The Product of a Broken Heart

by Crystal Ismael

  I sighed to myself, taking a deep breath, and headed down the hall. As I walked into his room, I noticed that his basketball clothes were thrown on top of the closet in a corner. I pulled them down, and he threw his hands in the air, as if that would have been the last place they would be. As I put his clothes in the hamper, I went down the hall and noticed Trinity was still not dressed. Instead of doing what I told her, she thought it was fitting to sit in front of the TV and watch her cartoons.

  “Jordan!” I yelled. I couldn’t go any further than looking at my daughter do what she wanted to do despite what I told her.

  “Yes, ma’am!” he called back.

  I took a deep breath and softly said, “Jordan, if I call you, then that means you need to come. I don’t call you just to call you, son.”

  As he walked toward me, I handed him his hamper I still had in my hand and turned my attention to this little girl who decided it was her way no matter what I said.

  “Trinity,” I said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” she answered without taking her eyes off the television.

  “No, Trinity, I need you to look at me.”

  She looked at me and then slowly turned her head back toward the TV as if she was about to miss something very important.

  “Trinity, what did Mommy tell you to do?”

  “To get dressed.”

  “Okay, so why aren’t you dressed?” I asked in confusion and frustration.

  “Because, Mama, I needed to watch the cartoons first.”

  Trying not to laugh, I stood in front of the TV and commanded her to get dressed. “now” I yelled. The tone in my voice made her run down the hall before I could finish.

  It’s funny how life plays out. Just as my daughter did what she wanted to do despite what I told her to do, that’s exactly what I use to do with God. God tells me to do something, but I will have my own agenda. I add everything in front of doing what I am supposed to do. I took on every task, putting what God said on the back-burner, causing myself more headache than I needed, digging a hole I didn’t need, hooking up with others whom I didn’t need to link up with, engaging in events I didn’t need to be a part of.

  I had to learn that God is the driver. I had to consult the creator first on everything. I tell people all the time, “I don’t want to make a move without first consulting the creator, praying for provision, praying and seeking in everything I decide to take on.”

  Isn’t it funny that you can’t even do that in marriage? I must consult my husband when I want to take on certain tasks, especially regarding money. So, if it’s that critical in the natural realm, it’s more critical in the spiritual realm. When I consult the creator, the creator lets me know “No, I see where this will go, and if you take this route, you will endure pain and obstacles that you don’t have to endure.”

  “We are all ready,” Christina said as she stood at the door tapping her foot.

  “Okay, dear,” I replied, grabbing my purse and keys as I headed towards the door. On the drive to school always consists of the usual bickering between Amanda and Jordan, but somehow, I was calm, smiling, with a few chuckles here and there as they joked with each other.

  “Living,” I said to myself as the kids one by one hopped out of the car. “I am living.”

  As they slammed the car door, I waved to them as they raced through the school double doors. As I stared at them running, I was reminded of a lady who once said, “Dana, I am forty-five, and I have no peace in my home.” She went on to say that she couldn’t even think straight when she was at home. Then she asked “what should I do?”

  I told her, “First, you must get peace within yourself.” It’s like fixing up the outside of the car first when the engine needs fixing, or like a lady who is constantly getting plastic surgery, fixing up the outside before dealing with the inside. She suffers from low self-esteem, so she spends money on surgery after surgery, trying to compensate for what she is dealing with on the inside, never really dealing with her deep-rooted issues. Peace is an inside ornament, not an outside fulfillment. I can’t get peace from the outside in; I will drain and lose myself trying. Of course, I tried it, and so many other women have tried it, and it does not work. Peace comes from within, and reflects on the outside.

  When this lady spoke about what was going on in her life, I had compassion. I understood what she was trying to relay to me. I understood what it felt like to dwell in a storm where it felt like there was no peace and hope in sight. I took advantage of the opportunity to awaken her to what she was really dealing with. To force her to deal with the issues within herself. She had no peace in her house because she was allowing no peace to reside within herself. I had to of course awaken her, to allow her to see and deal with herself and confront the deep rooted issues. To teach her how to put everything in the filtering tank. I then concluded, “wholeness produces newness”.

  Chapter 13

  The phone rang. As I walked from the kitchen to the living room, I looked at the caller ID. It was him, Akeem, whom I had been thinking about day and night, smiling when his face came to mind. We had spent so many nights laughing and talking on the phone. He was very smart as well I said as I looked at the phone as it continued to ring. It had been a couple of weeks since talking with him. And looking at how things were right now, it might be a few more weeks, I thought as the phone kept ringing back to back, showing he was adamant to talk to me.

  It was a nice Saturday morning. The kids were watching their weekend cartoon specials, and I was getting a little washing and cleaning done.

  I don’t think he can handle me, I thought as I walked in and out the living room, peeping to and from the phone as it rang constantly. How good it felt to be in the company of this man I thought. How he made me smile unintentionally, but the thoughts of Christian arose and knowing that this is exactly how we started out. I looked at the phone as it continued to ring while smiling from ear to ear. How I just loved how he made it a point to be a gentleman in every way, more important his respectfulness. “He was exactly what I wanted,” I said to myself as I went through the house, smiling to myself that he was still interested in me after the conversations I neglected to give him. He seemed to want to talk. Almost grabbing the phone to answer, I heard a knock at the door.

