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Stay Still. But Keep Moving.

C.L.Jordan

August 24, 2019

Change is inevitable. Sometimes we welcome it with open arms and sometimes we fight it off with everything that is within us. Sometimes we usher in the change with perfect intention. Other times, change imposes itself upon us and we are forced to adapt to the shifting of the tectonic plates that form the foundation of our lives. Change comes in an unimaginable array of shapes and sizes; from subtle and almost overlooked entirely, to virtually earth shattering, carrying with it the force of a category 5 hurricane. There are no patterns or set equations to determine when, and how exactly, change will knock on our door posts. But nevertheless, we know that it knocks for us all.

Change, like time, is no respecter of man. No living thing goes untouched.

In my last post, I shared that there was a major change in my own life which God had been preparing me for along the way. I posted that there was a quote that I had penned a year prior about “standing on the precipice of change” and that it still struck the same internal cord about knowing that if I stayed in the same place, I would fail to live. Let that settle into the corners of your heart; I would fail to live. I re-shared that quote 24 hours before I was tossed from my comfort zone by a change that was forced upon me and came with little warning.

To say that I did not see the change coming would be incorrect. I saw it coming… just not in the way that it manifested. In hindsight, the foreshadowing events were practically undeniable. I had worked at the same job for six years, and one month ago, I was separated from the company that I had once loved, but had grown frustrated with. I felt like I was in an abusive relationship with a place, rather than a person… yet I felt as though I needed that job. The uncertainty of not having the consistency in my life was frightening.

A couple of months prior to my separation, I was attending a meeting for the writer’s group that I had joined, and I distinctly remember telling the ladies around that table that I knew that I was going to be leaving my job. I explained that it was 100% a gut instinct and that I had no idea how it was going to happen or what it was going to look like. I simply felt the proverbial winds changing and knew that I was bound to be carried away on them.

The shock that came in the moment of confirmation was still enough to knock the breath from my lungs, however. It wasn’t clean and easy. It was messy and painful.

The circumstances that surrounded my separation were completely ridiculous. Unfortunately, I am still not at liberty to discuss details… but one day, that will be great content for its own designated post. It will leave your head spinning.

As much as I had a peace about it, which was far beyond any explanation other than the presence of the hand of God, I still woke up the next morning feeling like a lost puppy. My normal routine had been completely demolished and I had no idea what to do with my new found freedom. But, that is exactly how I chose to view it- as freedom. I did not mourn the loss, because it really was not a loss at all. In a sense, it was as if I were a baby bird- I knew that the time to leave the comfortable, yet confining, nest was impending. I knew that there was coming a time where I had to spread my own wings and head out on my own adventure. Being separated from my job was as if I were kicked out of my nest and forced to take the next step. I was forced to fly into the changing winds, and it was as liberating as it was terrifying.

There is a song that I have recently fallen head over heels in love with, by one of my favorite singers; Shoshana Bean. Days after being separated, I was listening to the live version of her song, “One Way To Go,” on YouTube. Halfway through the performance, Shoshana stops singing and talks to the audience about being in “desert times;” those moments where you have lost everything and have no idea what the next move is. She says that she thinks that those are the best moments, and that if you can just “keep moving, or sometimes stay still, but keep moving, or stay still…it is only temporary.” She then goes on to talk about how the Jews walked through the Red Sea. She exclaims; “we went until the water filled our mouths, and yet we still had faith!”

What sense does that make? To stay still but to keep moving? How do you do both?

It wasn’t until a few days later that all of the dots were connected. I was sitting in a service where my Pastor was preaching from Exodus 14. He was talking about the Israelites walking across the Red Sea, and my mind drifted to the lyrics from the video that I had had on repeat for days. As he read chapter 14 to the congregation, my ears picked up on a sequence of words that flowed from his lips;
^“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on. (Exodus 14:14-15)

Stay still, but keep moving.

Now I was listening. How could something so specific be relayed so exactly, just days apart? I have to admit, I don’t always have an ear that is perfectly tuned to the voice of God… but how could I deny or ignore this message? Clearly there was a lesson here that I was meant to learn.

I took a moment to look at my situation. I was in a place that was very much like that of the Israelites. The people of Israel had just encountered an incredible change- one that they were not exactly welcoming with open arms. Of course they did not want to be enslaved by the Egyptians, but they were not thrilled by the prospect of dying in the desert either. (Exodus 14:12) They were led out of Egyptian captivity and were walking into the unknown. They were being pursued by the chariots of Pharaoh and had no other choice but to rely on the promise of God that He would fight for them. Moses responded to the cries of the Israelites by telling them to stand firm and be still, as the Lord would fight for them. Still.

In the very next verse, God tells Moses to move on. Move. The Lord did not say to stand still for a day and then move. He did not say to stand still for an hour and then move. He required the Jews to be still and move…simultaneously in the same state of being. They had no other choice- they could not turn around and go back to where they came from, and they could not stay in the desert. They had to move on if they were to live. And don’t you know… the Lord made a way, as promised. He made safe passage for His people and struck down their captors. In their stillness- their ceasing to fight for themselves and throwing their dependency upon the deliverance of the Lord- He won their battle for them. They simply needed to move towards the victory.

