The Truth About the Lie I Live
C. NaTasha Richburg
Published by St. Paul Press at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 C. NaTasha Richburg
ISBN 978-1-4524-9531-6
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of C. NaTasha Richburg.
ALSO by C. NaTASHA RICHBURG
Life: What’s Up
with Yours?
Who’s Renting Space in Your Head?
Every
Story Has Two Sides
www.theCNRMinistries.com
“In every cloud,
there is a silver lining.”
Working through the cloud strengthens
your ability
to grab the lining and hold on.
Dedication
This book is lovingly dedicated to my parents. To me,
they are the epitome of what God intended a mother and father to
be.
It is also dedicated to my son –my nearest, dearest friend…I
love you forever.
Contents
1. Foreword, by Brenda J. Sykes
2. Introduction
3. Songs of Freedom
4. The Truth About the Lie I Live
5. A New Life Order
6. The Last Shall Be First
7. Freedom
8. The Oil and Water Mix
9. Best Friends
10. Enemy Intent
11. The Next Level
12. College Days
13. Follow Your Heart
14. An Answered Prayer
15. After the Letter
16. The Rice in your Puddin
17. The Evil Behind the Smile
18. The Apology
19. Thank You Opens the Door to...You’re Welcome
20. Life After the Moment
21. Poetic Expressions of a New Order
22. Journaling Your Thoughts
Foreword
What a moving and powerful message to inspire and speak power and truth to those of us (especially our youth) who have or continue to live behind a mask of pain. The mask has many names — shame, fear, physical abuse, mental abuse, promiscuity, porn addiction, sexual assault, self doubt, not feeling good enough or worthy enough – all of which are manifested in so many destructive ways that cut us off from receiving God’s love and healing power.
With this book, Mrs. NaTasha Richburg’s prophetic voice speaks in the vernacular of the young with a rawness and honesty that is designed to reach them where they are. The characters are fictional but the demons that many of them struggle with are common place but not necessarily made transparent nor dealt with openly; hence the characters wear their masks. And, they struggle needlessly until they surrender to the will of God.
The most powerful message in this woven tapestry of rich and colorful characters is that “GOD is still in charge.” The God of Abraham and the God of “the Women at the Tomb” is the same God whose blood still heals and restores us to the abundant life that He promised.
The Truth About the Lie I Live provides a roadmap to victory. The subtext is quite simple: “Let Go and Let God.” As you read further, you will identify a recurring message that God can make all things right no matter how hopeless or wrong the situation may seem. There is no hiding place from God because He knows all and sees all. In Psalm 32:7, we read “You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.” We learn that it is only when we surrender to His word and will that God brings grace and healing to any situation.
This roadmap is interspersed with scriptural readings, rhythmic verses for reflection, and thought provoking questions to challenge our thinking and to begin a dialogue of forgiveness and healing. In Isaiah 41:13, He says, “For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, do not fear; I will help you.” This book is a call to a personal invitation to seek God and to receive his love, whatever your circumstance, no matter which mask you are wearing.
For those of us who are still wearing a mask, let this powerful message challenge us to experience the pain and vulnerability of being stripped bare in honesty and truth before God our Father so that we may be healed. Let’s seek His guidance through prayer, and be open to receive Him through his many messengers; i.e., our ministers, family members, friends or professionals.
Mrs. Richburg invites us to, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; and don’t lean on your own understanding. In all things acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your way” (Proverbs 3:5, 6). God is ready to do what we cannot do by ourselves. This is your personal invitation. Don’t forget to RSVP!
Brenda J. Sykes
“To whom much is given, much is expected” (Luke 12:48). Instilled by her mother at a very early age, Brenda Joyce Sykes continues to be guided by this credo. Married to Napoleon for 38 years, Brenda is the mother of three extraordinary adults who are a constant source of pride. After retiring from the federal government as a senior executive with 33 years of public service, Brenda remains excited and lives in anticipation of the new doors that God continues to open and the wonderful opportunities that await her.
Introduction
There are experiences in life that shape our approach for obtaining a deeper understanding of life’s circumstances. Negative circumstances such as sexual abuse, child abuse, emotional abuse and neglect, may scare us into a shell that poses as a defense mechanism to mask the pain. Embodied in the shell is an opportunity to mature our dreams, that when released into the world, serve as a chance to regain balance. As long as we continue to try to maneuver our way out of our shells, our muscles will pulsate with repetitious energy so that we emerge stronger, wiser, and ready to explode into our destiny.
