Theft Protection

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.
--Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

When I was a teenager, I had a bad habit of leaving my purse in my car. Because I tend to be forgetful, I thought I was better off leaving it in the one place I knew I would be on a daily basis.

One day, I walked out to my driveway and noticed various bits of papers strewn in the grass. Upon further inspection, I saw these were things which had been in my purse. Sure enough, I opened the door and discovered my purse was gone. I had to go through the arduous task of obtaining a new driver's license, student ID, Social Security and bank cards. For me, the consequences were over and I had heard my lesson; that is, until I tried to apply for my first credit card. I soon discovered that whoever had stolen my purse graciously helped themselves to my credit, ordering cell phones and applying for loans across the state. Before I was even old enough to rent a car, I was the victim of identity theft.

These days, I guard my purse like a hawk. I don't go anywhere without checking and double-checking that my purse is either on my shoulder or sitting right next to me. If anybody even so much as places a pinky on my satchel, I have a can of Mace with their name written all over it.

But these are just material things. What about the things that really matter?

What about our hearts?

I have been guilty of granting unlimited access to my heart. In friendships, with co-workers and even with people I've dated, I have allowed people to take as much of me as they wanted. I have poured out everything I had--time, money, energy, encouragement, love--to the point where there was nothing left. I thought that was what a Christian is supposed to do; give and give until you can't give anymore.

Right?

Sorry. Wrong answer.

This verse in Proverbs reminds us that our heart is our most prized possession. It is the source of our lives, and we should treat it accordingly. Now, that's not to say there is anything wrong with being an encouragement to others. In my case, that's just who I am and that will never change. However, when you're dealing with "heart thieves," there comes a moment when you must ask yourself:

Are they making more withdrawals than deposits?

Let's be honest--not everyone is sincere. There are people who, God bless 'em, don't know how to do anything but use others. They operate through guilt trips, deceit and (my personal pet peeve) passive-aggressiveness. And when they have taken all that they believe you have to offer, they will walk away, more than likely taking with them a piece of your heart.

You get mad. You cry. You feel like everyone in the whole world is against you. You feel like the answer to this current heartache is to place your heart under lock and key and never allow anyone to get close again. FBRs, there's no need to be so drastic. All you have to do is learn how to control who has access.

A lot of people I know have a general idea about where I live. A smaller group can tell you my address. My inner circle knows when I'll be at home. But only two people other than me have the keys to my house.

Guard your heart. In this life, you only get one.


Be Encouraged,

K.

Single, Not Desperate

I'm single, not desperate.

If you ask an experienced runner for advice, the very first thing they will say is to pace yourself. There is no way anyone can keep a sprinter's pace for twenty miles, and it is downright crazy to even try. When you run too fast, you either end up injuring yourself or you become so worn out that you lose your desire to run at all.

Someone will catch that in a minute.

Pace yourself, work on your stride and toss that stopwatch in the nearest trash can. Whether you finish first, last or somewhere in the middle, the victory lies in getting there.

I'm single, not desperate.

Why is he with her and not with me?

Maybe it's the way she laughed at his jokes. Maybe it's the way his name sounds when she says it. It might even be because she's a Lakers fan (though I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to date someone with such poor taste).

Does it really matter?

You could write a dissertation on all the reasons why you believe he chose her, but it won't earn you the Pulitzer. Instead, you'll be rewarded with a non-stop playlist from the Trauma DJ, playing your greatest hits:

You're not good enough.

You're not smart enough.

You will never find love.

Don't fall for it. Change the channel before the commercial break ends. There is victory in letting go.

I'm single, not desperate.

In fourth grade, I was head over heels in love with Arthur Miller. I did everything to get his attention: I teased my bangs within an inch of their life; I borrowed my sister's purple leather jacket to wear at recess. I even made him brownies, though unsweetened cocoa with no sugar probably made them taste like mud pies. When none of that worked, I went to my fail-proof plan....

I chased him across the playground, tackled him and tied him up with my jump rope.

Now, we're older and wiser;yet some of us are still using the same tactics to garner the attention of the opposite sex. Maybe we're not tying people up with jump ropes, but we are tearing others down in a misguided attempt to call attention to ourselves. In the words of Dr. Phil: "How's that workin' out for you?"

Grow up. You know I'm serious because I ended with a preposition.

I'm single, not desperate.

