God for President

I told God that I needed a counselor, someone I could talk to who could relate to me and my problems and understand what it's like to be a divorced, single parent of two teenagers, with over one hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt. I told God to send a counselor who can give me a fresh perspective and insight on how I can reach the next phase of my life goals and dreams without feeling angry, stuck, depressed and bitter. I told God to make sure that this person is wise, smart, compassionate, down-to-earth, and sincere; and most importantly God; I told Him-make sure that my counselor is an African American woman. Yes. I reminded God that He is in heaven and He doesn't have the opportunity to come down to earth much-but race and gender matters here on earth where I come from-- and I need someone who knows what it feels like to be a big, dark-brown, woman in a society that values small, petite and white skin. God, I need someone who could understand what it feels like to be a minority from a working class family in a racist, white male dominated society.

I called around to various services until I could find an African American, female counselor who accepted my health insurance. Finally at last, I found a counselor who resonates with my values, background and belief system. I couldn't wait to meet her. The first question that she asked me was did I have a church home. Church home? I told her that I meditate, pray, that I read Wayne Dyer, all of the Conversation with God books by Neale Donald Walsch, and Gary Zukav's, The Seat of the Soul, books by Sanaya Roman and that Iyanla Vanzant's book "Value in the Valley changed my life. I told her that I consider myself to be a spiritual person, but not a religious person. I don't fit in with organized religion but I believe in God and angels. She asked me, whether or not I was concerned about my salvation and eternally burning in hell. I told her that I didn't believe in hell. She looked at me with pure disdain and disgust. She stopped writing and looked at me as if I had just raped and killed ten innocent children and said I will pray for you. She told me to read the bible; gave me a list of black churches in the community; and said that she didn't think that we were a good match.

I didn't let her see me cry, but I felt like someone had stabbed me in my heart with an afro pick a million times. I sobbed while driving in my car and yelling at God, asking Him how could He play such a cruel joke that made me question my race, ethnicity and identity. I reminded God that I am black, my ancestors were slaves and from a spiritual, historical perspective, I had suffered enough through my people. The African American, female counselor's facial expressions and comments made me feel small and more insane than I thought I was. I told God to get it right next time and send me a woman counselor. That's it, I need someone who knows what it is like to have a menstrual cycle, stretch marks, understand motherhood and have a full-time job.

It was much easier to find a "woman counselor," I dare not tell the receptionist to make sure that she wasn't an African American, I was open, I had faith that God would send the right woman this time. I met my new counselor a white female, who appeared to be in her late sixties, gorgeous white hair and pearl earrings. She looked classy, accomplished and worldly. I let out a sigh of relief, because I knew that this time it was going to work. During the initial interview, she asked me about my five college degrees and how did I balance work, school and motherhood. I told her stories about how I would bring my kids to the library with me and push the chairs together for them to sleep when I had a long research paper due. I took my kids to class and work with me when I could get away with it, but one of our favorite hangouts was the 24 hour Kinko where I could type papers and drink free coffee. Another favorite hangout was Barnes & Noble Bookstore, this is where I could read for my classes while my children could play and read in the children's section of the book store. I explained that my children's daycare provider was concerned about why my kids were always so sleepy during daytime activities. The truth was they would be up all night with me, while I worked on various projects for school. My mother asked me if it would be okay for her to keep my children during the week so that they could have more structure such as a regular bed time and more nutritious meals while I completed my graduate degree. I agreed to pick my children up on the weekends until I finished school.

My white female counselor, had tears in her eyes and she said, "That must have hurt deeply. I can't imagine letting anyone raise my child unless, I couldn't breathe. Motherhood is precious; you can never get that time back. How do you feel about yourself, sacrificing your children's early childhood experiences for a piece of paper?" A piece of Paper? I was devastated by her question, I felt judged as a woman. I told her, I love my kids and that's why I wanted what was best for them-which was living with my mother who loved them as much as I did. It was terse between us after that question and I knew before the session ended that I was never coming back to see her. I concluded that even though we are both women it did not make us kindred spirits.

The nerve of her I thought, maybe I don't need a counselor. A few months passed, and one day I was browsing in the Crazy Wisdom book store, I saw an ad for a "spiritual director" with a brief definition. I decided to call out of curiosity. I had no expectations or lists of characteristics, I just liked the fact that the main focus was on maintaining a relationship with God. Wow, I thought no rituals, rules or procedures-an informal person to talk to about God-sign me up. When I called to make an appointment it sounded like a white male, but at this point I was more interested in what the sessions would be like.

A short, white male with a beard, who appeared to be in his late fifties who walked with a limp, opened the door and said, "Welcome my friend." He asked me to take off my shoes before entering, offered me a cup of tea, and asked "where would you like to start?" He didn't have a pen or a notepad; and there were no forms to fill out. I told him that I had been doing some meditation exercises to clear my third chakra. We combined our chants and meditated together. I didn't notice that my counselor was a male or had white skin; the only thing I knew that day was that we were kindred spirits who believed in the same God whom we asked for his blessings and guidance after each session. Thank you God, I cried after the first session with my spiritual director. Thank you God, I yelled for sending me someone who helps me focus on the good in my life and not what makes me bitter.

When Hillary Clinton stated, "Wouldn't it be great to have a woman for president?" she couldn't hear me yell back, "It would be 'great to have a great president 'who is honorable, respectable and shares my value system." I don't care who you vote for because this is not what this article is about, I am asking you to write down the three most important issues to you as a human being-not a republican or democrat. Next, I would like for you to research both candidates as if the survival of your family and our nation depends on it. Don't ask your friends, or news pundits or political groups who to vote for. If you believe in God, based on your belief system ask Him who is the best candidate that represents your value system. If you don't believe in God, ask your higher self which candidate resonates with your highest self and the collective good for all. I have learned that who I am and what I need as a human being extends beyond my race, gender and culture.