Love is an expression that motivates us into action. Love tells us the truth so that we will become better. Love holds us tight in our mother’s womb. Love lets us run fast, jump, and scrape our knees. God is Love and Love is God. Love language expressed to our liking warms our souls. When we trust love to heal, we use it to uncover the public mask to reveal truth about who we really are. Some of us are who the world see. For others, the public face masks the lie we live.
Follow the stories of Angel, Brock, Free Will, Rome, Kasha, and Alex as they effectively manage the trials and tribulations of life while seeking the chance to remove the mask that uncovers an understanding of their love language that celebrates who they really are. Physical, sexual, emotional, drug abuse and neglect reside behind the mask of their seemingly normal lives. This secret, once released into the blossom of God, motivates them to face the chance to overcome the odds presented to them or fall prey to deviant behavior.
For each character in the book, God is the answer—not just a saying. God is the focal point used to handle each of them, as the masks are removed one person at a time. The Truth About the Lie I Live embraces the importance of how truth in God will crack the shells that bind our existence. It is through God’s love that wounds are open to the possibility to receive love from others.
Chapter One
Songs of Freedom
“…He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it; yet he could not keep his presence secret.”
Mark 7:24 (NIV)
Angel Johnson
The very likable Angel Johnson lived vicariously through the experiences of others. Everyone’s friend at the ripe old age of fifteen, she had the honor of being the person that everyone loved to confide in because she could hold a secret. Angel held her own secret—she could sing like a bird. Her voice was held in the place of privacy where onlookers could not view. Careful to conceal her talent, it was her most favorite obsession in the world to sing at the top of her lungs in the bathroom and in an empty house. God had given Angel the ability to hit the high notes like Mariah Carey with the soulfulness of Mary J. Blige.
Angel loved the Lord and wanted to please Him by singing the tunes of the gospel greats. Soulful tunes graced her vocal cords. A familiar cool breeze cleansed the worries of failure. Success chilled her skin. The selection for the day encapsulated her mood. The newer artists like Mary Mary, Yolanda Adams, CeCe Winans and more, were the model of what it is like to sing from the depth of your spirit. Angel allowed the Holy Spirit to move through her in the form of a new dance every week. Seasoned artists like Shirley Caesar and Dorothy Norwood demonstrated soul-stirring movement that inspired healing passion to reveal itself through Angel. When the Spirit rested heavily on Angel, she would bend down as she leaned to the left, symbolizing a tugging at her heart. The grabbing and tugging mixed the melody prior to it belting out in the form of a song. Her favorite artist is herself, Angel Johnson, obsessed to sing out loud, relieving all pent up emotions, passion, and praise.
The opening passage of Angel’s diary written on her fifteenth birthday reads: Staring into the eyes of the first man I loved are the eyes of my father set squarely in the center of my face as I look into the mirror. I look exactly like him. The almond brown color of my skin matches his skin color exactly. The texture of my hair, in which my mother is most graceful, curls exactly like his. My curls brush out nicely with a little water on the dampened hair brush dipped in light hair conditioner.
I remember his hugs and the bristles on his face that scratched my cheeks when he kissed me. The bristles were his 5:00 shadow, when coupled with the smell of nice after shave lotion, encouraged me to run playfully from my father whenever he came around. He did not come around much in the early days. I loved who he was in my life.
My father was the one that represented fun—the good times. He was not the one to tell me when to go to bed or wake me up in the morning. He was the man who lived life on his own terms, even if it meant I would plop into the chair at the front door for many hours waiting for him to arrive, only for him not to show up again—and again—and again.
I would recall in my mind his promise to come at 2:00 only to arrive at 5:30 wondering why I was not ready. I was always happy to see him no matter the time he arrived, while at the same time being angry for anticipating that maybe he would not come again. Maybe that is why I cannot take riding roller coasters, with all the ups and downs, such as my father going and coming without the benefit of an announcement. My stomach continued dropping out to the bottom when the dip of his unreliability was steeper than I anticipated. The dip just never felt good to me because the drop in my stomach was always followed by a ride to the next peak. When Daddy arrived it was a peak.
My father was the huggy one. My mother was not. So when he did hug me, it felt a little uncomfortable because I was not used to being hugged and kissed. It was his smile, the smell of fresh fried scallops and Triple Decker sandwiches that said, “I was loved and cherished; I was special. I was Daddy’s little girl.”
