A Daily Dose of Freedom

"You have to be odd to be number one."--Dr. Seuss             I pushed my way through the crowd on Saturday morning, to find my seven year old grandson on the bench, which vexed my spirit. It irritated me because: he has been a natural baller from the womb, he has had a ball in his hand before he could balance himself on his short legs, he loves basketball more than snack time, he has been preparing for this moment for as long as I can remember. After about twenty minutes into the game, I was distracted by the coach's constant criticism. I couldn't tell if it was from a place of passion or frustration, but it offended my spirit. I tried my best to " cheer " for the entire team, but the surrounding chaos competed for their attention. There was another game going on at the same time, which made the whistles confusing to everyone. The crowd swallowed up the gym up, so there was limited mobility. And that yelling, was a bit extreme for "...

I had all my ducks in a row and was ready to launch into the deep, but God said, "Be still!" Have you ever tried to make "moves" on your own? Ever had God grab you by the seat of your pants, when you tried to pop your own collar? When the alarm sounded and demanded my attention, they rang with conviction, "Anything outside of God will not prosper!" Duh! Christianity 101; right? Our hearts know the truth but that doesn't stop ambition from getting in a hurry. Recently, "my ambition" was benched with an unexpected intervention. My head and heart were at odds about matters that didn't bring peace. My spirit drifted into internal conflict and held on tight. God interrupted the whole production! He uncovered the scales and revealed some "soft spots." I had withheld some past emotional traumas that kept resurfacing in relationships. I refused to fully expose my vulnerabilities, which prolonged the healing process. Howe...

“We repeat what we refuse to confront.” -unknown Many years ago, I overheard a negative conversation about me that really “rocked” my world.  Flames of tension rose from my belly and saturated my temples until anger escaped my flared nostrils like gun-smoke. Emotions of hurt summoned me into a defensive confrontational posture. I submitted to flesh and shut the talk down momentarily but it continued to grow to whispers of grievances over the years. Truth is—our best attempts will never silence critics that insist on shedding light on our unhealed vulnerable places. In retrospect, I couldn’t understand why the conversation initiated such rage in me, because it didn’t contain an ounce of my reality. Later, I realized those individuals spoke their truth, not mine. They spoke of their perceptions. I was a foreign object that never fully aligned with their ideal expectations. My presence irritated them. My spirit didn’t fit into a container. They couldn...

"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow I have been hiding at the foot of the cross trying to make sense of the "unpredictability" of nature. The mountains of inconceivable thought patterns, the valleys of erratic behaviors, and the swamp of illogical processes have surpassed my natural understanding. In my confused chronological (headspace) rotation, I have been the victim of a tumultuous, barren Winter. I have sprung forward as the aggressive, assailant in Spring. I have fallen back from the chaos, like the voice of reason in Fall. I have been like the unwelcomed forest fires in Summer. I have straddled the white picket, neutral fence of arbitration, full of hesitation, when the seasons don't fully align with the peace promised by the presence of moonlight. I have cycled through a clone of "cosmic vibrations" that offend my spir...

“If we don’t allow God’s truth to take up full residency in our hearts, we may learn just enough to move out of one prison into another.”-Beth Moore As I closed my eyes on the woes of yesterday, restlessness forced my eyelids back open in approximately 10 minutes flat. Typically, Autumn brings unwelcomed chaos to my nocturnal circadian rhythms, but this was different. I couldn’t rightfully claim an ounce of Seasonal Affective Disorder in this season. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t depressed. I wasn’t hopeless. However, I felt “imprisoned” by my own thought process. Each accomplishment came with a unique set of accompanying headaches. There were unavoidable hills of real life challenges that scrolled on the scene daily. The “issues” multiplied like dirty laundry piles in an isolated corner that became an immediate eyesore each time I scanned the room searching for serenity. Clutter annoyed me. It stifled my freedom. It derailed my purpose. It turned dreams into nightmar...

"You don't need a cape to be a hero. You just need to care."--unknown I wish that I could say that I was this high-strung, energetic extrovert that people swarmed to like honey, but that's simply not true. I'm not the life of the party! You won't catch me at the center of attention. I'd rather play the invisible wall flower. For many years, my heart had remained safely tucked away in the rural, secluded nest of my biological family tree. No outside contact, communication, or communion. Well, until God decided that I was well overdue to test my agoraphobic wings. Venturing outside the branches of familiarity, took tons of courage, a brave heart, and a leap of faith. I had no idea what was waiting on the other side of my obedience when those Jericho walls collapsed. What I encountered through the unexpected journey was a model of 64 years of relationship, unconditional love, commitment, teamwork, endurance, resiliency, courage, honor, longevity, ...

On Friday morning, I fired myself from tending to other's responsibilities, inserting my help where my input was not welcomed, and inserting my presence were it had not been appreciated. I refused to let others push me out the door, while I posted up in the hallway. My availability, sacrifices, and offering came with an excessive price tag--my peace ! In my extended weekend of " downtime ," I realized that I am indeed my grandmother's child. I am a creature of habit that plugs my schedule to fill the gaps, voids, and holes -just like she did. But how many know, that you can be " busy " without being " effective ?"  When God said, "Cast your net on the right side," I insisted on launching out on the left side. I had subconsciously become a habitual felon. My " people pleasing " addiction had resurfaced and caused me to spiral down the repetitive path of recidivism. I continued to " reoffend " God with my disobed...

