Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Chapter Sixteen of Making Lemonade A Spiritual Journey Through Pain and Divorce


Triple Blessings From the Father

All around me people were getting blessed with the things I wanted. One of my favorite evangelists preached a sermon on how God will bless the people around you, sometimes with the very things you want, in order to judge your attitude. My neighbor next door, the one who checked in on me, was buying a house. A girl at work announced rather loudly one morning that she was engaged. Good for them, I thought. Other little things began happening around me as well.


“God,” I said, “I don’t care if you bless the whole entire world with everything I want, because I know my turn is coming. If you’re blessing those within my sight, then I must be standing in the right line, and my number is coming up!” I kept my attitude pure because I wanted to be happy for them. Everyone deserves to be happy.

I want to go on vacation. It came out of nowhere. The desire to get away and do something I always wanted to do was growing inside of me until I thought I would burst. Five months of grieving and healing left me exhausted. It was May and a time when the world was reborn and renewed; therefore, it was time to shed the death garments and be rejuvenated myself.

I felt free for the first time in my life. Living and surviving without my ex-husband became a reality. I was adjusting to the change, just as I always did when he was on deployment. My walls went up stronger than before.

Mexico. That was where I wanted to go. I wanted to see the ocean, walk the beach and leave the country. Always wanting to see the Mayan pyramids, I booked a trip to Cancun for the first part of June.

Unable to contain my excitement for the next two weeks, I started smiling for the first time in nearly a year as I prepared for my adventure. My coworkers begged me not to go by myself, fearing that something would happen to me. I didn’t share the same fears. I figured that if anything did happen to me, it was while I was having fun and living life. I was tired of missing out on life and regretting that I never adventured or took chances. I wanted the ride God promised me.

As if going on vacation wasn’t enough, God surprised me with something unexpected. Sunday night in May, I drove home from the 7:00 p.m. service. Thinking of all the blessings God wove into my new life, I smiled and began to pray. On that night I fired my fairy godmother and enlisted the God Father.

“God, I really am thankful for all that you’re doing. I’m beginning to see a new life,” and then the tears came. “But, God, I’m so lonely. And I need help. I can’t do the things you’ve asked me to do on my own. It’s too big. Please, if you do have someone better for me, then I accept it.”

I pounded the wheel in emphasis. “Go out and find that perfect person for me, God. And when you do, I want to know. I want to feel it. I want you to write his name in my heart; write my name in his. Thank you.” My weeping eyes looked to the glowing stars overhead. “Oh, and since I’m a paint-by-numbers faith person, make sure you put a neon sign on the guy so I don’t miss him.”

Tears continued to flow, and I let my heart pray because I didn’t know what else to say. I simply didn’t want to hurt anymore. Then it happened. One block away from my duplex, I felt this indescribable sensation as God touched my heart. I knew God found someone for me. Even though I knew not the letters he penned, there was a name tattooed upon my heart. Heaven responded to a daughter’s desperate prayer.

A new girl came to our block in May. Her name was Aimee, and she was a friend of Kirk’s, who came to help us. As I got to know her, I was amazed by her insight and view on God. She seemed a remarkable, strong woman who glowed with confidence, a natural beauty with a fun smile and alluring, azure eyes that see straight to the soul. Although I didn’t really know her on a personal level, she invited Kirk, Nathan and I to her and her two friends’ birthday party that was going to occur at the end of the month.

At first I felt odd about going since I didn’t know her beyond a few encounters on the block and some lunches, but I thought this would be a great opportunity to get out of the house, maybe meet more people and get to know her better. Within the next few days my ambition diminished and I really didn’t want to go. I figured my pity-party, party of one, would be more satisfying.

Nathan became upset when I told him that I didn’t want to attend the party. “Pit Bull, why?” Nathan’s distressed eyes tore at my heart.

“I don’t know anyone, and I just feel odd going.”

“That’s the point. You can meet more people. You’ll have fun. And…” He put his arm around me. “I was hoping I could catch a ride with you so I can go.”

Sighing, I gave in. I knew Nathan wanted to go, and I was his only transportation.

