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No matter how far along I get in life, I'll always refer to myself as "That chick that grew up poor in the drug-filled streets of Port Arthur, Texas." Always a bad ass!

Right now, I'm going through a top-down transformation. I'm starting with my hair - taking it from processed to natural; and so far I'm loving it. Get updates on my process on newtonatural.com.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

I can do ALL things. . almost

My Mom used Philippians 4:13, I can do ALL things through Chris who strengthens me, as a daily mantra to keep herself going.

Well, I'm growing, and learning, and drawing closer to Christ. I've even adopted my Momma's daily mantra (or at least most of it), "I can do ALL things. ."

But God has a sense of humor, especially when you've decided to only adopt pieces of his Word. That much I know. So, he's put me into what I now consider a hilariously funny loop.

Here's how it goes:

1. I have car trouble.
2. I pull over to inspect car, and resolve car trouble.
3. Good Samaritan comes by and resolves trouble.
4. I drive off with working car, but feeling that if only I had a "few more minutes" I could do all things MYSELF.

This scenario repeats iself about 4 times a year, at least, since I first bought a car 13 years ago. . It ALWAYS happens.

Soooooooooooooooooo, this morning, I was headed into work when one of my dashboard lights came on. [I get nervous when I see those things.] They're yellow and red. . and to me, they are on the same level as "Danger, Will Robinson!" from Lost in Space. Well, anyway, while driving on the access road, I reach into the dash and pull out my trusty Nissan manual and look up what the issue was. AIR PRESSURE.. Well, that's an easy one.

I actually drove for a bit to find the most out-of-the-way gas station, so I could "pull over, inspect, and resolve" in peace. I walked around the car about 3 times to inspect when I realized that I had NO CLUE which tire was low. . OK, how the hell do people do this stuff?. But I can still hear the mantra in my head. "I can do ALL things. . I can do ALL things. . "

A really nice guy wearing a wedding ring comes by in a Jeep and pulls next to me. He says, as they all say, "Ma'am, please let me do that for you."

"No thanks," I reply. "I've got it."

I walk around one more time, and determine that I'd just decide by eenie-meenie-minie-moe which tires needed air, and topped off two tires. Well, guy in the Jeep is still trying to help, "Ma'am, if you'd just let me take care of it, I will. I promise, I'm not trying to flirt with you. I just want to help."

I inspect my work. Feeling really good that for once I was able to take care of my own car. I nod to him, smile, hop in the Altima, and drive off. But Dude continues to follow me and beep until he gets my attention.

I'm a little freaked out, so I looped around the access road, so I could return to the same gas station where at least the attendant last saw me alive. I locked my doors and rolled down my window. "Can I help you?," I asked. Obviously annoyed.

He looked at my back passenger tire, and said, "When you added air, did it fix the problem?" I looked down at the dash, and admitted, "No. So?"

"Well, if you'd stay in the car and give me 15 seconds, I'll take care of it," he said. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Fine! I graciously nodded and rolled my window up.

After about 10 seconds, he tapped on the window and said, "This tire was probably about flat. I'm glad you let me help." I looked at the dash, and the light was off.

I unlocked the doors, introduced myself to this really kind man, and against his will, shook his oily hand.

It takes God to step into my life first thing in the morning and remind me that I can do all things, but only "though Christ who strengthens me."

OK, God. I got it. You (and Momma) are right.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Claiming a Happy Ending for My Own Fairy Tale


My favorite part of the Cinderalla fairy tale was never Cinderalla -- with her spoiled self. It was not the handsome prince. He was a little too perfect for my taste. It was not the wicked step-mother.. Who treats their kids like that anyway? It was the BEAUTIFUL step sister, Anasthia.

The tale says that Anasthia was mean and made Cinderella do her work. But I happen to intimately know an Anasthia. Hey, I'll fess up. I AM an Anasthia.

I am beautiful. I am very caring and pleasant to be around. I am super hard-working. If anything I work in a Cinderalla fashion each day.

I'm claiming a happy ending to this story because one day I will meet my prince, fall in love, and ride into the sunset -- Or something like that -- and live happily ever after.