How familiar. I, also, was in a place where I had just encountered a life altering change and had to keep moving. I did not have the option of returning to the job that I had just left, yet I needed to move in some direction…especially since my landlord still requires payment. There was no option of standing in one place, yet I knew… still know… that the Lord has been telling me to be still in that I allow Him to fight my battle for me and bring the vindication that I know is on the horizon. Just like the Israelites, I have had no option but to rely on the promise of God. And again, don’t you know… the Lord has been making a way from the very first step.

This is not a message that is meant for me, alone. As change comes into each of our lives, we are going to be faced with situations that seem bleak. We are all going to see stretches of desert that seem unending, and oceans of impossibility that threaten to drown us. We are going to see times where we are pursued, unrelenting, by those that wish to ensnare us. But hear me; Be still and allow the Lord to move you on to the victory.

I am no where near the far banks of my Red Sea- I am still in the midst of the seabed. But I have learned that so long as I am still but keep moving… it is only temporary. The promises of the Lord do not go unfulfilled, and this change is going to prosper me in ways that I cannot even begin to imagine yet.

The water is still filling my mouth, but yet I still have faith.

X.O. C.L.Jordan

P.S. Follow the link below to watch the video of Shoshana Bean’s performance of One Way To Go!

The New Chapter And The Monarch

C.L.Jordan

2 comments

August 11, 2019

Hello, my beautiful and beyond wonderful readers. Boy, do I have an update for you.

There are so many details that I am not a liberty to write about at the moment, but let me tell you- my entire universe has been shaken and my world has been spun off of it’s axis. And you know what? It is the best thing that ever could have happened to me… and in hindsight, I can see the hand of God on every single step thus far.

My love for writing began all of the way back in high school when a teacher encouraged me to enter a writing contest. Looking back on that time, I can see exactly where the love was birthed. I never thought that it would be something that I would pursue full time, but I was romanced by the idea that I could spill myself out on paper and paint pictures with the words. I became addicted to the satisfaction of each completed piece, and I yearned for the reaction of my readers. I suppose I should have seen a future in writing, but at the time, it was simply a hobby.

I did win the contest, by the way. And many more after that.

What does the conception of this passion have to do with the major changes that have taken place as of late? Well, lovelies; this is the path that we will be pursuing, full time, together.

Two and half weeks ago, I was separated from the job that I have held to, like a life preserver, for six excruciating years. On the day that the events took place, I calmly walked out of the building and called one of my best friends. I did not… and still have not… cried over the loss that was not really a loss at all.

“This had to happen. It had to happen this way because if it didn’t, I never would have left. As much as I have grown to resent this job, it was comfortable because I know the ins and outs of it.” I spoke, unwavering, into the phone.

Just 24 hours earlier, I had shared a quote that I had penned a year earlier. The quote reads;

I find myself standing on the precipice of change, toeing the edge of the ravine.

I could stay here, but I’d never live.

‘But what if you fail, and you lose everything?’ They ask.

‘But what if I don’t?’ I reply.

I captioned the re-post by talking about how I still remembered what this quote was in reference to and that I found myself in the same position, 365 days later. I said that I was still standing on the precipice, not by act of choice in purposely staying, but in lack of acting. I pleaded that those who were reading would learn from my mistake and not allow another year of toeing the ravine pass us by.

24 hours later, I was tossed from my comfort zone and forced to learn how to swim in the sea of possibilities. I had asked for it, hadn’t I?

So, here we are. On a new journey into a new chapter. The old chapter is not fully closed yet (That’s one of those details that I am not at liberty to write about yet…but I promise to do so when I am able), but we are going to begin the new one with a blank page that is filled with nothing but promise. As I was walking out of the door on my last day, a monarch butterfly drifted around me and then gracefully danced out of sight, riding the summer breeze. The most beautiful symbol of rebirth and transformation. Throughout the past 2.5… almost 3 weeks, I have seen so many monarchs that the message is undeniable; this is it. This is my season to transform and be reborn into the person that I have known was due to emerge, but that I was too afraid to release.

Welcome to my transformation. Welcome to our rebirth; our new chapter.

X.O. C.L.Jordan

Monarch

Mother’s Day Without My Mother

C.L.Jordan

3 comments

May 15, 2019

“Are you here to celebrate Mother’s Day?”

The sweet, elderly lady asked me as I held the diner door open for her to exit gracefully. The dining room behind her was brimming with families that were here to give mom a rare reprieve from cooking Sunday morning breakfast.

“Ahh, no…” I laughed. “That is tomorrow for me. I’ll be taking my grandmother out for lunch.”

“Are you a mother?”

“No, I am not.”

“But, you have a mother?”

“Hmmm. Well… not anymore…”

“Oh, no! I am so sorry that I brought it up then!” The lady exclaimed. She looked genuinely remorseful.

