.  Another emailed a poem.

·         Important Tip:  Working on your external marketing is just as important as your internal character.  (If no one ever bothers to stop by your page, what good does it do you to be so fabulous?)

·         too much typin is involved.  Makes your get lazy, but then you want pple to know that u really can spill. 

·         I would LOVE to hear about your online dating experiences!  (Feel free to call me, if you prefer to keep your online escapades “private.”)

A True Facebook Friend

Technology has changed more than how we communicate with each other; It has changed the composition of our relationships. Facebook has caused me to really think about what makes someone a friend, and what characteristics friend display--in cyberspace and beyond. Wondering if your facebook friends are real friends? The following are signs that he/she just might be a bonafide friend:

•  They post the pictures that you took together.
•  They only tag you in photos that are appropriate for your co-workers and family to view.
• They "like" your status updates, regularly.
• They don't hesitate to comment on your updates.
• They are often one of the first to comment on your posts.
• They take the time to send you messages, versus only posting to your wall.
• You don't hear about major events in their life via facebook first; They tell you directly.
• When you're out with them, they don't disclose your location via Foursquare because they value your privacy. 
• They don't need facebook to remind them that's it your birthday. They already know it.

Post this link on the pages of everyone you consider to be your true facebook friends...

No, not really. True facebook friends don't pass on cheesy messages and ask you to repost to prove your friendship fidelity.

A Celebration of Numbers

This weekend, I spent three days with my closest thirty-one relatives.  Cousins, siblings, aunts, and uncles gathered to celebrate my Grandma Ruby's 70th Birthday.

We congregated around eight round tables in one banquet hall.

We consumed nearly sixty chicken breasts and dined on seven cheesecakes drizzled with caramel sauce.

We played one game (which took forty minutes).

We listened to several tributes (during which a dozen people cried).

We relived countless memories and reveled* in the one we were creating in the moment.

We prayed.  Four times.

My aunt clanked her fork against her glass five times to quiet us down.

My grandma modeled down the imaginary runway once, showing off her green pants suit, worn in honor of her St. Patrick's Day Birthday.

We watched my two cousins, Jaylen and Naya, perform a magic show.  Four times. (The fourth time was for YouTube.)  

We argued. About dogs, about love, and about loving dogs.  

We laughed 'til we bent over in laughter.

It was a once in a lifetime gathering.

Falling In Love Is Like Driving On The Highway

Falling in love is like driving on the highway.  It can be fun, adventure-filled, but full of danger. 

In driver education class in high school, I was taught to be a defensive driver—to look for potential dangers and to steer clear of them.  I was taught to drive for the other driver, and above all, to protect myself.  And while this is helpful and even necessary when behind the wheel, I’m finding that it can hinder your love relationships.  Yes, being on the lookout for potential dangers is good, but constantly scanning your mirror for them is counterproductive.  Yes, looking out for your own wellbeing is prudent, but continually trying to protect yourself is foolish. 

I admit that driving is at times terrifying.  You can be cruising along care free, singing along to your favorite Earth, Wind, and Fire song, when you suddenly hit a pothole, or get a flat, or another car veers into your lane, nearly hitting you or actually plunging into you. You can end up getting rushed to the hospital, on your way to the emergency room on a Saturday night.  Yet despite the risks, most of us haven’t abandoned driving, turning in a Certificate of Non-Operation form at the local DMV office.

Having been in two back-to-back car accidents a few years back, I am an especially cautious driver.  Specifically, I don’t like to make unprotected left turns, and I drive very slowly in the rain.  (I’m that car that’s going fifty in the right hand lane when it’s raining.)  When on the road, I’m always asking myself What if? And then trying to keep myself protected from the hazards (both known and unknown), that I am certain are lurking around.  It’s so bad that my family says that I drive like an old woman, and they’re right.

I’m realizing that like driving, falling in love requires being okay with a certain level of risk—recognizing that you could get into an accident at any point, but being okay with this fact because the view along the coast is too beautiful to not make the trip. 

And isn’t beauty worth seeing?   Driving worth the experience?  Imagine what mellifluous experiences await us on the journey, if we dare get in the car.  Of course we should pay attention to warning signs on the road, in the same way that we pay attention to the speed limit and other signs meant to keep us safe.  Ignoring them would be stupid.  But maybe we shouldn’t just look for warning signs.  Maybe we should look for rest stops where we can rejuvenate and remap our course, and for mom and pop diners where we can grab good grub for cheap, and for little towns that we can explore.  Perhaps more than beauty awaits us. Perhaps love and patience, her two good friends, await us too.

So today I choose to be a fearless, beauty-loving, adventure-seeking, road warrior.  This year, I am taking a drive up the coast.  I don’t know exactly where I’m going or how long the trip will last, but I do know that the view is breathtaking and the company—frabjous. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Shopping for Shoes (Men)

(Note: This picture does not do these shoes justice.)

