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Are we done yet? Part 2

3/30/2015

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My wedding day was exquisite. I was every bit the blushing bride. My bride's maids wore linen dresses layered in black ostrich feathers, the groom's men stood regal with coiffed hair and tailored black tuxedos. We enjoyed a garden reception complete with calla lilies chosen perfectly for the occasion.

Weeks before I had described my dream wedding to my mother. I was age 28,  still in Business School at Harvard with just under two weeks until graduation and my wedding. I stood frozen in place on the phone listening to my mother tell me how disgustingly over-the-top I was being and how she was not going to be any part of my "show of a wedding display" to come. She screamed, "You are trying to be something you are not!" Her words cut deep. I lost my breath and nearly my consciousness. I burst into tears. My body burned with anger and exasperation all at the same time. Why, I asked, was she acting this way and how in God's name can she talk to me like that? She is my mother. I am her daughter.

My mother got married by the Justice of the Peace at age 17. My brother by then was two years old. She always told us she married to escape home. She received her GED and worked all of her life just to survive. She was courageous, strong, proud, and intensely private. I only learned as an adult from my father anything at all about her wedding. Once I asked her if she and my father had exchanged rings/bands and she told me it was none of my business. For what, she asked, did I need to know that for? 

It became very difficult for me to want better for my life without being a mirror of "what if" in my mom's life. I wanted so much to make her proud of me, to show her that all her hard work and sacrifice had paid off. I wanted to show her that because of her I was going to have a real chance of making our collective lives better. I wanted to say, "You can rest now momma, I can be of help."

My grandmother married at age 14, the same year she had my mother. Like her daughter she fought her insides to find and maintain periods of happiness. Like each other, they were very guarded in their emotions. They liked it that way. Let people know about you only what you share with them.

From the garden oasis, I over hear the photographer ask for the immediate family of the bride to gather. Only my mother, father, stepmother and I were present. Across the way my husband's noticeably larger family unit was assembling. Then from several feet away and directed precisely at me I hear these piercing words, "Are we done yet?"

END OF PART 2
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Are we done yet?

3/29/2015

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I remember sometime in early 1992 feeling the complete jubilation that any first time bride would feel. I rode cloud nine like a slippery slide to ecstasy. Like any young bride to be, my first call was to my mother, "Momma I am engaged! He asked me to marry him!" And then I rambled, rambled, rambled, hardly taking a single breath with minute details of the big day. I was lost in elation. When I finally came up for air, I was met with these words....."Why are you trying to fly so highfalutin?" 

I caught my every jubilant thought in my throat. My tears, cloaked back by complete shock. My next instinct frozen in place, cast in a concrete placard of pain. Words, once escaped that can't be walked back. Like a line in the sand, I was on notice, called out by none other than my own mother. Careful, proceed cautiously, don't hurdle over generational pain. First my dear daughter knock on the door of my pain, and I alone will grant you passage! Don't presume how this story will end......

Are we done yet? PART ONE
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Goodbye Grandma Inez

3/27/2015

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We will bury the best woman besides my birth mom to ever happen to me this Sunday. She lived to 92. I will take it in two raised to glory fists, 92. Most of all, I will remember her grace, gentle spirit, patience, peace within.

One time I went with her to deliver Avon in rural MS. Some "clients" kept her waiting 30 minutes or more to pay upon delivery. I was about to jump completely out of my ci...vil rights skin. I will never forget my grandma's response, a true life lesson for me. Her response shaped the woman I have become!

Moral: you attract more bees with honey.

P.S. She passed away during my Live Your Awesome Life inaugural event. I believe Grandma Inez wanted to see it through with me. Her husband, Daddy Walter (a preacher) died of a heart attack reading the bible in the waiting room, waiting to see a doctor one Christmas Eve.

OK and finally a confession: I had a break up once with a boyfriend who had given me a thick gold chain. I in turn gave it to grandma Inez. She was the envy of the church. I winked/chuckled at her every time she wore it! The breakup to build up chain!

Goodbye for now sweet Grandma Inez. I know how much you adored me, and I triple adored you right back!

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Primal engagement

3/25/2015

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When women get together and feel a connection to one another any most thing is possible. This connection happened one spring evening. I know because I was there. What happened was so big that even those on the fringes were brought into the magic, swept up by a spiritual current that made its way to every corner of the room. There was a natural reluctance at first and that was to be expected. 

