“Happy Birthday to ya…Happy Birthday to ya…Happy Birth-day!” sang and clapped my three closest girlfriends at a small table inside a quaint restaurant in downtown Detroit. Too bad it wasn’t karaoke night; that was Thursday. But I was still too excited that my birthday fell on a Saturday in March this year. That made up for the fact that it was my 35th and here I am celebrating it with a bunch of females.
I love my girls and all, but sometimes a sister just wants the presence of a man.
Here I am all decked out with my off the shoulder purple blouse, short fitted gray skirt, silver stilettos and matching Gucci bag yet no man to compliment me on how good I looked. I had just gotten my hair cut and colored with a light brown Mohawk on top that faded to black in the back and my makeup was flawless. I even bought and wore hazel contacts, which I was hesitant to buy at first because of my brown complexion – but they actually looked kinda cute on me.
I was feeling this “new look” and new me, yet there was no man seated next to me to whisper in my ear how I was the finest thing in the room. Nope, at thirty-five, here I am with not a prospect in sight. No man, no boyfriend, not even a “special friend.”
Lord knows I just knew I would have been married with at least two kids by now.
I’ve been believing God for a husband for over 10 years now.
I keep my list of ten things I’m believing God for in a mate tucked away in the zipper part of my Bible cover and have done so for years. I guess I never really attached a timetable to my requests – maybe I should have said something to the tune of, “Before my eggs dry up and I have to believe God like Sarah and Abraham, Lord.” Maybe then my prayer may have been granted a little earlier. At the rate I’m going, I’m going to have to take in vitro and believe God for twins. Thank God for technology.
“Haaaa-peeee-birthday…Happy Birthday…Happy Birthday…”
I could tell the waiters and waitresses, all of diverse hues, were getting a kick out of my friends’ rendition of the Stevie Wonder classic as they grinned from ear to ear and nodded their heads. I wondered if they had ever heard it before.
Or maybe they were laughing at my girl Danielle, also known as Dani, who swayed wildly with her Android taking pics in one hand and her glass of Sprite on the rocks in the other. If you didn’t know Dani was saved you would think she was drunk, and at just two years shy of forty, one would never know by the way she carried herself. Always ready for a good time, Dani took pics of herself showing off her fresh makeover, which brought out the peach undertones in her tan complexion, and her new black-and-gold minidress, which flattered her tall, curvy frame; and she also took pics of me and the rest of the crew and uploaded them to Facebook simultaneously, half of which I hadn’t even seen yet to approve. Lord, I hope she doesn’t tag me in any pics where I’m looking crazy. Candid shots get on my nerves.
“Make a wish, girl!” Danielle yelled while snapping her head swerving her long, black layered weave to the other side, almost hitting Jackie in the face.
Jackie just looked at her and rolled her eyes as she proceeded to stir her black coffee. She wiped the cheek where Danielle’s hair almost smacked her, probably hoping it didn’t turn her fair skin pink, as Jackie bruises easily. She had stopped singing the song a while ago and looked ready to go home. At thirty-six, Jackie appeared as if she had had enough of all the many years of singing birthday songs and probably wanted to catch a rerun of her favorite show, Law and Order, again. With her being a prominent, well-respected attorney in the city she was greatly intrigued by that show. I wouldn’t be surprised if my birthday festivities weren’t ruining all her normal Saturday-night fun. Jackie ran her fingers through her short curly red hair, then rested her hand on her forehead.
“Yeah, Shenita,” sprang Pippa while scooting her chair in closer to the table and positioning her round frame just right as she pointed her light brown manicured finger toward me matter-of-fact, “The Word says in 3 John 1:2 Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth, so it’s okay to make a wish and blow out the candles.”
At thirty-two and the youngest of the crew, I wondered if Pippa really thought I needed her approval based on The Word on whether or not I should make a wish? I guess she didn’t know me as well as I thought she did, otherwise she would know I’ve been making wishes and blowing out candles ever since I got saved fifteen years ago. I wasn’t convicted about it then and I sholl ain’t convicted about it now.
Man, this birthday cake had so many candles on it that it looked like if I didn’t blow them out fast someone would have to call a fire truck.
Thirty-five candles – one for each year of my long, unfruitful life.
I take that back, as a public relations specialist for the Detroit chapter of a national non-profit, One Love Initiative, from the outside looking in, I had all the makings of a success. I literally have had hundreds of people come up to me in tears and say how the non-profit I work for, which as a result of fundraising efforts provides housing options for single parents and low-income families, how I, or at least how my efforts, changed their lives. I love what I do, and thank God for the job that definitely keeps a sister’s condo association fees paid and Benz car payment up to date, but even still, I feel my life is lacking in one area. Love.
So with a big inhale and then a huge blow over the strawberry shortcake with my favorite cream cheese icing, I silently made the same wish I’ve been making since I was twenty-five: “I wish to find true love and happiness” Except this time I did something I had never done before with my wish. I added these four words,
“This year, Lord . . . please.”
