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Lord, I believe I heard you today.

I believe you asked me to do something for you.

Something that is greater than I can imagine being able to do.

Something that I dont even know I am CAPABLE of.

You gave me a vision.

Of many people in a circle holding hands AROUND something and praying for your power and direction.

MANY people.

Today I ask you to lead me into that direction if it is your will.

To show me how, when, where.

I will follow you where you lead.

Thank you for choosing me to be yours.

Thank you for trusting me into your plan.

I will show you my obedience-

and you will show me your mighty POWER.

Thank you and I am waiting!

Praise you, ALMIGHTY KING OF KINGS!

BALANCING.

It is all fun and games until someone falls...

40

40

I am very aware of the fact that I am not a person of great accolade. I have not had a respectful Ivy League Education. I was not born into inheritance of wealth or prestige and do not really have a desire for it either.

I do, however, like to pay a bill or two without having to cash in my children’s change collection.

You could say that I have found a way of living by surviving.

If my banker would accept hope and dreams for deposits, I would be rich on my 1.3% interest.

I don’t blame the government, my parents, my poor choices, bad relationships, bad luck or God for any lack of success. I don’t even blame myself!

There is no blame to be distributed; it just is what it is because I am who I am.

I have been this person for many years. I have boldly approached life with an innocent faith in human kind, joy in the storm and a wonderful/unhealthy denial, which I have found cozy and comfortable. Being a writer, if all goes wrong- I just write a song about it and glamorize the suffering. Easy. I have generally liked myself, in spite of myself.

 Yes, I have actually been satisfied with my life- …UNTIL I start analyzing it.

Only recently have I started this evaluation, due to a very significant birthday approaching.

As this date draws closer, I find I am becoming more aware of all of my mistakes, shortcomings and lack of achievement. I am beginning to feel a race for time only so that I can feel some sense of accomplishment before the big day arrives. I have read that this “assessment” is not uncommon for many women approaching this milestone birthday. This is the birthday that most 29 year old women, like myself, will approach with dread; turning 40.

There I said it. Yes, I will be turning 40.

Dear God, even as I see it on paper I am a little disturbed! A big bold 4 and then a 0, sitting there in Times New Roman like a permanent, bloody red wine stain on the paper! Suddenly, I feel a little anxiety as reality becomes sobering.

Now, I know every 40+ woman right now is rolling their eyes. But, for ME this number is more significant than 30, 50, 60 and so on.

I was totally okay with 30. So far it was my favorite. I was old enough to know better and still too young to care. I lost my fear of confrontation, my co-dependant tendency and my baby weight. I found my OWN opinion and independence- I was unstoppable at 30!

But, 40? Honestly, I have dreaded this one for a while now.

Why? Because by this age, I thought I would have accomplished substantially more than I have. I am not discrediting what I HAVE accomplished at all. I just feel like I have disappointed myself with my lack of achievements. I have never been focused on wealth, career success, or even being the Grammy Award winner that I was certain I would have been by now. I have come to terms that Tom Cruise will not be pursuing me like I dreamed of in my 30’s; looking back I am so thankful he didn’t!  I don’t really know WHAT I expected to have accomplished by now, but it feels like something more than this.

For one, I was certain I would be remarried by now. I have spent the majority of my life practicing being the perfect wife. The countless hours of self help studies, learning to balance the fine line of domesticated diva and ferocious femme fatale.  Now, that I feel like I have mastered the art of wifery, it seems less interesting to me now. Sometimes not interesting at all.

Two, I had a strong confidence that all of the years I have written songs, performed various places and was such a dynamic personality- I would maybe, I don’t know, at least have my own talk show?!  The closest I have come to that is my MOBILE “make-shift” talk show that I have with strangers.  I am not only the star, but the Director, Producer, Sponsor and staff.

I conduct this show with everyone, but especially strangers. This happens all over town. I offer advice, commentaries and information to many people everyday. Some are willing audience members and some are my social captives until the check out is complete at my local Kroger. So, I guess that counts, in a way.?!?