At two years old, I lost the only man in my life because he could not get along with my mother. My man. My father. My daddy was gone. Around my heart now is a shield that protects me from ever having the feeling of loss again. God predestined the bond I had with my daddy. In those days, I trusted he would be in place even if he arrived a little late. I just needed to give him something to be proud of.
I look in the mirror and realize I am a combination of both my parents’ ancestry, and more importantly, I am one of God’s children. I see my father’s eyes. I feel rage because over the years I became one of his “after thoughts.” After he finished with his new wife, step children, his friends, his business, his good government job, then he would think about me. After he had one moment to himself and everything in his life was in place, then maybe he thought about me. His “after thought” attention was my father’s attempt to get a pat on the back for doing right by me.
I see his eyes in the mirror, though he is gone home to be with the Lord. I see his eyes; I need to feel good about him so I can feel good about me. When I am able to look into the eyes of that special man and not feel pain, I will know deliverance has arrived for me.
Five Years Later
At Jeremiah’s Call Café, twenty-year-old Angel recalled her friend, Free Will, the Christian poet who was the headliner for the evening—the situation that changed her life. One Saturday morning I waited patiently for all in the house to clear out. It was normal for the family to run errands after the house was cleaned on Saturday. Mama always had to take care of business. Once gone, and the house was empty, I had my imaginary stage. The stage was my shower.
In the shower stall, I could be me. It was the place where I expressed myself comfortably. I did not worry about what others may say regarding my musical expression. I loved my stage. I kept it a secret. God gave me a voice that could comfort lost souls coupled with a place to practice my vocal talent. Free Will looked at Angel strangely. Angel said, Girl, I would sing my songs. Sometimes I would stay in the bathroom for hours after my shower and just sing and sing and sing and sing. My favorite song is “Amazing Grace.” I loved to take my time, hit the notes in a way that I never heard another person hit and thank God in complete amazement for the gift birthed right out of my pain.
Looking sad, Angel thought about what happened that made her feel dirty. It was time to move forward and grow from the dirt sprinkled in life’s experience to the destination to bring forth deliverance through song. She continued the conversation after a moment of silence.
Everything was perfect. I graduated from high school, sang in the choir, but looked forward to my performances in the shower. From age eight to the present, I practiced and perfected my gift. This particular Saturday, I entered a warm bathroom because my mother readied herself later than usual to prepare for the day’s outing. I really looked forward to entering a warm shower because my vocal chords respond better under the steam heat.
The coast was clear. Everybody went their separate way, and I entered the shower to sing the song of my life. Then it happened. The worst nightmare that could possibly happen in the daytime occurred; the thing that gave me goose bumps to think about. My mother burst in the room and caught me in mid-breath. She screamed with excitement because she always thought that I could carry a tune, but she had no idea. “Angel, get dressed,” my mother yelled. “Come out of there now.” I thought to myself. What was I to do? Do I stay in the shower? Do I stay in my comfort zone? Do I come off the imaginary stage and sing for my mother in the same manner that I sang to the shower curtain? An unwanted visitor, my mother, had invaded my private performance.
My mind was spinning. I was thinking: is the God in the sanctuary of my bathroom ready to stand with me outside of my comfort zone? God gave me a private place to rehearse for five years. God gave me a predictable mother that afforded me time to practice around her regimented schedule. God gave me confidence to sing my heart out in the shower. I get it, my favorite song “Amazing Grace” was His counsel in my restless soul.
Out of the shower singing for my mother, I was free to tell her the entire story that was rooted in pain. Pain brought on by the inappropriate behavior that I experienced by the hands of a former neighbor from the age of seven to ten-years-old. Rescued by my mother from my shame at age fifteen gave meaning to why it was important to sing alone. Singing in the shower washed away the nasty sweat that covered my body because of the sexual abuse experienced by a neighborhood friend. The singing made my insides feel happy. At fifteen years old, it was time for my mother to hear and know the truth about all the bad things that happened to me.
My mother called the police. The neighbor received a twenty-five year sentence for his crime. After the sentencing, my mother said, “Anything a grown-up did to me sexually was not my fault.” A violation of trust must not rest in my spirit to make me a victim of my circumstance. I felt safe by my mother’s action, years of counseling, and understanding the healing power of God. Free Will looked into Angel’s eyes, and with tears streaming down, she thanked her for sharing her wonderful triumph over pain.
Angel entered the stage and the roar of the crowd was breathtaking. The roar washed away the past pain as the warm shower once did when her voice was a secret. Angel’s vocal execution is a love walk with God, graced by a soulful expression, rescinded by the healing power of the Holy Spirit. Angel is a gospel jazz artist who opens every session with “Amazing Grace.”
