let's talk about love

The thoughts that follow are as a result of a discussion I had in my small group. We've been reading Strong Women, Soft Hearts by Paula Rinehart, despite it's sort of cheesy, fluffy title in my opinion it's probably one of the best women Christian books I've ever read. It's a far cry from the fluffy, flowery books I see in Christian bookstores, that often make me want to throw up, but let's not go there. The topic of choice this time was on Loving Beyond Reason, and the chapter begins appropriately by quoting C. S Lewis who says, "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell." Everytime I read this quote, something in me awakens, moreso as a challenge. My experience has always been to shun love...it's too confusing, complicated, messy, unclassy, foggy and I dare say even sometimes embrassing...I'm speaking for me here, for some of you it might come as easy as breathing in.

After a stirring discussion with the girls, my brain started churning thoughts wondering what I've done with love, but also what I'll do with it. Anyone who knows me very well, understands that I've always been afraid of love...maybe that's why I don't date that much. I've always seen my self as too collected, which is warped, to get tangled up in the messiness of close and intimate relationships. I was also raised in a culture where love was more of an assumption than an assertion. If you've read one of my earlier blogs, I talked about how it was so hard, and sometimes it still is, to tell another person I love them. It's always been a very unnatural expression, but being the paradox I am, I've also been fascinated and drawn and have hoped and longed for deep, meaningful relationships that go beyond the surface, and by the way this is not a sign of desperation, but an honest look at my own heart.

So now I find myself at this crossroad, where I want to take love by it's horns and see where it takes me. My heart is beginning to open, if only in slow motion, and I want to experience and get in the mess of love, albeit it will be in theory for awhile, but I'm willing to run over my fear and see where it takes me. Love is probably one of the greatest human and divine expressions that will ever exist, yet we seem to shun it or treat it with cynicism [which] is the great mask of the disappointed and betrayed heart"(Bell Hooks, All About Love). I cannot ignore the fact that it's because of love I'm even here...whether it's the love of God or that of my family and friends...it's important, and for that reason I'm willing to fight, until I can embrace it and live it out. So this will be my journey, to understand and embrace love. This will be my jouney, learning to love beyond reason. And by reason I mean every imaginable excuse I give as to why it's not worth to give myself to another person, or why it's hopeless considering the statics of divorce seem to prove that love doesn't really work.

One of my favorite scenes in the movie Garden State is when Largeman runs back to Sam after they've said their goodbyes at the airport. My own interpretation of that scene is him saying, you know what, I don't have it figured out, I'm messed up and have so much crap to work through, but I'm not going to pass up this opportunity to be able to love you because I want to figure out my life first. For the longest time I subscribed to that idea, you know where they tell you that you should figure your crap out first and then prince charming will come and sweep me off my feet...in my opinion that screams with the self-preservation that bleeds in our society. If love is what really brings healing and redemption, it will have more meaning if we come just as we are...messed up and all. Which, interesting enough, is the same principle applied when it comes to our relationship with God. We don't come to Him because we've cleaned up our lives, we come inspite of our messed up lives...that's what makes this love so special and amazing, and I think it interprets the same when it comes to love between fellow human beings.

And so, as I wrote in my journal, I'm ready to test out love...whether I have the answers or not, whether I'm insecure or confident, whether I have courage or fear, whether I understand it or I'm completely confused, I will not allow fear dictate how I live and love.

So stay close and see what happens.

on a sunday evening

I was standing in my living room last night, sunday night, and listening to the sweet sound of voices coming from my friends who were all engaged in different conversations at our place. For a moment, I got emotional, I wanted to cry at this beautiful sight. I think I must have said something like thank you God for this. I have an amazing group of friends who are caring, loving, fun, and as my friend Erin would sassly say "Jesus Lovers"...and I consider myself very blessed to have them...to call them my friends. My roommate Becky and I were saying how in just a year we've made friends who've become like family. A little over a year ago, I didn't have much of a social life. I spent most of my nights at home alone with my TV, but now, I have to make a point to be by myself to stay sane...and I love it.

It reminds me of last week's sermon from Daniel, about how Christ will one day say, I was a stranger and you either welcomed me or shunned me. I for one can say that I have seen the receptive side of this. I remember when I first came to the States, I was so certain I would never have any friends...I've always had, and still do, this insecurity about me that people don't really want know me, so I was afraid that I would live life alone, with no one to witness it or cheer me on or even challenge me. Almost ten years later, I can say that God has proved me wrong, because he's given me an amazing group of friends...who've seen me in most of my colors...the good, the bad, may be not the ugly, and yet they are still here.