“No, no! Don’t be sorry! It is quite alright. I get to take my grandmother out instead. We are going to have a great time.” I put my hand on my new friend’s arm and assured her that I really was alright.

I wish I could tell you how many times that I have seen the look that crossed this lady’s face. It is a mix of regret for asking and sorrow for whatever untold story that I was harboring. I have seen it more times than I can count, yet somehow I still have not quite found a less shocking way to break the news to people who ask. I don’t intend to make the conversation awkward, but more often than not, it is virtually unavoidable.

Mother’s Day used to be a painful one, but I have found that as the years pass by, it becomes increasingly less of a sore subject. It is less of a gaping wound and more of an old bruise that has yet to fade away. (Not that it actually will.) The dim purple splotch is still visible, but contact no longer kindles a wince. It wasn’t always this way, but time and healing have begun to make ground.

It is never easy to lose someone that you love, and it is amazing how the loss of one person can impact the lives of so many people. My mom was the heart of not just my house, but my family. She was the foundation, support beams and insulation- all in one. She was the warmth that we sought on blustery days; the shelter from the rain. She held the light of the sun and all of the wonder of the stars and moon. She was simultaneously celestial and firmly rooted. She was our anchor, yet also the wind that pushed our sails on the course of adventure. She was everything. So, when we lost her, it was like our world had come to a screeching halt. There were some who loved her who never really recovered from her absence.

I was sixteen when my mom passed away, and so much has happened since then that I wish I could share with her. My goals, dreams, concerns. I think of her every single day. I wonder…and hope… that she would be proud of me. I strive to learn from her mistakes and carry on the lessons that she taught. I hope to take the best of her and use it to help form the woman that I am, as well as the woman that I am continuously morphing into. I do catch glimpses of her in my day-to-day in so many ways. More often than not, I hear her words coming out of my mouth. (Particularly when I have lost my temper, if we are being honest…) I also see her in my own determination, outspokenness and sometimes, even in my stubbornness.

My mom was one of the greatest gifts that God could have ever given to me. He has, in turn, given me so many more wonderful gifts by way of the women that He has placed in my path after my mom passed away. There have been so many that have impacted me in ways that most of them will never even know. Some were an open ear and a shoulder to cry on. Some brought the firm words of discipline that I needed in the moment. Some simply prayed for me when I didn’t even know that I needed their prayers. They all, however, deposited a piece of themselves into the fabric that makes up my tapestry. If it had not been for these incredible mentors, I would not be who I am today.

They played just as big of a part as my mom did.

No one will be able to replace my mom. She truly was one of a kind, and while I only had her for a short while, I was truly far more blessed than many others will ever have the fortune to be. I would rather have had her here with me for just sixteen years, and know and feel the intensity of her love than to have a mother for a lifetime that doesn’t love, as sadly, so many have.

So… is it sad that I took my grandmother out for Mother’s Day instead of my mom? Yes and no. It is sad that my mother is no longer here for me to treat to lunch. It is sad that every now and then I still have pangs of jealousy when I see other women my age with their mothers. It is sad that her wonderful life was cut so short. It is not sad, however, that I have the privilege of still having my grandmother. My grandmother is one of those intricate parts of my tapestry; one of the threads that holds the entire picture together. There will come a day when she too, will exit this life and wait for me on the other side of glory. There will come a day when I will wish for these days back. There will come a Mother’s Day when it will be the “First Mother’s Day without.” But, until then, I will appreciate the time that we have and allow myself to savor the moments that are before me rather than mourn the precious memories that are behind me.

And believe me; they are oh, so precious.

X.O. C.L.Jordan

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An Open Letter To The Only Man That I Ever Loved Enough To Marry (But Didn’t)

C.L.Jordan

3 comments

March 31, 2019

I thought about you today. I don’t think about you every day anymore, but every now and then I find my mind wandering to the past- back to when we knew each other…not just of each other. I wonder how you are doing, but I will never ask; not you… and not directly, anyway. I wonder if life turned out for you the way that you anticipated it to. Ten years later, I still wonder about a lot of things, actually.

There are so many things that I would like to tell you, and oh, so many questions that I have for you. It’s funny, really… we are now living completely separate lives in completely separate places, but our roots are forever intertwined and our social circles still manage to graze one another. Do you ever think about that? Do you ever think of how things could have been? How they would have been, had we made different choices? I do. More often than I would like to admit.

I’m not entirely certain that you really know just how much I loved you…still love you, if we are being honest. I know that I told you. I know that you heard me, but were you really listening? There was a day when you were the focal point of all of my dreams. My heart beat for you in it’s entirety and every cell in my body became aglow at the cast of your smile. How I lived for that smile! I relished in your laughter and ached with you when you were in pain. I was in your corner, even on the hardest days. Your presence was a warm embrace against the bone-chilling winds that life blew my way. Did you even realize it? Do you know that I sought my shelter in you? Do you know that my sun rose and set on you? I don’t think you do.