Lastly (although many more exist), I wish that I could look at my children and be proud of all of the wonderful parenting I have given them as a single mother. Thankfully, they have grown into quite well adjusted young people- in spite of ME more so than BECAUSE of me.

 In my mind and in my memories, I have worn an apron their entire childhood and have always had a freshly baked batch of cookies ready for our nightly bible reading.

I am sure that in their minds and in their memories, I am a ticking time bomb that exists under yesterday’s t-shirt and always have a fresh batch of promises for a wonderful tomorrow- that they are still waiting on. They don’t have a private school education, a lot of clothes and cool stuff, but they are appreciative and genuine. They, despite every struggle, find joy and contentment in simple things. They approach every opposition with a blossoming hope, an unexpected humor and a determined will- that is about the only thing I have given them.

But, mainly they love me, their wild card mother, for who and whatever I am that day.

In my honest thoughts on age, I TRULY feel like I am in my twenties still. By that, I mean self-searching, exploring and wondering what I will be and what I will do when I ‘grow-up’. Someone told me the other day that 40 is the new 30. I think I will hold on to that philosophy. However, someone also said “orange is the new black” and I will certainly PASS on that.

But, everyday I am still thankful that I wake up. I am grateful somehow the Lord provides me with a roof and lights on. I am blessed for what I HAVE and often what I HAVE NOT. I have NOT a disease, have NOT a daily physical challenge and I have NOT anything that cripples me from progress; except myself.

Yeah, I put on a few pounds. Yes, there are a few wrinkles. Okay, I admit I have spotted an odd color hair strand a time or two and yes my breasts are not worth flashing anymore. Well, one is. One, actually, is an amazing super star that has held on to its youth like a champ.

Her twin, not so much. So, I guess I could, if need be, I could flash ONE. PROUDLY.

But, as I approach this birthday, I will see my glass of Vitamin enriched protein juice for aging women, half FULL.

I will try and embrace the fact that I am still dreaming, living and growing. I will still bake a fresh batch of promises of a wonderful tomorrow and maybe even deliver this upcoming year!

I vow that I will quit lying about my age and tell everyone the truth.

 I will own the years I have earned. I will say my age bravely- I AM 30.

I mean I am, eh-hem….

Damn it, I AM 40.

Missy

xoxo

Life is a story.
Songs are stories with melodies.

We all are writing everyday.

SOME JUST MORE THAN OTHERS.

Rhinestones, Rats and Possums

It was five minutes til curtains. All of the stage hands were rushing around, grabbing mics and stands. A performance manager with a walkie talkie and a clipboard hastily was calling orders to the other side of the stage.

I was young and taken in by all of the commotion but, sat quiet as a church mouse on the stool in the shadows.

My mother was the opening act for a very well known singer. I had never heard of him before. But, I knew he was really a big deal because he had a bus that was bigger than our modest little house back home in Memphis.

Momma had put me in my cutest bluejean dress and my favorite red boots. I wanted so bad to wear my favorite jacket with the sparkly angel on it, it had an angel with what I thought was diamonds for wings. But, momma said it didn’t match. I watched as she sat in the makeup chair getting extra pretty for her show. I stuck my lips out to get a kiss, but I really just wanted some of her extra pink gloss.

The music began and my mother made her way to the stage with her guitar in hand.

Before she walked onto the extra large stage she looked back at me, blew me a kiss and simply said, “Love you, be sweet and be quiet and you can sit there in the special seat…”

I replied with, “Love you, Momma. Good Luck!”

She stopped briefly and turned around, “never say ‘good luck’, angel. It actually is bad luck. Say “break a leg’. Then she winked and as her exited as her name was being called by the fancy voice of the announcer.

That seemed strange to me but I never questioned anything.

From the corner where I sat, I could see her silhouette. She looked outlined in light like an angel. Her eyes sparkly from a combination of the stage light and the glitter shadow on her eyelids. 

She strummed her guitar with the longest and brightest finger nails that only my mother would wear. Her hair was shiny and falling just beneath her pretty dress’ back strap in a loose long curl.

