The Help

"You is kind. You is smart. You is important." ---Kathryn Stockett, The Help

I spent the younger years of my life popping wheelies on a "hand me down" dirt bike, kicking up dust down a long, desolate dirt road in the middle of "no man's land!" At least, that's what it felt like! Home was a little red house with a tin roof, no running water, central heating or indoor plumbing. That's right, no bathroom! All we had was an "outhouse" that terrified me! My older cousin used to tease me with stories about it being a snake den and if he caught me using it, he was gonna lock me in it! Needless to say, I never went in there! It took a wild imagination to create a modern day necessasity (bathroom) out of practically nothing but I'll spare you the details. My grandma, my primary caregiver and strongest woman I know, survived the Great Depression, grew up without her mother, (who died when she was a small child), only had a sixth grade education, raised ten children as a single parent without any government assistance, so surely I didn't have a right to complain.

Life on the "Quarter Road" was like watching a scene from the movie, The Color Purple. My grandma made a living as a sharecropper on a family farm. When she went to work there wasn't a "daycare option" available for me, so it was without question, that I'd be a little farmhand too. I've seen chickens run with their heads cut off, pigs being slaughtered, tobacco in the smoke house and been down my share of cucumber fields. Thank God, the "cotton era" was before my time.

My grandma, the matriarch and backbone of our family, always made a way out of no way! I stayed glued to her hip, so it's only natural that I have a lot of her ways. I'm a country girl with a free spirit and a huge heart, just like Ma (what we call my grandma). I watched nearby as Ma chauffered people to doctors appointments, ran them to town for goods/errands and helped clean houses. When she wasn't working the farm or caring for others, she was helping "Mister" at the chicken house. There was always "work" to be done! I don't even know if Ma slept many of nights. She was the last to bed and the first up in the mornings. On Sunday mornings, Ma's idea of a rest day was an all day church service, beans to be shelled or cucumbers to perserve (pickled ), and clothes to be ironed for the upcoming week. Life back then felt like a blessing and curse!  It equipped me with some good ole fashioned morals and standards, but also taught me a lot about neglecting self! An ounce of "me time" was unheard of and would be considered selfish!

When this past December rolled in, I was exhausted. I'd stepped into Ma's shoes of running errands, chauffeuring people, and trying to be "everything to everybody!" I felt like an old maid, so I jokingly referred to myself as the "Help!" It seemed like I was running from one responsibility to another. I was physically dragging but trying to be superwoman for others! I was crumbling on the inside! I wouldn't dare open my mouth to complain. Shoot, Ma ripped and ran for others till just a few years ago. Then here I am, half of her age and running out of oil. I couldn't quit but I couldn't continue to fill her shoes either. Something had to give and it did---me!

I secretly crashed. All that was known to many, was that my presence was scarce. I'm sure most was used to it by now and for those that didn't, knew better than to ask. Ma raised me ole school---what goes on in this house---stays in this house! Well, needless to say, I've outgrown some of Ma's ways, considering that I'm writing this blog!

Why do I feel compelled to share?

When I lived on the Quarter Road, I didn't know life outside the Quarter Road. I didn't know there was another way to live. I didn't know people lived in houses with indoor plumbing, daycares existed and little girls played with Barbie dolls. I didn't know that kids ate cereal for breakfast and ice-cream for dessert. Ma did the best she could with what she had. It may not have been the ideal way, but it was our way of "surving!" Over the years, it's been a bit of a struggle to rid myself of some of those outdated ways I adapted. Back then, no one had time to be nurturing or feed my spirit, because I imagine that it was a daily struggle just to keep food on the table. I didn't hear those positive affirmations---you is kind! You is smart! You is intelligent! My mission in life was not to be seen, heard or bother anyone. I didn't want to be any trouble, so I became "invisible."

I thought life was just about "existing!"

Sometimes we don't realize the "root" of our issues have a lot to do with how we were raised.  We were passed on old ways/habits that became breeding grounds full of generational curses and dysfunction. Then it becomes necessary to retrain your "thinking!" The world is ever evolving and most importantly when you know better---you do better! Look in the mirror way past what you see today and dig deep! Once you really uncover the layers of your wounds, then you can openly expose them and allow them to heal!

Today, I speak life, healing and wholeness to all of the "unhealed" areas of your life!

Don't be so consumed with helping others that you forget to help yourself!

Remember, you can't pour from an empty vessel!

You matter and you is important! (incorrect English used on purpose)

A Look Back-A Daily Dose of Shuga

Since relaunching this blog, I've changed names more than a dozen times. It's been "Brown Girl Inspiration," which felt too restrictive for obvious reasons. It's been "Queens for Change," which came from a vision of having a tribe of women on a mission to change the world, starting with self and focusing on health and wellness. I tried my best to keep other women, as well as myself, motivated to lose weight and become healthier but even that proved to be a struggle.

When the intital excitement wore off, the group dwindled and I struggled to keep myself on track. I didn't want others to "stumble" as a result of my struggle, so I counted it a failed attempt and moved on. I mean what happens when there's a vision without a tribe? There's just no story! Then it became "Hear My Cries," a story of redemption, to share my story as a testimony to others, but that felt too depressing! So today, it's "A Daily Dose of Shuga" which signifies a happy, childhood memorable moment for me.

I will continue to seek God on direction, without wearing your patience intentionally.  Nothing I've tried seems to gain much interest, but I gotta keep pushing. I know what God said to be true. He didn't give me the drive to help others for nothing! All this restless energy bottled up needs to be released into the atmosphere for some good and not to mention, I'm about to explode full of boredom! I can't sit around watching life pass me by. My creative juices are on overdrive. I have a message but no audience, a book with no readers and a tree without fruit, so now it's my prayer that God sees fit to use me in His desired capacity and on His timing, not mine!

All the things I've endured over the years, couldn't possibly be just for me! As I continue to identify my purpose, I pray that God continues to develop the much needed skills in me to reach others with a similar story. What did He create these hands to do? I don't have all the answers but I'm making myself available in 2017.  My clock is ticking, not for children, but I'm not getting any younger. It's do or die season! Surely, I should know by now what I'm supposed to be doing? The things I was most passionate about seem to be irrevelent in ministry, so what does that mean? It means I accept the good with the bad and allow God to continue pruning! I'm not about to die spiritually cause the doubt within supersedes the voice of God. I'll spend my time in "preparation" for my moment and won't stop till my breakthrough.

Thank God for developing my patience. I tried unsuccessfully to skip ahead of Him and connect the pieces. God, just won't moving fast enough for me. I wavered in doubt, had some unanswered questions that caused me to doubt if the "church scene" was a right fit for me. I just couldn't find a place for me. It's like I was standing in the wilderness, waiting for someone to tell me what kind of tree I was. If I didn't know, then how could expect anyone else to know? 

Anyway, I took an extended time off to find the missing pieces but they never came, so I stopped trying! I got still and became quiet. I refused to make any decisions until I knew without a shadow of doubt that I was hearing the voice of God. Since New Years Day, he's been dropping nonstop nuggets my way. I still haven't tapped fully into my purpose because there's more work to be done, but I do recognize I'm moving in the right direction. I can't tell you that the light bulb went off and I got it all figured out cause it's still trial and error but I can say that ---reflecting on my grandma's life has been my motivation. She didn't have a title inside the church walls but she lived her "ministry" out through her good works and deeds!

 My "passion" is attached to that thing that keeps me up all night, that thing that I've been groomed for my whole life.  My hands were created to serve others. I'm not a person of many spoken words but I'm an overflow of written words. I created this blog to practice and perfect my craft---maybe when the timing is right, God will pull a book or two outta me.

I shifted the direction of the blog cause no one wants to hear another woe is me story. "A Daily Dose of Shuga" comes from a reminder of a happy time in my life,  when my days consisted of being around my grandma's older friends that used to tug at my fat jaws and say, Lord chile come give your Auntie some Shuga! I used to be grossed out by their wet lips touching my checks but the warm tinglingly feeling it gave me was priceless. I pray that God allows me to recreate that feeling with each one of you. When the days seem impossible and you want to throw in the towel, I pray God gives me a word that will soothe your wounds and reassure you that you can be healed, whole, delivered, and set free by the grace and mercy of our Father. Stay tuned for your daily dose of Shuga and  know that you have been loved on and  kissed as we travel this journey together! 

Food-My Drug of Choice

When the New Year rolled in, I had already fallen off the vegan bandwagon. I had become a walking fast food billboard with all the bulges and rolls to prove I was 100% committed to self destruction. I was definitely moving backwards fast. Food felt good! It felt safe. It couldn't mock my pain. It wasn't intimidating. It was just "available"-everywhere!

I ate when I was happy, sad, nervous or even bored!

I ate socially to celebrate special occasions.