There was a day when I would have done anything in the world for you and luckily for me, I don’t think you really knew that. The spell that you cast over me was thick and suffocating in all of it’s splendor. The butterflies that swarmed my stomach every time that your name came across the screen of my cellphone were innumerable and powerful enough to launch me far above the clouds. To say that I was “head-over-heels in love” would be the ultimate understatement. I wanted all of you, in your entirety without reservation…which is for certain, why I gave you all of my own self with no regard for the consequences.

You, in turn, had little to no regard for my heart, and if you didn’t know how much I loved you then, you certainly know now.

So what happened? We were young and naive. We wanted different things in life, and those things were not in alignment with each other. I was willing to compromise everything that I wanted in exchange for the gift of you, but by the time that I reached that revelation, it was too late. Your heart belonged to someone else. Perhaps it never really belonged to me at all. Perhaps I was just keeping it warm until it found it’s true home. Perhaps we did love each other; just in different ways. Perhaps we didn’t actually know how to love…truly.

So here we are, and you are probably wondering why I am writing this letter after all of these years. I am not writing to guilt you for how things ended nor am I writing for the mere sake of digging up old memories, long buried beneath the weight of years gone by.

I am writing to make peace with both you and myself. I need you to know exactly how much of my heart you had occupied, and how much you took with you when you left. There is a piece of me that will forever be missing because it has woven itself into you. I will never not love you. You are an intricate part of who I am, and whether I like it or not, you have helped shape me into the woman that I am today. You were my first love. My first wave of recklessness. My first kiss in the moonlight. My first everything.

You were also my first true heartbreak and my first true proverbial slap in the face. You helped fashion the canon by which I would set my standard for any and all men. You showed me what I wanted as well as what I would never tolerate again. You forced me into a place of needing to be more self reliant than ever before, and for it I can be nothing short of thankful. By breaking my heart, you made me realize how much more I was worth. You also made me realize that I would never settle.

I want you to know that I forgive you. I forgive you for hurting me. I forgive you for playing with my emotions. I forgive you for taking the parts of me that were so vulnerable and using them for your own satisfaction. I forgive you for being an ass. I also forgive myself. I forgive myself for seeking assurance in the arms of a man. I forgive myself for being willing to compromise all that I am and could be for someone else who didn’t even see the value of the sacrifice. I forgive myself for being foolish. I forgive us, both.

Please know also, that I wish you no ill will. I truly hope that the life that you have pursued and created has brought nothing but joy and satisfaction. I hope that your family is forever healthy and happy. I hope that you are prosperous. I hope that you are fulfilled. I hope that you think back on the past and smile, because it helped to pave the road to where you are now. I hope that I taught you as much as you taught me. I hope that your wife is everything for you that I could never be. I hope that you are in love.

I realize that you may never even read this letter, just as you may never even realize that you still carry a piece of my heart. Regardless, it is written, even if you never see it. Regardless, my heart still beats, even if a part of it is missing.

X.O C.L.Jordan

A Short Update

C.L.Jordan

1 comment

March 22, 2019

It has been about 3.5 months since I last posted. Ironically, my last post was about how life is unpredictable…and he has shown himself faithful to continue his pattern of not concerning himself with my conveniences. I suppose that this is good practice for learning to walk in the advice that I give, but really… why is it so easy to give advice and then fail to follow it ourselves? Ahhh, lessons.

Since my last post, the holidays have come and gone; the chaos has settled and life has returned to some semblance of normal. Here in Boston, the cold weather is beginning to wane, and the locals are trading in their heavy jackets for sweatshirts as we break into the upper forties and flirt with the low fifties. Miniature rivers and lakes are imposing upon sidewalks and parking lots as melting snow gives way to a warmer, albeit wetter existence.

The past few months have been a bit crazy in my neck of the woods, as it feels like life has been throwing 100 mph curve balls my way, faster than I can swing my bat. An onslaught of car problems, stress at work and the heartbreak that comes with losing a pet have all darkened my door and distracted me from updating. My sincerest apologies, as I know that I promised to be better at updating you on our journey.

There is a lot of content coming your way; this I promise you. Buckle up, kids. We are on the road again.

XO C.L.Jordan

Lesson 6; Life Doesn’t Always Go As Planned.

C.L.Jordan

3 comments

December 9, 2018

Perhaps one of the most obvious statements about life is that it doesn’t always play out in the way that we envision. We set goals and plans and self-imposed deadlines, but we don’t often take into consideration the fact that life has no regard for our plans. Life plows through our mental calendars and wipes his muddy boots on the invisible timelines that we have meticulously drawn out for ourselves. He sounds like quite the bully; I suppose, but we must remember that this is his nature… if he did not do so, he would cease to exist and in turn, so would we.

So, what do we do about this brute who so freely disposes of our plans and concerns himself with no ones path but his own? We can’t be rid of him and we can’t control him, so the only thing that we can do is hold on for the ride and roll with the punches that he clumsily throws.

