An Amazon Princess

Purpose.

A loaded word.

It is defined this way:

"...the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists."

Do you have this? In your life I mean. Do you understand why you are here? Do you know why you were created?

I'll give you a hint, it isn't likely to be for drinking coffee and schlepping from one place to the next. While these may be avenues of your daily life, and to some degree it is true for all of us, this is not the intent of the design.

I recently watched Wonder Woman. And. Man-oh-man, was I inspired. I made a statement on social media that went something like this....

"Dang. I'm gonna be as tough as Wonder Woman one day. But I'd have to grow two feet and stop eating Big Macs. So. Yeah. Maybe Velma is more my speed."

I wanted to be her. Tough - physically and mentally. Beautiful. Tall. Quick. Smart. Sacrificial. Giving. Seemingly flawless character. The embodiment of perfection. A tool of the gods. Designed for a purpose.

I'm close to the opposite of Wonder Woman in many ways. I am not the image of physical perfection. I am not solely sacrificial or giving. My character is flawed. I'm not super quick, probably because of those delicious Big Macs.

What we do share, Wonder Woman and I, is this. We are both designed for a purpose. We are both a tool for service. (Now I admit, for the record, I'd rather we shared a little more of those vanity features, and character bonuses, but it is what it is. Can I just for a minute put my arms together and deflect bullets like an attractive badass? Like. One minute. Thirty seconds? No? Okay.)

My purpose is to serve God and others; for this, I was created. I find, however, that purpose is muted in the cacophony. I am not fulfilling my purpose; because I can't hear it over the noise of "living" which orders my agenda.

The problem, for me, is not knowing my purpose, but living it. How do I restructure to fulfill purpose but not add to the cacophony? I have many roles, and this seems to be one more to add. And I'm tired. I. Am. Straight. Out. Exhausted. By life. (Unlike Wonder Woman.)

I have set my course. I have reorganized, recharted, improvised, and started a new path. Might I say these are hard things for summer? This job is for January and not July. I think Wonder Woman just has the one role to evaluate so she can do it whenever she wants. Which is probably all the time. And perfect.

I hope I will be successful. For when my life is over, I hope to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant..."

And here is where I will have Wonder Woman beat.....

One day Angela will enter heaven, where there are no wars, no tears, no pain, and she will live there forever as a beloved daughter of the King.

It's best she know and fulfill her purpose.

Untitled. Like the Hymn.

It's been a few weeks since my last post...

It feels like an eternity to a writer. My absence has not been for lack of words, but, rather, lack of the desire to express.

This is a summer unlike previous ones, and it's pretty mundane, almost as bad as the school year. Everyone needs a break from routine and we've had precious little of that.

Every day feels exactly the same.

But it's not.

Life is being evaluated. Life is being reorganized.

Change is a big part of life, but it is not something I enjoy or embrace.

I'm afraid to try new things. Truly. I don't order different things from menus. I don't often switch jobs. I don't take different routes. I'm going to be a very, very boring old person. I can see what I will look like, even now. Sensible white sneakers. Khaki pants. White blouse. Purple cardigan. Pearls. Glasses. And probably a handbag with a weight. For protection. (My temper is legit, friends. Don't cross me.) I will likely go to all the same places without fail. I will sit in my rocking chair and snap beans every other summer day. My body will be 83% sweet tea and holding. My Scrabble game will still be on point. And I will still be afraid to try new things. "No thank you, I do not eat anything that comes out of the sea...."

As much as I dislike trying new things, as much as I dislike change, it is so incredibly good for me. I need it so much. I need changes of scenery. I need opportunities to grow. I need people who will make me do those things I would shy away from. (PS - I don't care I'm still not eating sushi.)

I've made many positive strides. I can grow houseplants without death occurring in the first 14 days. I own a cat (that I personally bought) as heretofore I have been a nonpet owner. I drink coffee. These are all learned behaviors. Learned processes. One simply does not take a sip of coffee and love it.

So. To that end. New things. New changes.

Good for the soul.

I'm moving.

It's Where Life Is

For my young readers.

For those who need to hear it.

Know your worth.

Everything I would impress upon you, dear ones, is just this. Please know your worth.