So here's to all those who've chosen to share their lives, and not just with me, but with everyone else in our small community. You've made me forget my misery when life doesn't seem to be working. You've reminded me in so many ways that I'm not alone in this. You've supported me in my pursuit of my dream. You've given me space to be me and I don't have to worry about trying to impress you. You've made me laugh and some have made me cry. You've made me realize that I don't have to date someone to be validated or feel like my life counts. So here's to Angela, Annie, Allan, Bac, Becky, Caleb, Deepu, Dianna, Dave, Erin, Hannah, Jen, Jess, Jim, Jonathan, Lindsay, Marie, Michelle, Nate, Nicole, Nicole Red, Phil, Raschele, Sara, Stacy, Stephanie and Victor...and the many new people I'm getting to meet... for making life a whole lot more worth living and looking forward to.

changes come, turn my world around

I feel very hollow today. You know that sickening emptiness that won't go away. I'm listening to Brandi Carlile's Hallelujah and I want to cry...I want to run as fast as my short legs can and jump in a sea of total bliss. I feel tired...physically...my body is just aching all over...maybe it's due to the hours I've spent playing guitar and writing songs. I feel tired...spiritually...it's like there's really nothing there to hold on to. I'm tired of this memorized routine that is slowly eroding my patience and I dare say my joy.

It's only mid-day and I'm wishing it was five o'clcock so I could go home and just take my guitar and strum through the night...it's the better expression of myself, really. But everytime I'm in this place, which in reality it feels like I've been here for the last three years, I can't help but wonder if expressing my discontentment or putting words to this feeling of lack will in anyway make God lash out at me like He did the Israelites, you know when He had them wandering the wilderness for another 38yrs...YIKES!!!! Just the thought of that scares the crap out of me and I almost want to crawl in a corner and wait till this season of my life is over.

But David complained too...of his enemies at that...and maybe when life wasn't working???? I don't know. I don't want to find myself stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere because I told God that I'm not happy where am at....so I walk carefully, hoping I don't arouse His wrath. I speak out if only with a whisper, that I'm tired. That I'm ready to embark on a new journey, that I'm ready to live out my dream. That my soul feels like it's dying. That everything else about me is shutting down, but physical activity which has been programmed in me...to keep moving on.

But if I'm also really honest with myself I've also got sin issues also involved. Talk about a mound that just keep building, that's me. I guess when I say I'm tired spiritually it's that most of the time I don't get it. I'm not getting the whole redemption, forgiveness ideas of the gospel. Intelluctually I could explain them away, without missing a beat, but open my heart and it's a different story. I've been a christian all my life, but as Karin Bergquist sings in When I go..."except for this confession that is poised on my lips i'm not letting go of God, I'm just losing my grip". Now, I feel like I should qualify myself here, before someone comes running to lay their hands on me. I absolutely believe that it's only normal to grapple with issues. The one thing I dislike about Christians is that we are known for always saying the same thing becuase it's the right thing to say. I'm sorry to say this, but I'm not subscribing to that @!*#%!. I want to grapple with these issues until I know for certain what the hell it is I believe in. And so I'm tired of trying to figure this out. I just want to get it, you know. I've ran out of thoughts, so I'll end...

May be I'm just having a crappy day and for some reason everything else just sort of floats to top and is screaming at me.

Here's to week 11

The first two days of this week have been emotionally intense and sometimes just outright funny. By Tuesday evening, I was so emotionally drained, I thought I was going to lose it at some point. About two weeks ago, I went to hang out with my friend Jen at Filter and behind her was this really cute guy, who I was so sure I knew from somewhere, but couldn’t quite figure where. So I went got a drink and as I was about to sit, shocked myself by walking over to him and I was like is your name John? I don’t know what he was thinking, but he was smiling, probably wondering what the hell? And he was like no my name is Zach I then made an attempt to say something to apologize for the inconvenience and went back to my seat and that was it. Or so I thought. So, am at our cafeteria at work getting my lunch and who do I see but Zach and by this time he was walking towards me and I couldn’t avoid him so I sheepishly said are you the guy from Filter? He said yes and we proceeded to laugh and introduce ourselves again. I apologized again, don’t know why, if I came off as stupid , but he said it was fine. He asked if I lived in the neighborhood and I said yes, then he proceeded to say the he and his future wife were moving in the neighborhood. I was trying so hard not to show my disappointment so I started asked questions and trying so hard to keep a straight face. Things like don’t happen to me at all, so this occurrence was just too funny so I called my friend Bac and we had a good long laugh about it.