  I sighed to myself, thinking, Now who can this be blowing my hair that had fallen in my face.

  “Dana!” my mother called through the door, pausing her knocking. “Dana,” she yelled again and quickly began back knocking. “It’s me!” She screamed out.

  Gazing at the door, I was trying to decide if I wanted to turn the knob and open the door or go run to my room, shut the door, and hide in the closet.

  As the thought of that seemed more and more realistic, she continued knocking and then called my name again.” Dana!”

  I concluded she knew I was home and somehow knew that I was standing right smack dab in the living room in front of the door. She just knew that I was home and found every excuse to come over and embrace me with her presence. Just maybe she had eyeballs that could see through doors. I gasped as I started to believe my own thoughts.

  Sighing to myself one last time to prepare myself for this visit, I slowly turned the knob to see my mother standing with her hands on her hips. She was about five-foot-two and dark-skinned, with the best sparkling-white teeth you could imagine. She has jet black hair that made her skin glow even more. I stared at her, trying to hold in my feelings of wanting to be alone today. I didn’t feel like being lectured, or to find out the latest gossip around town, I thought as I slowly turned the knob, opening the door wide enough for her to slide through. Even after all we had been through, I still managed to smile when I see her face.

  “Well, hello, Dana,” she said, taking her hands off her hips. “How are you?” “You decided to finally open the door I see, she added sarcastically.”

  “Ummm, okay,” I sa
id, confused on whether she forgot that we had just spoken an hour ago before she decided to come over.

  Brushing past me, she glided her hand across the couch to make sure she sat down properly and then flopped down in her usual spot, one by one organizing the pillows on the couch and placing them next to her. “I just wanted to come and see you for a moment,” she said, looking around to see what else she could organize.

  As I looked at her in amazement, she called out for the kids. “Christina, Amanda and Jordan, come to your grandmother.”

  I couldn’t avoid smiling when I saw them get up quickly, stumbling over each other to make their way to her.

  I guess all the talking we’d just done was not sufficient for her. “I’m doing good,” I finally said, breaking the silence. I continued trying to get a little washing done, hoping she would understand that I was busy and needed to tend to my housework. Of course, she didn’t and advised that she would help. I chuckled to myself and assured her it was fine.

  “Soooo!” she said loudly as she grabbed the baskets with the whites, ignoring that I said I was fine. “Have you met anybody new?” Never looking up from the towels as she folded them one by one and gently placed them neatly on the couch. She then got up and slowly made her way to the whites I had in front of the washing machine, looking at the shirts one by one before placing them into the machine. She then quickly turned around to look at me, impatiently waiting on my response.

  “Sorta,” I replied.

  “Dana, what is sorta?” she blurted out. “Either you met someone or you haven’t. Now which one is it?”

  “Ummm, well, I guess if you put it that way,” I said, laughing inside, fumbling over my words. “I would say that I have met someone then.”

  She laughed and closed the machine. “Well, that’s good.” She said as she flopped down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on her soap operas. As I looked at her and smiled, I wanted to ask her what she meant but decided to leave it alone to dodge the extra questions that would follow.

  “What are you cooking for lunch?” My mother asked from the living area.

  “You’re staying for lunch too?” I yelled from the kitchen as I put the pots and pans on the stove, and peeped around the kitchen corner to see her response.

  “Do you want me to?”

  Without answering, I thought, Now how can I tell my mother I just want to be alone? I want to crawl on the couch with my blanket and watch movies, after I am done with my Saturday chores. I thought of all the many ways I could have said no. Instead, I answered, “Ummm, yes sure.”

  “Now what does that mean? Either you want me to stay for lunch or you don’t.”

  “Yes, sure, I would love for you to stay,” I squeezed out.

  The phone started up again. Before my mother could pick it up, I dashed into the living room to put the phone on silent.

  “Now who is that?” my mother asked. “And why do you have to put the ringer on silent?” She said, looking confused.

  “Nobody,” I replied as I flopped down next to her and tried to figure out whatever these soap operas had going on. I grabbed a pillow that my mother had organized and fiddled with the strings that were hanging.

  “Why do you want to put the phone on silent if it’s nobody?” she persisted, hoping I would give in and tell her what was going on with me.

  “Okay, Mama, I have met someone,” I said, looking at the wall, trying to avoid any eye contact with her.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “He is perfect, Mama! He is just so perfect and I’ve just been through so much. I don’t feel I have the life I want right now to let this man enter and see in detail who I am.”

  “The life you want?” she asked as if deeply confused.

  “Yes, the life I want. I don’t have my career, I don’t have the house I desire, I’m staying in this rundown apartment, and I am barely making it right now!”