At the time I walked into the house and joined the affair, I didn’t realize I was about to become a gift for someone’s 35th birthday. The house bustled with fifty or more people from inside to outside. Food festooned tables and counters. Turtles and exotic birds roamed a small section of the back yard. Nathan took me around introducing me to a few people.

“Hey, Travis, happy birthday!” They shook hands and briefly hugged. “I want you to meet the bravest woman I’ve ever met. This is Pit Bull.”

Questioning eyes fell upon my thin, five one and a half frame. I saw the “porcelain doll complex” I always get when people try to judge me by my exterior. Although I was smiling, my eyes were barking. Yes, Pit Bull is my name, and I bite. That hand is looking mighty tasty, I thought, as I shook his hand with confidence and a slight squeeze.

“No, man. Seriously. Kirk had me take her out and explain our block. There’s a lot of hurting people and drugs out there, and we just didn’t want her to be overwhelmed with the experience. So, I’m explaining this one area and she turns to me and says, ‘Nathan, let me tell you something about me,’ and she’s pointing her finger at me. ‘I’m not afraid of the enemy. He can’t hurt me. I’m not afraid of anything. I am a Pit Bull.’ I just jumped back; you don’t talk to a two-hundred and fifty pound black man like that. But I tell ya, she’s the best partner. She has no fear.” He laughed in remembrance.

Somewhere in the conversation Nathan left, and I found myself standing there talking to Travis as he continued barbecuing hamburgers and hotdogs. I noticed his bright orange Phoenix Suns shirt and how it glowed in the flames. I was reminded of my prayer earlier that week. God, put a neon sign on the guy so I don’t miss him.

All the while I stood there I kept hearing, Talk to him.

About what?

Just talk to him.

I wish God had given me a subject. The entire time we talked, I continually stuck my foot in my mouth. One week I’m praying for God to pick out the perfect person for me, and the next I’m telling a complete stranger how I’m hoping to go back to my ex-husband.

We spoke of his divorce and of what we were doing now, and there were times he squished the hamburger patties down in anger when I explained the adultery and how my relationship was with my ex-husband. He thought I was nuts, to put it plainly, I even wanted to go back to such a person and such a life. Nathan called me in to eat, which stopped me from further disaster. After eating, I attempted to speak to Travis again, but he buried himself in his close friends, and I found myself surrounded by Aimee’s family.

The three birthday people were gathered to the front to give a short speech before cutting the cake. When I heard his, it nearly broke my heart. He was just as lonely and frustrated. I never got to say goodnight or even goodbye as I looked around and didn’t see him.

Travis was my first thought when I woke Saturday. I didn’t intend for him to be on my mind, but he was there. Why could I not get this guy out of my head? For four days I kept hearing, Give him your number, to which I finally surrendered. I planned to give Aimee my number the following Saturday to give to Travis if he was still interested in getting to know me.

The next Saturday, after meeting at Adopt-A-Block, our group went out to lunch, and I told Aimee to give him my phone number. After a few Cupid jokes, she text messaged him. He didn’t call. Instead, he came up to me and Nathan after Sunday night service, and we went to Starbucks and talked over banana frappuccinos. Being honest with him about God and what my life was like now, I was afraid I might scare him off. But I had to be honest with him and find out if he truly was the one for me.

The next day, the day before I was to leave for Cancun, he wrote me an e-mail:

Good morning, Angela,

Before I get too busy this morning, I just wanted to pass on a message to you and tell you how much I enjoyed spending time with you last night. You reminded me of how selfish I really have been in regard to a lot of things. God has really done a masterful work in your life, and you truly are a treasure of Him. I think you completely understand that and believe it. I saw it in your eyes.

I spent a lot of time thinking about you last night. Particularly how much of a bigger person you are than me. I'm flattered and honored that you would ask Aimee to give me your number. I'm glad to have it. I asked God a lot last night before I went to bed, "Why me? What can a woman of that caliber see in such a selfish man like me? There are a ton of better men at that church who do more for God and hurting people in a day than I do in ten years. Please show me, God!" I'm not trying to chase you off, but there is stuff you don't know about me yet and things I'm afraid to reveal to you. There are some things that I haven't completely let go of and things that I'm too afraid to let God work with me on for the sake of convenience.