I went shopping for shoes this weekend.


My shopping trip should have been simple. I knew exactly what I wanted: a pair of brown strappy heels perfect for summer days in the office. 


As the weekend approached and the various commercials advertising great deals aired, I thought that I was sure to find what I was looking for.


On Friday, I went to five stores near my house, but found nothing.  Not a problem, I thought. I still had time.


On Sunday, I checked Nine West, Aldo, and six more stores and found a few pairs that I liked.  I spotted a pair of Mary Jane flats that were super cute, even though they didn't have straps and weren't heels.  But, the store didn't have them in my size.  Then, I spotted a pair of brown pumps. They were open toed, very lovely, but had no straps. Plus, they were a little more businessy than what I had wanted.  Should I buy them, I wondered.  I decided to.  They were cute, on sale, and I could return them.  I knew that I could probably find a pair that I liked better somewhere else, but I wanted to have them as a back-up, just in case, because I was tired of looking.


On Monday, I made my way to Nordstrom's Rack and DSW.  I told myself that if I didn't find a pair at either one of these stores, then I would just keep the shoes I had found at Aldo.  The Rack, with tons of cool, chic shoes, was a feast for my feet.  It had flats and heels in every color and size.  (Gladiator shoes and flip flops were in particular abundance on this day.)  Then I spotted the most gorgeous pair of two-toned brown strappy heels. The price: two times what I had budgeted to spend on shoes.  I tried them on, just to see how they felt, and they felt like silk, and for a split second, I almost felt as if I were Cinderella.  The shoes felt like they belonged on my feet.  They looked great and felt amazing.  I walked around the store wearing them, imagining what it would be like to own them, even though I knew that I couldn't afford them. So, after a few moments of convincing myself that it was silly and emotionally turtuous to prance around the store in shoes I knew that I wasn't going to buy, I took them off.


Headed for the exit, I spotted a pair of brown flats, with straps. They were cute, comfy, and well within my price range. I liked them. My mom liked them.  I was going to buy them.  But then, I envisioned myself wearing them, and I was bored.  They were boring. They had no pop, no pizzaz.  So, I left the store, frustrated.  Nordstrom's had hundreds of pairs of shoes in my size, and I had found nothing.  I got in my car, further upset by the fact that I had paid two dollars to park.  Would I have to deduct that two dollars from my shoe budget?


I drove to DSW (Designer Shoe Warehouse) pseudo-confident that I would find something, "If I don't find anything here," I told my mom, "then there's no hope."  Immediately I headed to the sales rack.  A beautiful pair of brown leather heels waved hello to me.  They had straps and were definitely what I call Bad Mama Jamma Heels. They were just what I was looking for.  And, they were the same price as the back-up shoes I had purchased at Aldo.


I put them on, and checked out my feet in the mirror.  They looked really good.  I felt like a model in a magazine.  I decided to wear them while I shopped, to see how they would feel on my feet after an extended period of time.


As I walked, I noticed that the shoes didn't offer much support. In fact, they felt kind of loose, even though they were my size, an 8 1/2.  I told myself that I would just have to make sure that I was careful when I walked, relying on myself, rather than my shoes, for support.


"Do these shoes look big?" I asked my mom. "Yeah, they're kind of bulging,"she said.


"Really? You think so?"  I didn't want to hear the truth--that my perfect pair of shoes wasn't perfect-- that I had been looking for three days and had gone to more than fifteen stores for this let down.  Neither did I want to acknowledge the fact that my feet were really starting to hurt. 


So, I took the shoes off, and put them back on the rack. I tried to convince myself that I would find another pair that I liked, but as I searched the racks, I found nothing.  I decided to check the section of size 8 shoes, though, before I left.  Maybe I could find a shoe there that fit me; sometimes shoes ran a little small or big.  Then, I came across the same pair of brown leather shoes, in a size 8. I grabbed them, just to see if they fit.


They did. There was no bulging, and I felt fully supported.  They still hurt, but what four inch heels don't?


I put them back in the box and walked them to the register. I bought them.  Once home, I took them out of the box, just to admire them.  Now, I'm just figuring out the best outfit to debut them with.


As I was shopping, I couldn't help but compare shopping to dating.


I feel like I know what I want, what works well for my personality and lifestyle, and what doesn't.  I'm in my thirties, now.


Finding what I want, however, isn't always so easy.  The search is filled with promising starts, dead ends, frustration, fatigue, and hope interspersed between.  


Sometimes I feel tempted to settle for a pair that I like, versus waiting for pair that I love, or maybe even adore.  


And then there's still the issue of longevity.  Will I even like my pair of brown leather strappy shoes next season or next year?  Will they fit my feet five, ten years from now?  Will I want them to?


