Self Reflection

Those who have known me for years know that I was raised in the home of a Pentecostal preacher.  Weekly family Bible studies were a norm in our household growing up.  My father was stern, he was incredibly wise and to this day, I hold the utmost respect for him. 

Being raised in church, I've been to the small churches and the big ones; have heard a wide variety of preaching styles and seen many different types of leadership.  Through it all, I've learned that leaders and bench warmers are at church for the same reason; they're both people who aren't perfect who are seeking after a perfect God.

Here is a little video of a sign language/praise team I was involved with several years ago. I'm the one with the afro in the middle of the platform!

Growing up as I did, I was heavily involved in church and ministry.  Music and people are my passion, and even though the events of life have given me pause to my involvement, I am constantly trying to help others reach their goals in fitness and be that confidant and friend to those in need.  It's almost bred in me, at this point.  I mean I am 31 years old... there is no walking away from the things of God nor the level of involvement that I have always had.  Believe me, I've tried to push the desire to be involved away and have recently found it is so much easier to just embrace it than to fight it.  Truly, I am one example of how legit Proverbs 22:6 is:

"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

Praise singing with the choir; I'm on the front right.

Here's a video of a Block Party that we did a few years ago to reach out to a neighboring community. You'll see me wearing one of the yellow tshirts and helping at the sign-in table and also in the music.

Life happened though. And through everything, I am ashamed to say that I have never read the Bible for myself, and allowed Him to speak to me through it; unadulterated and without all the theories on the many different meanings a few words can have. Last week, I began reading the Bible on my own. It's not always easy, and I'm not going to lie, it can be a little mundane with the begats and the "therefore, my brethren"s. But I'm determined. I'm determined to find out Who He is to me, on my own, privately.

I've been focused on following traditions and standards instead of finding and nurturing my own relationship with Him.  It is beyond time that I do this.

Moving Forward

Today I spent the day focused.  The only music I have listened to is contemporary Christian and gospel music.  Three different entire sermons by different ministers have also been in my ears.  I have a goal to reach and I'm going to do everything I can to get there.  Don't even try to stop me!  :)

Discipline Challenges

You think you have it all figured out when you're a kid.  So ready to be a grown up so that all of life's troubling problems will just fade away.  The rules that grown ups bestow upon you make absolutely no sense and you know that when you grow up, things will be different for your kids. 

I remember this one time at my parents' old house in Deer Park.  Gabe or I (it's so hard to remember which one it was, we were always instigating things) had done something worthy of punishment and neither of us were fessing up to it. 

My dad ran a tight ship.  One look (you know, "the" look) and our cheeks clenched and we knew we were about to get busted.  So he sat all three of us down on the love seat and paced back and forth in front of us, belt in hand.  I remember staring at the peach colored threads that were woven through the dark blue fabric on the love seat, wishing that this moment would just pass; hoping that somehow he would be merciful and give us just this one. 

Dad firmly asked, "Amanda, was it you?"
Meekly I answered, "No..."
"Son, was it you?"
Gabe replied looking down at the carpet, "No."
"Alicia?"
Alicia answered, "Noooo!!"

Truth is, it was Gabe or I, and we weren't about to fess up for fear of that redneck-styled leather belt hitting our tails.  But Dad outsmarted us, as parents tend to do.  Unable to determine which of us was lying, he firmly declared that we could all turn around and bend over because we were all getting spanked for it.

It's one thing to get whooped for your own sins but to have a sibling get whooped for it?  Yeah that's a little hard to follow through with.  Especially when you know that they might lay in bed awake until you fall asleep and then draw on your face with permanent marker or put ants in your bed.  True story, really happens.

I grew up with so many spankings I now have to eat right and stay in the gym just to keep my rear on this side of the Mississippi River.  It was definitely an effective method of punishing us because well, we were quite bad.  But I vowed to never spank my children.

Fast forward twenty-five years or so... I now have a beautiful child of my own.  I remember the day she was born.  She turned purple right away because I couldn't figure out how to feed her right.  She fell off our really tall bed as an infant because I looked the other way for just a moment after she'd learned how to roll.  As a mother to this beautiful baby that God has given me, I've only wanted to protect her from all of the perils that life has to offer.

But then there are times... times when you know that your boiling point has been reached.  Times when you  think, "I'm about to be on CNN and I hope there's no recording of what I'm about to do to this child."  All of my promises to never spank my child are broken. 

Our family went through a divorce at the end of last year and Eric was the primary disciplinarian.  I was Celeste's confidant, her friend.  But after the divorce, I let her get away with too many things and I regret it.  I had that BAM, hit-me-in-the-face-moment during a dating relationship where she acted out and was defiant.  After speaking with friends about what she did and my lack of discipline, I realized I had to put the clear boundaries down now and oh my goodness that hasn't been easy.

Yesterday afternoon, we went to the gym after work, as usual.  Celeste didn't like something I said or did, so she was dragging her feet and walking behind cars an aisle away from me, pouting with her arms folded across her chest.  I gave her the warning look, and she called my bluff.  I dropped my purse, bag and keys down on the ground, ran over to her in my 5-inch heels and picked her up, threw her over my knee (oh yes, I was balancing on one foot supported by only a 5-inch heel) and popped her bottom good.  It's amazing how acrobatic you become when you're determined.

People stopped and stared.  Eyes were like saucers.  She looked around and started crying.  This one older man followed me closely into the gym and was looking at me with anger.  But really.  They don't know my child.  They don't know the situation.  She behaved the rest of the day, too.  In fact, after leaving the gym, she sweetly said, "Mommy, I really love you."  Unprovoked, unasked. 

Being firm isn't easy.  Knowing that I am embarrassing my child in order to get her to behave really is as painful to me as it is her (if not moreso).  I hate being the bad guy, but I know that if I let it go, she won't be able to function as a kind, respectful adult.  I have to keep telling myself that!