I know who I am in Christ, but I feel that there is so much unlocked potential in me that continues to remain dormant because I've had nobody in my life with the right key to help unlock and release it.

I also drove away last night wondering how could your ex-husband not see the beautiful, caring, loving, loyal, honorable woman before him! How can any man neglect the woman that you are? How could he walk away from what you had to offer him?

Anyway . . . I just wanted to pass on some encouraging words. Thanks for the time last night. I hope we can do it again soon.

God Bless!

Touched by his thoughts and reading his pain, I responded:

I follow God's commands and what he lays on my heart, and it has not failed me. Maybe I am the key to unlocking what I see in you.

Do not be afraid of me. I do not judge. I used to be self-centered as well. It took nine months to get where I am today, but I did not have a choice. I had to rely on God for my every need. Do not be so hard on yourself. I meet people for a reason, and God leads me to those people. I know you have been hurt, too, and are not as open as you would like, but I hope to change that.

I met Travis on May 26th. Memorial Day I asked my block captain and realtor if he could qualify me for a house. Buying my own home was symbolizing that I was moving on with my life, like crossing the line in the sand between the old life and entering the new one. Once this occurred, there was no going back or hoping for reconciliation.

All the while I drove up Hayden to the church, I asked God for my own house; I believed God for a house. I never knew when that dream would come to fruition. A few days later I spoke with a loan officer about my job history, divorce and my credit was pulled. Fully expecting it to end there, I was pleasantly surprised I actually qualified.

Off to Cancun I went. When I was planning the trip, I thought of finding ways to stay there. Now I was excited to come back. My time away from Phoenix allowed me to see the life that God was giving me. I may not have seen it had I not gone.

Although I went alone, I had a great time. I got to do what I wanted to do when I wanted to. I didn’t have to deal with my ex-husband wanting to take pictures of me. I could sleep when I wanted and wake when I wanted. I could walk on the beach and gaze at the stars and see the sights I wanted to see.

The only part of the trip that was a nightmare to me was the airport in Mexico City. I don’t speak Spanish, and they had absolutely no signs in Spanish or English. I had to rely on a kind young girl to help me since the airport personnel were not helpful and didn’t understand why I was stressing.

I loved Cancun. The ocean was breathtaking. Luminous turquoise caressed soft, white sand. My room had an ocean view. The soothing sound of the waves comforted me as I slept.

I treated myself to a massage, a facial and a day of relaxing on the beach my first day. The second day I was off to the Mayan jungle to see the ruins of Chi Chen Itza. From the time I read about the Mayan civilization in history class, I marveled at their science, their religion and the pyramid.

I was quickly adopted into a group from Wales when we stopped to eat at a resort in the middle of the jungle. Once at the ruins, I soaked in the scenery. Everything I studied in school paled in comparison to the lesson given by our tour guide as he showed us pictures of what the pyramid and the solarium did during the Equinox and Solstice. I imagined Indiana Jones uncovering some kind of new treasure.

I was touching the soil of history and of things I thought I would only experience in books. No more living life through television and magazines. I vowed to experience the world for myself.

The following day I found an interactive aquarium. Arriving late, I was unable to swim with the dolphins or get my picture taken with the large birds, but I did convince myself to enter a shark tank. From the cage you could feed the sharks and see them up close.

Unfortunately, the water was freezing. My wetsuit must have been taking a siesta. I couldn’t catch my breath and began hyperventilating. The walls closed in increasing my panic. Desperately, I tried to convince my mind to relax, but mind over cold box wasn’t working, and they had to bring me up. I emerged disappointed, but the photographer said he got a great picture of me and the Bull Shark. That was all I wanted anyway, so I was happy.

Everyone in Cancun was wonderful and friendly. The wait staff and male store clerks made sure I didn’t feel lonely as they flirted with me. The divorce made me feel ugly, especially when I saw who my ex-husband left me for, and I was delighted at the attention.