Before beginning the next song, Angel looked at the door. A member of the security staff entered the room with obvious intent. He came to watch her. Excitement filled the room but only he and Angel knew who he came to see. Their eyes met. He mouthed the words, “Hello again.” Her eyes said, “Hello to you, too.” Angel’s prayers to God now answered, was confirmed by the cool breeze that rested on both of them.
Angel's Song
Power gained
A secret released
Forgive…
Live…
Thrive…
The abusers grip died
“Babe it is over now”
Love language is sweet
Scares mount into strength
Make possible future romantic intent
The Chorus sings…
Song birds’ jazzy song
Soothe
Heartbreak’s cloud is gone
Angel watching me from on high
Pain of shame gone
Subside
Chapter Two
The Truth About the Lie I Live
“But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ.”
Ephesians 4:15 (KJV)
Brock Jordan
Angel took under her wing a new friend named Brock Jordan. Brock came along as a new addition to the neighborhood at a time in Angel’s life when her secret revealed itself to her mom. Two years her senior, Brock entered Clark High School in the junior class with a ninth grader, Angel, as a confidant ready to show him the ropes. Brock, welcomed by Angel as the brother she wished she had, was confirmed by the cool breeze that rested on each of them. Nobody really knew where Brock lived in the neighborhood; Angel did not care.
Brock often stayed around to offer his help with the dishes. He helped lift heavy things, he moved and/or carried heavy items around Angel’s house. Her mom in turn filled a nurturing role Brock did not receive within his family unit. Brock also started having long talks with Poppa, Angel’s grandfather, who had lived with them since Angel could remember. Poppa and Brock hit it off the first time they met. Brock noticed that he and Poppa only conversed when they were alone, but that made the conversations all the more special. It was “men only” time when they sat on the porch together.
Poppa had a glow about him and a way to make words read like a picture in his mind. Talking about his home, Nigeria, Poppa brought to life the richness of the Nigerian culture. Particularly fond of Lyan (pounded yam), Dodo (Fried Plantains), and Efo (vegetable soup), Poppa explained the dishes in such detail that Brock could smell it as well as see it in his mind. Brock wanted seconds before he had firsts. Poppa’s approval of Brock supported Mom Johnson’s decision to make Brock an official member of the Johnson family.
Mom Johnson saw Brock as a big brother to Angel and a grandson to Poppa. She reflected on how Brock would talk with Poppa late into the evening, not wanting to go home, but longing to hold tight with every word Poppa spoke. Brock sat on the porch for hours listening to Poppa talk about the “good old days.” The rolling melody of hums, head nodding and back slapping made for a man’s territory of prose not espoused by women.
Poppa was always open and honest about his past, but Brock was not comfortable pontificating in honest dialog; he was comfortable listening. Brock held back details exposed in the chronic neglect and abandonment that draped a dark shadow of his past. Brock felt guilty because he was not forthright about his background, but could not see past the pain he experienced as a child to tell this wonderful person everything. Ashamed by the manner in which he had to lie, cheat, and steal to survive, Brock portrayed himself as a happy person, but the truth was he was sad inside.
There was a tape looping in Brock’s memory regarding how his family could not afford rent. The vivid color surround sound video in brilliant 3D animation exhibited the gritty insight of Brock’s suffering. It reminded him of the delicious puss rats stole from his feet as he slept at night on the floor in the vacant row house called home. It was during the day that his bright smile and intelligence covered up his pain. How could he tell Poppa how broken he felt? Would Poppa hold it against him because he did not tell the truth from the start?
What would he think if he knew that every six months his family had to move to a new neighborhood, new school, new life, and new friends? How would the truth about the lie he lived help his current situation with this family he loves?
Poppa understood an unstable life was the course of the day for Brock. He knew Brock’s dilemma because he had his own past to deal with. Squatting in vacant houses with drug addicts, rats, and rodents taught Brock the importance of a shower. Brock prayed and got a job in a local health club. Poppa knew that working in the local health club doing laundry, was the employment that provided Brock the way to cleanliness. He believed in the saying that “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.” Brock did not have to explain “his lie” to Poppa; Poppa knew about the lie, its resolution, and Brock’s destiny. Brock did not have to confess; Poppa knew about his past and welcomed him to be part of the Johnson family future.
