Farther Than I Meant to Go, Longer Than I Meant to Stay

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “How long have you been out?” I asked, desperately trying to ignore the answer that I was receiving from God.

  “Going on a year.”

  I pieced together a response in my mind. I hoped it sounded compassionate and understanding.

  “Travis,” I started warily, “I do not have anything against a man who has paid his debt to society and turned his life around—”

  “But?” he asked.

  I guess my tone implied the fact that there was going to be a but. It really didn’t matter how I tried to sugarcoat it; the but was going to negate it all. The but was always something unkind and hurtful. This time was no different.

  “But, I don’t think that after waiting all these years for a husband, the Lord would send me someone who can’t attain the kind of success in life that I hope to have.”

  “You think I’ll never have what you have?”

  It took all of the Holy Spirit on the inside of me to keep from screaming! How could Travis not understand my concerns? He had made choices that had landed him in prison and I hadn’t. It was as if he wanted me to feel sorry for being a success.

  My voice was steady and sure as I explained my stand even further. “It’s not about possessions. It’s just that I want to be able to respect my husband and submit to his leadership. I don’t think that I could ever submit to you. Our marriage would be a disaster.”

  I’d said it, and once it was out it sounded callous and mean, and not entirely truthful. Travis dropped his head sadly. When he looked up again, there were tears in his eyes. I didn’t want to know what they meant. I just wanted to run away and pretend I’d never even met him. But I was trapped, at an ice cream parlor, forced to witness the pain I’d inflicted.

  Travis had not made a sound, so I asked in a whisper, “Do you want me to call a ride? You don’t have to take me home if you don’t want to.”

  Travis was obviously offended. “That’s ridiculous. Of course I’ll take you home. There is nothing that you could say or do to me that would change the man I am or the one I will become.”

  He stood from the table and quickly wiped his eyes. I felt sad and confused, and I regretted making things so final. Why was it so complicated? I was hurting, too. I was feeling a pain that I’d never known. What type of cruel test was this for me to receive? Why let me set my feet down in the Promised Land and then hurl me back into the wilderness?

  CHAPTER Nine

  Present

  Dr. King told me that I was making progress. I couldn’t say that I agreed completely. I was still angry enough to do bodily harm to Travis if I saw him, and I was still alone. I didn’t want to be either of those things, but I was, so I wasn’t sure where or how I was progressing.

  “So you broke up with Travis when you found out he was a convicted felon?” asked Dr. King.

  “Yes,” I responded defensively. “I could just feel that the Lord was telling me no.”

  “But something made you take him back.”

  I narrowed my eyes and replied, “Stupidity. That’s what made me take him back.”

  “It was more than stupidity, and probably not even stupidity at all.”

  “Desperation, then,” I said matter-of-factly.

  Dr. King responded, “Go deeper than that, Charmayne. Something made you think that for some reason, you didn’t deserve to have the man God had planned for you. Something made you think you had to lower your standards.”

  I nodded, in total agreement. In the beginning, no one could’ve told me that I made a wrong decision backing away from Travis. As attractive as he was, I was going to wait on the Lord. But a whole chain of events and a host of feelings got me to thinking I was going to lose the best thing I’d ever had.

  “Tell me, Charmayne, how did it make you feel when you were out with Travis? The other women would be looking at you on the arm of this fine man. What did that feel like?”

  I grinned. “It felt good, Dr. King. I actually felt equal to any skinny model type out there.”

  “So Travis was what you could call a trophy piece.”

  I agreed. “Yes. Having Travis built my self-esteem.”

  Dr. King shook her head as she sipped her tea. “No, Charmayne. It didn’t build your self-esteem. Having a good-looking man—or any man, for that matter—doesn’t change the way you feel about yourself.”

  I didn’t answer, but I let what Dr. King was saying sink in. I thought about how self-conscious I was with Travis. I knew that everyone was looking at us, and I was glad the thin, pretty women were jealous. But I still wanted to be them. I still wanted to be a size eight.