I struggled my life long with self loathing. With self worth. A constant, heartsick battle.

Shame covered me. A deep sadness gripped every piece of my heart. I felt unworthy of being loved. I watched as the world passed me by with its style, music, entertainment; I didn't know how to find my place in it.

I was certain, absolutely certain that no one would enjoy my companionship. No one would understand the deep recesses of my heart. No one.

I watched life happen from the sidelines. My heart ached for what it appeared everyone else had. Life. Love. Laughter.

Do you know I wore only skirts until 1997?

1997. Friends.

I know very little about TV and movies prior to the same year. In fact, are you ready? I've never seen ET in its entirety. Mic drop.

I never had a boyfriend in highschool. Friends. All.The.Way.Through.Highschool.

Oh, dear young readers, nieces and nephews, this sounds like death to every teenaged heart.

So very awkward.

But what my aged wisdom tells me now is that I could have had no better blessing than this.

I can say without a doubt that my life would have had a very different outcome had I been down some of the roads my peers were taking. My heart was simply not prepared. So, thank you for not giving me the time of day, boys everywhere.

Relationships are difficult, no matter your age, be it friendships, family, or spousal. In order to be successful in your relationships, you have to understand who you are. No one under 30 fully understands themselves. No one. So, if you find yourself in an awkward between kinda stage, even at 28, don't take it personally or too seriously.

You are priceless, dear ones; before you give your heart away, consider that. Your value extends far beyond your physical beauty. Take less selfies of your breasts or muscles. Take more selfies with your smile.

Your heart should never be given lightly. Guard it well. The wrong hands will damage your heart, potentially beyond repair. Life is in the heart. In the right hands, it will flourish.


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

We Can Be Heroes

Do you have a super power?

Something that automatically comes to mind when someone suggests you might have one?

I do.

Can you guess what it is?

My sense of smell is highly developed. Highly.

I identify people by their scent.

Without looking up, I can tell who has recently passed me purely by the smell.

You can imagine what my life is. Living in a house of boys. And peepee. Peepee is everywhere. From kids to cat, the bathroom (s) is.too.much. I love all my boys. But. Peepee. I'm seriously thinking about making everyone who uses the toilets under my roof sit down for any and all potty business. But I digress. Slightly.

I think it is a powerful tool, really, the sense of smell. Smells can trigger memories. Smells can transport you to another place. Smells might ruin your day. Smells might brighten your day.

When I smell coffee, I think of a specific person. When I smell Murphy's Oil Soap, I think of a specific house.

I went to visit my Grandma, in Georgia, four years ago this coming week. She was in the hospital, having what would be her final surgery. I was getting ready to start my new job in New York, and I needed to go and say what I knew would be my last in person words. (Incidentally. Nothing prepares you for what you will say. Nothing. You can be a writer at heart. A person who loves words. And simply sit there ready to deliver the speech of a lifetime, and choke. On every single meaningful word. I'm the absolute worst at expressing my heart when it counts. Remember that. When we are parting. Know that I feel so very deeply I am unable. Just. Unable.) We arrived at the hospital, dropped my mother off, and my brother and I traveled on to the house alone. I walked in, turned to my brother and, referencing her Ohio house, said, "It smells just like Grandma's house." Later, when the house was quiet, I slipped into her room, sat in her closet and cried. Her smell was comforting and saddening.

Babies. When they are not covered in diarrhea, babies smell amazing. You lay them on your chest, inhale the sweet scent, and try to get some for-the-love rest.

Lemon smells like tea and summer.

Lilacs smell like happiness.

Cookies smell like home.

Smell and memory will be forever intricately linked. It might not be your super power. Smell. (Which, frankly, is something for which you can be grateful sometimes.) But it is wonderful how in the middle of a random Monday, you remember someone special.

I'm sure that flying through the air holding a bus full of people that you rescued is a better super power.

I wasn't given a choice. Heroes are just born, peeps. So. The next time you need help sussing out that troublesome odor, you just give me call.

And we'll make a memory together.

And that is what makes it special.

PS...

**Men, I'm going to insert a really big tip for y'all here. Buy cologne. Buy it. Wear it. Wear. It. This is not a drill. Ladies, you are welcome.**