Legacy

”God governs our starts, steps and our stops.” —Pastor Keisha Battle Spivey

 I had the pleasure to take part in an interactive seminar that challenged attendees to go beyond practically aligned, goal driven, vision boards and to create a different type of masterpiece, a legacy board. I’m no Picasso and was fresh out of creativity; but after the message, I felt compelled to the challenge.

As the facilitator shared her message, I started to ponder upon two things:

Who had “deposited” seeds into me?
Who had I “transferred” those seeds into?

I come from a traditional lineage of “alpha females” that set the bar high, so naturally I’m drawn to bold, strong leadership. I briefly thought about the most powerful, influential voices that had transferred wisdom and impacted my “NOW.”

First, I recall Bishop Atwater’s words, “You can be pitiful or powerful, but you can’t be both.” 

Then Sister Quay Hudson’s insertion of “Don’t ALWAYS assume that you are the student in every setting.” 

Apostle Alicia Daniels prophecy that “God is going to send strangers to be kind to you.” AND HE DID!

 Pastor Keisha Spivey’s most recent, “What are you writing with your actions?” 

Not to short change, the Hannah’s that came alongside in good and bad seasons that prayed and stayed until I could hold my head up. To family, that cheered, cried and prayed me through droughts. And also to the rock of my family, Mrs. Tiney Lynch that introduced me to Jesus and servanthood.

What had I passed along or given back?

I pray that I planted, watered or nurtured a few seeds of my own as well.
I pray that God continues to strengthen, stretch and shape me to be used for his glory. 
I pray that my woes, my opps, and my pain will transpose the itchings of my heart through the pages of black and white when I can’t find the courage to speak, but my love can be felt.
I pray that I’m able to inhale the beauty of Mount Kilimanjaro through God’s eyes and become of an advocate for his people.
I pray that I can be a help, not a hindrance.

As we created our “legacy board,” God confirmed through “my pieces” that it was time to shift.

“Where there is no vision, the people perish.” —Proverbs 29:18

Who do you have the audacity to become? 

Self-Centered Pieces

"You find peace not be rearranging the circumstances of your life, but by realizing who you are at the deepest level." ---Eckhart Tolle

After we got back from the Eddie James concert, I was determined to stay in that moment of freedom. I needed to hold onto that like I needed the breath in my body. Somehow, I got sidetracked in the midst of my process, so I decided to "out work" my pain.

 I committed to out give,
 out eat,
 out love,
 and unknowingly "outsource" my strength.

I compromised strength for acceptance. People begin to scrape the bottom of my pit, searching for the remnants of leftovers to "take." There was nothing. The "pain" kept chasing me down so, I became a mirror of exhaustion in public but dead weight in a sunken down mattress behind closed doors. The enemy had administered a lethal sedative and I became spiritually numb by the environmental dead weight of surrounding circumstances. The demons of heaviness latched onto my spiritual well-being, but I kept running.

 I was nobody's victim and I didn't know "how" this would end, but I was determined to FIGHT like a boss! I was determined to keep running until I figured this "thing" out. However, the more I ran, the more I unraveled. I kept seeking God in prayer and he kept giving me a simple phrase, "ministry of reconciliation."

As I assembled into a freshly painted, teal room to join a group of women in a Bible Study group, I slid haphazardly into a chair in the back of the room. I didn't want to make eye contact with anyone in fear of falling to pieces. As the facilitator unpacked her message, I could've took off running again but this time around the building in a praise. She had just "unlocked" my cell with three phrases:

Focus on God.

Forgive yourself.

Fix your mind.

It clicked. I am a recovering Perfectionist with a slight obsession towards becoming the best (whole, healed and free) me in order to effectively SERVE others. My "help" hasn't always been greeted with open arms, and sometimes due to my own fear, neglect or hidden insecurities. Sometimes I just wasn't  the "right fit" for a particular group. Consequently, that rejection fueled unresolved abandonment issues and made healthy relationships almost impossible.

My withdrawn introspective nature was crippling my perspective. My horizons were limited because my thinking had become warped by the opinions of man. I kept reaching for approval that I needed in my younger years. I looked for arms to surround me, eyes to comfort me and a voice to affirm me. I kept "spazzing out" on fumes of  the "self-centered" pieces of lack from years past.

On the drive home, I kept hearing the echoes of fresh reconciliation.

I was no longer incarcerated by the darkness of yesterday.

The devil was defeated.