  Dr. King interrupted my thoughts. “Do you have your Bible with you today?”

  “Yes,” I replied, pulling my miniature King James Bible out of my purse.

  “Good. Open up to Genesis and go to chapter twenty-nine.”

  As I flipped to the scripture, Dr. King scanned the page. She continued, “Read verse seventeen aloud.”

  I read, “Leah was tender eyed; but Rachel was beautiful and well favoured.”

  Dr. King commented, “In describing Leah, the word says that she was ‘tender eyed.’ Tender in this passage could mean soft, delicate, weak of heart, timid, or soft of words. I believe that this was describing not her looks, but her personality. Why do you think she’s described this way?”

  I smiled to myself. I thought of Lynette and her constant matchmaking attempts. If the brother didn’t have anything going on in the looks department, she always started off talking about his personality. I thought that Leah must not have been much to look at.

  “Maybe because her compassion was the most memorable thing about her.”

  Dr. King nodded. “I think that she was probably someone who was loved after people took time to know her. Rachel, on the other hand, was probably first noticed for her beauty. Perhaps more people took time to build a relationship with her because they were drawn by her beauty.”

  “That kind of reminds me of me and my sister, Dayna.”

  “Who would you say is the Rachel between you two?” Dr. King asked with interest.

  I laughed aloud. “Guess!”

  Dayna was so beautiful, and everyone always said that we’d look like twins if I were one hundred pounds lighter. When we were girls, she had all the male admirers in school and at church. That turned into her having all of the beaus and gentlemen callers when we got older.

  I remembered crying into my pillow on the nights of all of the school dances. Homecomings, winter balls, junior proms were all sad occasions for me. During those times, Daddy had always tried to make me forget my troubles. We’d watch movies and make Jiffy Pop popcorn. Daddy’s efforts softened the blow just a little bit. Later, Dayna would come home and recount the night’s events to Mama; they would stay up late into the night giggling like best friends. Mama never seemed hopeful that she’d share those times with me. She resigned herself to the fact that she only had one beautiful daughter.

  “So you can relate to Leah?”

  I replied emphatically, “Yes. I know what it’s like to be outshined by a beautiful, younger sister.”

  “Were you jealous of her?”

  “Actually, I wasn’t. I was just as enamored with her as everyone else,” I answered. “Generally, I tried to protect her. Her looks never seemed to keep her from making bad decisions.”

  Dr. King said, “That sounds similar to your relationship with Lynette.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” The fact that Lynette was a lot like my baby sister had never even occurred to me.”

  “We’re going to skip some of this. Start reading again at verse thirty and go down to thirty-five.”

  I continued to read.

  And he went in also unto Rachel, and he loved also Rachel more than Leah, and served with him yet seven other years.

  And when the LORD saw that Leah was hated, he opened her womb: but Rachel was barren.

  And Leah conceived, and bare a son, and she called his name Reuben: for she said,
Surely the LORD hath looked upon my affliction; now therefore my husband will love me.

  And she conceived again, and bare a son; and said, Because the LORD hath heard I was hated, he hath therefore given me this son also: and she called his name Simeon.

  And she conceived again, and bare a son; and said, Now this time will my husband be joined unto me, because I have born him three sons: therefore was his name called Levi.

  And she conceived again, and bare a son: and she said, Now will I praise the LORD: therefore she called his name Judah; and left bearing.

  Dr. King took a huge breath before she started. “Whew! This passage is so rich, and saying so much. What is your first reaction to reading this?”

  “Immediately, I feel sorry for Leah. She knew her husband loved Rachel, and with the birth of every son she hoped to earn his love.”

  “Yes, yes. I don’t even think that she wanted to take all of his love away from Rachel. I believe that like you, Leah didn’t harbor any jealous feelings toward her beautiful sister. She just wanted her fair share of affection. Read chapter thirty, verses fourteen through sixteen. These verses really made my heart ache for Leah.”

