Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [116]
I was coming down the stairs, headed toward the kitchen to make coffee. I’d never stopped my morning ritual, although Nett was gone. I had been praying, asking God to give me a sign that I would be okay. Singer Barry White was being interviewed on the radio. His booming voice filled the kitchen. Just as I hit the bottom step, Barry said, “You’ve got to have faith!” I stood stark still. It was as if he were speaking directly to me. “You’ve got to take the good times and the bad times. You’ve got to be willing to do it for free. If you have the desire and the skill, and you never allow yourself to believe in failure, you’re gonna make it. You have to make it.” I knew that was my message from God. I didn’t know what to do about it, but I knew it was for me.
The day before the marshal was scheduled to remove me and my property from the house, I moved into a friend’s basement. I was mortified, but grateful. Nisa, the cat, and I lived in that basement for eight months. During that time, I did everything in my power to get as clear as I could. I worked with the list Balé had given me. I studied everything I could get my hands on. I prayed, and most of all, I worked on myself. I examined every motive, every intention, every choice I made, no matter how insignificant it seemed. I was walking down the street one day when I saw a sign that said “Abundance” hanging in the window of a building. Beneath the word was a date and time. I went into the building, not knowing it was a Unity Church, to inquire about the sign.
“What does that sign mean?” There was a young woman behind the counter in a room that served as a bookstore.
“We are offering a workshop that teaches you how to create an abundance of good things in your life.”
“God knows I need some good things to happen to me. How much does it cost?”
“We begin tomorrow night at 7:00 P.M. and continue through Sunday night at 7:00 P.M. The commitment to take the workshop is $450.”
My heart sank. I had about $18, but I asked if she could tell me anything about the workshop. The woman took me into a small room, and we talked for about twenty minutes. She asked if I was interested.
“I am very interested. I think this is exactly what I need right now, but I don’t have the money.”
“Do you want to take the workshop?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, make a decision and a commitment. Everything you need will be provided.”
“I’ll think about it. Can I call you?” She gave me her card. As I was leaving, she repeated, “Make a commitment. Let me know by 4:00 P.M. tomorrow, because we start exactly at 7:00 P.M.”
I thought about nothing else for the rest of the day. When I got back home, I sat quietly thinking about how I could borrow the money. When nothing came to mind, I closed my eyes and just sat. What do you want to do? I want to take this workshop. Write a postdated check for the amount. Call the woman and tell her you will be there. I wrote the check and made the call.
“I am not authorized to accept a postdated check. Write the check. Date it for today, and be here at 7:00 tomorrow.” I did exactly what she said, without fear and without hesitation.
That workshop was the turning point of my life. It was there that I learned about the philosophy of Unity Village. It was there that I learned about the mind that existed in Christ and how that mind exists in us all. I learned about the power of the mind and its connection to God. I learned about the power of the subconscious mind and how it creates the experiences we live through. It was at this workshop I learned that I mattered. I learned to trust myself, and I learned the importance of telling the truth.
I was the only person of color in the workshop, standing in a circle of strangers, most of whom were older, wealthier, and more experienced at taking workshops. I had spent most of the time in the room feeling intimidated and out of place. The facilitator was in the middle of an exercise when someone