Careful of my souvenirs, I took home a Mayan Calendar painting done with vegetable oils on deer skin, a necklace and a few T-Shirts and glasses. I made sure that whatever I purchased couldn’t be found in the States.

It was time to go home. I was sad to leave and yet happy to get home. All the paperwork for my new house should have been done, and all that was required of me were a few signatures to complete it. I also had someone waiting for me.

A few days after I returned, Travis came over and I showed him all my pictures of my adventures. Both of my dogs came up to him. Baby was expected to show her affection, but I was amazed at Jasmine’s reaction. Normally she would circle, sniff and run back into the bedroom if she didn’t know you. Instead she tentatively, approached him, and as he knelt, she rested her face in his cupped hand. I nearly fainted. This had to be a sign!

Glancing at the picture of the pyramid, Travis noted the cloud over it that looked like it was boiling out of the top of the structure and immediately thought of Ghost Busters. I told him when I took the picture, I thought the same thing. Another sign?

To purchase a copy of the entire book:

http://www.amazon.com/Making-Lemonade-Spiritual-Journey-Through/dp/0595531148/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

Monday, April 19, 2010

Chapter Fifteen of Making Lemonade A Spiritual Journey Through Pain and Divorce

Alone and Processing


“I love you, but I cannot stand you” were some of the hurtful words spoken into my heart from my ex-husband. He told me that every time we fought, his heart grew colder toward me. When I asked why he took me with him to Florida, he said it was because he knew I wanted to leave Spokane, and he took pity on me, not because he wanted to be with me.

Why did I prefer emotionally abusing comments over being alone? Was I that insecure? I hated myself for being that desperate for love. When I was younger I used to think I would never allow myself to be mistreated because I had too much respect for myself. The young Angela never would have put up with cheating. She would have left Steve there on the spot before he could even finish his sentence. What happened to me?

I hated being alone. Alone was scary, but thoughts of ending up like my dad scared me more. He’s been unable to move on with his life since my mom left him thirty years ago. Was I to become someone who replayed the past or could I find the strength to overcome, get up in the morning, hold down a job and reinvent my life?

I spent a lot of time at the church to escape myself, but I eventually caught up. In the time I spent alone, I was forced to get to know myself. Slowly, I worked on fixing those parts I didn’t like. But the important question I had to ask myself was, did I not like myself based on someone else’s opinion of me? The longer I was away from the influences of my ex-husband, I began to change back to the person I was before I met him and morph into what God wanted me to be like.

God also revealed how unhealthy my marriage was and the damage that was left to fix. During the divorce I kept probing for answers to things that I missed or purposely ignored. When I questioned Steve, I always received conflicting stories. I needed to know the truth, no matter how painful, about how long he’d been involved with her and when he decided to officially leave me.

Several times in the past I had a feeling that he was hiding something from me, and I did searches to see if he had a separate e-mail account. Finally, I discovered his account and had my proof through the e-mails they were sending each other. He knew before he came to Lake Havasu that he was leaving me. Reading their correspondence gave me a form of closure.

Over time, I learned how to separate myself from my ex-husband and establish my own life. I even started making my duplex my home. The neighborhood around me was a nightmare, but with some care, inside became my haven. I was no longer required to put up with someone else’s demands and expectations to have a place to live.

I fixed up the front porch with plants and a fountain, bought new bedroom furniture and scattered my stuffed animals on the love seat to make the living room seem less empty. Watching “our” television shows even became less painful as I learned to make them my own. My dogs were a great help. They comforted me through my many lonely days and nights and made me feel loved and accepted.

I learned how to be so comfortable with myself, I still treasure my alone time.

Every season, no matter how painful or seemingly pointless it is, has a reason. In this season I would discover who I really was and what I was to become.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Dreams are Precious Gifts

Let the sun of your spirit warm your dreams. May the pink buds of hope blossom in everlasting spring. Have the courage to follow your heart. Your dreams are precious gifts; unwrap them today.


“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma—which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

~Steve Jobs

Notice in Steven’s quote the two words heart and intuition. Take the first letter of each word, H + I = HI. Your heart and soul are crying out HI! Listen to me. I know who you are and what you want!