  I read,

  And Reuben went in the days of wheat harvest, and found mandrakes in the field, and brought them unto his mother Leah. Then Rachel said to Leah, Give me, I pray thee, of thy son’s mandrakes.

  And she said unto her, Is it a small matter that thou hast taken my husband? and wouldest thou take away my son’s mandrakes also? And Rachel said, Therefore he shall lie with thee to night for thy son’s mandrakes.

  And Jacob came out of the field in the evening, and Leah went out to meet him, and said, Thou must come in unto me; for surely I have hired thee with my son’s mandrakes. And he lay with her that night.

  Dr. King asked, “Tell me, Charmayne, do you think that Leah had high self-esteem?”

  “No, not if she felt she had to buy her husband’s affections with some fruit,” I replied, still feeling sorry for Leah. I hadn’t ever read that Bible story to focus on Leah’s hurt; only on Rachel’s disappointment at not bearing children.

  “I believe that Leah had very low self-esteem,” said Dr. King, “although she had much to be proud of in her life. She had sons, wealth, and a husband who cared for all of her needs. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  I thought that I did. Of course, I was supposed to be looking for the application of Leah’s story in my situation. I had been proud of my career, education, and financial status, but I hadn’t thought enough of myself to do better than Travis. I’d ignored danger signs that I would have easily picked up if it had been Lynette or Dayna romancing him.

  I nodded slowly. “Dr. King, I never thought that I had a self-esteem issue. I’ve even mentored young women with low self-esteem.”

  “You know, I believe low self-esteem is birthed when we start to view ourselves through the eyes of others.”

  There were plenty of eyes on me—critical eyes. It seemed that Mama had nothing but complaints about my life, and she had no problem voicing them. Lynette, and just about everyone else I knew, thought that I should be married. In their eyes, validation came with marriage; validation of my beauty, validation of my womanhood, and validation of God’s favor. I had completely ignored the fact that I had all of these things without a husband.

  Dr. King continued. “I’ve got some more homework for you, Charmayne. I want you to start changing the way you think, and we’re going to do that with something called affirmations.”

  “I’ve heard of affirmations, but I don’t see how they’ll help me.”

  “Every time you have a negative thought about yourself or your situation, you will cancel that thought with a positive affirmation. If you can include scripture in that affirmation, it’s even better. Let’s try one. The thought pops into your head that you need a slice of cheesecake. You feel guilty and think to yourself, I’ll never lose this weight. Now give me your affirmation.”

  “Okay, let me see. I can say to myself, Yes, I can do it, with Jesus’ help. The Bible says that nothing is impossible with God.”

  Dr. King replied, “That’s exactly what I want you to do. You’ll find that the more you use scripture to back up your affirmations, your faith will increase.”

  I bit my lip pensively. The whole affirmation plan sounded like a good idea, but practicing it would be quite another thing. I knew plenty of verses that applied to my situation, but I’d never used them before.

  As if she were reading my mind, Dr. King said, “Charmayne, I know that this exercise might seem a little elementary. The idea of it is to get in the habit of being a positive thinker. Let’s try it for a week and see what happens.”

  “Okay,” I replied. I was still skeptical, but willing.

  That evening, after my session with Dr. King, was the first test of my new “affirmation” plan. I’d been doing well on my diet, and the pounds were slowly but surely melting away. That was a good thing, but I was tired of protein shakes and salads. I wanted some smothered fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

  It didn’t help that I hadn’t seen Travis in four months, and I had no reason to believe I’d ever see him again. But every time the phone rang, my heart would start racing. I was hoping that it was Travis on the line, but also dreading the possibility. Just thinking about him made me want to raid the refrigerator on a junk-food binge.

  I tried to take my mind off breaking my diet by listening to my voice mail messages. I had three new ones. One of them was from Lynette. She called just about every day—to make sure I was still alive. The second was from Mama. She didn’t have enough money for her prescription and wanted me to bring her fifty dollars. The third message was from my first choice on the employer list. They were calling to tell me that they had filled the position with someone more qualified than me.