White women sat beside Black women who kneeled in prayer with Indian women who comforted Hispanic women who held the anxious hands of young women who sat in complete stillness at what God was working out. Many in this place did not know God at all. But there was no escaping what he had come to do this spring evening. Each woman he had specifically chosen to be there. One by one one he went about doing a work in them.  The evening became a place where baggage could be left, secrets revealed, and robes claimed by daughters of the kingdom long over due for their just reward.  I saw this with my own eyes because I was there. I received my robe too.

When women hurt together there is a chain reaction of sorts.  It starts out quiet and controlled. We are used to pushing through our pain, pushing it down, down, down.  But on those rare occasions when we let ourselves feel......then something distinctively primal occurs. I can't describe it perfectly but I can surely try. It is within the sound of pain making its way up and out, navigated by the spirit of the Almighty himself echoing "it's o.k. I am here for you."

Now imagine her quiet weeping that hears God's song in her heart, and then more hearts, and then more hearts, and more hearts, and more hearts and more. Pretty soon the room is filled to the rafters with the sobs of women letting go and letting God. This primal serenade can only be from a congregation of women who share one thing, an intense desire to heal. A desire to be there for one another in sisterhood. Hearts weeping for a new way and a new day. I know I was there. I wept with my sisters. I was part of the chorus of healing. 



To God be the glory.

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Don't let that angel break your heart

3/19/2015

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Men, don't put her so far up there she does not have room to come down. Truth be told the nose bleed section is a hard place for anyone to reside. Nobody is perfect but if you expect it, she just might try to be PERFECT just for you. And for a while you will be tremendously happy with her efforts. You will brag to your friends about what a great lady you have, how she anticipates your every need, how she is always there for you. You will speak of how she lives to make you zealously happy in every way. You will remind her of how satisfied you are with her ability to keep your plates spinning, all without blemishing the very creases on her perfectly displayed red lipstick. All for you!
The longer you keep her way up there on that pedestal, the longer she will stay there.

But if you don't make room for her to cry, to hurt, to feel something for herself other than the love she doles to you, then you will lose her. Not only will you lose her, but she will break your heart as she leaves you. That is because she needs to be able to breathe the parts of her that are not perfect. And if being with you is a constant reminder of her inability to bask in her "I am less than perfect" exhale, then she will escape your idolization to reach it.

Men you can avoid the heartbreak your angel will bring if you allow her to sometimes be a bit of the devil in her. You need not worry, your angel will return. Sometimes though she will want to break things just to watch you fix them. She will want to sleep til noon, eat cereal for dinner and watch you be totally okay when down to the last pair of clean underwear in the house, because she did not do the laundry.

So call her down from that high place you have put her and love her on every lopsided side. Just as she has done for you.

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Gem of a gift-Those earrings

3/16/2015

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August of 2013 in the middle of the night, I started a blog called LIVE YOUR AWESOME LIFE - One Oops at a time. I searched online for a blog platform and in less than two hours I posted my first blog. The point in that first post told in about one paragraph: "You will never really know yourself until you have children."

It has been 19 months since then and over 300 blog posts later. My words have reached hundreds of thousands in nearly 30 countries, the top three US, Brazil and China. As time has passed, I have gotten better at sharing my inside stuff and even better still at trusting where God is taking me on this journey. So much so, that in early January 2015, God nudged me into beginning a women's ministry, Live Your Awesome Life Ministry. I could not resist. I knew I had to be obedient to his call on my life.

I invited 13 women to my home on the morning of 1/24. Each lady was directed to me through an intense period of contemplation and prayer. Not one knew why she was coming over. Not one. Over an hour's time I explained in detail what I had been placed on my heart, the vision, the purpose, the need, the expected outcomes. I asked them for their time and for each of these ladies, I had designed a role in the ministry where I prayed I needed their service. 100% of them agreed to join our team before leaving.

On 3/24 our team will present the first evening of LIVE YOUR AWESOME LIFE MINISTRY. At no cost to those attending, it will be an evening of fellowship among women aged 14 and up. There will be testimonies of ordinary women all of whom have trusted God to bring them through significant obstacles, e.g. rape, physical abuse, abortion, self-esteem, hearing-impairment etc. There will be a celebration of our oneness, commonalities, connection and strength as women. We will hear scripture, praise songs, and words of reflection. We will sing, dance, cry and laugh out loud, just as God intended. This ministry is the beginning of a bigger movement designed to bring women together under God's watchful eye and purpose.

