To All the Girls Whose Prince Has Reverted Back Into a Frog

I admit, I have conflicting feelings about this post. But I feel duty-bound to spill my guts and keep it real with you folks.

Recently, I was in a relationship that ended rather…abruptly? Badly? Awkwardly? Whatever you want to call it, it ended, and it wasn’t pretty. Remember that song by Vivian Green, “Emotional Rollercoaster”? I just thought it was a cool song when it came out. But after experiencing the boatload of emotions that come with the beginning and ending of a relationship, I appreciate it for the message she was conveying to women (and men) everywhere who have experienced that...

Steve Urkel Voice: “Did I do thaaaaaat??”

Recently, I had another one of those “moments”. Heart pounding, mind racing, the whole nine. Because I think I might possibly have found a way to stick both feet in my mouth at the same time. See, I have several bad habits, but this one in particular tends to get me in trouble…

A is for Afro

A is for Afro

A good guy friend of mine asked me the other day how my perception of him had changed since we met last year. I answered, and then posed the same question to him. He said that I turned out not to be as uppity and conceited as he’d originally thought. I was pleased that he said that, but a flag went off in my head…

Save a Thug Foundation

So, I was talking a fellow 20-something Sunday night, and inevitably the subject of men came up. Actually, we were discussing the fact that some woman at church was trying to set me up with a mystery relation. AGAIN.

I promise you, being a pastor’s daughter is a trip sometimes, especially in the romance department. It seems like every mother, missionary, and pastor’s wife wants to marry you off to their sons. Or worse, to their sister’s-cousin’s-best friend’s-uncle’s-baby mama’s-son.  Seriously? Thanks, but no thanks.

See, I understand that every mother wants the best for her son. She wants her wonderful baby boy to marry a woman who is beautiful, confident, intelligent, and able to hold her own. A woman who will make lots and lots of grandbabies for her to spoil. A woman who will be like a daughter to her, who will (try) to make her son as gloriously happy as she herself has made him all his life.

BUT- (tap your neighbor and say “BUT!”) In my experience, these mothers are not looking for an actual wife for their beloved son. They are looking for a substitute mother. Which I am not. Also, these sons/distant male relations usually possess one or more qualities that prevent them from finding a mate without the help of their mothers:

A Bit of Morbidity: A Note on Passing

I found out last night that an acquaintance of mine passed away very suddenly and unexpectedly. And I’m having a hard time processing it, as I always do when it comes to losing people in my life.

The thing is, I’ve never lost anyone I was especially attached to. I’ve been alive for 22 years, and if my memory serves me correctly, I have attended five funerals in my life. For four of those funerals, I was younger than 10, and didn’t really understand what was going on. The very first one? I had to be about 4 or 5. Some woman’s father had passed, and my family got to the funeral super early. I sat in the back row and wondered why there was a box sitting on top of the altar with a black duck inside. Yes, that sounds crazy, but that is exactly what it looked like to me. The man in the coffin had a white collar on, and a black suit. His skin was also velvety black, and from where I sat, it looked kind of like Daffy Duck lying sideways. As the sanctuary filled with people, I saw that everyone seemed very sad and quiet. So I stayed quiet too. No one explained to me what was going on, and I didn’t ask any questions.  And that was that.

The second funeral was much like the first, only this time I could clearly see that there was a lady lying in the box on the altar. For this service, I was sitting in the balcony. The woman was the daughter/sister of a family I knew very well. She was in her early 30’s when she passed away of an enlarged heart, according to the program I read. I tried to imagine what having an enlarged heart felt like, and how that could make you die. The mother of the young woman was wailing the whole service, a loud, heart-wrenching moan. I saw the daughter of the dead woman, a chubby little girl with a round face and brown pigtails sitting very quietly, and the rest of the family groaning and clutching each other with tears running down their faces. It was like a scene from a movie; I could sense the sorrow and grief around me, but I did not feel it inside of me. I did not know the woman, and I still had a very limited understanding of death...