The other night, I was on the phone with one of my best friends and we were talking about how life was going and where we thought we would be by now. How life was supposed to be. We reminisced about when we were teenagers and we thought that things were going to be easier once we were older, out of school and self-reliant. We have done everything right… we graduated high school, finished college and found jobs that provided benefits. We pay our taxes and our bills and we don’t make irresponsible purchases. We take care of our families, our pets and our friends. We show up for work without fail, even when the idea of it makes our stomachs turn. We do right. So, why are we struggling so much? Why aren’t we where we had hoped…planned…to be?

The answer to all of the “whys” is simple; life. He does not bend to our playbook.

“30 Lessons” has been a great reminder that life doesn’t always go as planned. It was my plan to have this entire series completed and posted by my 30th birthday, but here we are…12 days and 24 posts late. Life saw himself into my calendar to shake things up along the way. His clumsy blows landed in the form on a minor car accident, the death of a loved one and too many hours at work. I am determined to complete this series however, more than ever. Just because the calendar has flipped does not nullify the importance of the message. The lessons are equally, if not more important, and we are on this journey together.

So, what is the point of Lesson 6?

When I was on the phone with Jess the other night, the conversation came to a pinnacle determination that we just had to be grateful with where we were. In this holiday season, when the focus is supposed to be on what we are thankful for, we need to remember how far we have come and that it is just a season in our lives. There are far more complicated things taking place behind the scenes in both of our lives than I have even slightly indicated in this post, and we need to remember that where we are right now is not our forever. We are not on anyone else’s timeline, and we are not in a race. We will get to where we are supposed to be. Right now, we just need to learn from the journey and remember that life doesn’t always go quite as we plan it.

XO C.L.Jordan

Lesson 5; Get Enough Sleep, Or You Could End Up With A Psycho In Your Car

C.L.Jordan

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November 9, 2018

“THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU IF YOU WERE HOME.”

Above are the words that were angrily spouted at me (in love) by one of my best friend’s mother after I told her the story that I am about to share with you. (Which she never would have known, had I not been ratted out in the first place…)

Brace yourselves; this was, by far, not my finest hour.

Let me begin this story by telling you that it was about 11 pm, on a very hot night in July. I had just finished working the longest shift of life; 4 am-12 pm at one store, and then 1230 pm- 930 pm at my own. I was literally exhausted, but I had to stop and pick up some groceries before I proceeded to the pet sitting job that I was starting that night. (We are already off to a stellar start, here…)

Once back in my car, I realized that I could not remember putting my credit card back into my wallet. (Remember, I’m at almost 24 hours without sleep and probably a little dehydrated to boot.) Naturally, I lean over into my passenger seat and check my bag to make sure that I have my card. After a few seconds of rummaging, I find it; thank God. Relieved that I had my card, but slightly unnerved that I was tired enough to forget putting it away, I turned back toward my steering wheel with full expectation of driving to my pet sitting job and embracing my pillow for an 8 hour rendezvous. Nope.

Much to my surprise, when I turned to face forward, there was a man standing about an inch and a half from my open window. (Open, because it is hot in July, obviously…) I never saw him when I was putting my groceries in the car, and I never even heard him walk up to my window. I was alarmed, to say the least. I expected him to ask if I had any change or a few dollars to spare, but he didn’t. Instead, he apologized to me for coming up so suddenly and then asked me if I could give him a ride to the hospital. He told me that “some asshole” had just ran over his foot and kept going and that he was in pain.

Remember… I am sleep deprived and just spent 18 hours running 2 different coffee shops.

So, what did I do? I looked down at his feet and saw that one of his ankles did look somewhat swollen. Perhaps he really did need help… the hospital was only a couple of minutes away, after all.

You already know where this is going. I let the man into my car.

I told him that I would, indeed, drive him to the hospital. Thanking me, he offered to sit in the back seat and then proceeded to try to open the driver’s side back door. I realize that this sounds absurd, but I at least had the sense to insist that he sat in the front passenger seat. (I did not have the sense to say “no,” but I knew not to let him sit behind me? I know…I still shake my head when I think about it, too.)

There is a feeling like none other that comes over you when you realize that you have gotten yourself in to a completely dreadful situation. It starts in your gut with a swift and sobering punch, and then it spreads to every cell in your body. Within seconds your toes and fingers start to go cold and tingle. Your throat becomes swollen and dry. You’re light-headed. The weight of your legs matches the ton of bricks that is sitting in your stomach. Your hair literally stands on end and goosebumps rise despite the fact that sweat starts to bead on your brow. You’re in danger.

The exact moment that I turned the key in my ignition, I felt every fiber of my being and every echo of my intuition telling me that this was a mistake. But he was already in my car.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I distinctly remember tucking my cell phone under my leg and cursing myself for being such a bleeding heart. The graveness of my situation, as well as every survival tactic that I had ever heard, went ricocheting through my mind. I just had to get to the hospital.

