Now and again it seems a waste of time attempting to understand the mind of God. He is, indeed, unfathomable. Take, for example, His declaration that: “I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.” Why would an all-knowing
“It was missing a piece. And it was not happy. So it set off in search of its missing piece. And as it rolled it sang this song – ‘Oh I’m lookin’ for my missin’ piece I’m lookin’ for my missin’ piece Hi-dee-ho, here I go, Lookin’ for my missin’
As you know, I was outraged by the piece of tripe in the Washington Post a few weeks back: “Successful, Black and Lonely” and fittingly wrote a response: “Dear Ms. Andrews, Here’s Why You’re Lonely: The Myth of the Sad, Sad Black Woman.” I tweeted and emailed Ms. Andrews, just
Just when I had come to grips with the reality that “The Notebook” was just a stupid movie that I should not aspire to: After 59-Year Marriage, Couple Die Moments Apart (Dec. 16) — For 59 years, James and Lolie Brackin epitomized love and marriage, their children told the Daily
I thought about approaching this topic delicately, with compassion and understanding…and then I looked up at the title and image I’d chosen for this blog post and realized that there’s no nice way to say cheating is not o.k. Please note that I am not a scorned woman; to my
“You’ve got to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em” Politics is a game. At times, a bloody chess match filled with calculated moves and discretely executed strategies. To further mix the metaphor, a “successful” politician never shows her hand, always wears a smile, and is friends
Liz Gilbert is not a Christian. She makes that very clear in the beginning of her book, Eat, Pray, Love. She is not a Christian and makes no apologies for it. But for someone who isn’t a Christian, no other person in this past year and a half has made
Anyone who knows me understands why I don’t subscribe to the label “Black” meaning “bad” or “evil”–I am Black, after all. But this Black Friday, was certainly not “good.” I was rudely awakened early in the morning and after a series of unfortunate events, I couldn’t high-tail it out of
“Bad dreams, bad dreams, go away; good dreams, good dreams here to stay.” I had a nightmare. Not the kind where you wake up, terrified, just barely escaping an otherwise certain death, but the kind where you kind of know its a dream, so you’re not too terribly concerned, but
“Addicted to love, like the drug, drug of a fiend.”–Lauryn Hill Love Addiction. I didn’t realize there was such a thing until I saw it on Oprah yesterday. (Lord knows all the things I’ll miss out on when she retires in 2011!) There I was, comfortably watching her show on