"We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: Be reconciled to God" 2 Corinthians 5:20

God Knows Where I Am

"Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." --Galatians 6:2

An excellent GPS locator to determine if you are out of God's will is by the path you choose to follow. Are you being driven by God's truth or man's opinion? Either way, you will end up somewhere.

When I tend to abandon spiritual truth and try to live up to man's expectations, I always end up in back in Egypt---found sitting under the same tree of darkness, trying to catch my breath. Although I could be found faithful over family, work and school obligations, I refused to be good to me and it showed. I had gone through the fire, inhaled the fumes and smelled like smoke.

I was fragile.
I was defensive.
I was empty.

My defensive posture was a result of bearing witness to these ugly untruths and the discomfort I faced with people's probing questions. Obviously, they saw or smelled the fumes and wanted to help, but I wasn't big on being helped. Prideful? Absolutely not. I just refused to give up the traditional code of family ethics that affirmed,  "what happens in this house, stays in this house." Absolutely, absurd but it was apart of my roots. Asking me to expose unhealed vulnerabilities felt like a huge violation of privacy and overstepped boundaries.

However, God blew his breath on me when a spiritual sister extended an invitation to an outing that required me to be in route to the meeting spot in less than an hour. I had every reason to say no, and the more I hesitated, God quickened my spirit.

As soon as we ushered ourselves down the rows in the sanctuary, by no particular order, Eddie James began ministering, followed by a word from a mentor that broke open a dam of uncontrollable tears. Apart of me was embarrassed that she had peeked into my "secret closet" but the other part was relieved. She knew what I needed to saturate the dry places and God did too.

In the midst of getting lost in the moment, I heard Eddie James say, "Don't be incarcerated by the darkness of this world."

I felt my spirit man ascend to the heavens in gratitude for that simple but profound revelation.

All, I could do was shed tears in awe. It was confirmation that He (God) saw me and knew where I was.

I hadn't be lost in translation.
I hadn't been disregarded.
I hadn't been exiled.

Most importantly, I wasn't invisible.

Don't let the vultures feed off the seeds of God's truth planted in your heart. The enemy desires to keep you disconnected to keep you in pieces. There is added strength in fellowship.

Let him pour "new wine" into your empty vessel.

God knows where I am and he knows where you are too.

No Place Like Home

"We carry our homes within us which enable us to fly." -John Cage

Although I wake up faithfully before my alarm sounds, it’s been a struggle to force myself out of bed. I’m not a morning person (per say), but I used to take pride in having a solid morning routine. I typically got more accomplished by 7 am than those who covet their last few hours of sleep by hitting the snooze button.

My time management discipline had somehow collapsed under the earth’s seasonal rotation and obstructed my to-do-list by shortened days. There was a strict, religious color-coded checklist that kept my hormones balanced and in proper alignment with this time change. (Always a methodical map to my madness--even when presumed ridiculous to some).

I’d wake up every morning and rehearse the same mental spill. I "had" to keep going due to responsibilities, outstanding obligations and to be apart of the productive working class, even though I didn’t feel productive.

My expectations and purpose were unequally yolked. Surely, I wasn’t created to suffer at the hands of my own hardships. Faith and lack clawed at each other in the empty spaces of my cluttered brain that housed all the mental trash.

Rest didn’t come easy, so peace left.

Long-term goals dismantled under umbrellas of anxiousness.

Happiness became estranged by an abrupt affair of sadness.

My unsettled, restlessness had no where safe to land. There wasn’t a safe haven for unclaimed spirits like mine. Although writing was my therapeutic process, I discovered that people are drawn to light and my darkness was repulsive. My overwhelming sadness bought about demotions. This transforming social butterfly had become too heavy for those impaired wings in midair.

"Home" had become an abstract place I’d known with the promise of safety, security and stability. I had somehow ventured outside of my permissive jurisdiction because I was now navigating through the allies of darkness. 

There were no rainbows to climb, 

no roses to smell,

just evidence of filth, decay and death.

As I peacefully surrendered and closed my eyes in submission to defeat, God reminded me that this is not the ending to my story.

Even though it may sound cliche, "H-O-M-E is where the heart is."

It is not found in gated communities of overflowing material possessions.

It is not found packed in between linear rows of matching mailboxes governed by white picket fences.

It is not found in the hills of desperation or on the mountains of debt that keep you chained to unfulfillment.

"Home" is the place that you feel most alive...

The place that sets your soul on fire. 

The place that you experience the most breathtaking view. 

