BROKEN PIECES IN LOVE

Over two years ago, I was involved in a car accident. It was said that an accident happened behind me and pushed into my car. The third car spun in the air and landed to the right of me facing the other direction and I don’t even know how the car ended up on the left of me, but I was surrounded by damaged vehicles on every side except in the front. My vehicle was the only one able to be driven off the freeway, being that I only suffered damage from behind. Pieces from one of the cars sat on my bumper on the way to get the kids, on the ride home, and even on my way to work the next day, tucked over to the right side. I didn’t notice the pile of glass and screws until I was headed to lunch, while examining the damages in detail before driving off. I decided to get a piece of paper from my car and remove the pieces to the ground so I wouldn’t cut my hand, but I needed to move them out of the way in case I caused any damage to my tire trying to drive away from that spot. As I moved the pieces, I had to sweep them even further as to not damage any other person’s tires. Those broken pieces of glass lead me to believe this is how we do some of our relationships. You can either be the broken pieces sitting on someone’s bumper or you can be the holder of the broken pieces. Either way, both can be uncomfortable.

Be careful causing other’s to bleed from pieces of glass they didn’t break.

My children’s father and I were together for 6 1/2 years before he passed, which left me full of grief, bitterness, and anger. Now, at that time, I wasn’t honest with myself about those particular feelings, but one feeling I was most clear about was loneliness, which was normal after having someone laying next to you everyday for 6 years and suddenly you are alone. I was VERY reluctant on getting in another relationship after experiencing those emotions all at once. I, truly, didn’t want to believe, as a mother of three very small children at the time, I would even be liked let alone loved unconditionally by a man anyway. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen many single mothers and fathers get into happy and long relationships after a heartbreak, but that way of thinking I had was a reflection of how I felt about myself. I didn’t have nearly the level of confidence I have in myself now compared to then.

Now, I have only had one or two serious relationships since my ex’s passing. The one thing I tried my best to consider in those relationships were not allowing that particular person to pay for the emotions brought on by someone previously. Just like the pile on my bumper, I didn’t want someone to have to hold on to my broken pieces trying to love me. I knew my heart wanted to love again, but I was afraid. I was afraid of wasting my time. I was afraid of being lied to again. I was afraid of even getting my hopes to be let down. All of those fears led me to not actually be serious about a relationship. I was just meeting guys to talk on the phone to sort of fill the void of companionship. Not saying I don’t have those fears still at times, but I’m learning when you allow God to truly guard and guide your heart, you can’t go wrong. There are situations we put ourselves in for whatever reason that may be, but I’ve found God will allow those situations to teach us lessons and show us what He might have been trying to protect us from.

Be careful trying to love people whole. You may end up losing some of your pieces.

With me trying not to have my broken pieces held, I’ve found myself being the holder of others’. One particular man I was with was deeply hurt in his previous relationship with his children’s mother. I found myself losing my marbles trying to understand why he tended to kind of shut down when things were going in a good direction. Through many conversations, I learned the hurt he experienced caused him not to be able to fully expect good in a relationship. He just wanted to “ride the waves” and I felt like I made more waves with my irrational behavior caused by me not fully understanding what I tried my best not to do in a relationship. I thought me being there and continuing to love him through everything would make it all better, but I had to learn the hard way it would never be possible. While he tried to protect me from his broken pieces, I found myself trying to piece them back together, so to speak, while literally cutting my hands in the process.

Studying the meaning of these pieces left on my car allowed me to take a step back and realize the parts I’ve played in my own heartbreak and even good relationships I messed up with my own hands. First, I had to forgive myself for those parts and trust the process of becoming whole. I knew I could never have a successful relationship if I didn’t deal with things internally within myself. I knew I wouldn’t be able to be receptive to the type of love and companionship I desired. I would just continue to cut others with my broken pieces and even ones I’ve picked up from other’s damages. Second, I had to learn how to effectively love myself. I can almost bet there are millions around the world who look in the mirror daily and find something they don’t like about themselves. I believe when you effectively love yourself, you love the good and the bad because both ultimately make up who you are. If you don’t love you, how can you expect someone else to love you? The good and the bad. We can try because I most certainly have, but the foundation of love starts in you. Love you the way you desire someone to give you love, maybe even more. Be Blessed.

Understanding My Father’s Love & Vision

Hello Family! I have not written a post in a little while, but I can definitely tell you I have been working on soooooo many things involving my VISION for “The Vision Blogger” Companies so be on the lookout. BIG THINGS ARE HAPPENING!!! (My team tells me I need to focus on one thing, but I can’t. LOL.)

At the end of August, my daughter, Mya, and I went to support one of my church sisters, Rhoshonda Adkison’s, event “Breakfast with Daddy’s Girl”. The event was located at Hanz’s Diner in North Houston where in the provided area, the women and young girls sat on the outside of the tables, while men sat in the middle. Each man represented that day was the “Dad” for about three or four ladies or young girls and became responsible for them for the time given. After our informal meet and greet, we all wrote out the letters to spell father on the sheet of paper given and were asked to describe what a father is using each letter. As we formulated our list, Mya started to remember her dad and came up with words with that glee and smile in her eyes I hadn’t seen in a long while. Most of the words did not start with the letters provided, but it was amazing to hear her just describe him. That moment caused me to step back and truly think about my father and how our relationship and his passing affected me.