I ate alone to ease the pain.

I woke up eating and went to bed eating.

Food was my drug of choice!

Seems like my stomach had become one, big non-stop party---"Aye, I'll eat to that!"

It didn't matter if I was fellowshiping with others, dining alone or laying around sulking. There was absolutely nothing a gallon of ice cream couldn't cure. I had it bad! Talking about if you gonna go out, might as well "go all the way out" is exactly what I did! The caffeine in the Pepsi, I was threw back caused the migraines to resurface. I was no longer eating for nourishment, so my meals became quick, fast, convenient and loaded with carbs. I ate any and everything that was sure to send me into sleep oblivion. Then when I woke up, it was time to eat again! The scale surely malfunctioned. There was no way I could gain that kind of weight in such small amount of time, but the zippers on my clothes, convinced me otherwise. I had lost complete control!

"Training my mind" was never been impossible, because I've always been a bit of an extremist. Rarely, do I acknowledge " the middle ground," which explains my overwhelming struggle with "balance!" I either give way too much or not at all. The more I tried to bring my flesh under subjection, the more I failed. I couldn't understand the problem because "denying" myself had never been a huge problem in other areas of my life. What was so different with this?  Even though I consider myself to be a somewhat smart person, I had nothing---no answers, no solutions and no plans!

The fighter in me would not contend, so I had to do something drastic. There had to be something that I was missing, besides doing the obvious---exercising and eating healthier. The struggle, wasn't only in getting my body to cooperate, but the biggest struggle, was in my mind. The gym used to be a stress reliever, and now it was a distant memory. I approached this issue all wrong. I tried to fight this demon (food addiction) within my own power. I subconsciously, had all the answers. Losing weight has never been my struggle! The struggle has been---keeping it off! I've been everything from a size 10 to a size 20, surely I had the weight loss information stored within already, but why was the execution so impossible?

I made a failed attempt to discipline my mind via committing to a January consecration. Fasting wasn't anything foreign to me, and I never struggled with it, but this time was different. My flesh was one big mess! My body was destined to align with God and become obedient, but my mind had left the building. All I could concentrate on was- this love-hate relationship with food!

Flesh had won---no need for me to fight!

It had overtaken every cell in my body.

It had possession of my mind and my thoughts.

On Friday, January 13th, I had an hour long aromatherapy massage. (Not only was my body exhausted, but I was mentally drained). Then the following morning, I travelled to Winston Salem for a conference. I cannot begin to explain the "strongholds" that were being loosed, and the freedom I felt. On the ride home, I heard God speaking to me so clearly that it was almost scary--seems like I hadn't heard His voice in months. The first thing, He instructed me to do was remove my nose piercing. I probably spent an hour in the car, trying to figure that out. I didn't understand what my piercing had to do with my struggles, most importantly, this food addiction. In the midst of my travels, I got sidetracked by somethings. When I sat down to eat a late dinner, I struggled  between ordering a salad and a plate of carbs. Flesh won again, I ate the plate of carbs. I ate and I ate and  I ATE! I didn't want to "think" about the guilt. I just wanted to numb it.

That night as I prepared for bed, I took a look in the mirror and noticed I still hadn't taken the piercing out. I starred in the mirror, trying to remember why I even got it.

It was something bout that little piercing that made me unique, different, rebellious and uncensored.

It was a bold declaration of self-expression that solidified my identity outside of the "norm!"

It was my testament of life, on my terms that screamed, "you can't keep me in a religious box to prove that I love God."

It was my way of living my truth, without having to speak.

It was my radical way of showing up, without blending in.

It was my way of expressing my artistic creativity.

It was my stance between a world of Tupac and Tasha Cobb.

It was an addition to my natural mane and conscious mind.

It was a inner struggle between submission and rebellion.

It was MY life without restriction.

It was an internal war between analytical comprehension and undeniable faith!

Looking in the mirror, I hesitated, but took the piercing out. Throughout the night, I became very ill. I vomited up everything. I couldn't find any medicine in the house, and I knew God was intentionally detoxing me. I needed to let this thing run its course without help!

What does all that have to do with a food addiction?

It was my crash course into submission and obedience. I had this subconscious power struggle going on with God. I trusted Him, but not to complete submission. His authority without question meant total trust. I'd never totally trusted anyone and sad to say, not even God. When you hear the "voice," but don't yield to it...that's when you will get "stuck" in unnecessary warfare, burdens, addictions and problems.

You can't publicly proclaim to be an heir of the King but silently doubt His instruction. Wooo, this was huge for me! I was digging beneath the surface and tearing down the man made foundation. I can clearly see the hand of God all over me. I feel His presence. I marvel at His intimacy. Letting go of somethings that I held clinched at the heart has been extremely painful. I've had to limit myself with certain people. I had to get rid of some toxic relationships. I had to totally surrender to God.

Ok, I believe I'll testify a little more....I'm allowing myself to "feel" uncomfortable in this place of uncertainty, because I don't have it all figured out, nor do I even try anymore. I just "trust" that this is my rightful place, at this time for God to show me-me! My prayers are no longer for temple rebuilding, but the temple construction, through His will. Healing is hard, but necessary to live in abundance.

You can be FREE, if you get out of the way, and let God be God!

Today, I stand naked and unashamed of His process!

Do I still struggle with food choices?

Absolutely, but I'm ALREADY believing God for my complete healing, because I did something "new" that I've never done!

I stepped out on faith of the unknown!

I'm learning how to choose me without regret.

I'm learning to take care of me without reservations.

Showing up for "me" has been the most difficult lesson that I've repeated more than a dozen times. Under the rubbish of doubt, past, pain, fear and disappointment lies the daughter of the Most High.

Today, I am FREE---what or who is stopping you? Hint: Look in the mirror! I'm sure you will recognize the culprit!

God can't move when your hands are in the way!

Hoarder Mentality-LET IT GO!

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." --Matthew 6:19-21


I come from a tribe of strong, independent women that literally had to make a "dollar out of fifteen cents." There was barely enough to go around, but God always made the necessary provisions. The lights were never disconnected. I never went to bed hungry. There were never any holes in my shoes, even though they were hand-me-downs. Although we never went without, the "spirit of lack" became embedded into our families' DNA.

My grandma has always clinged to "stuff!" She never threw anything away because (in her mind) there was someone out there who needed it (the stuff). The problem was- the more she donated to others, the more she collected. Being a woman that survived the Great Depression, I now understand her "need" to hold on to things.  She was unknowingly storing up possessions for a "rainy day!" It was those little proactive measures that always kept the family prepared for the unexpected! It was her "old-fashioned savings plan," without putting money in the bank.

She passed this "rainy day savings plan" down to her children, including my mom. Although my mom lives in a middle-class neighborhood, I jokingly refer to her house as the modern-day "Fred Sanford" head quarters. I don't think there's an empty place on her wall and every square footage is occupied by some antique treasure. She's a modern day collector, thrifter & crafter tied into one.  Don't get me wrong, her house is nothing close to being classified as a hoarder, but it could use some serious down-sizing. I tease her with jokes about---changing neighborhoods, but remaining country, within the city limits!

Somehow, I thought I was different, cause surely "the self-help" guru wasn't holding on to any clutter. Clutter gave me anxiety. It made me feel overwhelmed and unorganized. It could never become my way of life, cause I'm not a fan of what-nots, dust collectors or keepsakes. Clearly, I was the exact opposite of my mom (I thought), until my daughter busted my bubble with her own theory. She sat at my vanity, while playing in makeup and called me a hoarder! Of course, I brushed it off, because I knew she was trying to gain a reaction, in order to score some free products. She went on to say that I was a hoarder of clothes, shoes, hair products and cosmetics. I looked around at the "organized clutter" in disbelief! Was I really a hoarder or just overly passionate about a few too many things?  As soon as that restless energy kicked into "overdrive," I needed a brain dumping exercise to further explore these unmerited observations. I did what I do best---started another purge!

I opened the closets, drawers and storage bins and got busy! I immediately made sell, donate and trash piles, cause it was no way that I was dragging anything unnecessary into the New Year. I couldn't believe how much "stuff," I'd actually been holding onto, but for what? Most times, my routine consisted of putting a select few favorites into heavy rotation. All else, I realized was being wasted.  I felt ashamed that I owned over 200 pair of shoes, over 100 tubes of lipstick, over 300 bottles of nail polish, a whole storage cabinet of hair products that nearly reached  the ceiling. I'm not bragging or boasting because I was totally disguised! This was not my grandma's homemade "rainy day fund." This was greed, lust and covetousness of "things!"  This was evidence of a sinful lifestyle in an attempt to feel good, but in actuality, these things didn't make me feel any better. I still struggled with low self-esteem, despite the things. I still looked around the room and all I could see was "lack!" This still wasn't enough. I still looked in the closet but had nothing to wear---an excuse to buy more. Obviously, my needs weren't being met by things. I was too busy looking for the next emotional high---a clearance rack, thrift store or a hot coupon/discount/savings. It didn't matter, all I saw was dollars saved not spent! Little did I know, the "lack spirit" had took root in me too! There was never enough! My closet was overflowing, but it didn't look filled to capacity to me. I could always squeeze more in it.