The place where you are whole.

The place where you are free.

Upon this place, I will "build" my rock and fly home.

Where does your weary soul go for intimate rest?

To people?

To places?

To things?

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.--Matthew 11:28

"Home" is where your peace is found.

Reaffirmed Rejection

"The surest way to lose your self-worth is by trying to find it through the eyes of others."-Becca Lee

My ears are still ringing from the long list of unsolicited "you need to’s" that dance off the white popcorn ceilings every time I attempt to close my eyes for a night’s rest. If life were as simple as some would have you to believe, then we would all be healthier, happier and more fulfilled. It’s only when you’re limp and ice cold, pinned to a table (helpless & hopeless), lying on your back, with a bleak future that people insist upon inserting their "expert opinions," without fully understanding the depths of your deficits. It’s after the diagnosis...after the failure...after the bottom falls out --that they have all the accommodating answers. 

Where were you when you saw me "bleeding?" 

Where were you when my "cries" went ignored?

Judging by natural sight, many assume my wounds are self inflicted, a result of repeated disobedience. But I’m not a slacker. I’ve turned turmoil into triumphs, burdens into blessings, stumbles into success. I’ve turned closed doors into fundamental building blocks to create opportunities from the ashes of rejection with God’s help. 

I’ve been crowned with the ability to put one foot in front of the other despite adversity. 

But I’m also human. 

I get weak.

I stumble.

I fail.

I cry.

It’s hard to explain a "pain" to others that they’ve never known. I can’t tell you how it feels to have a limb amputated but I can tell you what it feels like to have dropped your sword in the middle of a fight. I can tell you what an overwhelming, overextended season of sadness feels like when you know God’s word to be irrefutable, absolute truth. 

It’s a intrusive spiritual attack of faith but you can’t shake it off.

When the mind silently screams, "surrender" you retreat to a familiar cage of reaffirmed rejection. When asked, "where does it hurt?" Others expect it to be your heart but you point to the navel--an intimate place on your body that resembles an unhealed umbilical cord. The sacred place that was supposed to house an oxygen supply but was severed too soon.

That deprivation shows up in every disconnected relationship. It mirrors that same place of abandonment and any attempt to claim available space has already been filled by other occupants. 

You retreat to survival. Becoming invisible is a safety mechanism that keeps you out of harm’s way. Camouflaging keeps you one step ahead of the enemy’s trap of death but it also keeps you on the run.

At some point, you gotta come face to face with God and flood him with your tears. You gotta break open your box of defeat, despair and darkness and allow him to do the mending. 

Don’t wait for personal affirmations to trickle off the lips of those that share your DNA, it may never come. 

Find peace within.

Cultivate His purpose.

And L-I-V-E his truth (LOUD).

Something to consider: In a world of darkness, can God trust you to be the light for others? 

Can he trust you to be inconvenienced by others pain to promote his peace?

Can he trust you to be an ambassador for His kingdom?

Enabled Segregation of the Mind: A Season of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder)

My testimony grows the strongest during the winter months. My routine seasonal sabbatical is oftentimes frowned upon and perceived as backsliding to the pit or just plain old double-mindedness. Little do the jurors know that involuntary isolation has become my most favorable coping mechanism. My secluded nest keeps me out of harms way. Only a few hands are granted limited access for safety concerns. 

When the leaves fall and the seasons change, my emotions are short circuited by the residue of gray matter in the brain. The shorter days impair my vision and my corrective lenses don’t offer much guidance. When I look out into plain view, my limited sight is constricted by fences of segregation--black and white. And it’s either raining or snowing but not much natural sunshine. My Vitamin D deficiency catapults any resemblance of light and the only reminder that I have that beauty still exists is by the strokes of my colored pencils magically transforming white spaces.

I’d been sitting in the windowsill screaming for months to no avail like panhandlers on street corners that don’t appear homeless. My clothes weren’t dirty or torn and didn’t give signs of any possible vagrancy. My crisis didn’t constitute an imminent threat or emergency so my voice was silenced by criticism. Many had obvious opinions about my perceived sadness but no viable support or offered prayers. Some were perplexed by my energy cause I didn’t fit the desolate category or qualify for immediate assistance. In the words of some...I wasn’t broke, busted and disgusted!

Despite the unraveling of my praise garments, I refused to succumb to defeat. 

I held onto the mustard seeds that were faintly scattered in the closet of my heart.

I managed to quench my thirst in the desert.