Mya was SPOILED with a capital “S”. Now the word “spoiled” is often used as a derogatory term, but in my eyes, if a child or teenager was spoiled, they often got mostly everything they wanted and were not punished for things you might have received a punishment for. As a child, growing up, I confused being spoiled with being more loved. One day, I actually told my dad I felt he loved my sisters more than me because they were always getting what they wanted from him. His words to me were, “You have the same opportunities to get what you want and need from me, but you don’t ask.” He was right. In my mind, at the time I felt like it was wrong of me to always go and ask my dad for anything when my little sister was always going to him already for everything. I also felt like I didn’t call him enough or spent enough time with him to ask him for things I wanted or needed. I just never wanted my dad to feel like I only called him for those reasons. Looking back on this now, I am the same way with God. I know He is absolutely everything and He can do what I can’t, but I never want it to seem like I only talk to Him when I need Him. After the conversation with my dad, I realized it was my fault I felt the way I did. Point blank, I never in no shape, form, or fashion, felt unloved by my father, but as a young girl, I never knew how and what it meant for a father to show real love without having gifts and things I desired. As a teenager, as I grasped the concept of what a father’s love should consist of, I realized I looked forward to meals with my dad, going to church with him, and laughing with him until my stomach hurt more than having the materialistic things.  Thankfully, I learned this early on where that perception of love would not boil over into my relationships as an adult. I was proud to say that my daughter experienced love from her father different than how I felt as a young girl. Her father wasn’t fully in a position to give her everything she wanted. Honestly at three years old, she really didn’t ask for much of anything. She knew her father loved her by the time spent with her, the hugs and kisses he gave, and the compliments of how beautiful she is. That’s the love she experienced in only three years that she still thinks about almost five years later.

Losing my father at 22 was TOUGH for two reasons. One, I had just left my home church a year before and he had become my pastor and baptized me. As my pastor, our relationship grew stronger than I could’ve ever imagined. I saw my father in a different light and didn’t want that light to dim from my life. The second reason was, two months to the day of his passing, I had just given birth to my first child, Elijah. I remember the day I had him. The look in his eyes was unexplainable. He kept coming in the recovery room with me and going right back out to check on my son. The next day, he came back to the hospital and just held him for hours. My sister told me he preached about Elijah from the Bible for three weeks straight. When we came back to church, after service was over, he prayed and said, “Bring me my grandson.” You could see the joy in his eyes and hear it in his smile when he called. It pained me to come to grips with him not being able to see him and the other grandchildren grow up. Even now, it hurts sometimes to think about how he never got a chance to meet all the other grandkids who have been born since his passing. 

The final activity of the event was writing a letter to our fathers. I truly thought the activity was going to be an emotional one for myself and Mya but it was actually relieving. In Mya’s letter, she wrote about everything she missed about him being here on earth with her. As we finished, I started to ask myself, “What do you want to say that you never got a chance to say?” One thing was how much I loved and appreciated him as my father and at that time, as my Pastor. My father would move the moon and stars for his wife, his girls, his family, his friends and God’s people. He was a true servant. It was a blessing to see him sick, well, happy, or sad serve. That’s why when I saw the flyer where my father’s church, True Praise Missionary Baptist Church, under Pastor Earnest Helaire, Jr., was having their opening service for the new building, I couldn’t and wouldn’t have missed it. My father’s VISION had come to pass. I didn’t know everything True Praise had to go through to get the building but I knew there were obstacles. Before and even during the opening service, they continued to face opposition when the air conditioner went out. That didn’t stop them from giving God praise and honor for what He had done for them as a church. First Lady Sha Helaire and other members served the members and guests ice water because of the heat. I just believed just as she served in that moment, it was a direct representation of True Praise and what they had to endure as they waited for the vision to come to pass. They continued to serve. They didn’t quit. They didn’t allow road blocks to hinder the process of moving forward.Passing by my grandparents’ house, I had seen the pieces for the building many times, but to see all the pieces together to create the beautiful edifice was encouraging. My vision is written ALL OVER on many sheets of paper in my journal, sticky notes on my desk, and even notes in my phone, in pieces. My pieces can and will come to pass just like my father’s vision did. “And the Lord answered me, and said, write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it. For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry.” My father wrote the vision and made it plain. His church, now under the leadership of Pastor Helaire, continued on even in the midst of the heartbreak of losing their child, brother, friend, and pastor. They are running with what was written.

Every single person in this world has had their own experience with love from their birth fathers whether it was existent or non-existent. Some people don’t or didn’t have the luxury of even having their father in their lives at all or only in bits and pieces of it. What I have always found throughout my life and even through others’ testimonies, whatever you may have felt about your father, whether he was there or not, God is the only one who can fill any void you may have from not having your father around or not receiving what you needed from him. I love the idea of the “Daddy’s Girls” Ministry because Rhoshonda brings teenage girls together, which I believe the teen years are a pivotal stage in life, to minister to them about the love of Christ and building an unimaginable bond with Him. As great as my biological father was to me and as much love I am surrounded by from my family and friends, I could never live without the love of God and wouldn’t be able to understand life at times without having that relationship with Him.  

With this post, I honor my father, Pastor Jim Miles, Jr. and True Praise Missionary Baptist Church. I love you guys tremendously. Keep up the good work. Be Blessed.