Then that evening I, and a few friends, wet to see Jamie Cullum and Brandi Carlile at Park West. I didn’t know about Brandi until a week ago when I was browsing though artists on Itunes. I saw that she had covered Hallelujah, also covered by Rufus Wainwright and Jeff Buckley and I was very curious to see how she’d done it, and I have to say I wasn’t disappointed. Jamie Cullum is this short, petite, funky hair, jazzy, bluesy, urban, retro, twenty-something kid from London who astounded me with his energy and talent. The way he worked that piano was just mesmerizing…I was expecting it to break at some point cause he was working it. Anyone not familiar with Jamie, he’s definitely influenced by great Jazz musicians, Miles Davis, Kurt Elling etc. and you can hear it in the way he plays piano. But he also did other classic songs, such as Wind Cries Mary by Jimmy Hendrix or High & Dry by Radiohead, but with his own sound. Then he surprised me by playing Kanye West’s Gold Digger. Wow! It was probably one of the most entertaining concerts I’ve been to yet, save for U2. I liked him because he’s actually very talented and has musically versatile band…it was so refreshing and impressive to see them play different instruments and also sing. By the time we left the concert, I was drunk from all that music that I just wanted to go home and play and sing all night…but I have my 9-5.

Tuesday almost wiped me out. First, work was just going wrong. An event I was supervising wasn’t going as I had hoped and it felt like I was just trying to put out fires and fix things here and there. I was very frustrated, until 10:46am when I received an email from my lawyers’ assistant saying that my petition for my status had been approved. I think something happened in my brain cause I had to re-read it a couple of times to understand it. Just the night before I was telling my old roommate how worried I was, since nothing was really happening and so to get that email was almost surreal. I sent out an email to all my friends letting them know what happened. And it’s like from that moment on, I wasn’t sure what was going on around me. Around 1:00pm, my friends Caleb and Phil, after defacing my office, took me out for lunch to celebrate. I was so blown away…I can’t even begin to express the joy I felt to have these friends share in my good news. Michelle and Jen joined us also and it became this small party…and I felt so unbelievably blessed to be surrounded by these amazing group of friends…who are like family. For the first time, I had sushi, and I’ll say that I wasn’t grossed out. I actually liked it very much…especially the Eel Avocado. I then had people over our house to celebrate and also watch American Idol, and it was so humbling to see my friends all express their joy and excitement at this great news.

Once again, God has showed me how much I’m loved, not only by Him but by this group of people who come from different walks of life, who care deeply for each other, who love Him and are all trying to figure out this thing called life…it is a profound thing to witness and be a part of. I’m humbled and honored to be known and to know others and to know that I’m not alone in this. By the time I went to bed after midnight, I was exhausted and happy beyond words. I muttered a few words to God thanking Him, and was soon in dream land.

The Terminal

I watched Steven Spielberg's The Terminal this past weekend, for the like the third time. There's something about this movie that reaches a deep place in my soul and turns me to an emotional wreck. I'm serious. Whenever I've watched this movie, I've had a good cry. And no, it's not one of those where tears silently flow from my eyes. It's the heaving and uncontrollable convulsions nearing loud outbursts. It's crazy! The part that always churns me is when Victor Navorski, brilliantly acted out by Tom Hanks, is helping the drug trafficker. When they are taking him away in hand cuffs and Victor says it's for goat. The minute he says that I lose it. Or the part where he's finally leaving the airport and there's a multitude of people cheering him on excited that he finally gets to fulfill his mission...regardless of how short it is. May be it's because it gives me a glimpse of the human heart...that even in the face of opposition, there is always hope lurking somewhere and will soon triumph.

The first time I watched the movie, I completely related to Victor's experience dealing with customs officers. I think it's probably one of those belittling moments in life, cause you're standing there and you know that one stamp on your passport could mean everything...literally. It sort of sobers you to know that your life is in the hands of someone who doesn't know you and, in a post Sept. 11 world, would send you back where you came from without much thought. And who can blame them, they are trying to protect their land.

What captivates me about this movie is the fact that it poses the question where do you draw the line between rules and regulations of any governing body and the common bond of being human? And at the same time, it opens a door to the stories we all carry. We are all humans beings...each one following a dream, and for those of us who come to America we are trying to pursue a dream in a country who's edges bleed with freedom. Our dreams, like Victors' to get an autograph of a Jazz musician, are simple at best. All we want is an equal chance to having a decent life...a good job, education and an opportunity to help our families in the long run. But what hurts is when a person is criminalized or even held in suspicion for having those dreams.