Brock resembled Poppa—easy on the eyes with perfect gentleman-like charm. His deep dark skin and pearly white smile, in direct contrast to Angel’s skin tone, matched closely to that of Mom Johnson and Poppa. Angel’s mom use to tease Brock by saying, “I think you are the perfect candidate for a toothpaste commercial. Now get out there and make us some money.” They would all laugh because deep down they all knew it was true.
On the surface, it seemed none of life’s concerns could possibly touch Brock because he handled himself wonderfully in a fashion-forward manner. Many of his fashions were obtained from items acquired from the health club lost and found box. Thus, the quality of the items found reflected the taste of the upper middle class clientèle. The stability of the health club employment eliminated the need for Brock to steal for survival. He enjoyed the freedom that being honest brings. No longer having to look over his shoulders and try to remember the lies he told was a plus. The only shame he carried was regarding his impoverished living environment.
*****
A masterful silent communicator, Brock never had to say one word to get his point across to onlookers. One day, Casey pushed Angel down and hurt her badly. Angel knew it would be necessary to fight Casey even though there was no chance of beating this giant of an opponent. The time had come; she was prepared to take her “beat down.” Knowing others would witness the event, forced Angel to take a firm stance so others would not try the same behavior. Angel had a straight-back firm-faced defiance that only happens when a person cannot take being harassed anymore. She geared up to get in at least one good lick, understanding the consequence would result in bodily harm. Angel thought as she approached the battle ground, “When I am in my crazy mood I will pick up a chair to hit an enemy to ensure others know if they mess with Angel, they will pay the cost.” Brock internalized the entire scene. He was not about to let anyone harm Angel.
With the determination of a heroic big brother, Brock stepped in to help before Angel had a chance to engage in battle. He entered the battle ground, stared into the eyes of the assailant as if to say, “You missed your chance to harm Angel, I am in the family now.” Casey got the message loud and clear, Brock did not utter one word. It was that deep. His silence seemed to strongly say, “I will break your face in and embarrass your stare.” That motivated Casey to establish an instantaneous, meaningful friendship with Angel. Brock’s silent communication penetrated Casey’s skull, reached common sense, then motivated the “do the right thing” part of the brain to take over. Casey backed off. Brock’s approach to battle electrified the crowd that gathered to witness the event. His approach to battle was more effective than yelling, screaming, and using four letter words. Big brothers, larger than life, can back off the most sinister opponent. Brock took his role as a big brother very seriously.
The aftermath of the Casey altercation gave Brock the courage to open up about his life. He felt the desire to tell Angel and Poppa the truth—the truth about how he wore parental neglect as the veil of abuse fueled by the by-product of drug abuse. His parents’ drug abuse resulted in emotional abuse experienced by parents who could only work to get the next high. Brock’s home consisted of vacant buildings that housed crack heads, drug dealers, prostitutes, and rats. Angel felt bad for Brock. Poppa already knew the truth. He was waiting for Brock to reveal it in his own time.
It was a heavy day filled with open confessions, truths, and sadness. Angel and Brock were sitting in the kitchen trying to take it all in. Mom Johnson had made a meal of Poppa’s favorites that had now become Brock’s favorites. There was a sense of purpose in the air. The meal time did not include the usual jovial conversation. Poppa never ate with them, but Brock never thought it strange. Mom Johnson entered the kitchen with a very serious face. She said, “I was sitting on the porch talking to Poppa and we both agreed that, Brock, we would like you to become an official member of the Johnson family.” Brock looked at Mom Johnson and Angel, struggling not to let tears that were already streaming down inside of his soul come out of his eyes. Unable to contain himself, Brock put his head on the table in the crease of his arm and cried like a new born baby. The dream that someone grounded in goodness would want him to become part of the family never seemed possible, but now it was true. Brock could not look up. Mom Johnson and Angel sat in chairs on each side of him, put their arms around him, and cried equally as hard. After ten minutes of crying, Mom Johnson said, “I take that as a YES.” Brock said through his tears, “Yes, ma’am .”
Mom Johnson knew of the arrest of Brock’s parent and knew it would not be long before he was placed in a foster home. She contacted the Department of Social Services about becoming a foster care home for Brock. The home study, scheduled to begin the day after Brock agreed to be part of the Johnson family, made everything official. Poppa informed Mom Johnson that “a new life call was in order” for Brock.
Chapter Three
A New Life Order
“When I say to a wicked man, 'You will surely die,' and you do not warn him or speak out to dissuade him from his evil ways in order to save his life, that wicked man will die for his sin, and I will hold you accountable for his blood.”