Sweet Surrender

I’ve attempted (thousands of times) to be the person everybody else wants me to be. But, today…I confess…once and for all that each time I attempt to be anyone and anything besides myself I fail miserably.

In 2004, my high school peers voted me “Most Likely to Succeed” because of my bright smile and vibrant spirit. At the time, I was honored. Months later, when I arrived on my college campus, I was overwhelmed and too anxious to live up to such intimidating expectations.

I never thought much about what I wanted to be while I growing up. I mentioned once that I wanted to be a minister and that didn’t go over well in my household. I wrote poetry and kept journals but I always got “caught” and my intimate thoughts earned me punishments so severe that I stopped recording my thoughts altogether. Once in high school, I earned a prominent position on the newspaper staff and thought I might prevail as a journalist so I held on to the nick name “Oprah Jr.” and wore it as a costume so that others might not harass me about who I truly was and what I hoped to become. When people asked what I wanted, I’d say “I want to be like Oprah” just to shut them up and preserve my inner-most desires. Truthfully, I didn’t know Oprah Winfrey personally back then…and I still don’t. I just loved her power and enthusiasm.

I realized this week, as her show concluded, that power expires. Each person exists for a season to shed light and spread love. Then, we leave this earth and hopefully…leave a legacy.

I’ve struggled, like most people I know, to determine what my legacy would be and how I could guarantee that my name would be in huge, bodacious lights. I’ve tried, on more than one occasion, to plot my way to stardom.

But today, I renew my mind and adjust my attitude about success. For years, I’ve been chasing some silhouette that I thought represented fulfillment. Consequently, I’ve never been satisfied or truly proud of my accomplishments. The same voices that I heard in 2004, prompting me to “succeed” are now in the back of my head defining success as financial abundance, earthly power, and a six-figure career.

My old dreams and aspirations are making the “new me” tired. I need a season of simplicity. I don’t want to new list of exhausting goals and to-do’s. I don’t want to over-exert myself in an effort to become a super star or a mogul. I just want to take my brother out to dinner once a week. I want to sit with my mom and share a good joke or two. I want to see my sister, Jada, more often and relive moments from our college years.

I want to visit cities that I’ve never eaten in and dance on the shore of beaches around the world that I’ve never enjoyed before …

I don’t want a big, complicated and busy life. I want to be who I was born to be…and do what I was born to do. I want to love people and encourage them to live purposeful lives. I don’t care if I’m in a bookstore, coffee shop, sanctuary, leasing office, or shoe store. If I can inspire someone or reaffirm delayed or battered dreams…then I’m complete.

Today, I say goodbye to a lifetime of exhausting projects and pursuits. I say goodbye to an overly ambitious voice within that has burned me out for the last time.
Everything I do from now on…will be a direct reflection of who I am and what I believe in.


(And that’s real).

Sabbatical.

Have you ever been too weary to rest? Eyes are heavy...spirit is broken...body is battered...

But laying down provides no solace and there is no peace to be found in the center of your pillow. There are moments when sleep isn't good enough and no nap is truly satisfying. Bones moan like hungry kittens and feet swell with anticipation of the next work day.

There's a type of exhaustion that some consider to be indescribable. There are days when the body rises from its slumber and washes itself then dresses itself without the mind ever being connected to the process. I know what it is to get through an 8 hour work day...then get home and have no recollection of the events that took place in the office. I call it the Robot Syndrome...(the body shows up for the work day but the mind & soul stay in bed).

This year (2011), has been the most tiring year of my life. I joke with friends and say, "I wake up-sleepy." We all laugh...awkwardly...then change the topic because there really is nothing funny about being tortured by the alarm on an iPhone 8.5 hours after going to bed and still feeling drained and burnt out.

I realized today (and every day for the past two months) that a sabbatical is as essential now as it was when I was twelve and longed for the summer break each May. This is the time of year when I used to stare out of the class room window and beg the sun to give way to the moon that I might soon welcome another day that would reveal the reality that summer was near.

I am twenty-four years old...and my back aches. My head throbs like African drums on Broadway...

I'm only sharing my ailments because there is medicine in my misery. Each ache in my body serves as a reminder that my own welfare isn't optional. I am taunted by a headache which is actually heaven-sent. Headaches fade with the aid of Excedrin. I'd rather receive gentle warnings in my 20's than ignore the vital signs until a heart attack ends my life. So, oddly enough, I'm grateful for the current discomforts.

I know that I was raised by a woman who (to this day) does not know how to relax. She is constantly moving, shaking, and making the world better through service and love. I celebrate her ambition and commitment to being a provider. But my heart yearns for a lifestyle complete with real slumber and sincere rest.

I am tired! And I don't want to be too prideful to confess that I need to be laying next to the pool, with a glass of strawberry lemonade, my Ipod and an intoxicating novel for the next few days.

Real women know how to relax. My re-dedication to me (my health and sanity)is cited here for the world to see. I have to make sure that when a sabbatical is due, I take advantage of each opportunity to rest and refuel...because I'm no good to anybody if I can't even properly function and care for my own body.

Mama, I Love You.

If you knew her, you’d know why my skin glows like the sun on a warm evening in August. You’d know why I stand tall with my chin tilted toward the sky…with the kind of confidence that only results from good breeding. You’d be able to embrace the reality that I know exactly who and whose I am. If you knew her, you’d understand why I can’t help but thank God for waking me up every morning.

Yvette M. Carty raised me with stern love, selflessness, and prayers. She’s more than my mama. She is the portal that God utilized to bring me to this world. Therefore, I thank her for my existence. Her courage speaks to me daily. My heartbeat is the result of her willingness to say yes to God, even when she had no earthly reason to believe that we would be alright. At the age of 25, she gave birth to her ministry. And for the past 25 years, she’s loved me viciously.

I have given her millions of reasons to give up on me. I strayed away from her teachings over and over again. I’ve gone my own way, determined to learn about this life the hard way…but she loved me anyway.

In spite of my stubbornness, she never stopped praying for me. I am so thankful for her life and her love for God. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I thank God for everything I’ve lived through…I thank God for a praying mama. Her love saved my life.

NNL