I love the inscription on the Statue of Liberty, "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door." And I count myself among those who've come here to...breathe free, but sometimes to get beyond the rules can either steal or foggy up this freedom. As I'm in the process of changing my status to become a permanent resident, I can only hope that those who decide my fate will see that mine is but a simple dream, that there is a story behind my face, that all I want is to live a decent life, not that I have some special reason why I should deserve it.

The simplicity of our dreams is a universal one...and I can only hope that more often than not, compassion will reign in the hearts of those who decide our fate. That they would remember they are apart of the human thread, and maybe, just maybe, they can treat those of us who innocently come to the land of the free with an ounce of compassion and as individuals who's lives do matter in the long run.

Proud to be Black Pt.2

Cable network FX premiered a show on the issues of race that are affecting America. Black.White is a show about two middle-class families that, for six weeks, get to 'wear' someone elses race to try and see life from each others perspective. When I saw the preview a few weeks ago, I thought it would be an interesting show to watch, and especially since the church I attend is trying to figure out this racial piece. I was curious to see how Hollywood interprets the racial issue in America. Through Hollywood magic, they were able to turn the black family to white and the white family to black. I didn't think they could pull it off, but was surprised by how real these exchanged races looked...especially the 17yr white girl...who looks very beautiful in black make-up.

The one thing I came away with was realizing that I never grew up with the historical resentment and tension that Caucasians and African-Americans have toward each other. So when I walk on the streets, I might be aware that there are issues that exist, but I don't think I'll be looking at everything that happens to me with a racial lens. There is no denying that there are times that people might be more cautious when a black male walks towards them, but then there are times that it doesn't come to play and I guess the question becomes where do you draw the line? How can you tell that someone is treating you different because of your skin color or that they are just like that normally?

I'll be the first to admit that this whole race thing is very new to me. Even though I'm black, I'm still trying to understand racism. I've found that people treat me very different when they realize that I grew up in Africa. There's always a fascination with that and I guess people want to see if what they've heard about Africa is really true...some is and some isn't. And I love to help people understand how similar and different we are.

I had lunch with some I really admire and respect who also happened to watch the show and it was interesting to see his take on it, since he's white. One of the things that I think we agreed on was the fact that there has to be a balance between what has been and the hope of the future. We cannot ignore the horror of slavery and how it affects both the victims and the victimizers, but at the same time if the gospel is to take root and really manifest itself means that we have to somehow move beyond this.

In a recent Relevant Podcast, Donald Miller uses a phrase I love, actually I think he was borrowing it from Desmond Tutu and it's the whole idea of a 'wounded healer' that is someone who's been a victim of something horrid, but they don't dwell there. It reminds me of a Swahili proverb that says "maziwa yakimwagika, hayazoleki" which means that if milk pours you can't scoup it up again. You have to clean it up and keep moving on. Which I believe is an important piece if true racial reconciliation is going to take place. We have to admit that something horrible happened, but let's not dwell there...pointing fingers at each other. We should let God turn us into wounded healers and begin to extend that healing to others and soon it will become a revolution.

Joseph is a perfect example of a wounded healer. If there was anyone who had a right to dwell in his pain and the horrible things that happened, it was definitely him. But he didn't. He chose to believe that God had a bigger purpose for him...even for the pain. And I think that to successfully come full circle with the racial issues we have to believe that God has a bigger purpose albeit one that's not always very clear.

All that said, I told my friend today about the comment I wrote about in the last blog...that if I was white, I'd be dating/married by now. He said something I never thought of...actually he used a phrase "institutionalized racism" which basically is a subtle form of racism. He said that for a black woman like me, it's likely that a white guy would never ask me out not because they don't care for a black woman or don't think I'm beautiful, but because it's a message that's been passed on to them. That beauty is seen as a blonde, blue eyed girl (sorry, I know this is very stereotypical and I have nothing against blonde blue-eyed girls) and anything that doesn't fit that mode, regardless of how good it is, they probably would never consider. It's interesting because my friend is white and hearing him say this opened my eyes a little wider to this issue. What struck me more was that on paper I might have all the qualities that any guy, for this matter a white guy, is looking for, but because of these subtle messages of beauty, he probably would not consider dating me because somehow I don't quite fit the beauty he knows or has been raised to understand. Obviously, I know that not everyone is like this, but I thought it was very interesting to hear this from my friend.