The funny thing about life is--we try our hardest to escape self-defeating mindsets on the "surface level," while refusing to see what we have truly become. In my mind, I was not my mom. I didn't have any clutter cause "my things" were useful possessions, not dust collectors. I had to ask myself some freeing questions....

Were these "things" necessary to fulfill my God-given purpose?
Were these things the "fruit" that I'd been looking for?
Were  these things satisfying my spirit? (Absolutely not!)

 So when January 1st came in and God said, "PURGE!" I didn't have all the answers at first, but the pieces are slowly coming together. We think "deliverance" is a one step fix, but it's a process!  I'm not saying, you can't wake up---freed from something--- cause that depends on God's will,  but what I'm saying is "deliverance" is not a one size fit all, its tailor made. There are somethings you can walk away from cold turkey, but then there are other things, that you wean or taper off slowly. It's not about the speed but the endurance! It's all apart of His plan, His grace and His favor!

People that I encounter on an "intimate level" say that I'm carrying my baby (unpublished book) way pass full term. That I have a message within that I have yet to tap into. Apart of me laughs at the thought, but then I'm quickly reminded of Sarah and God's promise to her.  My dignified response to others is --God gives me instructions, lessons and thoughts in pieces. I never get the story in a timely chronological order, but I praise God anyway, cause I know that I can't but He can. Nope, I'm not birthing any Ishmael's here!

What has your attention in 2017?
What are your treasures?
Where are your treasures stored?

Get rid of that hoarder mentality!

Stop holding onto things that God didn't ordain you to carry, whether it be in the natural or spiritual---LET IT GO!!!!!

Get Up or Give Up

Sometime ago Bishop Atwater preached a sermon entitled, "You Can Be Pitiful or Powerful," but you can't be both. That sermon spoke directly to the "void" in my life! It was a subtle wake up call and reminder that you can't rightfully hold hands with God with a "defeated mindset!" You can't proclaim victory while being a victim! You can't straddle the fence of "uncertainty" and then expect instant manifestations. God's full abundance is obtained from obedience and resiliency! There aren't any shortcuts. You can't skip the process and reap a premature harvest! In other words, you gotta go through to get the breakthrough!

"My brethren count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a doubleminded man, unstable in all his ways."

--James 1:2-8

To be honest, I literally flinch at the mention of "double mindless," because consistency is a stumbling block for me for various reasons. It illicts all kinds of negative feelings and is a nagging reminder of my shortcomings. Then the "doubt" kicks into overdrive, leaving behind unsettling feelings. Along comes issues regarding "surrendering & obedience!" Add a lot of insecurities and a mound of trust issues to the mix! Then the inner struggle becomes more real, because the battle starts and the warfare begins or so "my minds says." However, it takes an enormous amount of discipline to train your mind against self-sabotage. That's why I'm here to tell you "sabbaticals" aren't the answer! You need to stay in the presence of God with like minded individuals that you can draw strength from during your weaknesses, or you will find yourself entangled in a repetitive round with the devil!

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." --2 Corinthians 10:3-5

It's easy to fall into an human err moment & need to be reminded that we don't need to fight within our own power cause in all actuality--it's impossible! We don't do this thing called, "life" through our own capabilities. At some point, we have to freely choose! We can either be like the man lying by the pool for thirty-eight years, waiting for someone to put him into the pool or we can take up our bed & walk! Don't allow what has subconsciously attached to your spirit become your "comfort zone or way of life!"

"But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint!" --Isaiah 40:31

Waiting on  the Lord is a submission to your process! It is a declaration of faith that says, "I trust you, Lord, even when I can't find my way & the hills seem like mountains & the storms seem like Tsunamis.

Give up or Get up---you do have a choice!

Operation Purge-The Release

"Sometimes you have to let everything go---purge yourself. If you are unhappy with anything-whatever is bringing you down-get rid of it. Because you will find that when you are free, your true creativity, your true self comes out." ---Tina Turner

After an emotionally exhausting year of ups and downs, when December (my birthday month) came I went from “Lord, "fix it" to  Lord, give me "rest!" There wasn't any room on my plate for much of anything, not even an ounce of "hope" for my life's "situation!" Come December, "hidden dysfunction" had secretly become way of life for me. There was no escape! Everywhere I turned, there seemed to be a load of "crap," waiting for me to clean up. The sad part is --it was other family members junk that subconsciously became my responsibility. I'd made myself "available" to others for so long that I spent another frustrated year forgetting about me! It literally became my way of life! I spent the year juggling family obligations and I was beyond exhausted. My prayer life suffered, because I didn't even know what to pray about. My time and attention had been tied up into "serving others" that I thought it was too selfish to pray for myself!  So at the end of my days, there was nothing left for me! I don't care if I slept for four or twelve hours, my body was still tired. My hands were ALWAYS full of other people's junk.

So when my birthday rolled around, I didn't have any celebratory plans. I'd been doing an excellent job of "stuffing my emotions" with food.  In fact, I went from being totally health conscious to eating everything in sight. I didn't care about a possible Diabetes relapse, I just needed "comfort!" The weight came back, my blood pressure sky rocketed, the migraines were back and I was a physical mess! I didn't even care. My load was so full, it was just some more added issues to the overwhelming pile. For once in my life, I didn't have a plan! There was no planned course of action to take cause I couldn't see a way out. I was "stuck" in my own mess, combined with carrying the load of others.  For the month of December, during my meditation moments, I didn't know what to seek God's direction on. I spent my quiet times waiting for Him to give me some inclination of what to do next. I thought I was ready for whatever He would drop in my spirit, so I kept right on meditating, but all I kept hearing Him say was "purge!"

I was lost and upset! Clearly, this was not the voice of God telling me to "purge!" I had spent the last ten years of my life purging, downsizing and ridding myself of "things!" There wasn't a superficial bone in my body. I'd walked away from "everything," I struggled so hard to build. I was literally like Lord, I don't have anything left to purge, but week after week it was the same thing. I would spend my nights tossing around in bed, trying to figure out what else could God possibly want me to get rid of.  Come daylight, I started to go into emotional fits (temper tantrums), pulling clothes out the closet to donate, sell, give away or just plain get rid of to appease God. Nothing happened! I was beyond frustrated!

On New Years morning, I popped up out of bed like I had won the lottery! I finally knew what God meant! He wasn't telling me to get rid of anything tangible. He was instructing me to release the intangible---the guilt, shame, hurt, grief, pain and disappointments. I didn't even realize I was still "bottling my emotions!" I wasn't in denial about my feelings, but I was tucking them neatly away for the next time. The next time there was an ounce of sadness that would show up, I would be prepared, because I could simply add the old to the new "problems!" Then I would fall into a deeper pit, without guilt, because life had been cruel and unfair to me! (my incorrect way of thinking)

I got out the bed and started pacing the floor, prophesying over my own life! Until this very moment, I wasn't even sure if I wanted to live or die. I had given up without even knowing! Not only, was I prematurely grieving my grandmother's health struggles, but I was also grieving over past emotions. I thought because I had been delivered from bits and pieces of my story that "deliverance" was like a one time thing, not an ongoing process! I didn't even realize I was harboring those feelings so close to my heart, attempting to keep them from God's reach! I had no idea that I was "saving" them for the next negative encounter. I wasn't addicted to pain and suffering, but I had no clue how to let it go! Until  I made sense of what God was saying----purge!

 This is only the 4th day of January, but I feel like someone moved a dump trunk off my chest! I can breathe. I can love. I can live on purpose with purpose!

Is this thing called, "life" a cake walk? Absolutely, not!

Will there be more sadness, pain, hurt and frustration to come?

Most definitely, but I don't have to sit in the valley making a "mountain" out of my troubles! I don't have to add on to what God has already taking away. I don't have to carry what He has already lifted! I no longer have to suffer in defeat, cause He has heard my cries and He has saved me from the biggest most cruel enemy ever---the one within!

Why spend another day suffering or miserable when you can tap into His unfailing love?

He already paid the price for you to live an abundant life, don't let it be in vain.

Don't grieve God by living below your highest potential!

Strive to live blessed & free from bondage!

You are victorious, despite what's going on all around you!

Baby Grace

John was a young, ambitious mechanic that could “fix” anything, except the drowning sorrow of his alcoholic, fiancée but that didn’t stop him from trying.