During yesterday's sermon, my pastor-dad recounted a portion of our family testimony. As he detailed some of the darkest days in my twenty-nine years, I couldn't help but cry. I was not crying because of what I have lost; I was crying because of all that I have gained. Sometimes, you need to hear someone else tell your story before you realize what God has truly done in your life.

Like you, I'm human. There are days--and especially nights--when I struggle with loneliness. There are adventures I want to experience with the love of my life and no one else. There are times when I see couples very much in love and my heart feels like it's in a vise grip.

But then, I remember.

I remember all the many times in my life when I cried out to God and He heard me. Not only did He supply my needs, He did so in a way that left me speechless. He has healed my heart repeatedly, and even when I had to go through the fire, He made sure I came out unscathed. If God says He is writing my love story, I'm going to step back and let Him do it. Though I'm cold with a pen, my skills pale in comparison to the author of love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next time someone inquires about your relationship status, don't just tell them you're single. You are so much more than that! Make eye contact, smile, use your professional voice and confidently proclaim:

I am single, not desperate.

Shirts and bumper stickers will be available in March.

Be Encouraged,

K.

I Didn't Mean To Turn You...Off

Inspired by today's blog at verysmartbrothas.com Check 'em out!

We are all very fond of listing the reasons why men or women should date us, but what about the things that would make someone run for the hills? If dating is like a job interview, I might as well come up with an answer for that ridiculously frustrating question: What is your biggest weakness?

I promise, I just have a few.


1. I'm arrogant/vain.

From the moment I was born, I spent more time with my dad than anyone else. When I would cry at night, he'd take me out of my crib, walk downstairs and stand in front of the hallway mirror so I could look at myself...and I'd stop crying. Seriously.

Not much has changed since 1982--I still make sure the screen door is closed all the way so I can catch a full-length glimpse of myself before I head to work. I study my walk as I pass mirrored buildings; I check my reflection in the rearview mirror more than I check for other cars.

In short, I love me. Spassusafa.

2. I'm spoiled.

I promised I would never share this, but for the sake of full disclosure, I'll let y'all in on a little secret. Every morning, Shayla makes me coffee. I don't mean just turning on the machine...I mean she makes it, pours me a cup and brings it to my room for me. Of course, that makes her a completely awesome sister (LOVE YOU, BESTIE), but I realize it's rather abnormal. Okay, and it's kind of selfish too. I can't really expect my husband to bring me coffee in bed...can I?

If you're willing to do that, send me an e-mail, text, Facebook message, Twitter DM, BBM or a note tied to a pigeon. Thank you in advance.

3. I'm cheap(ish).

This has been well-detailed in previous blog entries, but I am the GREAT bargain hunter. If it's not on sale, don't even bother talking about it. If it is on sale, and especially if it's on clearance, you've got my attention. There are few things in this life that bring me more joy than seeing a red slash on a price tag.

But I will pay full price for some things. Like....uhhhhhhh......hmmmmmm......

Let me get back to you on that.

4. 96% of rap music makes me ill.

Try to see it from my perspective, folks: words are my life. I can't get so wrapped up in the beat that I fail to hear the ignorance flowing through my speakers. It doesn't move me the way a song from Ledisi, Kem or John Legend does.

I do like that new Big Sean song though. Brings out the latent chickenhead tendencies in me.

5. I'm not a night owl.

I get up at 5:00 to exercise and I never take naps. Contrary to popular belief, I can stay up past 11:00--it's just that you'll see a very different side of me late in the midnight hour. The censor button is off, and...well,I won't ruin the surprise for you.

6. In spite of it all, I still have love for the Dallas Cowboys and the Detroit Pistons.

Need I say more?


So, if you ever see me walking down the street with some man--and I'm holding a steaming hot mug of coffee and wearing my Pistons t-shirt--go ahead, give him a head nod. Pat him on the back. Start a slow clap. He will have earned it.

Be Encouraged,

K.

The Instruction Manual

For Christmas, I received a bunch of new technology...so much so that I finally had to add a wireless network to my cell phone package.

At first, things were going well. I added the network to my new tablet and soon, I was downloading all the games, books and music I could handle. The network even showed up on my cell phone. But for some reason, I just couldn't get my laptop to jump on board. I tried everything--a reboot, a diagnostic check of my wireless card, even disabling all other connections except the new network. And yet, I still saw the red X next to the internet connection. It became the bane of my existence.