A couple, Patrick and Pamela learned about my ministry and about me through my postings online. Pamela it turns out had been following my blog for some time. The ministry was a natural off-shoot.  Pamela, along with her husband own a fine jewelry business in Florida. Not long ago I received a message from Pamela saying how much she believed in my vision and wanted to help in some way. This exchange led to many more messages and eventually a phone call with her and Patrick.

They believe in giving back. In one gigantic decision they decided to donate a piece of jewelry to LIVE YOUR AWESOME LIFE MINISTRY (LYALM). An extremely precious pair of diamond and topaz earrings. They told me to use them to elevate the mission of the ministry. Because I have completely self-funded LYALM, this gift meant so much and I felt God's wink behind its generosity.

So we are going to offer via "BEST OFFER" the earrings to help offset costs and prepare the way to create our next event. LIVE YOUR AWESOME LIFE has been born. It is God's idea and a small team of dedicated womens execution.

Thank you Paula and Patrick of www.Diamondsofthekingdom.com. Thank you for seeing what God sees. We will reach so many women and change so many lives in Jesus name. Amen.

If you are interested in supporting the ministry through the BEST OFFER fundraiser email awesomelifeministry@gmail.com and ask for details.

To God be the glory! La Detra

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Last call on the wobbly stool

3/13/2015

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There are so many places we can go for refuge. I remember when I was young, when things went bang in the night, or when I felt anxious over trivial or gigantic matters, I would go to my room where I lived on the top bunk. I would put on an 8 track and pull Raggedy Anne in real close surrounded by her favorite friends. There I would try to get lost from my surroundings, escape to any far off place where everything smelled good, tasted good, and felt good to the touch. Places where I did not cover my eyes or hold my hands over my ears blocking out loud noises or disheartening images of loneliness. In my mind, I arrived at fragrant gardens, lush blue skies, warm days with cool breezes. I would rest there as long as I could stay. That is until something snapped me back to reality. Sometimes that was a growling stomach or a random fist fight happening in the living room. Sometimes I came back to let's eat, wash your hands, and guess what,  I made banana pudding.

When I met Christ in my early teens I found a new place to go for refuge. At first, it was not easy to get to a mind space of complete calm and tranquility. Because I did not hear, see, or feel a tangible presence, I felt vulnerable and uncertain. When I asked for something in prayer I felt like I was rolling the dice, maybe He will maybe He won't. I used God's answers to my prayers not as a test of my faith but a test of his promises kept. When my prayers went unanswered, I immediately went back to my make believe gardens with blue skies, warm days, and cool breezes. And so my relationship with Christ went for several years.

I noticed how a lot people around me took their refuge. Many more than I care to count took their sorrows, prayers, and desires to the wobbly stool at the local bar. Sometimes they came away feeling better, at least for a little while. They did at least seem pacified. I often wondered if God met them at that bar. Anyway who was I to judge? I was looking for my own escape.

Once I started investing real time in prayer and in reading God's word, things really began to change for me. Somewhere along the way I learned how to ask for what I needed in prayer. And I knew that it was not my words that God was hearing but it was my heart. So without trying to be perfect in delivery, I just laid it out there for his consideration. I ended every prayer with "your will be done." And I left it there, not in gamey anticipation of what I hoped He might do for me, but rather in full expectation of what I knew He would deliver in due season. Once I put it on His alter I backed away, resolved to allowing my Father to do what He said He would do.
PSALM 118 8 It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in people. I have no doubt I do not belong on a wobbly barstool. But I am resolved in my heart that if that is where God found me, He would hear my prayers there too.

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Someone call 911?

3/9/2015

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I would love to go back to the beginning of time. The time in the original garden. A time when God was still trying to figure things out. I would love to know what his true intentions were for women before things got so messed up. If things had gone differently, slightly more left or more right in that decision making garden, what then? As it turns out, outside that garden, things are mighty tough.

I know so many women in so much pain and turmoil. They have conflictions layered upon conflictions. I know women in my inner circle of friends who if you bend them even a centimeter more they will become unhinged and break. These are women just like me who never miss a day of work, a PTA meeting, a garden party.  These women appear thick-skinned, all-knowing, confident, and active. They volunteer to bring Gatorade to soccer games.  Women just like me who show up early and stay late whenever called upon.

If we draw a ring around just the next ten women I engage with over the next 24 hours and you capture just a fraction of our stories, it would look a little like this; convicted felon, rape survivor, bankruptcy, divorce, debilitating health issue, depression, lonely, afraid, domestic abuse, infidelity, drug abuse.  You would also see; Gucci, Prada, entrepreneur, life coach, Sunday school teacher, world traveler, soccer mom, teacher, nurse. You would capture all this in one small ring on any given day.

