What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?
Romans 8:31-32, NIV
It was the night of the book release event for my first book, Breaking Old Rhythms. A few hours afterward. My husband and I were both dog tired, which seems to be the hardest-hitting version of tired, at least from what I can tell from the cliché context clues. He slept peacefully, and being not only the band, deejay, and emcee but also the man who carried every last box, book, and piece of luggage for all the gigs we’d had the previous couple of weeks, he deserved his sleep.
I did not sleep. My mind pushed rewind and replayed the events of the evening while I watched intently, looking for a place I missed it, a mistake I made. I searched the eyes of my good friends who came to see us perform that night, looking for that flatness in their eyes that might say it wasn’t quite good enough.
When people came up to me to say they enjoyed the show, to say they were looking forward to reading the book, a part of me kept wondering if they were lying to me. If maybe they were telling me these things because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying all of the things I could have done better.
This made me wonder, Why can’t I just be happy sometimes? Why is my good never good enough to me? Why am I always looking for a way to raise my already unrealistic expectations for myself? What’s up with that?
I am a realist, also known as a pessimist. My worst-case scenarios dress themselves as reality, so I listen to them. I married an optimist. I fell in love with a man who can find a sunny disposition in a thunderstorm cloud of circumstances, and this has been God’s way of building my character.
Matt and I work together, create together, walk through messes and successes together. At our lowest points, I have been fraught with worry and fear. Matt will join me there for a few minutes, and then he will make a joke, do a dance, or offer to pick up donuts.
At our highest points, I have been nitpicky about all of the details that could have gone better and will mentally move on to the next thing without taking the proper amount of time to revel in a present good moment. He will laugh, smile until his cheeks hurt, and suggest we do something to celebrate until I have no choice but to give in.
I don’t know if that little girl of divorced parents needs permission to go ahead and get happy or what. I don’t know if all the years I spent trying to integrate myself into the lives of people I wanted to love me made me feel like there was some bar just a couple of feet shy of my reach that I would never be able to meet.
Experiencing hard times is the lot of every human being, but this doesn’t mean I can’t shush my realist/pessimist brain when necessary and enjoy the good times when they come. Life will bring plenty of hurts, but I will also experience many great firsts, opportunities to laugh and smile until my cheeks hurt.
Just because I’m a full-fledged grown adult doesn’t mean I don’t need God to be my parent, to show me I’m okay, to prove to me I don’t have to keep chasing this unrealistic bar, to show me he’s proud of me, pleased with me, to depend on him to teach me how to simply be myself and be content with that.
So before I critique myself or other people, I’m learning to take the time to be thankful, to say, “Thanks God; I made it.” To say thank you to this amazing Jesus I’ve given my life to. I don’t have to try so hard to be an insider. I don’t have to press my cheeks up against the window of the cool kids’ table or of someone else’s family or home.
I have home with God in conversations with friends, in the love of family, and in my own soul. When I remember this, I feel less of a need to prove myself. I can finally stop trying to figure out what’s wrong with me and just live, love, and enjoy being loved.
God, help me lean on your grace and learn to go ahead and get happy.
________
Your soul holds a massive record collection: melodies, rhythms, and bass lines. Memories that ask you to dance and memories that haunt you in a minor key. Lies that become soundtracks to your days while truths play too softly to be heard.
Spoken word poet Amena Brown’s broken records played messages about how she wasn’t worthy to be loved. How to Fix a Broken Record chronicles her journey of healing as she’s allowed the music of God’s love to replace the scratchy taunts of her past. From bad dates to marriage lessons at Waffle House, from learning to love her hair to learning to love an unexpected season of life, from discovering the power of saying no and the freedom to say yes, Amena offers keep-it-real stories your soul can relate to.
The hurtful words of others and the failures of your past often determine what record you play the most in your mind. Those painful repetitions can become loud at the most inopportune time, keeping you from speaking up, pursuing your dreams, and growing closer to God.
Recognize the negative messages that play on repeat every day in your mind. Learn how to replace them with the truth that you are a beloved child of God. And discover how to laugh along the way as you find new joy in the beautiful music of your life.
Amena Brown is an author, spoken word poet, speaker, and event host. The author of five spoken word albums and two non-fiction books, Amena performs and speaks at events from coffeehouses to arenas with a mix of poetry, humor, and storytelling. She and her husband, DJ Opdiggy, reside in Atlanta, GA.