Love is a Giving Thing

Today, I am thinking about love and how much it cost to love someone.  I am thoroughly convinced that people fall in love just for the feeling of being loved back.  Let's be real.  People get divorced at alarming rates because the significant other is not significant anymore.  People fall in love and they fall out of love.  I don't necessarily agree that it is about love.  I think it is about not being able to receive what they think they deserve.  When you are doing all of the giving and the other person is doing all of the taking you get tired of serving yourself on a platter.  It is truly sad when you realize that a person in your life will never be able to return the love you have given to them.  Sometimes, emotionally, they just can't.  They are mentally ill or emotionally dysfunctional.  You will always be sending cards and flowers that are met with indifference.  I am in a place like that.  Most of the people in it, don't know how to love.  They take and don't say "Thank You".  They reap where they don't sow.  Somehow, it is in their minds that they are entitled to get what you have without being grateful.  Well, I realized that love is a giving thing.  You can't really give something away if you expect something in return.  Jesus healed all of the lepers but only one returned with gratitude.  That did not stop him from healing all of them.  You do this knowing that most will not be grateful and many will not return.  You ask, then why love.  You love because in the end, God will make everything right.  He will reward you.  He will place a crown on your head and he will validate you by saying, "Well Done".  The old folks said that you are sending up your timber for your mansion in the sky.  Love is a giving thing.

Say what you need to say ...........and mean it.

Growing up with a emotionally dysfunctional mother, I had to learn not to take her games personally.  One of the games she played, was that she would only praise me in the absence of me.  In my presence she resented every trophy I had.  As a logical kid, I was not hurt by that.  The numbers told me of my greatness and not her lips.  My GPA, my net worth my accolades told me that I was really something.  Her words, though nice, were not necessary for me to know my worth.  Actually, the whole of the African- American community was like that.  Within it's walls, you were shunned as an Uncle Tom, but you could be praised in front of white folk.  Not until recently did I understand funerals.  People get up and give speeches about people whom they really did not like and if living, would say nothing about them.  I saw tears fall for the dead that did not fall when they were living.  I wondered why those words were said in the first place.  I realized that those words are just said to all to make the living feel better.  They are selfish words that don't mean life.  They are words to help them get through the night.  They are not for the dead because the dead cannot hear, the dead can't respond and the dead can't refuse them.  I know of one person whom I don't like.  When they die, I won't attend a funeral, I won't send no flowers and I won't give a eulogy.  I had nothing to say in life and then I will not have anything to say in death.  Let all your words be spoken where they can be heard and appreciated.  My mother's words were to make her look better in the company of superior peers.  She needed something to grab onto.  She needed something  because she was uneducated, sickly and broke.  She had nothing else in her basket, so she borrowed a bit from mine.  Funny how you grow up to figure things out like that.

Be blessed.

Let the race....................end.

My mother's life long obsession was her sister Valerie.  There were eight years between the two of them.  The only reason why my mother decided to go back to school when she was twenty eight is because Valerie was in college.  I remembered that.  She went to Ohio State University and was applauded for being one of the ones who did.  My aunt Queen celebrated her and she had the support of her family.  My mother was happy working in diners and living on aid until Valerie went to college.  Some say, change is good no matter the impetus, but that is wrong.  My mother changed because she was in competition.  She disrespected my aunt something fierce because she secretly wanted to be my aunt.  When I came along, I was smart like Valerie.  Her insecurities came back up and she started competing again with me.  My mother entered into races that she never could win.  Someone is always better than you at something.  You will never measure up to humanity and my mother never did.  When she realized that, she became nasty.  She treated other women like plagues and had few friends.  Her self-esteem did not exist.  I can remember a time when I had to have my college transcripts.  There was the semester that I dealt with my mothers death.  I can remember this person remarking that their grade point average never fell below an "A".  I told her that I lost my mother, but for one second she thought she had finally beaten me.  I had a bad semester because I lost my mother.  She failed in life on her own accord and somehow she compared that to me.  She was competing against me like we in a race to the place called, "Arrived".  How pathetic she was.  That was energy wasted.  I pray that we as sisters can stop using each other as measuring sticks, and stop competing with each other.

Only equals can be friends.

I have come to the conclusion that only equals can walk together as friends.  Inequality, not in the same form, but yet still equal helps people to appreciate themselves while they appreciate other people.  It is difficult for any person to hear the virgins dancing in the street over the accomplishments of someone who hails as a hero.  I see it so often in relationships of my own.  I count myself as an accomplished person.  Ordained as a Reverend  at the tender age of 25, in the same year, I completed my Master of Science in Education.  Two years later, I moved into my own home.  Six months after moving into my own home, I bought a car.  I secured employment that I have held for eighteen years.  I sing, I preach, I write poetry and I am writing a book.  With all that is going on in my life, I can't diminish who I am to make you feel better standing beside me.  That breeds resentment.  Some of my friends actually rejoice when they see my flaws because it makes them feel better.  They lay in wait, hoping to see the humanity that is in everyone because they can't stand to see another gift or talent.  This weekend, I hooked up with an old college buddy.  A woman, just as accomplished and just as talented.  We laughed like we were twenty two again.  I cried when we parted ways.  I have been missing that.  Compatriots.  People who came up with me.  People who grew up with me.  Many of the people in my life now, met me at a time when I was already a made woman.  They are coming along, and I have not arrived, but we are not equal.  It was nice to have a conversation with an equal.