I'm learning that in shopping, patience (coupled with selectivity), is everything.

Friendship, 21st Century Style

On vacation with D & E, two of my best friends

"Have you voted for me online?" a friend asked me yesterday, as I was entering the bathroom at church.  "Uh...you haven't sent me the link," I responded.  "We're not facebook friends?" she asked, shocked.  "Well, I'll friend you and send you the link."

She walked out of the bathroom, and I didn't bother to tell her that she wouldn't be able to find me on facebook due to my privacy settings.  I wasn’t forthcoming because I’m not too excited to get her link.  It's not because I don't like her, and it's not because I don't think that her video would be vote-worthy.  The truth is that she's the fourth person to ask me to vote for them in their quest to host their own show on Oprah Winfrey's new TV network, O.W.N.

Her request, although benign, highlighted the dilemma I feel.  What if she isn't the best? Do I vote for her simply because she's my friend?  Or, do I vote for all four of them, distributing my votes equally?  But if I do that, then doesn't that pretty much nullify my votes for each of them?  Besides, there are thousands of people competing.  Will my few votes (and I'm pretty sure that I won't vote more than a few times) even make that big of a difference?

My brain gets tired trying to figure it out, and she's someone that I don't even know that well!  I'm not even sure if I know her last name, although I think it has two syllables and starts with a "W."

Recently, I've faced this same quandary with my closest friends as they have begun new ventures.  One friend started a small business selling granola.  Two others started working with discount travel companies. (You know the one where your friend is now a travel agent who can get you discounted travel.)  Other friends have started offering photography services and the like.

These friends have asked me to "like" their businesses, vote for their videos online, and even partner with them in their business ventures.

Sometimes, I have been willing to give a thumbs up on facebook or even vote once (or multiple times).  But other times I have felt cornered - like my commitment to them rested on my voting for them, or buying their product.  I've started to think that today, friendships aren't about spending time together or calling each other to share about a date or to dish out advice. They're about showing online support.  They're about votes, and likes, and tweets, and facebook suggestions.  And the truth is that I don't think I like it very much.  

I've always felt that my friends were like desserts - sweet treats that I looked forward to at the end of a long day or week.  They were the one group of people that I got to choose to be with.  They weren't the family that I was born into, and they weren't the co-workers whom I had to work with everyday.  It was a mutually fun, beneficial relationship.  But now, I'm feeling that cyberspace is putting an invisible, high-tech wedge between us.

Now, I care about my friends. And because I care about them, I will naturally want to find out more about their adventures and projects.  But, I just may not like them (the projects) enough to want to participate by voting, liking, texting ten friends, or whatever is being asked of me.

If I choose to opt out of participating, choosing not to be best buds with them in cyberspace, I hope that they will know that in real life, I am still their friend.  Hopefully they will interpret my regular phone calls and birthday cards (not e-cards) as testaments to that fact.

The Lakers - A Lesson in Love?

One of my friends told me that she applied one of my job search tips (June 14 post) to her dating life, and that it worked! Today, I realized that the Lakers, too, provide insight into our love lives (or at least mine).

All day, I've been debating if I want to watch all of the Championship game between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics. The issue is that I've had too many painful experiences while watching Lakers games. Often, while eyeing the score (especially if it's close or they're trailing), my heart begins palpitating. I swear. My blood pressure ascends, and my stomach feels like I ate a can of bad tuna fish.

But when the Lakers are ahead, (not by too much, cause that's too boring), I enjoy watching. I watch the screen enthusiastically, waiting for Kobe to make some ridiculously difficult shot. But when it's close, then it's difficult for me to keep my eyes on the screen. I check Yahoo! to see if I have any new email messages. I scan facebook for any interesting updates. I work hard to distract myself from the pain I'm experiencing while hoping that the Lakers will win in the end.

I realized that I interact with my love life the same way. If I'm winning, and all seems to be going well with a guy, then I am enthusiastic about him and the situation. I give my undivided attention and I am completely engaged. However, if the score is really close or I seem to be losing (he's giving me mixed messages and he has too many of the signs of the guys written about in He's Just Not That Into You), then I begin to panic. My heart begins to fear breaking and knots begin to form around the tuna fish that definitely is in my stomach.

I want to change the channel - drop him before he drops me. The pain of hoping for something that may or may not happen has become unbearable.

Now, I'm realizing how immature this is. We've all heard that there are no guarantees in life, but I'm seeing that I want there to be. I want to know that my emotions will be safe, and that my hopes (especially the ones closest to my heart) wont' be dashed.

So, what's a girl to do now?

Well, I'll start off by watching all of the Lakers game tonight. I will watch when they're ahead and root when they're behind. I will hope, always.

If I can do it for the Lakers, whom I've never met, then maybe I can do it for the next guy that I'm really into.