TEATIME TUESDAYS

All my life, I've heard the words' obedience is better than sacrifice!' Suffice it to say, while I always thought I knew exactly what this phrase meant, I can't explain what that initial thought process was. Meaning I can't put it into words that would make sense enough to make it make sense—if that makes sense. 

Needless to say, the first sentiment went up in flames. And as of late, I've found a new appreciation for this phrase—hang tight, and I'll cue you in soon enough. 

In my short life to date, I've made some questionable choices. I mean, downright nonsensical. Some of those choices were as blatant as seeing fire spewing from the stove but opting to take my bare hand and slap it on there regardless. Then, of course, cry. I mean, wailing that I got burned. 

My life is no Romeo and Juliet melodrama, but I've had a riveting mix of bitter and sweet moments. 

I've had what felt like eleventy thousand jobs but no Career.  As I’m sure, it sounds like a skyrillion relationships, too. Though in actuality, it's only been 4—at times, I'm talking about the same person but from a different vantage point. I even reckoned that I've had a bajillion places that, at some point, I called home. Not to forget the assortment of friends that garnished my various stages in life. I know to you, the listening audience, I sound like a mess—and you'd be mostly right. For a long time, perhaps I was. Even so, it's easy to sit in a seat of judgment, especially when sorrow (that is, heartbreak and sadness) looks different on everyone.

A friend of mine posted the other day on social media, "If I read, 'understood the assignment' one more time!" I hit the laughing emoji immediately because I could see her rolling her eyes as she typed it. 

Understanding the assignment seems to be the order of the day, but I'm curious to know how we can understand the assignment when we have no clue what it is in some instances. Actually, no, that is a bit presumptuous. I think we are focused on the wrong assignment. Yeah, maybe that's it. 

I think the assignment, more than anything else, is what's "Clearly Misunderstood"—this refers to someone who completely missed the point or did not understand something or someone. Many of us are walking around screaming at each other like Chris Tucker in Rush Hour, "Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?" And in kind, when people don't respond how we expect, rather than say it a different way, we keep repeating the same thing, only louder.

Right out the gate, there is nothing civil about war. No, all is NOT fair in love and war because if that were the case, then kingdoms would not have been divided over who couldn't marry whom, and Jesus' death would (a) never have happened or (b) not been so brutal.

A civil war is described as a battle between citizens of the same country. For the purpose of this exercise, we'll use the term metaphorically. It's no shocking surprise that most wars are first among people that are members of the same house. Crazy, right? Mark explains plainly how this is damaging, "If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand. Although, the NLT version is more direct when it says, "Similarly, a family splintered by feuding will fall apart." (Mark 3:25) Mmm-mmm-mmm, issa whole word right there! 

There are roughly 6,500 languages in the world. You're more than likely living in a place where most people speak your language, dare I even say, with almost the same accent. Yet you can feel like no one understands you. 

Still, you're in a place with everyone who looks similar to you—with the same skin hue, experiencing the same struggles, following the same patterns, in the same mundane job, going to the same predictable church service, and taking the same curated (fake) pictures for the gram. 

While we're all leading separate lives, is it really our commonalities that bind us and the difference that set us apart? Or, could it be that we're all in the same trenches, together, although we may live apart?

When I think of being alone, it's the silence that makes that feeling a reality. It's the absence of discourse that forces you to be painfully aware it's just you in a room. Even when a room is full of people, and there is chatter in every crevice, if no one is speaking to you, it's the same as two strangers sitting on a park bench. They are alone, but together. 


I've experienced several kinds of silence in relationships. There was a silence where words weren't needed: a smile, a touch, a nod, a furrowed brow, or widened eyes. Even the subtleties of body language were an entirely enjoyable and understood conversation. 


Then there was silence where no words were adequate to explain what was happening. All I knew was the silence became deafening, and anything said would have cued an avalanche. That type of quiet makes you feel alone, misunderstood, unheard and completely disregarded, all while next to someone. It's that silence that makes two people start questioning the intent and sincerity of every word and action.


I've also experienced self-induced solitude. The kind that comes when you start cleaning the emotional closet. Categorizing people based on how they regard you or lack thereof. But there is no loneliness like being alone in a room full of people. There's no alone like walking into an event holding hands with someone you've just had a thirty-minute car ride quieter than the night before Christmas.  It makes me wonder how is loneliness greater in an overly connected world, or is it worst knowing that you're never alone, even when you always feel like it? And is silence and loneliness interchangeable?

I can't speak for anyone else, but I often wonder if God was serious when He picked me! When I think of my inhibitions or those things I can't share with the world, I'm like, "Whew Lord, are You sure You want me to represent You?"

In life, I think it's natural to observe people, and sometimes low-key wanna be like them. Well, no, let me speak for myself. There was a point I wanted to be quiet and reserved. Ladylike and dainty with grace and poise and elegance—and if you know me in real life, you'd know most of which, I'm NOT! 

Let me just put it out there; I've exercised this defence a few times in my life. "Oh, I thought your text said it started at 7:30 pm, not 7:00 pm!" Yeah, I wanted to be late, so I didn't get stuck doing something I knew I'd be called on to do.

I've even sent a text to the right wrong number cause I knew its contents was gonna get a reaction. I, too, have said some mean things with a smile that I knew was below the belt cause we all know how to plant seeds of doubt in a person about themselves and then pass it off as, "Girl, I was only joking!" But was I, though?

I recently read somewhere how in ancient Greek plays, one man would play multiple roles. Onstage, he wore one mask, then went backstage to put on a new mask for playing another role. This person was called the 'hupokrites,' that's where we get the word 'hypocrite.'

Hypocrisy is the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one's own behaviour does not conform; pretense. Layman's terms, we be lying, aka we say one thing and do the next—aka (for my saints), we don't practice what we preach.

Though this has nothing to do with the pandemic, masks should not be worn to display oneself to some and not others. It shows a lack of authenticity. I believe God wants us to be exactly who He made us to be, no matter who is watching.

Having a choice means there are multiple options available. So how can one be faced with an 'only choice?' 

This oxymoron occurs when contradictory words are used together. In this case, there are multiple options when it comes to "choice." And when we say "only," we mean one thing only. You see how they are very different, almost opposing? In reality, there will always be more than one choice. So what in the dickens can I be meaning? I'm glad you asked; stay tuned!