Anyway I Can!!

As I logged out of my bank account, tears welled in my eyes. I had no idea how I had miscalculated yet again. This was not the day to be broke. I had exactly one hour and thirty minutes to get to this speaking engagement and taking a taxi was out of the question.

I sat in the bed pondering my dilemma. If I hadn't spent 30 minutes between Twitter and Facebook, then maybe I would’ve had enough time to find another way, but that was not the case. Now I was in a tight bind and I didn’t see a good way out. I knew that I couldn’t spend half of all the money I had on a taxi, but I was definitely running late. The rain hitting against my window pane only seemed to compound my dilemma. It felt as if nature was beating me with every drop. At that moment, reality set in. My finances were as murky as the rain on my window plane. “Things have got get better,” I mumbled.

I had long begun to accept that the broken economy hit me hard. As a result, my financial situation was bleak. Hyperion Publishers had walked away from the book deal of my memoir and that hit me as hard as the Wall Street Crash of ‘29. It sent me straight into a depression not only financially, but also emotionally. I had invested everything, including time and energy. I worked tirelessly on my memoir, crying along the way. I wanted to be honest and authentic and that put me on an emotional roller coaster but I did it. I left nothing out. I told on myself and everybody else but it was not enough for my editor. She wanted my story without context but I had learned long ago that text without context is pretext. I was not going to be the next Video Vixen. My life was much more meaningful than being reduced to a story line. I had even been told that I was a “poor writer.” It didn’t do much for my self esteem.

Yes, I had been blindsided by my publisher in every way and it made a bad situation worse. Almost two years prior to the book deal I had made significant life style changes. And during the early months of the book deal, I took the changes even further. I downsized my life in every aspect: from my living space to the things that I owned. I had a house sale that lasted for months. In therapy, I had come to terms with my spending issue and now I was proactive and feeling good about the financial decisions I was making. I had a well laid plain that would keep me afloat for at least a year. By then, I would be on tour with my book and making money. But now, things had changed.

So, two Saturdays ago, I sat in bed, listening to the rain and playing out my dilemma in my head. I could cancel, say that I was sick. But I had never done that before. Using my illness to deceive is not how God would have me to live. It was a small speaking engagement and I was sure that the crowd would be small, but that didn't matter either. I had committed, basically for little to no money, but it was a commitment nonetheless. At the end of the day, you’re only as good as your word.

 Swallowing my pride that morning was like swallowing a teaspoon of castor oil with Grandmama holding the spoon. There is no way out. So I pushed forward, dressed and made my way to Chicago public transportation. By the time I made it to the station I didn't have a curl on my head. I sat on the train thinking about it all and became overwhelmed and started to cry. I tried to shake it off but the tears kept coming. I knew I had to pull it together but the harder I tried, the harder I cried. No curls, now no makeup. What a mess, sitting on the train with tears streaming down. 

As I sat there wallowing in self-pity, a young African-American male boarded the train. He was dressed in an overcoat, baggy jeans, dark shades, a do-rag and a cap. As he made his way toward me I pulled my Chanel handbag a little tighter. But soon, I learned that he was only interested in my soul. He started walking the aisle and talking about how God delivered him from bondage. My tears dried as I listened to him PREACH. His words were powerful. “This isn't what I would be doing. My way is the wrong way,” he sang out. No sooner than he had my full attention, he was off the train. The last thing I heard him say as he exited, hit me like a ton of bricks. “It’s what God would have me to do.”

As the train started again, I looked over to the other car and there he was. PREACHING!!! I instantly, shook off the leftovers of my pride. If he could do God’s work, anyway he can, then so could I.

 By the time I made it to my speaking engagement, my hair was all over my head, my makeup up was gone and the bottom of my pants legs were wet, but I made it. I found a mirror and tried to get my Diva back as best as I could. But somehow, at the moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter. Not even the $49.00 I had to my name. What mattered the most was that God still had purpose for my life, and I was willing to do His bidding, anyway I can.


Note: Photo with one of my Twitter Followers Chris Vaughn, who made his way to hear me speak in the rain, of course with his camera.  LOL..