Yet we still shave our legs, plant lilies in the spring. We kiss boo boos, set dinner tables, correct homework. We have sex on Thursdays, hold hands in the movies. We drive across town to check on each other, comfort, cry, sooth, reassure. 

Outside of that garden we have each other. We can keep sister secrets while things turn around, fix themselves, calm down, become bearable. We put lipstick on the pig. 

We cry, we pray, we hold each other up. Outside of that garden we find comfort in knowing we are never alone. And maybe just maybe that is what God had intended all along. We are all one combined story looking for peace.
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Cinnamon Bears 

3/8/2015

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I will never ever forget being in Mr. Smith's 5th grade class. I can still picture it, all of it, with the neatly stacked chairs, his tacky brown fake-wood desk. Mr. Smith was an all right teacher. I actually kind of really liked him as teachers go. He knew how to motivate kids, keep them interested in learning. His system included giving you a star sticker for good behavior or grade scoring. When you got so many stars you got cinnamon bears, my all time favorite. Poor Mr. Smith, on one unfortunate sunny afternoon, he had the unfortunate luck of meeting my one and only mother, momma Nancy. This encounter would forever change his outlook on cinnamon bears I truly believe.

As precocious as I was, Mr. Smith's system of reward was not keeping up with my audacious appetite for recognition or cinnamon bears. So much to Mr. Smith's chagrin I took matters into my own hands. While my fellow students were out on the playground, I took a box of stars, licked each and every one of them and commenced to placing each on my face; red, silver, blue, gold. I even l closed my lids and put one on each for full affect. Then I went over to Mr. Smith's tacky fake-wood desk, opened the top drawer and snuck a handful of cinnamon bears. Yes I did!

Next thing I know, someone had called my momma up to that school, and one thing everybody knew is you don't wake up momma during the day (she worked night shift) for any reason other than a death in the family. Momma Nancy came up to that school with a belt. I stood there staring at Mr. Smith, who looked like he wanted to cry with me and for me. My mother says, "You got me up here, now I will take if from here!" Her oldest daughter standing there looking like a lit up ornament with stars all over her face. She grabbed me by the arm as we listened to Mr. Smith say, "Mrs. Mc Gaha it's okay, really." She turned on her heels and asked one more thing. "Mr. Smith, do you still have those cinnamon bears?" He reached in his drawer and handed them to her. She looked at me and said here, eat one. I did. Eat two, a little startled, I did. Then she made me eat the entire bag in front of Mr. Smith until I wanted to puke all over Mr. Smith and his ugly desk.

My stars started peeling and falling from the perspiration on my face. I was done! I would have rather been beat with that belt in front of Mr. Smith than feel those cinnamon bears fighting it out in my tummy.

I learned a great lesson that day. Be happy with what you have. Recognition will come when you earn it. Be still. Be humble. Oh and don't ever wake up momma when she has to work that night shift!




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Let your little light shine

3/6/2015

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Why my light are you holding back your radiance? You possess within you the ability to light up the entire room surrounding you? The bulb within you has the potential to explode with wattage, yet you treat your light as a flickering flame. You move about with dimness and yet hope to be seen and heard among the galaxy of other shining stars. Why I ask do you keep  that ugly shade over your brilliance? You are a super star with an eager constellation awaiting your bold appearance.

Someone, somewhere is watching your next move. They are waiting with eager expectation to wish upon greatness just like the nursery rhyme. Star light, star bright, First star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, Have this wish I wish tonight. Anonymous


Don't hold back any longer, sparkle! Be awesome. Your star is a luminous sphere of plasma held together by its own gravity. Don't wait for someone else to elevate you or tear you down. Take control of your authenticity and make your grand appearance now. We are waiting. You are ready! Your star is bursting inside!

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Why all this and why now?