I began to ask the man questions… none of which he answered. Radio silence. Wonderful. On to plan B. I began to tell him about myself…some partial truths, compete lies; you name it, I used it. I told him that I had 2 children at home who were most likely going to be awake when I got there, despite the fact that bedtime was 8:30. I told him that I still had lunches to make for tomorrow and that I hoped that my husband hadn’t forgotten to feed the dog again. I told him that I hoped that the humidity would break soon. I don’t even remember half of the things that I threw his way. All that I do remember was focusing on keeping my voice low and calm so that I would sound more confident than I actually was. I remember trying to make sure that he couldn’t tell that there was even and ounce of fear within me. (As if I pick up strangers in the middle of the night all of the time.)

There are 4 traffic lights between the market and the hospital and we hit every single red light. Every. Single. One. At the first light, I made sure to look directly at the man in my front seat, but he did not look back. Instead, he just kept himself turned and looking out the window while I rambled on about my fictional family and the dog that I wondered if I would live long enough to own.

Just beyond the first stop light, we passed the police station. For half of a second, I considered pulling into the station, but there was no cruiser parked out front, which I was banking on. On we went. As we approach the second red light, the man opened his mouth and uttered one sentence while filling the car with alcohol soaked breath. “I just got out of prison, not too long ago.”

Pulling to a brief stop, I held my breath and turned toward him again. This time, he was looking right at me. To my absolute shock, I realized that half of his face was completely pitted and scarred up. It was in that moment that I determined that I was not going to ask him why. How on earth had I not seen all of those scars or smelt the alcohol on him before he got into my car? How was I this stupid?

For the last half of the drive to the hospital, he said nothing and I continued to try to humanize myself to him as much as possible. At both of the last two red lights, I made sure to look right at him while I spoke. I spoke low and calm, firm and unwavering.

Finally, we arrived at the hospital and I started pulling toward the emergency room entrance. He promptly told me that he didn’t want to be taken right to the door, and told me that he wanted me to pull into the satellite lot that is a fair distance from the door. Thankfully, I was quick on my feet with a response; “You really shouldn’t walk on that foot.” I pulled right up to the glass double doors and put the car in park. As the spot lights washed over me, I felt the relief that at least we were now in a place that had cameras, and if this man decided to stab me, it would at least be caught on the security footage and I would have a greater chance at living. Now, to get him out of my car.

He just sat there; completely rooted in my seat. Trying to coax him out of my car, I reminded him that I had kids to get home to and that if I could, I would stay and go in with him. Finally he answered, telling me that he didn’t want to go in. Telling me that he didn’t want to get out of my car. Telling me everything that I didn’t want to hear. We must have gone back and forth for about 2 or 3 minutes- just long enough for the security guard to notice that I was still parked under the overhang. We made eye contact, and within a matter of seconds, the guard was walking through the doors and standing beside my car.

The man did not see the security guard who was standing just outside of his door because he was looking at me. His hand was on my door handle; the most progress that we had made yet. It was all about to be over and I was going to live. The man, whose name I never learned, looked me dead in the eyes and said to me; “When I got in this car, what I was planning to do would have cost me 40 years in Bridgewater.” Then he popped the handle on my door and the guard pulled him out of my car. As I hurriedly drove away, I heard the guard ask the man why he had come back if he knew that they were looking for him.

I pulled into the lot across the street and made sure that all of my personal items were still in my car; I had my purse, wallet, GPS and phone, then I went to the house that I was pet sitting at. The entire event probably took less than 20 minutes, but it felt like it had been hours since I cashed out at the market. Once I arrived at the house where I was staying and took care of the dog, I remember double checking to make sure that all of the doors had been locked and all of the curtains were closed. I knew that there was no way that that man could know where I was going. He would never be able to find me where I was, but the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in. The absolute panic that I had managed to stuff down was surfacing now that I was in a safe place, and the emotions were overwhelming. The fear was like a residue that I could not wash off of my skin for days, and all that I could do was thank God for protecting me, even when I was a complete idiot…and especially when I learned what Bridgewater meant.

I wish that I could tell you that all, or even part of this story was made up for dramatic effect, but I cannot. I really was caught in a moment of weakness where I was that woman. I let my guard down and did something that I normally would never have done. So, what is the take away from this story? Besides the obvious- I would have to say; take care of yourself. In so many ways, take care of yourself. Make sure that you never put yourself in a situation where you have compromised your physical well-being by compromising your mental well-being. Sleep. Drink water. Be wise. Be safe. If someone asks you for a ride to a hospital, offer them a call for an ambulance instead.

XO C.L.Jordan

30Lessons 5

Lesson 4; Unmarried Does Not Equal Unhappy

C.L.Jordan

1 comment

November 5, 2018

Here. We. Go.

I am single. I am single because I choose to be. And I am happy.

I have found, as I close in on 30, that there are still people out there that believe the archaic notion that if a woman is not married with children by the time that she hits this milestone, then her life must be lacking something. People even still wonder (or assume) that if a woman is single for “too long” if there may be, dare I say, something wrong with her.

Well, let me tell you; I am not lacking anything and there is nothing wrong with me… it simply isn’t the life that I wish to live.