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How To Date and Stay Saved by Kim Brooks
Free Excerpt from Introduction
A contemporary gospel artist, Canton Jones, penned a hit song entitled, “Stay Saved.” It’s about the daily encounters Christians may face which challenge their flesh and sometimes make them wanna slap somebody! However, the point of the song is when presented with those kinds of “opportunities” instead of yielding to the flesh, continue in the Spirit and stay saved, which may mean walking in love, or simply walking away.
As a believer, once you’re saved and receive Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, the one thing that is evident is that you have a heart for God. You have a desire to know God, otherwise you would not have accepted His invitation of salvation. It’s kinda like when you’re getting married to someone, if you don’t meet the groom at the altar, it may be a good indication that you don’t really love him and simply want to have nothing to do with him. The same thing goes with God.
Many of us, myself included, got saved by meeting God at the altar, in the form of a salvation invitation presented by a pastor or a man or woman of God. So your heart is there. You want to do right. You want to receive God’s love, and be all the man or woman God called you to be. However you may not know how a Christian is to operate when it comes to dating and relating with the opposite sex. It’s not like you’re handed a dating instruction manual once you get saved.
For the past five years I have ministered across the country on how to be victorious, content, abstinent and drama-free single believers. One of my most popular workshops is on sex and dating. I also minister each month via email in my e-Newsletter, The Single Heart, which encourages, inspires, informs and edifies thousands of single believers and is is subscribable, for free, on my website www.DateandStaySaved.com What I’ve discovered in my travels and from talking to and receiving emails from countless single saints is that many want to do right by God and be abstinent, but just don’t know how to do it. One person asked me, “How do I remain abstinent when my hormones are raging!” That question, to me, is very honest, and very real. Just because you’re saved doesn’t mean your desire for sex automatically goes away.
After hearing the cries of countless singles I decided to take most of the material I use in my workshops, along with additional revelation the Lord has given me through His Word and practical application, and placed it in this book. I have poured my heart and soul into this book, and even tell on myself and share my own personal business with the sincere desire that you receive the Word, apply the Word, and be changed for the rest of your life.
No longer do you have to struggle as a single believer, feeling “less saved” because you want to “get it on” like Marvin Gaye; instead you’ll learn how to date and stay saved, and how to allow God to keep you from here on out until your wedding day.
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The Little Black Survival Book for Single Saints
by Kim Brooks
Free Excerpt from Chapter 1 – Loneliness –
“Lord, everybody is ‘booed’ up but me!”
Feelings of loneliness, for a lot of single Christians, come in spurts. When you’re
out with friends and family, you’re cool. When you’re at church in deep worship,
you receive enough strength to go on and feel that Jesus is all the Man you need.
Then you get home, and by the end of the night, you may feel lonely.
You may turn on the T.V. and watch a romantic comedy and find yourself crying
so hard because you wish what happened to the main character happened to you.
You may go shopping or to a concert and see so many couples holding hands and
being “booed up” that you feel alone. It may be the holiday season, and you find
yourself quickly turning the radio dial as soon as “What Do the Lonely Do at Christmas,”
or “Christmas Just Ain’t Christmas Without the One You Love,” comes on. Or it may be
Valentine’s Day, and you wish someone would buy you one of those huge pink and
white teddy bears on the store shelf. Instead, you settle for looking forward to the
box of chocolates from your father, or the Valentine’s Day card from your mother or
grandmother, if that.
It is not a sin to feel lonely. The key is to seek God about your feelings, and allow Him
to remind you that with Him, you are never alone.
Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as
ye have: for he hath said, I WILL NEVER LEAVE THEE, NOR FORSAKE THEE.
(Hebrews 13:5) . . .
*Break bondage feelings of loneliness, impatience, insecurity, sexual temptations,
jealousy, and lack of forgiveness with this Little Black Survival Book for Single Saints –
Click Here to purchase this book online through this secured website.
He’s Saved…But is He For Real?
by Kim Brooks
*sequel to Black Expressions Bestseller, He’s Fine…But is He Saved?
Free Excerpt from Chapter 1 – Oh, No, He Didn’t!
“Are you for real?” I asked Sandy while on my cell as I lay sprawled out on
brown couch in my one-bedroom apartment in downtown Detroit.
“Yes, girl,” Sandy replied while lying upright in her white canopy bed with
pink sheets, adjacent to her grandmother Madear’s bedroom.
“You mean to tell me Pierre called off the wedding?” I asked.
I could not believe it.
I couldn’t believe that the first saved man I dated for eight months, fell in
love with, then was dumped by so he could be with the wonderful “Miss
Erika” called off the wedding. Erika Richmond, Minister Richmond’s
daughter, was supposedly the most virtuous prize in the church.
“Uh-huh,” Sandy said as a matter of fact.
“Who told you?”
I had to ask.
Knowing Sandy, this could be just some rumor. Or maybe a nightmare
I needed to be awakened from.