He worked diligently to make her past nightmares disappear; but the more he tried, the more those dreams became her reality. There was no escape. She accepted her defeat and wore it proudly like a badge of honor. This is who she was and it’s where she belonged.  She was breathing and surviving. That was all she knew.

Life hadn’t been too kind to mom and she was a product of unspoken generational curses. It was her fate due to being conceived in darkness. Pain was rooted in her bloodline. There was no celebration of life, just shame and guilt meet by disappointment of another mouth to feed. There was no crib, warm blankets or formula. There was a foreign object offered to her when she cried but it was attached to a tired soul. There was grief and suffering transmitted through those swollen mammal glands. Feeding was painful and rushed. There was farm work calling before the early morning sunrise. Her mother needed her strength to pick cotton, feed hogs and kill chickens. The family depended solely on her hands to provide the next meal.

Mom wept daily for the lost innocence of childhood memories, but she clang to “hope” of raising her own child one day. That strong mechanic of hers that was good with his hands would create the perfect fairytale ending for sure.

Trying to conceive naturally was out of the question. There were complications but dad was desperate. He gathered his life savings and found a black market clinic that would finally make mom happy. She would no longer spend her days numbing her pain with whiskey bottles. He held the solution to her unanswered prayers. (Modern day Ishmael in the making.)

Nine months later, a bouncing baby girl entered the world, but she didn’t cry. She was scared of the unknown. The lights hurt her eyes. The heat burned her skin. She didn’t know these people. They didn’t share the same blood. She was a stranger in a foreign land. An orphan of uncertainty. 

Mom was not happy. There was no cord for dad to cut. There was sadness and disappointment at her arrival. She was an unfamiliar face. A warm body present with an absent surname. A man made creation of unknown origin.

Mom immediately detached from “Baby Grace”. She saw no resemblance of her in those little brown eyes. She grew terribly depressed with what doctors described as, “Postpartum Blues.” 

Dad would be responsible for working all day and staying up late nights with Baby Grace. He knew she wasn’t biologically his per say, but he loved her unconditionally. Mom had checked out emotionally, so he became a single parent in a broken home. A catastrophe created by his own hands.

Baby Grace was an unethical, seed planted in human error. She inherited tremendous suffering at the will of good intentions gone astray. She was predestined for misery and misfortune, but God had a different plan.

{To be continued}

When Depression Came To Stay

When I initially started this blog back in 2010, I intended to share it solely as a weight loss journey, but there is so much more to me than a love-hate relationship with food. In fact, the "ugly truth" is that I've been secretly struggling with Depression, PTSD & Anxiety for more than a decade. Everytime I stepped forward to be freed from the bondage of my truth, I ran back to my safety net of isolation. Behind closed doors, I was an emotional wreck. I struggled with getting out of bed & putting one foot in front of the other. I struggled with low self-esteem, contributing to binge eating and yet managed to master "faking the funk" in public. No one noticed the pain that was hidden behind the fake smile, the fake laughs, and the bubbly personality! I learned at an early age to "serve others" with my whole heart, even when it meant neglecting my own well-being! But what happens to a “pressure cooker” that fills to capacity & there's no escape? It boils over!

This is a shortened version of what happened to me and somewhere underneath the piles of hurt, disappointments & pain was a broken women struggling to gain an identity! Who had God called her to be? This was the basis of her struggle and the missing component of her foundation. Who was she outside of the pain, the tears & the sadness? Surely, God didn't create her to die without one earthly contribution and suffer in silence from a broken heart and an unfulfilled life!

I didn't create this blog to air out my dirty laundry or to cry "wolf!" I created this blog as a testament of faith that I'm still believing God for my healing and in the meantime I pray that my story serves as motivation for others to keep pushing. The most difficult thing about suffering from mental health illness is wanting others to understand what you're going through but they won't! Sometimes I can't articulate my pain, identify the reason for my sadness or explain my overwhelming need for seclusion. Sometimes "being social" is just too much. I'd rather find solace in meditation. Those quiet alone times with God keeps me sane. It keeps me from falling too low. It helps me discipline my mind & train my thoughts to rid myself of any self-defeating behaviors. My faith keeps me balanced, even on the not so good days! Everyday is a struggle to make sense of this "thing" that has somehow stayed around longer than I expected, but God has never left me out here in this wilderness alone. He has been my source, my light & my salvation!

Although my genetic disposition says that this illness is hereditary, I know God to be a healer and on His time, this "thing" too shall pass. If you or anyone you know suffers in silence, I encourage you to believe your Creator for your healing! Will it be easy? Absolutely not, but it will be worth the wait!  

Oftentimes, I find myself taking a sabbatical from the church scene, but I never stray far away from God. He is indeed my rock! I pray that hearing my story and sharing my journey from pieces to peace will inspire you to do the work & make a fresh commitment to your healing & recovery. I believe that our greatest ministry lies within our hearts to be of service to others. Travel with me from brokenness to wholeness one step at a time---one day at a time! The joy of the Lord really is your strength!

When Tomorrow Never Comes

So many times in life we wait for the perfect opportunity to live life to the fullest.

We hide behind excuses like...

when I lose these last 10 pounds,

when I get married,

when I finish my degree,

when I retire,

when the kids leave home,

when I hit the lottery

....but what happens if “tomorrow” never comes? What happens if you put your dreams and visions on hold for that “ideal moment” that never happens?

My point being-we aren’t promised tomorrow but we do have TODAY!

Your present circumstances are not by mistake. It may seem foolish to man but makes perfect sense to God. You are not at this very place because he forgot and left you. It’s a well orchestrated plan for you to see his glory and experience him on another level. You don’t need a man made rescue. Man’s best efforts will never “save” you. Make yourself fully available to God and watch him move mightily on your behalf. Position yourself to receive the best of the very best!

It’s time to move from the “waiting room” into the “delivery room!”

Self Inflicted Wounds

Sallie was a forty-seven year old woman trapped in a seven year old body. To say the least, she didn’t get the nurturing she needed as a child. There weren’t any positive affirmations spoken to validate any of her feelings & God seemed like a foreign entity that she’d only heard of in passing. She lacked emotional & physical stability, so she tried to create her own. Despite her best efforts, she fell short so her life played out by watching & waiting from the sidelines. She never gained the confidence to get in the game. She was a hidden gem on the bleachers, cheering everyone else on. That became her passion. Surely, she found her calling. She was destined to becoming the best servant to others while neglecting herself. Most certainly, God would be very pleased. I mean wasn’t her life a modern day parallel to Job?

She was drawn to brokenness, people with a sadness in their eyes that resembled hers. Surely, God gave her the compassion to “rescue” them from pain. I mean she was an expert at suffering, loss & grief. It became her way of life. Little did she know, she was addicted to “pain!”   The uncertainty & instability was her drug of choice. It was her comfort zone.

Years of her own neglect went unnoticed by many. She started to forget about her own dreams. She was a master manipulator in disguise, who excelled tremendously at concealing pain. She’d worn the mask since birth and even though it no longer fit, it became a vital part of her identity. Surely, she couldn’t function without it. It was hidden beneath piles of debt, designer handbags & lots of self inflicted pain. It became the “norm” without hope of a better way.

Year after year, she drove herself into a state of physical exhaustion. Serving others was her only meaningful contribution to the world but she was tired. She grew distant & withdrawn from public scrutiny. She was a classified permanent resident in the “waiting room.” Was this it? Was this God’s plan for her? Hadn’t she suffered enough trauma throughout life?

As she positioned herself to hear from God directly and stopped seeking out prophecies to affirm her inclinations, things begin to shift. The people she served for years really didn’t need the bulk of her time nor attention. In her isolated moments, she studied like a mad scientist longing for more. Even though she was smart, the world would never know because she had a secret disability. She refused to speak. Social interaction made a way of escape years ago. It was only a vague memory. She hid in the crowd, sporting her security blanket, a pure white sheet. In her mind, she was doing the best she could with what she had been given. She was “surviving!”

She was far from Mother Teresa but she learned to keep her legs closed. The very opposite of what people considered her reputation to be. God was building her up from within and there was no room for distractions via pseudo-type relationships. She grew increasingly frustrated by the loneliness, never admitting that she was sick. She was suffering from a broken heart. God needed her healthy & healed before he would release her safely into the world. Her anxiety grew stronger as she made “self” the main focus. There was no dramatic chaos that needed her attention so she started to create her own safety net of dysfunction. She’d cause more“self inflicted wounds,” that showed up by piling on more neglect. She carried the emotional baggage mostly within the inches forming around her bulging waistline. However, the void remained unfulfilled and tension grew.

She grew angry starring at all the unfinished projects she’d started. Everything in life was a “work in progress!” Every time she drew closer to completion, the devil sent a clever distraction to claim her undivided attention. He already took advantage of her restless soul, which some referenced as immaturity. They didn’t understand why she lost interest so quickly. It was a flawed trait that caused her a lot of heartache. People couldn’t figure her out & it was way too complicated to explain.