Please do not get me wrong- I am not anti-marriage, and I am not against anyone wanting to have a family of their own. I am not a raging feminist who feels that it is “our time to throw off the shackles of matrimonial confinement,” either. (Yes, someone once called me and accused me of such…less eloquently, of course.) On the contrary, I believe that marriage is one of the greatest gifts in life. To find another person in this great big world, whose spirit matches that of your own is perhaps, the truest kind of magic. There is no drug more desired than romance, and there is no higher high than that which love brings. Love has the ability to lift you above the clouds and have you traipsing on air, whilst simultaneously grounding your wayward wanderings. It is dizzying and sobering all at once; thrilling and comforting, and some feel that they are never truly whole without it. It is the most beautiful element in this vast universe.

So why, you must ask, if I think so highly of love and all of it’s effects, do I chose not to seek it out?

I used to think that this answer was an easy one, but I am finding that it may be a bit more complicated for others to grasp than I previously thought it to be. Allow me to be direct; I value my freedom. Perhaps this will sound selfish to some, but it is the truth. I love that I can uproot at any moment of my choosing and leave. I can go anywhere that I wish at any time. I am not tied down. I owe no explanations or considerations to anyone except myself.

When people hear my reasoning, I often hear the rebuttal that marriage is not a jail sentence and that if I marry the right man, that I will not feel as though I am losing my freedom. Please know- I do not view marriage as a jail sentence, and my spouse as a warden. Marriage, however, is a partnership. It is a merging of hearts and minds, thoughts and emotions, promises and goals. If I were to marry, I would have to consider the thoughts, opinions and emotions of another human being that my actions were affecting. I would not be free to act without first considering how I was impacting them, and I could never expect someone else to give up their dreams and aspirations so that I could chase my own, when my own dream is that freedom in itself.

The greatest desire of my heart is to be able to travel and see the world while making a difference in it. I want to be left in awe by the landscapes of far away places. I long to be romanced by the charm of cities that I’ve yet to see. I fantasize of being enticed by the perfumed marketplaces of foreign lands; captivated by the pull of wonders that I have yet to experience. I will only ever be made whole by following this call that resonates within my spirit.

I also often hear that I will change my mind someday. People tell me that I am “still young” and that I “have time.” (As if I have an impending expiration date, after which I will be doomed to be an old spinster.) There have been a few people, I have found, that are more upset about me not being married than I have ever even given thought to being, some of whom I have known for most of my life. It is almost as if they feel badly for me and fear that I will live a lonely, unfulfilling life. Quite the contrary, I assure you; I am never lonely and I will never lead and unfulfilling life.

Am I cheating myself out of something? I have seen love. I have experienced love. I have been in love. I know love well enough to spot the real thing, as well as the counterfeit. I have not lived a loveless life, but rather, I love harder than most people realize. I will also never close myself off from the realm of possibilities. Does this mean that I may someday change my mind, despite the fact that my fictional expiration date may have passed? I will never intentionally limit myself by closing a door that was meant to be even slightly ajar. So, am I cheating myself out of something? No. I am not. I would only be cheating myself if I chose to follow a path that was not meant for me.

I am whole. I am complete, in and of myself. I am happy.

XO C.L.Jordan

30Lessons 4

Lesson 3; You Reap What You Sow.

C.L.Jordan

1 comment

November 1, 2018

Another elementary lesson that we are taught from early on is that what we give forth is what is going to come back to us. This lesson is fairly self-explanatory. Seen even in the Bible, I have yet to find a culture that does not teach this principle. Essentially, if you want a life that is rich and full of love, you must sow seeds of love. If you do right by others, others will do right by you. If you sow seeds of discord and hatred, however, you will reap chaos and bitterness.

It is true, though? Absolutely.

Over the course of the first 29 years, I have watched people who I know sow seeds of all kinds. I have, in turn, watched them reap their just rewards. Please note, “just” does not necessarily mean profitable, beneficial or even convenient. “Just” means that they received what they deserved. Some people call it karma. I call it justice.

Please do not misunderstand me; bad things do happen to good people. My early life was a beautifully painful portrait, but we will get into that later. This, I know for sure when the sky opens up, it rains on the just as well as the unjust. When the sun shines, it warms the backs of the wicked as well as the kindhearted. The same rains and sunshine that cause the crops of the good to grow also feed the crops of the evil; it’s not the elements that matter, however. If you plant bad seeds, you will produce a bad harvest.

Every day I choose to sow seeds that will bring me a healthy and beautiful harvest. What are you planting in your garden? What are you throwing out into the world that is going to come sailing back to you?

XO C.L.Jordan

30Lessons 3

Lesson 2; Honesty is Always The Best Policy

C.L.Jordan

2 comments

November 1, 2018

From the time that we step foot into elementary school (and even before that, hopefully) there are certain essential lessons that are taught to us in hopes of helping to mold us into decent human beings. Among these essential lessons is the age-old “honesty is the best policy” spiel. Ingrained in us from the moment that we begin to learn the difference between right and wrong, this staple is meant to be a pillar in our very characters. How wonderful would it be if we only had to be told once that lying is wrong, and then we would continue to tell the truth for the rest of our days? How great would it be if we could trust the words of others and never have to question them, because honesty was a natural element in their being? Life would be so much less complicated.