Stop living the life other people are telling you to live.

Derek Jeter is the famous shortstop on the New York Yankees. Stephen Spielberg is one of the world's greatest film directors. What would their lives be like if they chose to not honor their talents and did something else? What would our lives be like?

What will your life be like when you honor your gifts and talents? How different will the world become when you do?

Remember this:

We were all born for a certain assignment. A 'position' in life that our unique talents and skills can serve the greatest amount of people and reap us incredible prosperity.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

The Death of a Dream

I loved art as a young child. While my classmates were scribbling pictures, I was coloring in one direction and in the lines creating masterpieces that drove my peers to jealousy.


I recall one picture I did for my grandmother when I was about 5 or 6 years old that was probably one of more creative pieces. I removed the plastic insert that held the chocolate in place from a box we’d just finished. I cut out two connecting holes, pasted them on a piece of paper and drew an owl using the chocolate container holes as eyes. My grandmother thought it was so ingenious she had it up on her refrigerator until she died.

No matter the art project, I had displayed great talent. In the sixth grade, I won first place for a swan I created out of ceramics. It is the only first place I’ve ever received. It now has a chipped wing and a line on its neck where it once lost its head when it got in the way of a flyswatter vs. fly battle, but it sits on my bookshelf today in reminder of that moment.

My talent was natural born since both my sides of the family draw and paint. I figured I’d be an artist when I grew up. I thought that until I entered the eighth-grade and Ms. Smith’s class.

I was excited to take a real art class and develop my talent. Our first project was constructing a decorative maze shadow box. I had a heart in the middle with a diagonal line on each side representing the entrance and exit. After the box was constructed, I covered the walls with construction paper and designs—colors and designs that were supposed to be my choice.

Well, it should have been my choice as it was my project. From the start, we had to get “approval” for everything we did from Ms. Smith. You couldn’t progress to the next stages without it. First it was the maze layout, then the color choices and designs. When I was done, it became her project. I was just the fingers that cut and pasted it together. My creativity wasn’t important to her, it was all about her and what she thought I should make.

Creativity and fun were abolished in her class. I found myself sniffing the rubber-cement glue just to get through the agonizing 50 minutes of each daily class. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

One day she reassigned our seats. I moved from the front corner to the very back of the room. When she explained her seating assignment choice, I couldn’t stop crying.

“All the people that are in the front sitting around me show great talent and are real artists. Those in the middle are just that, middle talent. And for those of you in the back, you’re D and F quality.”

OUCH! I’d never considered myself a D or F artist. Who grades art anyway! Isn’t’ it supposed to be a fun expression of ourselves?

Our next project was a prisma-color picture. Prisma-color is a fancy colored pencil at a fancy price. I chose a unicorn and was impressed with how well I was doing. Ms. Kill-Joy on the other hand didn’t like it.

After the pictures were done, she hung them in the hallway for the whole school to view. At grading time, she took us out individually into the hallway and discussed the “great-aspiring artists” adorning the wall and then brought us over to ours. She was comparing what others had done with what we had done.

By now ¾ of the school year was done and I was deflated. I had to listen to her drone on about Chad’s eagle and some other pieces. She asked me, “What grade do you think you deserve?”

What I wanted to say was, an A because that unicorn was my personal best. I learned so much and I was proud of what I accomplished.

With my self-confidence under the floor tiles, I ended up telling her, “I think its C work.”

I ended up taking the picture home hating it. It got buried over the years in drawers and boxes, forgotten. It got scuffed and dirty.

I took another art class in High School and walked away with an amazing watercolor for my mom and for my grandmother. But my enthusiasm wasn’t there any more. I never took another art class. I even quit drawing and painting.

I’m looking at that unicorn picture now on my desk and think, what an amazing job for a fourteen year old! Just think if she would have instructed me and helped me develop my talent instead of telling me I wasn’t good enough.

I allowed one bad teacher to poison my passion for art and convince me that I’m not an artist.

Are you following your dreams, or have you let someone like Ms. Smith influence your dreams and passions? Don't let other people influence your dreams. They're your dreams. Live them to the fullest!