One day she drove to an abandoned cliff and cried out to God. She didn’t have a clue. The world was distant & cold to her. People that she respected & admired from afar didn’t even know she existed. She felt rejected, like damaged goods. She was an antique sitting in the bargain basement waiting to be claimed. An orphan looking for a home. An abandoned ship that wrecked & washed up to shore without notice. She was the pink elephant that walked in the room. The uncategorized diagnoses that didn’t fit a rightful cure. She just couldn’t be explained. A shameless face without a name.

She sat for hours on that cliff. She’d driven more than 8 hours to reach it, in the middle of nowhere but longing to fit somewhere. She pulled her sleeves up but  was reminded of her battle scars. She wondered where God was when she found herself a bloody, broken mess. She was angry & he should know it before she took her last breathe. He was so close but yet so far away.

God created this ideal moment for her to decide via (free will) if she had the courage to jump or the will to live.

Runaway Soul

I guess I never imagined how time consuming writing two blogs would be. I barely have time to write one, nevertheless two. I have two seperate visions but neither seems to be taking off. I mean, what's a "message" without an audience?

Anyway, the negative vibes and restlessness were kicking into overdrive, so I decided to grab my laptop and head to a local bookstore. As a former Sociology major,  I had a peculiar way of "watching people" and making up fictional stories, about what I thought their lives would be like. Surely, venturing out into public would spark some type of creativity.

As I sat on the faux, leather couch, with my laptop on a nearby table, I noticed a young woman, wondering aimlessly down the isles. She appeared to be frantically searching for something important. I wanted to help, but I wasn't an employee, so maybe I couldn't provide much assistance. I thought I knew where everything was but offering to help was a bit of a stretch. She appeared to be much younger than me, but I could tell she'd been through her fair share of storms.

I discreetly kept watching her, because her nervousness made me uneasy. I didn't feel like she was trying to steal a book. That would make no sense. I mean the library had plenty for free. She was very neat and well put together, so there was no need to try and guess her story. I needed discernment from the Holy Spirit to help this young lady. I got up and searched the bookshelf near her.  I gave a warm, welcoming smile but she offered very, little eye contact. She was so nervous in my presence that she dropped the book.  I hurried to pick it up before her, and glanced to see that it was a book on Domestic Violence. I desperately wanted to pull her in for a great, big, bear hug, but she looked so scared and frail, I offered to buy her a cup of coffee instead. I had about twenty books in cash on hand and boy did I want a fictional book to read leisurely. I needed an escape from all the serious reads but this was an urgent matter.

When I asked, if I could buy her her a cup of coffee, she rudely answered, "Why?" I was halfway startled and somewhat offended, but then I immediately sympathized with her easiness. I reassured her that I wasn't a psychopath and pointed to my laptop for her to read the blog I was working on. After reading a few sentences, she apologized and explained that there weren't too many strangers that acknowledged her.

As we sat in a dimly lit corner, she begin to share her story. Kim was a twenty-three year old with five kids, which she'd lost custody. The State placed her kids with various family members and she hadn't seen them in over a year. She explained that her live-in boyfriend was a "bad man." He was twenty five years older than her and was in and out of prison.  She said he rescued her and the kids off the crime-infested streets of Durham, when she was fifteen. She was a homeless, teenage mother, who became impregnated by a few of her mom's regular boyfriends. Kim said her mom sold her soul to a crack pipe and handed Kim along to compensate for the bill.  She ran away as way of escape, and here she was running from the very thing that she ran to.

Kim said her live-in boyfriend was a violent, monster who sold drugs by day and snorted heroin by night. He beat her senseless, anytime she refused to go make him some quick money on the streets by soliciting her body. She went on to further explain that he was responsible for her front teeth missing. I held back the tears, but I couldn't listen to anymore without praying for her. I stretched my arms across the table, and she hesitated at first, but then offered hers.  I couldn't help but notice the cut marks on her wrist. She pulled down her sleeves in embarrassment, but I got a good look at them. These were fresh cuts. As I prayed, we both cried. I got so loud that I literally forgot we were in a bookstore. As I looked up, two of the employees joined us in prayer too. They later told me that they expected Kim was homeless, but she looked harmless, so they never made her leave.

I couldn't leave her, without hearing her plans or at least making sure she had somewhere safe to stay for the night. She said, she was going wherever the $95 she collected would take her. Kim said her boyfriend was in jail again and this was her moment to break free.

She said she would buy a bus ticket to head up north, where they had more available resources for women in her situation. She said the local women's shelter wouldn't take her in because her boyfriend aways found her and made trouble. Kim said she would probably catch the bus to Washington, DC and make a fresh start. I really didn't want to let her go. She had suffered enough!

We talked some more and I convinced her to give her life to Christ right there in the bookstore. The coffee wouldn't let me hold off any longer, so I instructed her to stay put. I asked permission to make some phone calls on her behalf and I slipped to the bathroom.

When I came out, my laptop and belongings were on the table, but there was no sign of Kim. The employees said, she asked them to watch my things and said she would be right back, but she was long gone.

One the ride home, I beat myself up repeatedly. If only I didn't excuse myself, would things have turned out any different? How many Kim's do we encounter on a daily basis, without knowing? We don't know their stories, but do we take the time to find out? I was super vexed! Was Kim my assignment that slipped through the cracks of my fingers? God reassured me that I did the best that I could, but my soul still weeps for her. This could have easily been my story BUT GOD!

I pray that God will do a "new thing" in her life.
I pray that her head finds the safety, security and satisfaction in Him.
I pray that she sleeps in a warm, bed at night.
I pray that she takes to heart some of the seeds, I was fortunate enough to plant.
I pray that she will lean into Him for all understanding and direction.
I pray that she will be delivered from the bondage and freed from her past.
I pray that He transforms the little, lost "runaway soul" to a mighty warrior in the kingdom for His glory.

"Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over death to life."
--John 5:24

**Please note this is a fictional account of a true, life story**

The Breakfast Club

"When Job's three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him."
--Job 2:11

I see a lot of people ranting & raving on social media platforms about "staying in their own lane," which doesn't seem to be a bad idea in the text of "minding your own business," and not sowing discord. But then I see the phrase, "solo dolo" accompanied by that. I assume as a way of saying, "I'm doing life by myself!" Basically, suggesting that one "isolates" themselves from others. So I wonder, how is that working for them?

It definitely never worked for me. Being a "loner" wasn't much fun, and I don't think God created us to be "social beings" without having "social support!" I mean, why are there millions of people in the world, if we didn't need others? Why are there teachers, doctors and lawyers? (If we don't need anyone else). Why do people get married? (If they don't desire companionship).

So is doing life "SOLO" an excuse not to "serve others?"

We live in a society where "everyone" gets on our nerves. Our lack of "patience" is evident, when it comes to anyone, outside of our household.

We don't have time for sob stories, whining, needs, lacks or inconveniences.
We don't want to hear the poor or pitiful speak out.
We don't want to hear other's problems, yet we want someone to listen to ours.

We vent, we complain, and we try others' patience as well. We tell others, "You can always talk to me!" But do we really take time to listen? Is listening a priority in these fast, paced multi-tasking times?

When someone commits suicide, the first thing people say is.--I wonder why they didn't talk to someone? Well, when people ask for "help" are you available, or are you preoccupied with "self?" You never know the value of a simple conversation. It could literally be the difference between "life or death." If you don't have time for others, how do you make time for God? Maybe "service" isn't at the top of the priority list for some, not all.

Every week, I connect with a group of Christian women, at a local restaurant to discuss any and everything under the sun. We discuss biblical principles, life, health and well-being. If someone is experiencing a problem, then we offer support. We may not have all the answers, but we are available to the needs of others in a safe, confidential environment. These women are missionaries on an assignment to change the world by "showing up!" They don't turn a blind eye to the needs of others. There isn't an inconvenience of time, because they make it a priority to serve God through their act of service to others. Sometimes, we sit there for hours, just talking. Some may think it's a waste of energy, but it's really beneficial to everyone in the group. It's apart of our healthy, self-care regime. We don't come with hidden agendas. We come to serve!

When I first started attending this group, I came with little expectation. I wasn't looking to gain anything but as a means of social interaction. For the sake of confidentiality, I'll refer to them as "The Breakfast Club." I sat quietly, getting a feel for everyone with little contribution, but as I grew more comfortable with them, I began to share. They welcomed me with open arms and made me feel like family. At first, all the hugging made me feel just a little bit uncomfortable, because I wasn't accustomed to it. Now, I find myself extending my arms for a hug first. Wow, talk about change! These women are slowly helping me evolve. I may be turning into a social butterfly after all!