Remember yesterday, when I told you that some of my most embarrassing stories were yet to come? Well… here we go. Let me tell you about one of my least proud moments in life; when I told a lie that was so big that I had to kill off a fictional character just to get out of it.

Picture it…junior high school, 2002. (Because all 14 year olds are the epitome of honesty, right?) One of my classes had been assigned a rather large project that would account for the majority of our term grade. This particular project was supposed to take weeks to research, prepare and present, and as you can probably tell where this is going, I had failed to even begin to research my topic when it was just about time to hand it in. My own procrastination was about to bite me in the behind, and I needed a way to score more time.

So, what did my genius 8th grade self decide on? I fabricated an entire story about how I was unable to work on my project because my aunt and uncle (who were completely imaginary) had just moved from New York to Rhode Island. Ok… but why would this impact my homework? Oh… because my fictional Aunt was trying to separate herself from my abusive fictional uncle and the past couple of weeks had been too turbulent at home to get any work done! Stupid. So very stupid.

Naturally, red flags were raised and my very caring teachers brought the issue to the school guidance counselor. More people began to get involved and more questions begun to be asked. They truly were concerned for me and wanted to ensure that I was safe outside of school, but by then I just had to cover my tracks and make a quick exit to stage left. And instinctively, ladies and gentleman, what do you do when you have to cover a lie? You tell an even bigger lie. Before I realized it, the lie that I told was so large and elaborate that I was struggling to keep up the facade (because I was an idiotic teenager), and I needed an “out” of the “out” that I had failed to create. It was a nightmare.

What did I do to get myself out of my quagmire? I lied, again. I needed people to stop checking in on me. I needed them to stop asking me questions. I needed them to stop believing me when I knew that I couldn’t even believe me. I could have just come clean. I could have asked for forgiveness and taken an “F” in the class. I could have had some integrity and stopped disrespecting people who cared about me enough to get this involved. But I didn’t. Instead, I killed off my (fictional) Aunt. I couldn’t have my (fictional) uncle be the culprit, however… that would raise more red flags and bring more questions and more lies. Instead, I told everyone that she was killed in a car accident and that my imaginary uncle was moving back to NY. (How convenient…)

Just like that. In my mind, my “aunt” was no more, thus my problem was no more. I had ended the lie like a story line, and thought that I would be able to just continue on with life as if nothing had ever happened. This however, is not the case.

That lie changed the fabric of who I was; who I am. There is nothing that quite compares to the taste of a lie. It is bitter and heavy on the tongue, like a thick oily coating of deceit and toxicity and I never want to feel the slimy residue of duplicity on my lips again. You may be somewhat surprised that this was my reaction to “pulling off” such a stunt, but please allow me to explain why “getting away with it” was more detrimental to my character than the alternative.

I hurt people with my lies. (More than just my fictional Aunt… who was dead, after all.) The worst part, looking back on the entire situation, was that I dragged people into an epic drama that was filled with emotional manipulation. I began with a story that was meant to tug on people’s heartstrings and lead to just enough sympathy for me to either get out of writing a paper or grant me more time. What I ended up with, in turn, was a sloppy, painful mess. Whether intentional or not, I had brought real people with real feelings into a fictional odyssey and never gave them the courtesy of truthfulness. All of this was entirely against my nature. I am not one who enjoys telling tall-tales or bringing pain to others, and that is exactly what I did. I allowed people to become invested in a situation, in people and in a cause that never even existed. I allowed people to be hurt by my selfish actions.

When did I realize this? The moment that I saw someone well up with tears because they could not find an obituary for a woman who never existed.

If you have read all of the way through this lengthy post, then I hope that you realize that I have just exposed to you, one of my greatest regrets and greatest pains. This story holds so much shame for me. I honestly still don’t even know why I told that first lie that day. Most of my readers know that during this time frame, I had a terminally ill mother at home. I had an excuse right there. Why didn’t I just say that I couldn’t get my work done because of my mom? No one would have doubted me. Why did I feel the need to fabricate something so dramatic? I literally have no idea. I can tell you, however, that the lesson that I learned from this lie has been monumental. Perhaps I had to tell this lie. Perhaps I had to see the pain that I caused in order to ensure that I would never play with someone else’s emotions like that again.

The result. I now hold honesty in the highest regard. I try to always be 100% truthful at all times…sometimes to a fault. At the end of the day, I am still human and still perfectly flawed. Sometimes I am not as honest I would like to be…but let me tell you… no one feels the guilt that I do when I know that I have not held myself to my own standard. I suppose that I would not even have that standard if I had never learned what it felt like to drown in a sea of my own lies. Please learn from my own mistakes; honesty truly is the best policy. Always.

XO C.L.Jordan

P.S. Years later, after much reflection and increased maturity, I did reach out to the people who were caught in my snowball of a story. I apologized and I told the truth. Some responded and some did not. I, however, can sleep peacefully at night knowing that I my secrets have seen the light of day, and that I have made peace with my conscience.