In a last ditch effort, I rummaged through my junk closet and found the box for the router. Inside was the instruction manual, still in pristine, untouched condition. I fumbled through the pages until I found a section on laptops. As I read the words and followed the illustrations, I had to suppress the urge to slap myself on the forehead.

DUH!


I had spent nearly three weeks trying to figure this out on my own; three minutes after I read the instructions, my laptop was up and running at lightning speed.

You know I'm going somewhere with this, right?

Everyday, we do the same thing. We depend on our human intellect to help us wade through the murky waters of depression, relationship woes, major career decisions and financial setbacks. We've got all the answers we could ever need in our minds; we say "no thank you" when help is offered. We've got this.

And yet, we remain frustrated. Perplexed. Confused.Stomach rumbling. Teeth grinding. Head aching. As the clock rolls toward 3 in the morning, we're sitting on the edge pondering that age-old question: Why isn't this working?

The answer is simple. It (whatever "it" is in your life) is not working because you haven't read the instruction manual.

Go find it. Maybe it's in your junk drawer or in the trunk of your car. Perhaps it's on the mantel in your living room, collecting dust bunnies. I'm not judging. Wipe them off and start reading. There's even a troubleshooting section in the back if you're not exactly sure where to go. When that connection is established (or reestablished), please don't facepalm. Just remember the next time you find yourself in a situation far bigger than you, you have help. You have the instruction manual.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. In all thy ways, acknowledge Him and He will direct your path.
--Proverbs 3:5-6


Be Encouraged, y'all.

-K.

Auld Lang Syne

Dear 2011,

I want to say this was a great year for me. I would love to talk about how I stepped out on faith, did me and walked with greatness. But, I can't.

The truth is, I made some mistakes.

I allowed my pride to stand in the way. A lot. I flew halfway across the country and let my fear of rejection stop me from truly living in the moment. My anger caused me to lash out the people I love; my guilt kept me awake at night. I accepted every event invitation to The Pity Party--guest list, one.

Do I regret it? Nah. 2011 was just my Scrap Paper Year.

Back in high school, anytime a standardized test was administered, you got a sheet of scrap paper. You could work out math problems, brainstorm ideas or even doodle until you relaxed enough to finish the test. The scrap paper was never pretty or neat. There was always frenzied writing on both sides of the page, pencil smudges, eraser crumbs and scribbles. Sometimes, I even balled it up in a fit of frustration....usually over some preposterous word problem. But I never threw it away. That frenetic writing translated into answers I needed. The only way I could pass the test was by referring to the scrap paper.

So, 2011, thank you. I will refer back to the smudges of anxiety and the scribbles of anger. I will recall the eraser marks of pride and depression. I will put an asterisk next to that whole section about Mr. Big (he knows who he is....in fact, he's probably reading this blog). Every situation, every circumstance is an answer I need:

A
B
C
D. All of the above
E. None of the above

I have shown my work.

In 2012, I'm passing the test.

Still Encouraged,

K.

It Will All Come Back To You

Tomorrow, my parents would have celebrated their 37th wedding anniversary. Normally, I repost an essay I wrote a few years ago on the subject (Why Didn't I Get Married, for my FB friends). This year, I felt I needed to say more. As I look back on a year filled with highly publicized scandals and divorces, I feel like it is time to revisit my beliefs on love and marriage.

If you know me, you know I am a huge fan of Mike and Regenia Woodberry. As a married couple, they went through just about everything a couple can face: the loss of all four of their parents; the birth of four children and the tragic death of one; the loss of siblings and friends; literally, for richer and poorer and in sickness and health. In the thirteen years I spent observing their marriage, I did not see perfection.

I saw, however, more good days than bad days.
I saw a husband and wife who refused to quit, even when they could have.
I saw two people who were committed to God, to their children and to one another.
I saw love.

But times are different. Today, fewer and fewer Americans are willing to jump the broom. That's asking too much. We should settle for being tagged on Facebook and mentioned on Twitter. If we really like each other a lot, maybe we can sign a lease--but not a marriage certificate.

Every day, a politician or entertainer is releasing a statement to the media, apologizing for marital indiscretions. Deion and Pilar Sanders, Kobe and Vanessa Bryant, Kris Humphries and Kimmy K, Matthew and Tina Knowles have all said "I don't" this year. Divorce attorneys are raking in more coins than Scrooge McDuck.