I had watched her sing many times but never on a stage so big.

I was mesmerized in her ability to captivate such a large number of people, I just sat and stared amazed in her splendor.

I heard heavy foot steps approaching me. I instantly looked down and closed my eyes to keep my face in the shadow and not be discovered, just as Momma told me to.

I heard the steps stop at me. I didn’t look up, just barely opened one eye to see who’s shoes were there.

The sequins on the end of a large cowboy boot almost blinded me. They were extravagant and looked like very unlike the dirty cowboy boots I had been familiar with.
Just as I noticed they were underneath a similarly flashy pair of pants, his voice spoke.

A voice that was so deep and demanded attention, I got startled.

“Well, little lady you hiding from someone or is someone hiding you”?

His voice was intense but, it seemed kind.

“I aint either one I guess…” I said nervously and in my most soft whisper.

“You a little young to be sangin’ you definitely too young to be runnin these here bands so maybe you lost? He said with a little chuckle in his voice.

“My momma put me here. She aint had nobody to babysit me so I had to come. I am sorry please don’t be mad at her. I, I will be extra quiet sir.” I said trying to avoid trouble for Momma. I knew she needed this job to pay the bills.

“Something tells me you aint quiet in real life”. He said almost teasingly.

“Aint this real life”? I said, sincerely wondering.

“Hell no, this aint real life. Aint your momma taught you that yet? This is make believe life, lttle baby.” He said, all in one breath, while lighting a cigarette and taking a long sip off of a short drink with rattling ice.

I just laughed assuming he was being funny. Uncomfortable in my conversation about life with this older, obviously important gentleman, I introduced myself.

“My name is Melissa. My family calls me Missy though. I reckon you can too- if you want to.” I smiled using my prettiest picture smile so that he knew I was sweet.

Momma always said to use your sweetest words and picture smile when meeting strangers and especially ones in the music business cause they pay our bills.

He shook my hand.

With a wink he said, “My pleasure, Missy”.

“You look cold, want my jacket?” I really wasn’t cold but I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to wear such a lovely jacket. It was large of course but was shiny and had beautiful jewels on it- like a bigger, shinier version of my angel jacket. It was heavy and smelled like a preacher. Which I was certain this man was NOT.

He put it on me and then said, “There. Don’t say I never gave you nothin’”. He smiled put out his cigarette threw the remaining ice from the glass in his mouth and walked to the exit door.

“Thank you!” Then, he stopped and looked back.

“One condition, don’t tell nobody but I’m leavin’. I need a nap.”

“Never, ever. Pinky Promise!” I said almost excited to be in his secret.

I heard the crowd roar indicating my mother’s performance was over, and apparently was a good one. I suddenly felt guilty that I hadn’t watched it all and spent the whole time talking to the man. Then I realized I never even got his name.

Momma was in a hurry to leave so we rushed off to the dressing room.

“Where on earth did you get that jacket” she asked.

“That man with the shiny boots” I said, “he insisted I wore it cause it was cold, Momma”.

I was hoping she would let me keep it.

Momma laughed and then began to take it off of me. I was disappointed but knew I couldn’t keep it forever.

Turns out he left before his show started and they had to cancel the entire rest of the show from what Momma said. So she gave the jacket to a stage hand.

The jacket was so sparkly and heavy and I felt some sense of privilege in wearing it.
 Even for a minute.

We gathered our stuff to go. everyone was asking if anyone saw the man. I kept my mouth quiet with his secret, just as I had promised him. I looked back at the jacket and thought how beautiful it was. “Momma,” I asked sincerely as we left, “Why is there a diamond rat on the back?”

Momma laughed. “Its not diamonds, baby. Those are Rhinestones and that  isn’t a rat, it is a possum.”

Even more baffled I asked, “Well WHY ever would somebody want a possum on their jacket”?

She smiled as we left and said, “The same reason you had an angel on yours…”
Years later I saw an article on him. They called him George Jones. They also refered to him as "The Possum". 

xoxo, Missy