Everyone needs a "Breakfast Club" in their life. Whether you meet weekly, monthly or quarterly, you need the intimate setting of social support. Life is not an easy journey, but relationships make it meaningful. You don't have to pay membership dues to join an organization, fill out applications for acceptance, fit into a particular social class, political entity or demographic. You just have to be committed to "serving" the needs of others.

Stop soliciting people for their time and attention, God will send you the help that you need.

He sent me more than I imagined. Being an only child, I've always wanted a sister, but now I have an army of them! Isn't that just like God to give you "more" than you could ever ask?

Stay encouraged, as you pray for that trustworthy army of willing vessels, that will feely love you without malice or ill intentions.

At The Altar

Do you not know that those who perform sacred services eat the food of the temple and those who attend regularly to the altar have their share from the altar?
--1 Corinthians 9:13

During the Making Peace with My Past Bible Study, I secretly thought I experienced a midlife crisis or mental breakdown of some nature. The more I prayed for peace, the more God instructed me to do things that were way outside my comfort zone. Sometimes, I willfully obliged without second guessing, but some things I just flat out refused. I tried to conjure up justifiable excuses. I temporarily pretended that it was not the voice of God that I heard, but a figment of my overactive imagination.

I'd been attending this particular church for awhile. I liked it but it didn't feel like home, because it wasn't familiar. Every week, I looked for new reasons not to go back. I narrowed in on small, trivial things that appeared to be distractions. I focused in on people's negative body language. I sought out frowns and the reluctant, unfamiliar hands, holding on for dear life at the benediction.  I sat near the back, because it meant less accountability (as if God didn't see the rear). I didn't care to be seen or socialize much. I came to hide out in the background and remain a nameless face in the crowd. It was much safer that way. It was working well for a little while. Well, until I started to stay home more and watch the service online. Who would notice? Very few people knew me by name.

One day, I received a peculiar text stating, "I didn't see you after service today..." At first, I was annoyed that my absence had been noticed. Surely, I was an expert at hiding! I was exposed and I didn't like it one bit. Hey, I came to hide out in the comforts of a larger congregation. I didn't need anyone to notice anything about me! I sarcastically replied to the text (in my head) with, "you didn't see me, cause I wasn't there." Yes, it was flesh speaking, but someone overstepped their boundaries by "looking for me!" This stirred my troubled spirit. It meant that I would have to start "showing up" from now on. I accidentally caught someone's attention. Well, it didn't matter too much, I was smart! I would still sit in the back, but I would get there earlier to smile and wave, so people knew I was present. That was a wonderful plan, until a friend asked me to sit with her. Nobody ever asked me to sit with them in church! I normally got the ugly, stares, if I sat in somone's imaginary assigned seat, without knowing. In my past experience, Christians secretly fought to claim the front seat's of the sanctuary. I don't know if they wanted to be seen by the Pastor or God, but I could tap into God's presence, regardless of where I sat. I didn't want to be squished up in the front, when there was plenty of unclaimed seats in the back.

The following Sunday, I sat with my friend in the front and I must admit it was a different type of worship experience. There weren't any distractions and I listened more attentively. I didn't witness people walking in and out of the double doors. It was still. I had a "direct line" to God. I mean, He was right there! I didn't have to focus too hard, cause He was literally sitting on my lap.

Every since I'd be coming to this church, God instructed me to get on the altar and STAY THERE! I didn't like that request. I didn't know these people like that. They didn't live in my neighborhood, didn't travel my social circle and I wasn't about to be vulnerable in the presence of strangers. They weren't my "church family;" yet, they were individuals that just happened to attend the same church. Some were always preoccupied and dismissive, which made it easier for me. They wouldn't be able to point me out in an off-site parking lot and that was perfectly fine with me. Out of sight, out of mind- worked for me!

Yet every week, God nudged me to the altar, but I held back. I resisted his instruction, week after week, but I continued to pray for peace.

One Sunday, I keyed in on several things that I didn't like. My energy was thrown off, but I didn't let my actions reflect my disappointment.  I tried to brush off those feelings, but I was terribly uncomfortable. I looked back at my friend, who appeared to be the only familiar face in the crowd. I needed her presence to take the first step. This Sunday morning, I had to make it down to that altar! I had to release the little girl that couldn't stay but celebrate the new woman that God birthed. I had to surrender fully to God's complete authority. I had to stop looking for excuses to run and just be still. I had to allow God to make the unknown a familiar place place of refugee. I had to stop fighting the process. I had to willfully submit to God, so that the real transformation could take place.

I bowed on that altar in reverence to God. I repented for all my deliberate acts of disobedience. I sobbed for the little broken heart but wept more for those broken pieces were being made whole again. I wasn't everyone's assignment, but God laid familiar hands on my back that silently said, "I am here. You no longer have to be afraid!" I needed that confirmation. When I opened my eyes, I cried even harder. It was the woman from my dreams that pointed me to Jesus.  It no longer mattered what the masses saw or failed to see when they looked at me. All that mattered was that I kneeled on that altar and found just what I needed.......

Deliverance & healing for the little girl desperately trying to break FREE.

I wasn't afraid.
I wasn't rebellious.
I wasn't defiant.

I was safely, secured in the loving arms of someone that would never drop me!

"No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful: he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it."

1 Corinthians 10:13

A Christmas Miracle

"He is the one you praise; he is your God, who performed for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes."

--Deuteronomy 10:21

I didn't have any formal plans carved out of my schedule for the holiday season. I would go with the "flow" of things, even if that consisted of me, being chained to the couch all day. I attended several Christmas gatherings, with various groups, so I didn't feel neglected. For the first time ever, my social calendar was booked solid! At every function, there were mountains of baked goodies. Those little, red festive plates were filled to capacity. I mindlessly, gorged on a massive influx of sugar and carbs--not one calorie tracked for the holiday. My "extroverted side" slipped out on several occasions. I laughed at every joke, even made some of my own, but my spirit remained heavy. I knew something was missing, but I was almost afraid to ask God. I secretly feared the revelation might send me into a deep, downward spiral for the remainder of the year. I wasn't about to dig up any old graves, so I ignored the tugging on my spirit.

Maybe it was just the residue of some "dead weight" falling by the wayside.

Maybe, I was secretly grieving all the dramatic changes that took place.

Maybe there were some unresolved, inner issues that went ignored.

At first, I plain ole refused to yield to the inclinations. I was having too much fun to let the enemy steal my joy. I fell for that same nonsense too many times before. I was mature now and I wouldn't let the devil have a foothold in my doorway. It didn't bother me that my back was still hurting, even though my load was much lighter. I assumed some "pains "were necessary to prove that I was still breathing. I mean to be without pain, was just unheard of. I couldn't imagine life without pain! Hmm, I wonder why?

The more I tried to escape that gnawing feeling, the stronger it grew.  I already knew what was bothering me, yet maybe, ignoring it would make it go away!

I had been having the time of my life with friends, but I wanted to share that same type of excitement with my biological family. I grieved for the distance that grew between us. I felt burdened by the senseless feuds. I saw my grandmother's face growing weary by the effects of Alzheimer's Disease, and I wanted her to feel the presence of God's love under the same roof. I wanted this to be the best possible Christmas for her. It would take an act of God to pull off what I was thinking!

I could hear my friend, Hannah whisper some simple but mind-blowing epiphanies in my ear. She was one of my "covenant accountabily sisters." She wouldn't dare allow me to run from a challenge, even if she had to physically restrain me. Her physical frame was of small statue but it carried great spiritual weight. She was an intercessor that you just couldn't avoid. She took her God-given assignment to heart. She would find you, hiding underneath a rock in the middle of the wilderness, with her prayers. You would come out of hiding, one way or another! She was unstoppable! She didn't need a magnifying glass, because she had the Holy Spirit on her side. She refused to relinquish her God-given power to the the enemy. She stayed up plenty of nights, praying for the ones that others overlooked. Her presence was felt, even in her physical absence. She carried her ministry in her belly and her words birthed seeds undetected with the naked eye.

Hannah asked me one day, "Where is your daughter?" I ignored the question. I meant she wasn't lost or anything. I never abandoned her, so what was the meaning of the question? We didn't have the best relationship but surely, Hannah already knew that. I brushed the question off and changed the subject, without answering. I didn't get the significance or it's relevance, but the question still lingered in the back of my mind. Obviously, people knew where my passion resided, based on the way I lit up when talking about things/people. Everyone knew my grandson, before they even laid eyes on  him, due to the "unfiltered funnies" I shared about him. I'm sure, they knew of my mother's sarcastic sense of humor, as well, but I didn't talk much about my daughter. I guess, it was too painful. Maybe, it was the unhealed wound.  The pink elephant in the room that I desperately tried to ignore. Talking about our strained relationship was like pouring salt on an open wound. I guarded that like Fort Knox. It simply wasn't up for discussion.