Domestic violence is now more common than ever. Men and women continually use their fists and weapons to voice their anger and frustration, leading to the demise of countless mothers, fathers and innocent children.

I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent woman. Knowing what I know, is marriage a risk I am willing to take?

Absolutely.

Please believe me--the rose-colored glasses are off. I have been cheated on, disrespected, hurt and rejected more times than I'd care to admit. I no longer believe that Prince Charming is going to whisk me away from a world of despair into Happily Ever After.

I just believe in love.

A love that...

...laughs at the corniest jokes.
...will eat that disgusting enchilada casserole and pretend to love it!
...notices a new hairstyle or weight loss.
...pumps the gas because it's freezing outside.
...gives the courage to share anything.
...prays with me and for me.
...encourages.

A love that never fails.

On what would be the last anniversary my parents shared together, my father played a song for my mother: "When You Love Someone" by Anita Baker and James Ingram. I have had that song on a cassette tape, CD and every mp3 player I have ever owned. It has followed me from high school to college to the tail end of my twenties. Every year, I play that song on December 21. I close my eyes and let the tears fall as I think about my parents and their love...about my life and what I hope to have one day. If I'm by myself, I sing it at the top of my lungs.

Of course, I know the lyrics by heart:

When you love someone
And you love them with your heart
And it doesn't disappear
If you're apart
When you love someone
And you've done all you can do
Set them free
And if that love is true
When you love someone
It will all come back to you


FBRs, here's to the reciprocity of love.
May the love you have shared--and the love you will share--ALWAYS come back to you.

--K.

Cheater, Cheater, Pumpkin Eater

For the past week, I've been doing a lot of thinking about monogamous relationships. Those of you who know me know that I am Miss Optimistic. I will be the first person to tell you I believe in all of those "antiquated" notions about love; the soulmate, THE ONE, etc.

Except lately, all you seem to hear about is cheating. Whether it's emotional (letting down your guard with a co-worker or close friend) or physical (the drunken bachelor party/one night stand), the outcome is always the same. Someone is left with a broken heart, wondering where they went wrong and how to pick up the pieces.

In what I consider to be my first adult relationship, he cheated on me. There were several different factors at play: it was long-distance, we were growing apart, I was getting restless, etc. Still, that didn't change how devastated I felt when I walked into his apartment and saw signs of the other woman.

For those of you who are wondering, I didn't go Angela Bassett. I just got my stuff, walked back downstairs, got in my car and left.

Okay, I did peel out of the parking lot, but a girl has to give a little drama.

Has it changed me? Somewhat. I went through the grieving process--plenty of Toni Braxton, Fantasia and chocolate cheesecake. I DID NOT date while I was healing, because I feel that is a huge problem in the world right now: subjecting the next person to the last person's baggage.

I revised my rules, a little scrap of paper I keep in the front of my journal, chronicling the lessons I've learned about dating in the past ten years.

Lots of scribbles and bold print.

When I reentered the dating world, I will admit that I was still very cautious--kind of like the first time a kid is allowed to swim in the "big pool." Even though I logged many hours of introspection and prayer, I couldn't help but ask myself:

Am I good enough?
Is he going to cheat on me too?
Is all of this just an exercise in futility?

And then I smacked myself for being melodramatic.

In the seventh grade, I got food poisoning. I'm talking crying out to God, choosing which end goes on the toilet kind of food poisoning. It lasted for about three days. On the fourth day, I managed to keep down a bowl of chicken broth. By the end of the week, I was back to eating solids. Within two weeks, you never would have known I even had food poisoning.

My point (and I do have one): how silly would it be for me to stop eating just because I got sick one time?

That's the way I chose to deal with the aftermath of cheating. I wasn't going to dive into a buffet, but I could stomach an appetizer. One date--one evening at a restaurant, getting to know someone. Then, another one. And even though those dates didn't turn into a relationship, I realized I was ready to move on.

So, what's my official stance on cheating? I never want to go through it again. BUT, if I must, I know how to cope. And I will keep going through ups and downs of dating, until I meet the man who completely captures my heart.

He's out there.

If y'all see him, tell him to send me a BBM.

Be Encouraged,

K.