Blues Notes

Asking Too Much

A few years ago my life took me down a path which got me to questioning a lot of things. I used to be a worry-wart, worrying about every single thing. Now, I don’t worry, I just ask too many questions, and in return, it drives me crazy.

“Why did this happen, but that didn’t?” “Well, why didn’t that happen, when this did?” “If that happened, shouldn’t this happen too?”

Questions like those consumed me on a daily basis. I couldn’t understand the process or order of things happening without other things happening as well. I would read books or hear quotes on TV that settled me for the time being. Moments later, I’d be back to asking, “Why…?”

During my visit to New Orleans, I had every intention of visiting different churches. I had driven by a few I said I would try on Sundays or midweek services. I never made it to any of them for one reason or another. One in particular, I saw the sign, but when I drove around the shopping plaza, the church was nowhere to be found.

Before the woman I was staying with left for her assignment, we drove around trying to find a Sally’s. We couldn’t find one on the street we were on (I could’ve sworn we had driven by one on that same street just the other day), so we looked locations up on the phone and drove a street over. I asked the clerk if she knew of any places around town that styled natural hair. Come to find out, she did. I got her number and planned to be there the next morning. I felt her prices were a little high to be working out of her home, and since I overslept, I decided to call around for other salons. Plus, she asked that I come w/my hair already shampooed. (One of the reasons I wanted someone else to do it was b/c I wanted a break from washing, detangling, and all the other things my hair required for styling.) After I remembered how previous places man-handled my kinky hair, I decided it best to go ahead and treat my hair with love and prep it for this lady to go ahead and do my hair in her home the next morning.

I’m going somewhere here…

Once she started on my hair and we got to chatting, I was very glad I went with my decision for her to do my hair after all, and wore the style for two weeks. We had a lot of things in common. She shared her experience with Hurricane Katrina with me, as well as other tragedies in her life. She had a corner in her living room set up as a salon, so I got the salon experience w/o all of the other hoopla that goes on in a shop.

While there, I asked her about a donut shop someone told me to check out. She gave me directions to Tastee Donuts, where I went straight after leaving her place. I was saddened to find out the place was no longer there. Another donut shop was in its place. On this same street was a church called Hosana Church. It was a cute little church that stayed on my mind days after passing. I noticed they had a Wednesday night service. I planned to attend that following week.

Wednesday came and I found myself with every excuse not to go. It’s not a Black church. All I have are sandles. What if I don’t feel God’s presence? I can fellowship with God right at home. What if it’s a waste of time? All of those excuses kept me on the couch watching HGTV up until the very last minute. It was as if something wanted to keep me from going to this church. Even if that something was laziness.

I arrived at the church about 15 minutes early, so I sat in the parking lot and perused Twitter. As I tweeted, I also watched people get out of their cars. Everyone was White except me. Everything in me wanted to start my car up and head back to the house. Instead, I told myself, “You’re already here, you might as well stay. If you’re not feeling it, you can always leave.” A minute before I got out of the car, I noticed a woman of color walking up. Don’t know why that made me feel more at ease.

Inside the church I went. I was greeted by a woman sitting behind me. She was very friendly. Connie was her name. Service started. We sang one of my favorite worship songs. The pastor came to greet me in the middle of the song. I truly felt welcomed, and again, I felt good with my decision. We finished singing, gave offering, went over a few announcements, and then he delivered the Word. We all read through a book of Psalms together, and then he began speaking some things that had tears running down my face. He said, “I don’t know who this is for, but this is prophetic for someone in here right now. I can’t leave this alone. This is for someone.” It felt like my spirit was leaping for joy. This man, or shall I say God, was speaking right to me. God was telling me to stop trying to figure everything out. “I am doing something through you that you won’t understand.” So much was said, a lot I can’t even remember. But what I do remember is that I had received peace. I know those words were for me because it encompassed the last four years of my life. There’s no way that pastor could have known all of that about my situation. I even called my parents after leaving because I had always said I wanted someone to prophesy over me. I wanted to hear a Word directly from God concerning my life. And there it was.

I had to go all the way to Barataria Blvd in Marrero, LA, looking for a donut shop to find the peace of God which surpasses all understanding. I was asking questions for four years and got my answers in 40 minutes.

Spiritual Jewel: Sometimes we go on a search for one thing, but in the end we find exactly what we need.

P.S. I ended up driving right up on another Tastee Donuts on the other side of town. Believe me, those were some of the best donuts I’ve ever had, and definitely worth the journey. =)

This is Jewells signing out…

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