Anyway, I'm sure you think I'm rambling off topic by now, but I assure you this all ties into the "Christmas miracle," my family experienced first-hand on Christmas morning.

God dropped something abstract on me.  He said, "The spirit of reconciliation is near!" I already knew what He meant but I had no clue to where to begin. I stepped out on complete faith and collaborated with God to turn a valley experience into a mountain top view. With absolutely no prior planning or budget, God bought the vision to pass. He preordained his birthday, as the day, for my family to experience the miracle.

As I made preparations, doubts kicked in. I imagined "everything" that could go wrong. I wanted the day to be perfect, but I wasn't in control! God had already prepared the table, He just needed me to yield to His voice. I approached the situation very carefully, every step of the way. I put flesh, judgments and prejudices to the side. Every time an ounce of doubt kicked in, a family member reminded me that miracles take place at Christmas. The irony of that alone was God's way of providing reassurance.

Christmas Eve, I spent the night at my daughter's new apartment in Raleigh. God did a new thing for us. We made new memories. We dressed in Christmas pajamas, laughed, took horrible selfies, and baked cookies. I prepared for our First Family Breakfast/Brunch.

So many times, we think people need to see the "Jesus" in us, by quoting Bible Scriptures, pointing out sins or trying to drag them along our spiritual journey. We condemn their sins with prejudice, before we introduce them to the loving & forgiving God.  We forget that we have been in those same shoes. We have settled for less in the world. We have travelled around the same mountain in the wilderness. We have operated in our own abilities unsuccessfully. We have made mistakes. We've taken the scenic route more than a time or two. We've missed the mark on several occasions but God never dropped us.

On Christmas morning, I watched my immediate family, assemble under the same roof to fellowship with lots of food and fun. Indeed, old things were passed away.

I worried about pulling it together last minute without planning.

I worried about running out of food.

I worried about who might not show up.

However, God exceed every expectation! We had more than enough of everything! Most importantly, we witnessed God's presence by the restoration that filled the room.

Hugs were exchanged.

Differences were put to the side.

We played games.

We laughed.

We loved.

God performed the impossible; my heart was so overjoyed. When I went to say the blessing, I think I blessed everything but the food ,cause my spirit was overwhelmed. I was in awe of His miracle. Christmas 2017 was a monumental experience. God gave us beauty for our ashes. We lost my first cousin a few days before Christmas, but God restored a hopeless, family.

"In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."

--Matthew 5:16

"Choose Life"

"This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live"

--Deuteronomy 30:19

Today, was a bright, sunny but very, windy day. Family and friends dressed in traditional, black attire assembled on the unpaved, church grounds to say "farewell" to one of my first cousin's. As the funeral director called for "flower girls" to come to the front of the line, I happily obliged. I used to run from that "act of service," cause I was so short. I always imagined tripping down with the flower or experiencing some kind of catastrophic, humuliating moment. As the double doors swung open, I was astonished! It was the same familiar, white little, building from childhood memory, my families' home church. I couldn't believe it looked the same. The blue carpet, wood pews, and choir stand hadn't changed a bit. The only noticeable difference was the newer, brick dwelling that sat adjacent the sanctuary.

As we walked down the middle aisle to view the body, my hands were obsessively, trembling. I love the "boost" from caffeinated coffee on winter days, but the caffeine doesn't love me back. By the time, I reached the front of the church, my legs felt like spaghetti noodles, trying to support my full figure frame. When my teary-eyes landed on the silver coffin, reality set in. I don't care how far along you are on your spiritual journey, the initial grief is still shocking and painful. I know to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord, but the lump in your throat still swells.

All of the traditional, preliminaries went forth--prayer, scripture, singing and the reading of the obituary. In order for me to catch my breath, I was forced to temporarily "check out." I closed my eyes and started to feel sorry for my cousin. I thought about the fact that he never had children, among other things and my heart wept for him. I honestly thought about how life my have cheated him out of a few more memories. All I could thing about was "lack!" The things he never experienced. I didn't want to call attention to myself, but I hurried to the restroom. My emotions were all over the place. I planned to splash some water on my face to regroup, but I prayed instead. I prayed for God to grant my family strength to endure this loss right here, two days before Christmas. Also, I prayed that God bring my thoughts under subjection. As a Christian, I understand that this world is not our home, but when your family circle is broken, the mind and the heart are at odds.

I tuned out the choir. I didn't remember those songs anyway. All of a sudden, the building felt much smaller than I remembered. My grandmother's absence made the service seem surreal. Not only had my grandmother buried all five of her biological sons, but here was her second to the oldest grandson, transitioning home. I thought about Rickey's unique, special bond with grandma. He loved family. It made me sad to realize that my grandmother would never remember this day, due to the ugly effects of Alzheimers.

When Pastor Taybron stood up to give the eulogy, "Choose Life," it seemed like an answered prayer. I needed the distraction from my own, negative thoughts. As she read Deuteronomy 30:19, it appeared that God, himself, was speaking directly to the entire congregation. My sadness lightened. Actually, it shifted my thoughts from " tangible lacks" to the priceless gift he received. The gift that I pray- we all receive, the gift of eternal life. I know Rickey made the right choice. God reassured me of that.  Finally, I smiled. What actually felt like a loss to us was actually a gain for Rickey. God granted him favor from pain & suffering! I knew Ricky was in the best hands ever. I no longer sobbed, because it was indeed, a real celebration of life. A miracle before the miracle!

The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.

--Proverbs 18:21

A Paradigm Shift Reaps Good Fruit

"Do not confirm to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will."

----Romans 12:2

Our primary social skills are shaped by our immediate family unit. We are subconsiously conditioned by our upbringing and environment. For some of us, that family unit was far from the likes of the televised sitcom, "The Cosby Show." Some of us came from families that could've easily been regular, reappearing guests on shows like Jerry Springer, Maury Povich or Judge Judy. Some of our living rooms mirrored "reality television," before it even became popular.

The surrounding walls that housed my family unit didn't look anything like the upkept, comfortable bungalow that Aunt Bea maintained on the Andy Griffith Show. Our abode had more commonalities of the Fred Sanford Show. I'm not complaining, because we never experienced much lack. We always had a surplus of things on hand. Lord forbid, somebody somewhere might need something we had, but they just never stumbled upon our steps to pick it up. I think my grandma was a "low key" hoarder. Rightfully so, she survived the brutal, harsh realities felt from the The Great Depression. Grandma was born in 1927, when baby showers and social gatherings were non existent. The norm was larger family sizes were equivalent to more farm helpers. "Survival" was way of life!

My grandmother's mother died when she was just a small child, so there weren't many memories of social bonding to recall. Her dad was a single parent and farmer that relied on his children to keep the household financially and physically sustained. In fact, my grandmother dropped out of school in the sixth grade to help farm the land. When she started her own family, grandma could only pass on what she knew. My mother's generation of siblings were birthed from that same "survival mentality." They were hard-working sharecroppers that worked the land from sunrise to sunset. When they started their families, giving rise to the fourth generation, (which included me), farming was slowly fading out.

What does all that have to do with the "paradigm shift?" It shapes the foundation of my identity. My family tree didn't include a lineage of nurturers, stay at home moms or the likes. I was a latch key kid. I came home, did my homework, cooked, and prepared for the next day (unsupervised). There weren't any bed time stories, cuddling sessions or much social interactions at all.

I had my daughter at an early age as a way of escape. I was determined to "make history!" Those ugly, filthy generational curses were sure to end with my generation. Well, that's what I thought, but I didn't realize how ill-equipped I was for motherhood. I assumed, I was smart enough to figure this "parenting" thing out. The Bible says, "Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe." Years later,  those celibacy talks grandma had with me made more sense. As a teenage mother, I now understood the value of "wait till you're married!" I marched to the beat of my own drum, took the long route and landed smack dab on my face---plenty of times.

I didn't see a way out, I just created a bigger mess! What we see, depends on where we stand! Obviously, I stood on the quicksand of man, instead of the Word of God. Statistics indicated that my future would be destined for failure. I was a single, unwed mother that lacked education. I assumed my list of failures outweighed any possible chances of future accolades.

The devil is a lie!

I may not be where I should be, but I'm right where God needs me to be. I'd rather be used by Him than achieve any level of man made success. That's not a cop out for underachievement. I still have goals that I'm actively pursing but the difference is --I finally learned priorities! After several years of disappointments, roadblocks and stumbling blocks, I grew increasingly frustrated with God. I despised living in Rocky Mount and I've never been afraid to leave. However, each time I left, God brought me right back here. Ugh! Why?  Surely, my purpose wasn't connected to this town!

