Expect Less? Naaah

On Instagram  and Tumblr, there are always posts talking about the keys to happiness. They all seem to included this rule:

Give More…. Expect Less

This seems like the perfect motto to follow, right? Allow me to explain why this “key to happiness” irritates me, with a series of questions.

1. WHY, do I need to expect less in order to be happy?

2. WHO/WHAT am I expecting less from? People? My job? My environment? The President? Strangers?

3. HOW is not expecting the most, or any good amount, of anything and from everyone going to make me happy?

Oh yeah, it’s going to help me avoid disappointment. *Insert exaggerated eye roll here* LIFE HAS DISAPPOINTMENTS!!! Expecting less isn’t going to prevent you from experiencing them. And what good is a hard heart?

Want to know something crazy? I used to live by this “rule”. I was basically a walking billboard for this school of thought. I honestly believed that expecting little to nothing would help my avoid troubles, stress and heartache. I just knew that my sweet victories would be that much sweeter. Not true. Not true at all.

My reality now? I expect Everything. I expect more than my mind can currently conceive. Why? Because I live with a God inside of me who can give me everything that I want and more. Why, oh why, would I limit my blessings? Why would I limit God by expecting less of Him?

The only key to happiness that I know to work 100% of the time is God. Keep the Insta-wisdom. Try God and see how it works out.

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MY God Wouldn’t Send Me A Gay Man

The polite/politically correct thing to do would be to start this post with a disclaimer, but I’m not too much of either. My beliefs and opinions on sexuality are irrelevant, which is why I haven’t posted them. Want a disclaimer? Read it here.

Throughout my 25 years of life, I’ve witnessed many a marriage end in divorce for a myriad of reasons. I’ve seen more than I’d like to admit end because the male in the relationship liked men. Some were more “I’m leaving you. I’m gay”, while others were a “I’m going on ‘business’ trips to pride weekends” type of guys. All were gay.

I started thinking about these women that entered unions  in which one person was homosexual. In the past I’d heard the vast majority say, on numerous occasions, that their husband was sent to them by God. Heard them talk about how He placed this wonderful man in their life when they were least expecting it. How grateful they were for such a blessing.

And this is the face that I make on the inside when I hear of their terrible divorce.

 Now, I know that God is always in the blessing business, but didn’t he say somethings in The Good Book about being equally yoked? Something about hetero and homo just don’t  seem very equal. Maybe it’s just me.

There is the argument that could be made for the unfortunate victims of divorce, that they didn’t know. Very much a possibility. For some. But hasn’t God also given us a spirit of discernment? We can even take God out of the equation for a second. Women have gut feelings. Did not nary a one of these women have a feeling that something just wasn’t right? NONE OF THEM?! Of course not. God sent them the man. He’s perfect!

No. Let’s be real. MY  God doesn’t just send out alley oops of complete failure for entertainment purposes. You can’t tell me that he plopped a man who likes men in front of you and said “here is the man who you are supposed to love and marry”. Just… NO. Here’s the way that I imagine these mismatched marriages come about:

Women live their lives in fear of being forever alone. As they get older, this fear become much more real. So what do they do? Find themselves a man, duh. The problem is, their determination to win over their impending forever aloneness overshadows everything else. They have blurry vision. They don’t see all of the signs. They’re too busy listening to the ticking clock to hear anything else. They’re too preoccupied day dreaming about having a gut full of baby to notice the tug in their gut letting them know that something isn’t quite right.

Do I believe that God does indeed place people into our lives for various reasons? Yes. Do I believe that the man with whom I will enter holy matrimony will be someone who The Big Guy has placed in my life? Yes. Do I think that the gay men that women marry and give all sorts of testimonials about were sent to them by God? Absolutely not. MY God just wouldn’t do that. I don’t know about yours.

Tidbits From My Blogging Hiatus

I know, I know. I said that I would post twice a week. I said that I wouldn’t disappear for long periods of time. I’m human. I had the best of intentions, yet weeks have gone by without so much as a click in my corner of the WordPress world. I’m a work in progress. I’m only human. All of the above. I have a few tidbits that I’d like to share. Some of these things were meant to be full posts of their own, but my brain and my pen wouldn’t cooperate.

– First, a couple of  things that I’m not here for. (Since it’s the new online trend. I do find the statement quite catchy, and find myself saying it in real life on occasion)

1. The universal conversation of lil Gabby’s new growth. I don’t care what her mother’s hair looks like. I don’t care how easy it is to slap a perm on. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. That child trains day in and day out in West Bumbleboondocks *enter rural state where we don’t think black people live*. That child runs, flips, and tumbles in chalk. She sweats for a living. She crossed the pond for one reason. To be crowned the baddest lil lady in gymnastics, by winning Olympic gold. Her mission has been accomplished. And *gasp* she did it with nappy edges. Her hair was not a factor in nary a score. Her form was near perfect, and that smile is infectious. That girl is a world-class athlete. Leave her be.

2. My face breaking out like a middle schooler. Recently, I’ve notice that my skin has decided to rebel against my face. They are engaging in a war that I was neither notified of, or would have given my consent. I’m 25 years old. I went through puberty quite a while ago. I don’t know what I did to deserve this awkward 8th grader’s skin. I keep telling myself that this is simply toxins leaving my body due to my recent incorporation of green smoothies and my new obsession with vegetables. I have so much more skin on my body. These toxins need to find another exit route.

3. My allergies. Food allergies. Nature allergies. Skin allergies. None of them .

 

– I’m slowly turning into a healthy eater. I feel it. I’ve been trying to fight it, but my vegetable cravings are no joke. For some reason I want to eat broccoli and carrots all the time. A smoothie and a banana for breakfast, apple for snack and salads for lunch. I don’t know where this came from. My snack drawer at work was infamous. Now, there’s fruit and sunflower seeds. These are the things that I crave. Also, I’ve developed a fascination with juicing. I want to buy an amazing juicer, and eventually make all of my own juice. Of course, I’m going to start with a juice fast, just to see how much crap that it forces to leave my body. There is a down side to this uber-healthy change. I don’t want meat very much. This wouldn’t be much of an issue if I wasn’t allergic to fish. Yes, one of the allergies that I’m not here for. Not being able to eat anything with scales eliminates so many great meal options.

– I’m never boycotting the magical deliciousness that is Chik-Fil-A. I don’t care who they donate money to. They gave me my first job, and I thoroughly appreciated being able to have Sundays off for church. Not to mention, they have the best chicken nuggets and waffle fries ever. EVER. When that craving calls, I will forever answer.

– I need a name for people who I call friends, who aren’t really friends. People that I connect with on specific levels and nothing else. They are not qualified for overall life involvement, but they’re dope people nonetheless. What do we call these people? I needs to know.

Here’s to the hope that this post will kick-start a steady stream of ideas and words.

Beautiful In The Dark

What does beautiful look like in the dark?

I saw this question on a random blog and could not immediately produce a worthy answer. Is there beautiful in the dark? There must be, because there’s beauty in everything. So what does beautiful look like in the dark? Through my eyes.

– Beautiful looks like a clear sky in the middle of a country field. Me laying on my back. No thoughts.

– Reaching out in the dead of sleep for the love that you know is right there.

– A dream that doesn’t end when you open your eyes.

– Perfection

– The calm after the most heinous of storms

What does beautiful in the dark look like to you?