  “Dana,” she began slowly,” you never know what God has in store for you. You don’t prepare for a man by acquiring materialistic things my dear, she said as she sighed and took a deep breath. If you happen to have the career, the house, and so on that’s ok.” She smiled then added, the best thing that you can have dana, is to be a whole and healed, everything else will fall in place at the right time. “Live life, Dana, and answer that man’s phone call. You must learn to flow in the season. God doesn’t look at how much you have and decide to bless you. God looks at your heart and your character to see if you can handle the blessing, he wants you to have.”

  Then she slid down on a pillow, placing one hand on her head and closing her eyes. She looked thin in the face and awfully tired. I wanted to ask if she was okay but instead, I let her sleep and quietly went into the room and called Akeem. Before the first ring could finish, he answered.

  “Hello, Dana,” he said cheerfully, sounding relieved that I had finally decided to call him back.

  I smiled and took in the joy I felt and drifted off into a deep conversation with this Akeem.

  “Do you want to hang out this weekend?” Akeem asked as I gathered my things, preparing to go to work the next day. Jumping over the phone cord as I gathered what he was asking, I tried to push out a yes from behind the smile on my face.

  “Ummm, I don’t know, maybe,” I responded as I hopped around, trying to find my missing work shoe, twisting the cord around me as I looked under the bed and in the closet. Things never stayed in one place now, as the twins had become more and more experimental.

  “Oh okay,” he replied in confusion.

  To break the awkwardness, I replied, “Sure, sure, we can hang out this weekend. What do you have in mind?” I gasped in silence as I found the shoe in the bathroom behind the door.

  “I don’t know yet, but I will figure it out,” he said reassuringly.

  “Okay, I will let you figure that out,” I said. “I have to prepare for work.” Forgetting to say goodbye, I hung up the phone and could hear him laughing on the other end.

  Smiling from ear to ear, I grabbed my purse and jetted out the door. As I walked down the stairs, I slipped into the happy thoughts of hanging out with Akeem. I smiled all the way to work and through the double doors.

  As the weekend approached, I became more and more nervous about hanging out with him. What is wrong with me? Am I setting myself up? I have kids. Is he even a kid-friendly man? Even though he told me he loves kids, is he just telling me that to get next to me? I thought, going back and forth in my head about Akeem.

  I went into my closet and went through my million and one clothes that I buy, only just to hang up. The only places I went these days were work, the spiritual awareness meetings, and home, and they didn’t require too much dressing up. I threw out every outfit I decided to put on. “No, this doesn’t fit right here,” “No, this is not the right color,” I told myself about the twenty shirts I tried on. “My stomach looks too bloated in this dress.” As I tried on and tossed clothes out on my bed, nothing seemed to fit as perfect as I wanted to look when I saw him.

  Finally, I huffed and puffed and just decided on my usual black pants and black dress top. After all the back and forth, I fell onto the bed, drained from trying on my closet! Why do I buy clothes after clothes only to try them on and go with my usual? I thought in frustration.

  I rubbed my eyes and stared at the ceiling, thinking about my mother and how sick she looked the other day. Should I stay with her this weekend? I don’t think I should go with him. The questions began to arise.

  As I rolled over on my stomach, the phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered quickly, ignoring the caller ID.

  “Okay, I have figured out what we can do,” Akeem blurted out, moving right past the hello I gave him.

  I listened to his eager voice silently as he went on.

  “Let’s go hang at the museum downtown and grab lun
ch later in the park.”

  As dreamy as it sounded and as excited as he was, I replied, “Looking forward to it.” It seemed like I had been waiting on this day for the longest time. Why was I not as happy as I thought I would be?

  He paused in silence. I heard the concern through the phone. “How are you doing today, Dana?” trying to take my mind off whatever I was thinking or maybe hoping I would let him in on what I was thinking.

  “I am doing good, and my day was good,” I said firmly.

  “What is wrong with you?” he asked sweetly. Even his tone brought a smile to my face. I almost forgot what was wrong with me.

  “Something is definitely wrong with you.”

  “Okay, okay,” I interrupted the psychological investigation he was about to engage in. “I have three kids, and I don’t want to set myself up for failure. I don’t want to go back to where I came from. I have come a long way, and to indulge in someone who is not ready to fully take on the whole package will be a waste of my time.”

  As I rambled on, he interrupted me, sounding a bit irritated about the direction in which this conversation was headed. “Dana, I see your package, I understand your load, and I understand your curiosity, but what you fail to see is that I am not your past, and I don’t want to be treated like your past. I’m here to stay as long as you are willing to keep me,” he said, chuckling. Then he got serious. “Let me take that load off you.”

  I smiled from one ear to the next as he spoke. Not sure how to respond, I put the phone down, placed the pillow that was lying next to me over my face, and screamed. Then quickly, gathered myself together and picked up the phone again. I could hear slight laughing in the background.

  To stop him from laughing at me, I said, “Hello.”

  “Yes, I’m here,” he responded. “So I guess I will see you this weekend.” Before I could respond, he said, “I will pick you up at noon Saturday.”