Chapter 1
A Philosophy in the Making
“On the surface, I am an average person, but to my heart – I am a GREAT MOMENT. The challenge I face is how to dedicate everything I have inside me to fulfilling this moment.”
~Abraham Heschel
The foundation for the philosophy of giving myself permission was laid during one of my knock-down, drag-out fights with God! Yes, you read that right. You can call me arrogant, sacrilegious, gutsy, or just plain stupid, but I was none of those. During this particular fight, I had accused Him of being a liar. Not only that, I blamed Him for playing favorites between men and women, and among races.
It seemed a valid fight to me. Of course, I had been taught that God didn’t have favorites, and that He loved all of His children the same. Well at the time, I didn’t feel that was true, at least not for me. Today, I know better, but that day I felt like a stepchild who just never seemed to get the support, love, and attention the other kids were getting.
My talks with God are real conversations like the kind you would have with a person standing right in front of you. They’re not sugar-coated, and seldom are they done in the traditional way of bowing my head and falling to my knees. If you walked into a room while I was talking to God, your eyes would automatically scan the room in search of the other person in the conversation.
Anyway, I was mad as hell that despite my desperate pleas for God to help me, He wasn’t responding fast enough. Other times, I didn’t think He responded at all. Don’t you hate when He does that? You’re in head over heels, struggling to sleep at night, worried about how you’re going to make it out, and there He is seemingly twiddling His thumbs, or gone on an extended vacation. UGH!
Three years prior, I had lost my retail business of nine years. My home went into foreclosure. I was hiding my car to avoid it being repossessed. My bank accounts were frozen, and I was fighting two pending liens from the IRS. Not wanting to give into failure, I worked two jobs to get back on my feet, but things just weren’t turning around the way I needed them to. I was a single mom with two kids: an eleven-year-old son, and a twenty-five-year-old daughter who had a daughter and was trying to finish college.
Around this same time, several professional acquaintances had strongly suggested that I consider becoming a professional speaker, but I never really gave it any thought. Instead, I quit my second job, took what little savings I had, and started a business creating leadership development programs. After hobbling along for close to a year, I landed a big client that would put me on a sure path toward success. Life was good!
After two short months, I was blindsided when the client reneged on our contract. I had developed a special program to cater to their needs and already trained members of the company’s team. Suddenly the client terminated my services, claiming the decision was due to budgetary constraints. It added salt to the wound when I learned the company later implemented my program using their own people.
For a couple of weeks, I threw a major pity party by crying and feeling sorry for myself. I was emotionally exhausted and stayed in bed for days. Devastated, I barely ate anything or talked to anyone. Thank goodness my son had gone to stay with my daughter for the summer. She had finished college in Springfield, Missouri, and decided to live there, at least for a while. When I talked to them, I mustered enough energy to pretend that everything was great!
The Strength of Words
While I can’t remember my exact words to God the day I got really angry with Him, the gist of my accusation was that all my life I had been told by my mother that because I was a Black woman I would never be anything more than a peon. Though everything inside me completely rejected that nonsense, hearing those words over and over again subconsciously affected me.
SIDE BAR: It is amazing how a person’s words can have power over our lives. I believe words can either empower or defeat our efforts. Be careful about the things you give ear to. Like me, you may have been saturated with negative message that may have diminished your hopes and dreams. Often, the most hurtful and deflating words come from those you loved or respected — a parent, spouse, sibling, teacher, or friend.
When they spoke those words, you may not have given it much thought. But think for just a moment — do you sometimes hear a faint whisper of these words in your mind when you’re in certain situations? Do you find yourself believing some of the very things they said about you? Until now, you may not have consciously been aware that you have been harboring feelings associated with that particular moment in life.
If you think that perhaps negative words are having an effect on your progress, make a decision right now that you will forgive the person whose words have held you back. Then, replace the message they gave you with a positive message. For example, if someone said, “You will never amount to anything,” replace their words with a new message, like, “Deep within me is the power to be as I define myself and my life!” Or, perhaps they said, “You should have given up on that dream years ago. It’s too late.” Replace that message with something like, “I may have missed some opportunities along the way, but I choose to learn from those mistakes and move on. There is a definite plan for my life, and I intend to live for that plan and purpose!”
RESUME: Despite the negative words that were constantly spoken to me early on in life, I intentionally set out to make something of myself. I completed college, lived in the so called “right” neighborhoods, sent my children to the “right” schools, and socialized with the “right” people. I went to church, prayed, fasted, tithed, and gave to the less fortunate. In short, I dotted all the “Is” and crossed all the “Ts.” Even though I followed the blueprint for success, I wasn’t successful. My life was in shambles, and professionally — well hell, that didn’t turn out the way I planned either.
As if God didn’t know my situation already, I blurted every detail about the mess my life was in and reminded Him of all the work I had done to earn the privilege of having a better life. After all, I deserved every bit of the lifestyle I had been busting my butt to achieve. I insisted my overall experience as a Black woman and the persistent inequality Blacks endured, despite our efforts, just wasn’t fair. I went on to argue that I should never have had to suffer the absence of a healthy loving partner, the stigmas placed on me by both Black men and White society, and the consistent betrayals and emotional devastations that I was subjected to as a child.
As my anger surged and then peaked, I screamed, “God, You’re a liar and You play favorites! The Bible says You are not a respecter of persons. You rain on the just as well as the unjust. But what I see is Whites getting all the privileges and Blacks, well I guess to hell with us! I’ve done everything people said I was supposed to do to be successful. And I’ve done everything to win Your favor. Yet I keep coming up empty handed, betrayed, and frustrated. I’m tired of picking up the broken pieces of my life! So tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.
If there was a feeling deeper than depression, I was feeling it. My life was so dark; I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I was convinced, more than ever, that God didn’t care anything about me. Before I knew it, I was in a full-fledged affront against Him.
Physically and emotionally exhausted, I heard God say, “It’s not Me, it’s you!”
Shocked and still pissed off, I responded, “What do You mean, it’s not You, it’s me?”
Then I heard Him say, “While you do have a lot of responsibility in your situation, I don’t mean ‘you’ alone — I mean ‘you’ as a human society — far too many people are locked in the residue of their past.”
This outrageous conversation, precipitated by my matter-of-fact, in-your-face attitude, led me on the most extraordinary journey of my life. First, I was eager to find out what God meant by me being responsible for my dilemma. Second, what was this residue of the past that human society was locked into?