After seeking God's face, He revealed to me that this is the only place that keeps me close to Him. I wasn't too thrilled about the answer, but it was true. With my short-lived stint in Washington, DC,  I probably attended church services around two or three times out of ten months.

All of that family background to bring me to this point, I had to go through many storms to land safely on my feet. I had to encounter the grief, suffering, and pain to experience joy. Proverbs 4:23, "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it."

My life has undergone a dramatic transformation:

I had to dig up some seeds of doubt, unbelief, and self-condemnation.

I had to rid myself of the "stinkin thinkin."

I had to lose some baggage (dead weight).

I had to silence the critic within.

I had to allow God to tear down the old & rebuild my foundation.

If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  ---1 John 1:8

I had to confront those sins,

dismantle the disobedience,

and starve the self-defeating behaviors.

I had to learn that FEAR cripples our growth, steals potential and enables stagnation.

I'm looking forward to all that God has for me in 2018 cause I know for certain that a paradigm shift reaps good fruit! If you aren't producing, then check the "seeds" that you're planting.

For the Spirit of God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.

I'm starting to see buds (fruit) on my vine, family. It's indeed God and "a daily dose of freedom" that keeps those buds sprouting. Pray for me, as I dig deeper in 2018.

A Closed Womb Can Still Produce

"He makes the barren woman abide in the house as a joyful mother of children. Praise the LORD!"
-Psalm 113:9

We've seen God's faithfulness unravel many times in the Bible with stories like Isaac, who prayed to the Lord on behalf of his barren wife, Rebekah and she conceived. Also, when the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, He opened her womb. We also know that Sarai was barren. Then God remembered Rachel and opened her womb.

"For nothing will be impossible with God."      
  -Luke 1:37

Tonight, several women sat attentively listening to Pastor Spivey deliver a timely message about "expectations." As we close out this season and enter into our upcoming season, she posed several questions that hit home for many and made each one of us shift uncomfortably in our seats. While everyone carries their own unique stories' close to their hearts, we are in different seasons. However, there was one shared commonality--each of us "expected" to produce.

Whether you are in the waiting room or delivery room, Pastor Spivey reminded us that the devil will come after your seed. (I dare not give all her nuggets away, because that's not my assignment--it's hers). I can only transpose my authentic experiences to you, as being an available vessel, near the well of Jesus in great expectancy.

I don't know what you are looking to produce or your God ordained season of necessary preparations. What I do know is his word says, "There shall be no one miscarrying or barren in your land; I will fulfill the number of your days." -Exodus 23:6 That's enough to get excited about in itself. There is no failure in Him! As Pastor Spivey so eloquently put it, "You get what you expect!" Then to add insult to injury, she dug a deeper flesh wound by asking, "What are you expecting?" I'm glad; I wrote the vision on Monday night, so I was making some progress!

Even though my mind still hadn't landed safely from the turbulence of a prior question, "What are you doing with your seed?"

I rocked back and forth, moved from side to side and did everything short of shouting! My imaginary praise dance disturbed the stillness of my feet. This is the kind of stuff that you just can't keep to yourself. You gotta give God an advance praise for the manifestations that are on the way. If He didn't leave the women mentioned above barren, what makes you think that your closed womb can't produce?

As I reflect over my day, I'm reminded of an earlier message (on a prayer call) asking God to stretch us like a rubber band in this next season. Then I tuned into a broadcast later in the day and listened as an Apostle talked about the year of expectancy. God was already preparing my cervix for delivery. I hadn't dilated and it won't time to push but I was "expecting!"

In fact, I sat in the presence of some beautiful ladies tonight that were glowing and radiating. The Holy Spirt impregnated them also. We were all "expecting!" There was no rivalry about who would deliver first, who would birth the biggest baby or the following accommodations.

We were full.
We were stretched to capacity.
We were available,  despite the busyness of the holiday season.
We had something bigger "brewing" than buying presents.
Were were making preparations.
We were packing our bags.

The word confirms that, "You shall be blessed above all peoples; there will be no male or female barren among you or among your cattle."
-Deuteronomy 7:14

"God blessed them; and God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it: and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living things that moves on the earth."
- Genesis 1:28

Living In The Overflow

"Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them."
                                                                                                              -John 7:38

After repeatedly bouncing back and forth between two extremes, hot or cold, I never enjoyed the freedom to fully experience "stability" firsthand. No wonder, I found myself as a lost "adult child." I sat faithfully at the bus stop, waiting but never clearly fulfilling my preordained destiny. I encountered many temporary prospects but nothing seemed too promising.

Passerbys examined my flaws with their imaginary microscopic lenses but failed to acknowledge any noticeable strengths. Guess they weren't detected with the naked eye or went unnoticed. Some starred at me with glaring discomfort. Their eyeballs inspected every inch of the unknown places I travelled. Their apprehension was obvious. They secretly wondered if I was homeless, but (I imagine) I appeared to clean. However, no one bothered to ask, because my answer may have provoked a slight inconvenience or disrupted their conscience. Funny that we live in a present day society, that assumes "homelessness" has a distinct look. If you're not camped out as a noticeable eyesore in rags at a an intersection, begging for change with a handwritten sign, we safely assume that you sleep peacefully at night in the comforts of your own home. We dare not ask because it places a heavy burden of guilt on us-as if someone's safety is not a critical concern.

Although I wasn't physical homeless, I was spiritually. I was a unwelcomed nomad that others were embarrassed to claim. Missionaries clutched their purses and hurried passed me, physically assuming there weren't any present lacks. Maybe because most times, there was a book nested in my hands. I guess we assume, the homeless aren't an educated population but we never bother to look into unfamiliar eyes to discern the "real needs." No one noticed my trembling hands or lack of speech. I guess, I wasn't worthy of conversation, not even a pleasant "Good Morning." They ignored my daily presence. They were unbothered by my awkwardness. After awhile, I assumed they viewed me as apart of the bench. I showed up despite rain, sleet, or snow, but no one thought it was strange and I wasn't about to call any unnecessary attention to myself.

I grew increasingly frustrated.  I needed help but no one obliged, because I never asked. Isn't it strange that we appear to be faithful followers of Christ but lack the real discernment to minister to the mute and lame? Truthfully speaking, we are not mind readers, but how do you serve the population that can't speak? Do their needs go ignored due to language barriers?

I sat and sat in desperation. I needed "balance!" Either I wavered in faith with every passing storm or sat tirelessly, enduring desert temperature heat. My dry, cracked lips were a clear indication that I suffered from heat exhaustion, but no one offered a drink of water. I flip flopped between overbearing droughts or never ending storms because I couldn't muster up the strength to move. The "lacks" became monumental roadblocks that distorted my view. Even though, I waited, I never even caught a small glimpse of a nearby bus.

BUT GOD...He saw the real need and made the necessary provisions. He moved the bus stop across town. On this particular route, I encountered familiar smiles that welcomed me with open arms. They asked me to accompany them on their bus rides. They invited me to cups of coffee. They asked the "hard" questions that no one else bothered to ask. Even though I didn't look like the people in their neighborhoods, they welcomed me into their homes lovingly, without hesitation or fearful natures. They didn't care who saw them talking to me. Actually, they appeared to enjoy my presence as I did theirs. The loving reciprocity overtook my heart. It was an amicable exchange. There were no malicious hidden agendas. I overflowed with giddiness. My heart blushed. I held back the tears. My puffy, eyes provided proof that I had become a water barrel. I thank God for the overflow but I wasn't anticipating a flood.

Yesterday, I ventured inside the ark, safely tucked away from harm's way. I witnessed God turn ordinary acts of kindness into overwhelming miracles. I saw faces light up with newfound faith. I heard testimonies of triumph. I experienced favor in meal preparations that didn't exclude me. Favor showed up in small acts of kindness, tokens of appreciation and genuine heartfelt love. Favor invaded my isolated camp with overwhelming invitations. My opinions and input were welcomed. I almost forgot that I had anything meaningful to share. Eyes were glued to my heart as I shared in complete honesty, without the disappointed looks of judgment. Instead my words were greeted with understanding.

After awhile it was too much for my little tear ducts to contain, I was forced to sneak away to the bathroom and release the overflow. God didn't bless me with just one guardian angel, I inherited a flock of them. One in particular that I try to avoid, because her anointing overwhelmed my spirit. She had a special way of looking through me, as if she read the pages of my hear in silence. I loved it but I felt a little intimidated. Her presence demanded accountability. She poured unselfishly into many areas of surrounding lack. She didn't come to my rescue. She didn't come to hold my hand with every step, but she affirmed my rightful fit in the kingdom. There was room for me after all.

"then your barn will be filled to overflowing, and your vats will brim over with new wine."
                                                                                                         -Proverbs 3:10

God reassured me that I would never be thirsty again; he is indeed the "living water."