An Introduction to my Faith

June C. Straight works as a designer for the Tulsa World. She is a mother, a wife and a lover of Christ. Sometimes she's prone to unintentional rhyming. Professionally, June has enjoyed a varied career in journalism writing, editing and designing for publications across the U.S. Southeast and Midwest.
http://shawtycstraight.blogspot.com

11:35 a.m. Wednesday, March 17, 2010

I'm awake staring at my phone. The house is waking up. My bonus children are visiting. I want to get up, but I know once I do, I'll have to check my checking account. And once I do that, I'll see overdraft charges, a negative balance and returned check fees. And even though I know they're there. I just need a few more minutes, maybe even an hour to ignore this problem before I have to face it head on.

This is how you know you're a  woman about your business. It bothers you to be in the hole. You swallow panic attacks and put on a brave face, but this debt is a sign of failure and that ain't you ... at least I know it's not me.

They say it's OK, that I'm young and I'm doing great for my age. Most people my age aren't balancing a family and a career and still handling their business on the side.

But it's not OK with me. I don't want to face this failure.

My husband is a tattoo artist and since we've moved to this state has not been able to legally tattoo. There's no one to blame, so I'll volunteer myself. DAMN! I hate being broke. He is upset, more so than I am. Later he'll accuse me of not wanting to spend time with his kids. Doesn't he see how much I wanted them to enjoy themselves. Doesn't he see that I hate to fail too?

I think he thinks he's the only one. He's always saying I don't know what it's like. As if he were carrying this family on his back with no help from anyone.

I could say. 'Hey! I'm the one who keeps the 'steady' job, while you live out your dreams of 'being independent, black-owned and bout it,' but I have to work for the man first and do my own thing second.'

But I wont say that because he'll hear: 'Your sorry ass needs to get a real job'

And I'll retreat because a night's work and a day's responsibilities has already sucked the fight out of me.

So I lay in bed and do all that I can: Pray and breathe.

***

This is a reflection of my faith. I wrote this passage in one of my darkest hours and looking back and I can still feel the pain, the shame and the sadness that was overwhelming my heart as I typed out these words. I can still taste the tears running down my face. I can still hear my daughter asking whispering “what’s wrong mama,” as I hunched over the keyboard, feverishly typing out my angst. Still, looking back at the hazy memory from more than a year ago, I can sense, that even then, my pride was too great to admit all shit I was going through at that moment. I was truly in my “fake it till you make it” phase that many Christians go through. All I could do was “Pray and breathe?” I’m sure if I was compelled to document my depression it was because up until that point all I had done was cry and curse. But I was building a base of strength that I could set my faith upon. If I had been honest I would have said … “I probably should be praying this one out right now, but how do you ask God to bail you out of a situation you entered outside of his will? How do you ask God to erase the consequences of your ungodly behavior?  That was really and truly where I was at that moment. Full of pride; full of hate; and full of the stubborn notion that I should have been able to fix this on my own. 

Now, more than a year later. I’m in a different place. And if I were to layout the frameworks of my faith it would be based in love and acceptance. Love that led my savior to give his life to save me for my sins, and acceptance that I’m going to do a lot of stupid things on my journey of service in the name of that savior.

I’m going to work hard and fail. I’m going to be lax and fail. I’m going to be hopping on my feet when I should be dropped down on my knees, but at my core, I’ll be rooted in love. 

So here I am in this different place living the exact same life. Living with a man who is still struggling to fulfill his Godly destiny; a man who chains his own failures to his feet and is intent on dragging them along on this spiritual journey. Here I am working nights and scrimping and saving to keep my head above water and my family well-fed. Here I am sighing as I live in the consequences and trip over the chains of my husbands failures. And yes, this time around you might actually catch me breathing and praying like my life depended on it.

So what has changed? Well, though I am still a proud and independent woman. I have shed my mantle of being a strong, black woman. Yes, I am strong and black and woman. But I am more so God’s child, and in his glory I have been made aware that the only failures I can own are the one’s I concede to. So I won’t accept that not yet meeting my goals makes me a failure. And I won’t take on pain or anxiety when facing my husband’s issues. I won’t hide under the covers and hope that God takes pity on my and parts my sea of troubles long enough for me to mosey on through.

No. This time around, my faith requires me to face the day, keep it moving and be real about who I am and where I stand. 

So, in this introduction to my faith, I’ll admit to you that yes, I curse (clearly); and sometimes I wake up and I find myself in the darkest, coldest place I can imagine. I cry and I hurt and I bite my tongue till it bleeds to keep myself from asking God why. I question my worth and my faith as well as the mission my Lord has sent me forth to complete. But at the end of the day I love Jesus. I believe in his message and I use it to guide me through all my aforementioned issues.

I pray and I breathe. I don’t just write about it. And as far as I’m concerned that’s all that really matters.