  As I walked back into the kitchen, I felt the tears stinging my eyes. Why did it have to be so hard to bounce back? Was my one bad choice going to destroy the rest of my life? I grabbed the flour out of the cupboard and started adding seasoning for my fried chicken batter.

  Then I realized what I was doing. I was slipping into a pity party. It had happened so quickly that I hadn’t even had the chance to stop myself. I put the flour down and closed my eyes, silently praying to the Lord for an affirmation.

  I whispered, “I am a skilled and educated young woman. I was qualified for that job, and I am qualified to do many other things. I will succeed, in the name of Jesus.”

  My telephone rang and I answered on the third ring. “Hello.”

  “Hey, girl. How you doing?” It was Ebony. Her cheery tone made me smile.

  “I believe I’ll make it,” I replied, actually believing the sentiment.

  “All right now! I’m calling to invite you to a speaking engagement of mine. I’m speaking at a women’s shelter on Saturday at three. I need an armor bearer.”

  I laughed. “I haven’t been anyone’s armor bearer in a while.”

  “You’re the one I want,” Ebony said. “I know that you’re a prayer warrior, and some of those women need a mighty deliverance.”

  “Mmm-hmm. You just want somebody to carry your Bible,” I joked.

  Ebony chuckled at our ongoing joke. People always made light of our commission as armor bearers. We knew that we were called to do much more than carry Bibles and deliver messages.

  Then Ebony’s tone became all business. “Seriously, girl, I need you.”

  “I’ll be there. Thanks for asking.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m just doing what God said to do. See you Saturday.”

  “All right.”

  I hung up feeling much better. Ebony’s call had been confirmation of my affirmation. I was qualified by God no matter what any human resource department thought. I paused for a moment, and then wiped the flour from my hands. I felt myself walking over to the cupboard and putting the flour back in its place. I then went to the refrigerator and took out a fresh lemon. That eveni
ng, the devil was defeated. Instead of fat and calorie-laden smothered chicken, I dined on grilled chicken flavored with lemon and herbs.

  CHAPTER Ten

  Past

  My breakup with Travis was more devastating than it should have been. I hadn’t been dating him long, so it should’ve been short and sweet, but it was not. I found myself walking around in a melancholy funk, wanting to cry all the time but willing the tears not to come. It was certainly not the peace that I was used to after obeying the voice of God. Perhaps God hadn’t said no. Maybe He’d just wanted me to wait.

  I tried to counter my feelings by putting on my corporate hat. I had an important meeting with the board of directors about my plan for community reinvestment. When I had accepted the position at Grace Savings and Loan, I was hoping that I’d be able to make a difference in the church community. I knew all kinds of saved folks who were completely bound when it came to finances. I believed that it was greatly due to a lack of education about money. It was my dream to implement a plan to transition convicted felons into career positions, including nontraditional small-business loans. I’d finally garnered enough support to get the board to consider a proposal.

  I pressed my intercom button and said, “Donna, did you order the deli trays for my meeting?”

  “Yes, Ms. Ellis!” she responded cheerfully.

  “Thank you,” I said, wishing that I could borrow her positive attitude and take it with me into my meeting.

  I walked over to the conference room and steeled myself for what would probably be a dead-end meeting. It was nice to be part of a church-run organization, but some of the members of the board had no sense of what it took to run a financial institution.

  “Does everyone have a copy of the agenda?”

  I waited a few moments for the rustling of the papers to die down. I wanted to make sure that they all heard about my plans, because I needed them to give me a unanimous vote. It was not an easy thing to get a roomful of ten clergymen to agree.

  When everyone was settled, I cleared my throat and began. “What I have proposed, as you can see, is a way for people to improve their standard of living, not just a handout. By training individuals who have had run-ins with the judicial system, we will empower them instead of making the church a crutch. The investment that Grace Savings will make is relatively small, especially when compared with the benefits. To put it simply: The more gainfully employed saints we have, the stronger, more financially secure our congregations will be. And this is how we can become the pillars that our African American communities need.”