3/5/2015

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There is a true story of a young woman name Joyce. Joyce was Halle Berry beautiful surrounded by people she knew. Joyce worked, went to school, often enough, she hung out with friends she knew and friends of friends she had in common. From the outside, Joyce had the good life, work, friends, the looks, social outlets. Thing is Joyce had dark thoughts, demon thoughts, sad thoughts. Joyce was lonely and felt alone. Joyce died in her apartment wrapping Christmas gifts, for whom we will never know. It took three years before anyone knew she was dead, her TV still running.  Again this is a true story.
http://www.liveyourawesomelife.com/living-your-aweswome-life-one-oops-at-a-time/my-name-is-joyce-and-thats-nice

Women of the world often suffer in pain, agonized by environmental pressures. In  magazines, we see "WHO WORE IT BETTER?", featuring celebrities wearing identical outfits, pitted against one another to sell more magazines. We have PINTREST via social media to showcase the most beautiful, most organized, most well put together of everything imaginable from baby parties to drapery designs. Everywhere there are reminders of how someone else has it better, does it better, is better. It is no wonder our children live on Snapchat and Instagram, constantly comparing themselves to what someone else is pretending to be like, act like, feel like, dream like. In an instant, they can check the pulse of the world and be reminded of just how well everyone else has it, does it, or desires it.

Once we were in the midst of a lavish exotic vacation, looking at Instagram, my then 14 year old said, "but look Sarah is in London, wow, I wish we were in London".  I wanted to pop her in the mouth mid-sentence. But I know that is the world we live in and it can suck. It makes people want more of everything.

 Joyce pretended often to others that her life was fine and dandy. She projected a perfect existence on the outside while her mind raced with bouts of insanity on the inside. I don't know if Joyce was crazy, but she was far from all right. And sadly surrounded by people she called friends, no one seemed to notice.

I started a ministry to change that. No more Joyce's feeling like they have to pretend to be someone they are not. We all are Joyce. While no one wants to show and tell all their business, no one wants to suffer alone either. Women have more in common with one another than they know, and I am going to prove it.

We should be willing and able to share our triumphs and our tragedies. We should work together to  build one another up and catch each other as we fall. That's what we have been doing since the beginning of time. And we survived quite well without PINTREST, VOGUE, INSTAGRAM and SNAPCHAT.  Thank you very much.

Live your awesome life is not a slogan. It is not an aspiration. It is a calling cry for all especially women. We are better than our circumstance and when we have slips in our step we know how to stand back to our feet and keep on stepping.

If there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort provided by love, any fellowship in the Spirit, any affection or mercy, 2 complete my joy and be of the same mind, by having the same love, being united in spirit, and having one purpose. 3 Instead of being motivated by selfish ambition or vanity, each of you should, in humility, be moved to treat one another as more important than yourself. 4 Each of you should be concerned not only about your own interests, but the interests of others as well (Philippians)



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Butterfly kisses from on high

3/3/2015

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It was a symbol of the soul during early Christianity. It is a symbol of joy in China.The beautiful butterfly, with its power of flight, emerges from the seemingly lifeless cocoon: a perfect symbol of the Resurrection. To Native Americans, the butterfly is a symbol of change, joy and color.

When God created heaven and earth and all things contained therein, I think he really took his time when it came time to make the butterfly.
  1. Their ability to fly enables them to spread.
  2. They are extremely adaptable to their environment and climatic conditions.
  3. Their external skeleton provides a kind of armor of self-protection.
  4. Their small size keeps their demands meager and accessible.
  5. The ability to delay fertilization until conditions are beneficial enables their species to survive.
  6. They undergo multiple changes/metamorphosis to facilitate and carry on life.
I like to think of women as butterflies. Our ability to float in the air. Our pallet of vibrant colors, our ability to change and evolve when our lives require it. Women, like butterflies appear light and non-threatening to our environment. We are expected at times to be seen and not heard especially in the less developed parts of our world. But just like the butterfly women are constantly giving birth to new ideas, making plans, working on activities, or building qualities in ourselves or others. We are filled with creativity that sometimes just needs time to be shaped, formed, developed and honed. When we are given room to evolve anything we choose can be  accomplished. With our wings spread wide open brand new horizons spring forth. Why wouldn't we find these horizons? Butterflies spend most of their early life fighting their way out of a tiny hole in the cocoon. Their very survival depends on making it to the other side. Butterflies were born ugly and each fought to become the unique specimen it evolved into. Women are like that. We work extremely hard, under sometimes extreme forces, to become our best representation of what God intended. Sometimes we grow into our very acceptance of our beauty.

So every time I see a butterfly, especially a butterfly in flight,  I think of God throwing down  to us, a butterfly kiss from on high. A nice gentle reminder that he sees us, and to keep on keeping on. I am reminded mostly of the monarch butterfly who flies superbly against the wind.

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    La Detra Joy

    I love being around people. I would rather live falling than break my spirit never trying anything hard. This blog is about trying and retrying life.

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