I started walking by faith and not by sight.

I stumbled across some supernatural strength tonight when I opened an old notebook and found these words penned by bell hooks, "That which appeared dead but was merely dormant is beginning to grow again."

Sometimes it takes a season of darkness to genuinely appreciate the light and cultivate growth.

Thank God that what I thought was physically dying on the outside is actually manifesting on the inside.

Kicking down the fences of segregation with his promises, his love and his word.

Leaving colored petals everywhere my feet land.

Rewind the Time

"There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you'd better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you'll never understand what it's saying." -Sarah Dessen

When January 2018 caught the masses by surprise with it's seemingly early arrival, I had already hit the ground running. I was making great strides with a meticulous schedule. I made great use of every available opportunity that landed in my lap. I skipped splurging expeditions and ate noodles frequently to free up money for self development workshops, seminars, and lectures. Rarely did I miss a beat. If there was something intellectually appealing going down, I made myself available. 

My social wings grew stronger and as a result my circle expanded. For the first time, I had fun learning with people that shared my interests. Although we held many similarities amongst us, there wasn't any unnecessary comparison, competition or catty scheming. We were too preoccupied with life, miracles and celebrating the surrounding blessings. 

It was refreshing to break bread with genuine people that didn't seem to mind that our tax brackets weren't comparable and our political backgrounds became less relevant. We held on to the love of Christ that secured our family bonds, despite the obvious diversity. We wouldn't allow any barriers to become obstacles or serve as an excuse not to assemble regularly. We were servants on a mission for a greater cause.  

By Summer, my resiliency had gained the attention of a couple that saw fit to sow into my dream. It was definitely a God orchestrated miracle in everyway because "pride" almost cause me to forfeit my blessing. I had convinced myself that I would rather suffer in silence than accept help from anybody. But then God reminded me about the failed attempts to make things happen on my own accord. The provision was made--who was I to deem myself as unworthy?

I had humbly paid my dues without an expectation of any tangible return. I had showed up for others, even cheered them on, but I was scared to take a chance on me.

I imagine the enemy had convinced me that I'd always be sitting in the waiting room tending to the bandages of others. 

However when Fall came, God shook the nest as I prepared to take my first steps and shed the layers of doubt, uncertainty and fear that crippled me. It has been a bitter sweet roller coaster ride with plenty of bumps and bruises but I made it. Whenever I get overwhelmed by looking ahead, God ties a harness around my feet to keep me grounded. Whenever I look back to reach for the familiar, I find that my arms are too short. 

Somedays in silence, my heart plays out melancholic melodies of what-if-scenarios and then it becomes crystal clear. I'm exactly where I need to be. Not too soon and not too late.

Lord Chesterfield said it best, "Take care of the minutes, for the hours will take care of themselves."

Don't try to rewind familiar time.

Embrace the beauty of "today." 

Inherited Dysfunction

My daily obligations have been greeted with an unexpected murky grimace. The lack of physical agility appears to be the most visible culprit and overextended truth. It has only afforded me the opportunity to show up minimally with the added help of over-the-counter migraine medications and swapping them out for natural remedy alternatives. Somewhere between coping and existing, "survival" has become the new norm again.

Although this "periodic relapse" isn’t foreign, the recovery period appears to have grown insanely long.

Self-care routines temporarily mask the underlying temporal tension but doesn’t seem to compensate much for the excruciating heart condition. Life happened again. Stressors triggered that "little switch" that has caused a hormonal overload of emotional chaos. 

Nothing feels right cause everything is wrong.

How did I become the "sole proprietor" of this inherited dysfunction?

My simple answer: Proclaiming myself (by fallacy) as the authoritarian of everyone’s crisis, a self-sacrificial martyr in disguise.

Why do we falsely assume that our happiness has to be forfeited in exchange for other’s misery? We unintentionally enable dysfunctional behavior by exchanging our joy for grief, abandoning our dreams and assuming hospice duties at the graveyard. 

When loved ones have already made the decision to terminate his promises, your love won’t make them stay. Your love won’t supercede his power. You are not the GREAT I AM who has the final say! 

Let God be God.

Know when your enabling season in the valley has expired. Stop coddling in the casket of desperation. Take off your oppression garments and burn them at the cemetery. Release yourself from the burden of darkness (without guilt).

Put one foot in front of the other and walk into 2019 knowing that you can upgrade that earthly dysfunction into a real kingdom inheritance.

It’s all on you God.

Here I am.