At the end of the day, I have to say that I'm still proud to be black!

Proud to be Black

Not too long ago, I had someone tell me that if I kept all my qualities, but was white I might be married by now or at least dating for that matter. This was the second time this person has made this comment to me and to hear it was so disheartening. Those I related this to, were shocked and disagreed, but I'll be honest and say that I can't help but wonder if this is really true.

When I first moved to America, I was very insecure about being African. I always felt little and insignificant. And it didn't help knowing that I came from what was once called the "Dark Continent" where civilization hadn't found it's way into African life. It didn't help either that people asked such humiliating questions like did we live in a house or were there lions in our backyards or whether we wore clothes. Honestly, sometimes it felt like an insult knowing the kind of life I had and yet have someone question me in such a manner made me feel like I was from an entirely different planet. I endured these questions humbly and tried not jump them, but there was a part of me that was constantly being reminded that I was different, and for better or worse, people noticed it.

Since this friend of mine made this comment, I feel like I've started to look at life from that lens...that my skin color really matters. I haven't decided if that's how I want to live my life. But there's a dualism of reality and of the ideal. The reality being that this is America and that race will always play some part in most people's lives, but the ideal is that people will first and foremost see me, and anyone else who's different, as a human being, a child of God created in His very image. That my color will not determine how I get treated or spoken to and for that matter the person who ends up marrying me. That is the hope I have for humanity...and thank God I get a glimpse of this hope through the eyes of my friends who have embraced me in all my Africanness...

But this doesn't erase the struggle and thoughts of knowing that some people will always look down on me and not even give me a chance because of my skin color. Flip this coin and as I was telling my roommate Becky and our friend Bac, I love being black. I love the fact that I grew up in a third world country and that has afforded me the joy of always seeing life from a different perspective, granted sometimes people never understand my world view. I love the fact that my hair can stand up...this always seems to amaze most of my caucasian friends. I love the fact that I don't have to visit a tanning bed to get my skin darker. I love the fact that I grew up in a small village and was never really influenced by pop culture until I moved to the States. I truly love being black and I would not exchange my skin color for anything. I love to think that there's something about my color that reflects God and I wouldn't shy from that. It might be small, but it's something to me and I'll carry that to my grave. My friend may be right in his thoughts, but there's not a damn thing I can about it. God forbid that I try and make myself more of one thing to be accepted, and in there deny how God has put me together. If people can't see beyond my external appearance, then there's nothing I can do about that. I'll always live life believing that in God's sight and of those who are dear to me, that I'm valuable. That as a human being I matter and I'm important...that I'm no less of a human being because I'm different.

Truth is I'd love to live in the ideal, but the reality is that there are times my skin color will matter or affect my life in one way or another, but as I wrote in one of my songs people will either "take me or leave me, but [no one will] take away my dignity just because I wear a different face."

* Here are the rest of words from that song*

This skin you see, can’t erase you can’t take away
And make me a faceless face
Though I can’t see the world through your eyes
Or through your mind
Doesn’t mean I don’t count
So take me or leave me
But don’t take away my dignity
Just because I wear a different face
Don’t try to deny me
The privilege of being in the human race
Cause of my skin
Don’t turn me down when I can’t relate
Or speak in your tongue
(It) doesn’t mean I don’t count
Don’t trivialize this life that I call my own
Though it varies from yours
Cause I still count, I'm important and I still matter

How do you spell gorgeous?....ACE YOUNG!

I have nothing really interesting to say, so I'll just be silly. I don't know if this a sad statement or not, but I love watching American Idol, despite the fact that I auditioned and they could only muster to say...you have an amazing voice, but not what we are looking for...but, hey who's upset? I think it's their loss anyway. But as I was saying, I love the show, in fact it's a priority recording on our DVR, and was seriously upset when it somehow skipped taping Wednesday's show...n'way, from the recap I don't think I really missed much. I can't help though but say how I, and probably 30 million other men and women, think that Ace Young is just gorgeous, and I think he has a decent voice. You should have heard my small last week...we actually skipped our normal group stuff to watch the boys sing...and boy did the room go crazy when it was Ace's turn...you had to be there...it was too funny. Two days later I had people over our place and we replayed his performance a couple of times...even the guys who were there had to admit that he's a very good looking young man. I wonder how long America will keep him on the show. I won't be surprised if he goes all the way to the top three, but then after that it will be interesting to see if his looks will still work for him.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I think Ace is pretty good looking and I'll probably keep voting for him and see how far he goes...