“Madear’s hairdresser’s cousin’s best friend, Lajaneequa, told me,” Sandy
I held the phone in utter shock as I thought about how I’d fallen in love
with this man and couldn’t understand why he left me that day almost two
years ago seemingly out of the blue, until I found out that he had already
started going out with Erika around the same time he was going out with me.
I thought he broke up with me because I refused to give him some but then
later found out that it was because he’d already had his sights set elsewhere.
I was looking forward to the day I finally got Pierre’s two-timing,
wanting-to-have-his-cake-and-eat-it-too self out of my thoughts and life
I was looking forward to the day he pledged his “till death do us part” to
Erika and I even thought about attending the wedding. Erika, whom I
used to serve with in the youth department at our church some years ago,
did send me an invitation in the mail. I was looking forward to their wedding
as the final closure that I needed to finally get my mind totally off Mr. Pierre
Dupree. Oh, well, I guess that won’t be happening anytime soon.
Random Excerpts from Random Chapters:
Pierre used his free hand to shush my lips. “Shhh,” he said, “Don’t say another
word, Michelle Williamson.”
I couldn’t do anything but just stare at him. It was like he had me in a trance.
With that, he added, “I’m willing to fight for you, girl.”
. . . Liz noticed that all of the patient prayer seekers were women – women
who knew very well that Minister Matthew Long was an unmarried minister.
“I’d rather burn in hell with my man than go through the rest of my life all
I was waiting to hear something – anything ; I needed a Word from God.
“Sandy, chile, if you walk out of that door right now, don’t plan on coming
“You got so many people going around saying they’re saved just because it’s
the, quote-unquote, ‘in-thing’ to be right now. You gotta be careful out here.”
“. . . I can’t take any more of this foolishness. Michelle, girl, let’s go! I’m about
to lose my religion up in here, these folks is driving me crazy!”
Want to read more? Receive your very own copy today!
He’s Fine…But is He Saved?
by Kim Brooks
Black Expressions Bestselling Chrisian Fiction Novel
Free Excerpt from Chapter 1 – Flirting!
“He fiiiiiiine,” Sandy sang across the restaurant table and ran her tiny,
cream-colored hand through her short black tresses. She was referring
to some stranger seated at the bar.
Sandy, Liz, and I were enjoying Sunday brunch on a chilly afternoon in
April at one of Detroit’s finest restaurants downtown. The soothing jazz
sounds coming from the black baby grand increased my enjoyment as
I swayed with the music.
We single ladies are celebrating the fact that we’re “big girls now.”
We’re all in our early-to-late twenties, graduated from different colleges,
and have fairly decent jobs. We can afford to splurge once in a while.
I snapped back into the reality of Sandy’s comment and looked around
to make sure no one else heard her remark.
“Who fine?” I asked and then looked back down at my jambalaya.
I tell you.
Sandy can be so obvious at times.
One day I’m going to teach her young, twenty-three-year-old self how to do
things with class, or at least learn how to use codes so that the whole restaurant
doesn’t know we’re checking a brotha out.
“What man are you talking about now?” retorted Liz. Liz is twenty-seven, two
years older than I am.
She has never approved of Sandy’s flirtatious ways.
I watched Liz play with her house salad. Her meal selection is a result of her
trying to lose weight. In the past three months, Liz went from a size ten to a
size sixteen. I believe a lot of her weight gain has to do with having to put up
with her single mother’s wild antics at home.
Next to praying, Liz’s favorite thing to do when something is bothering her
is eat. However, she still looks good with her flawless caramel-colored skin
and shoulder length, black micro-zillions that are half braided, half loose.
Liz and I have always had lunch together after church. Then four months
ago, the Lord reunited Sandy and me, former high school classmates, one
day at the grocery store.
We exchanged numbers, and I invited her to church. That following Sunday,
dressed in four inch heels and a short and tight jean dress with rhinestones,
Sandy responded to the altar call. I walked down the aisle with her and she,
in tears, got saved.
I haven’t been able to get rid of Sandy since that day.
Now the Lord has given me a spiritual assignment to be her spiritual guide
I don’t mind too much, I guess, even though sometimes I do have to remind
Liz, my best friend of five years now, that Sandy is still young in the Lord.
Sandy’s behavior can be quite unpredictable at times, especially when it comes
to her interactions with the opposite sex.
“Him, at the bar,” Sandy whispered loudly while pointing toward the bar with
her fork. I peeked at the bar section and saw an older white gentleman wearing a
hideous toupee, an older black woman wearing a tight red dress holding a glass
of mimosa, and a black man who looked to be in his late twenties.
He was dark-skinned with a bald head, had thick juicy lips, and enough
muscles to make Tyrese look bad. The black muscle shirt he wore proved he was
built, and his tan pants hugged his thighs.
I must admit, the brotha was fine.
As Sandy kept flirting with him with her dark brown eyes, the man responded
by looking over at her with hungry eyes of his own and a sexy smile.
“Give me a break,” Liz said after sneaking a glance at the man and then
snapping her neck. “You just got out of church not even an hour ago, and
here you are flirting with some man. Ghetto.”
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