Dear God,
This winter storm has affected almost every airline—except mine. Literally, all flights are grounded except the one I’m supposed to be on. Part of me wishes for an extension on the test. I know some students won’t make it on time. Some will have to fly a day later.
If I get there on time, I can settle in. If my flight gets canceled, I get more time here. Truly, all I want is more time to study. My only goal right now is to study—intensely, obsessively, faithfully.
I paid $230 in luggage fees to American Airlines. Spirit Airlines? I’m done with them. At least for now.
Six hours later…
I’m very grateful for life, but I woke up feeling sad. I remembered something I said earlier—that I’m just like my mom—and that I called her mean. She’s only mean sometimes. My mom is actually very giving. She gave me a cross to wear, and I put it on immediately and haven’t taken it off. She returned a beautiful ring my sister once gave me. She made healthy vegetables for me. She loves in the ways she knows how.
I’m sad because my mom told me my dad is sick, and she’s afraid of losing him. I don’t want to lose my dad either. People say You don’t give us more than we can handle—but God, I wouldn’t be able to handle that.
Tears fill my eyes as I write this. My dad is the most important man in my life, just as my mom is the most important woman. I need my dad here, physically. The thought of losing him causes a pain I can’t even describe.
I had a dream that left me shaken. Dogs crated for resale. Animal abuse. The sad eyes of a dog. Then I was forced to give a presentation I wasn’t prepared for, about bottles, with a partner who never showed up. Then there was a sharp knife—so sharp I decided I would never own one like it. I saw it fall, slice a toe clean off. Then I saw my dad. I woke up crying.
I feel like I don’t have enough time.
I’m scared about my test. I still have to study. I need to study. I need to memorize these abbreviations, remember everything I can, and do my very best. There are about 25 of us staying at the hotel for flight attendant school…
My dad joked there will be blonde girls who think they know everything, and half of them will be sent home. We’ll see if he’s right. He told me to be sociable, but remember why I’m there. My mom suggested finding a study buddy. Father, I pray that You be my study buddy.
But more than anything, please protect and heal my earthly father. Please protect and heal my mom too. My siblings think I worship her, but the truth is—I understand her. I admire her. She was never really shown love, yet she found a husband, raised three children, fed us, clothed us, defended us, took us to church, and stayed—despite wanting to leave so many times. She did the best she could.
I thought about how long my hair used to be in high school—even just a year ago. I recently cut it into a long bob. A lob. I like it. I miss my long hair, but maybe it’ll be waist-length again by next year.
I want to be a household name by this time next year.
I need to confess something: I kind of lied earlier. I wasn’t truly recognized at the airport. The man remembered me because I once gave him a flyer about my music. He’s followed me since. He didn’t recognize me purely for my work—he just remembered me.
I think I said it because I want that reality so badly—to be recognized for my music and films.
“How would it make you feel if you were recognized constantly?” Clark once asked me.
Clark is a friend I’ve known on and off for years, though we’ve never met in person. We met through social media. I’ve always been close with fans—sometimes so close that “fan” doesn’t feel like the right word. Some of my friends actually started out as fans of my music.
Clark is very reserved. He doesn’t drink or smoke. His only addiction is coffee—Starbucks every morning. He’s a foodie, too. I think Thai food is his favorite. He’s always trying to figure out my age, piecing it together through the ages of people in my life.
He has strong opinions—sometimes too strong.
“I don’t think flight school is a good idea. Women get harassed. I don’t trust those producers around you. They’ll try to control you,” he says.
He views the industry as dark and evil, and he wants to protect me at all costs. It’s sweet, even if it’s overwhelming.
What I love most about Clark is his love for the classics. He works at an internet radio station that only plays timeless music. One day I’ll ask him for the station name. He’s part of why I want to create music that lasts forever.
There were times I stopped talking to him entirely—months at a time—because his opinions felt suffocating. He once told me, “You’re different when you smoke. You’re dismissive. You don’t have patience.”
When I smoke, I simply don’t tolerate nonsense. But sober, I’m kinder. I haven’t smoked in over a week, and my skin is glowing, my hair is silky, and I’m not bloated at all. Every time I stop, I feel like a flower blooming. That alone feels like a reason to quit.
I pray for my addiction. In the studio—especially with Kalani—I like to smoke. But lately, I’m meeting industry people who don’t smoke at all. Pink lips. Clear skin. Healthy energy. They seem…clean. Even Kalani took a long break from weed.
I’m lying in bed now, wearing my robe and socks, warm and still. I have about an hour before my dad starts moving around the house. Too late, he’s in the prayer room now, reading the Bible.
I notice he goes to Mass almost every day to talk to You. I know he asks for my protection. I know he wants me to stop struggling. I know he’s living paycheck to paycheck and isn’t afraid of dying—only of leaving us insecure.
Please, God—let it be a non-cancerous tumor. Let my parents live into their hundreds.
For the next two months, I will eat, sleep, and breathe flight attendant school. I hear the rain tapping against my window. Part of me wishes my flight gets canceled—an extra day with my parents would be nice. Nails done. Studying. A movie. Rest.
But whatever You decide, I trust it’s for the best.
I often daydream about my dad walking me down an aisle—not at a wedding, but at an awards ceremony. I’ve just won a Grammy. Everyone is clapping. I ask him to walk me down the aisle, and he sees the crowd from behind me. I see him proud. I see him getting along with the people in my life—my coach, my collaborators.
As for my mom, I plan to baby her. Care for her the way she should have been cared for as a little girl. She’ll always have money, comfort, and the best of everything—because she deserves it.
As for me, I just want a home big enough for everyone I love. Even my neighbor across the hall—the quiet one with the cat. I imagine him helping take care of my three horses: Thunder, Honey, and Bolt. (And his cat would be best friends with the horses).
I know I’ll probably have two homes. Shervy will live in one. I’ll never stop him from finding love—but if I could selfishly keep him forever, I would. Knowing someone for so long is a blessing. Shervy is a blessing.
I still can’t believe Erica is no longer in my life. She’s blocked completely. I miss her—but not the arguing. I learned something from her, though: always strive for greatness. She’s a hustler. I respect that. I hope she finds love—the kind that suits her.
What do I want? Career. Favor. Protection. Health. Longevity. The ability to care for my parents. The power to impact the world in a meaningful way. I want people to believe in You. I want to believe in You fully. I still have doubts—and I’m sorry—but they’re real. Sometimes I wonder how I could possibly matter enough for You to hear me.
Why is there so much evil? Why so much suffering, hunger, abuse? How are people supposed to know You through all of this?
My faith is the size of a mustard seed. I wish it were watermelon-sized. Or 18-wheeler-sized. But I know this—I’ve witnessed miracles. I don’t even know how I ended up with the McKinneys, but they elevated my career tremendously. I will take care of them too, just like my parents.
Please put Your hand on my finances. Heal my parents. Let me pass flight attendant school. Let the people You’ve placed in my life help me grow. Let me inspire my race, my generation, my gender.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
Amen.
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