My halo of frustrations has summoned me to the privacy of my prayer closet on today. My energy barometer has succumb to the pressure to perform. My biggest strengths and most challenging weakness flows from the conditions of my heart. I have continuously set myself on fire for the sake of failed rescue missions. Since obviously, God has never instructed me to do that, it's no surprise that I come out of the flames smelling like smoke.  I've seen the vapors for quite some time. I inhaled the smoke, but I ignored the warnings.  Codependency has been the fallacy of my unbalance. Although I've detached from the root of pessimism, my love language still gets lost in the intricate translation web of enabling others. Essentially, I have over extended myself to the unreceptive. I have climbed mountains and crossed deserts to offer a drink offering to a population who refuses. In addition, the more I put my gift on public display, I have endured competitive assassin...

Life happens to the best of us. Things go south. Heated words are exchanged. Conflict arises. Connections dissolve. Flames dwindle. The best intentions are perceived as the biggest attacks. Bonds become barriers. Distance becomes the norm. Facebook become the standard. Friends become strangers. Disagreements are like our fingerprints--inevitable. I received an impromptu letter in the mail a few months back that felt like someone poured a mountain of salt in an open, stagnant wound. A place that I once called "home" wrote to inform me that my relationship status had been demoted. In their eyes, I was no longer affiliated by membership, but I moved to the "friendship role." My heart became convinced that my absence had created space for this entity to question my commitment. My self-worth collided with the tears that landed on the blanket of ink that I held in my trembling hands. I kept re-reading it until I couldn't make out the words any longer. My sorrow in...

"The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few." -Matthew 9:37 As I witnessed the heightened anxiousness about the potential hurricane that may be headed in this direction, I have not been distracted by the media attention, nor have I felt compelled to track the progression of the storm. My eyes have been glued to the mission field of a local, nonprofit team that has tirelessly poured their hearts, time, and resources into multiple outreach initiatives.  I watched as intercessors, missionaries, evangelists, and prophets rallied around the lost and partnered their faith unselfishly with a massive, underserved population. A population that sometimes become invisible, because the needs are so great and the work is overwhelming. A population that suffers in silence due to national budget cuts.  However. .. I have seen miracles manifest expeditiously. I have seen God multiply the manna (resources). I have seen faith renewed, hope restored, and dreams made possible. ...

So one of my sisters is about to give “ spiritual birth ” in the next week and I couldn’t be more excited. With a heart of pure gold evident by her generosity and kindness, I couldn’t think of a more deserving person. As the time draws near,    I began to seek God’s face on what that “ freedom ” looks like. “ Breaking free ” looks like chains falling by the wayside and captives: Loosening cords of strongholds, Breaking old, familiar soul ties, Reversing generational curses, Tearing down barriers of oppression, Severing toxic connections,  Shining light on darkness. And rebuilding temples on God’s foundation of truth. It’s time to “ silence the enemy ” with a sucker punch to the throat and send him packing. It’s time to “ kick down ” the invisible fences that seek to restrain the power within. It’s time to “ cut the cords ” of toxicity. It’s time to “ roll up our sleeves ” and allow FAITH to win. When you attend a recital, ba...

"You don't drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there." -Robert Jordan As I quietly sat still in an office on yesterday, my mind drifted out the nearby, double-paned window onto the pillow of peaceful clouds. I have always been a " dreamer " like Joseph! You could frequently find me on the side of the road collecting discarded scrapes of wood to build a ship like Noah. However, I wasn't able to convince others that the ship was needed, so my dreams faded into the background of forgetfulness. For the past year and a half, I have been hustlin' like a mad woman to spark a fire to reignite those dreams. But who knew that my immediate family would suffer six deaths in eight months? Somewhere my resiliency plummeted like the overall morale in the surrounding city. I know my response as a " believer " should not resemble the world, but the humanity of my heart was still immersed in complete shock! On this morning, I woke u...

It takes an undeniable amount of courage to be naked and unashamed, while " breastfeeding " your baby, on any public platform.   The "umbrella of shade " can solicit you back to the secluded, retreat of Egypt. The " air pockets of assumptions " can create a shortage of sufficient oxygen supply. The " gas-filled, toxic, chamber of ridicule " can cause an obstructive regurgitation of choked, spoken words. The " crucifixion of judgmen t" can rupture vital organs beyond man's natural repair. D-e-s-p-i-t-e the battered, bloodstained, exposed " flesh wounds ," I choose to " show up " daily from behind the veil. I traded the guilt-ridden, ill-fitting, torn widow's garments for the fine linens of praise. I refused to waste the oil from my alabaster box on the feet of those who intentionally crushed my spirit. I refuted the gut-wrenching, oppression of falsehoods with the light of God's truth. I rel...

“She was a stranger in her own life, a tourist in her own body.” --- Melissa de la Cruz, The Van Alen Legacy   When I opened my eyes this morning, it felt like my body had undergone reconstructive surgery. I placed my hand over my chest and there was no movement. I forced my eyes shut and fell back asleep. I woke up again and still no heartbeat. A cloud of temporary amnesia held the rain of reality back awhile longer. My limbs were barely draped in the torn gown of sadness while self-medication offered a temporary injection of numbness. In seclusion, I wrestled secretly with the overwhelming lingering grief from the residue of losses my family suffered this year. The ongoing trauma kept me in a strained, defeated posture of intimate pain. The unhealed, wounds proved to be a sign of infection that spilled over to arrest my thoughts. The enemy stripped, beat, and placed chains around my mind. He sentenced me to " death row. " It was not the first imprison...

"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." -Psalm 73:26    On today, in the empty spaces of my soul, I chose to color in the "voids" with black crayons. I intentionally decided to pitch a tent in the pit to isolate my vulnerabilities and nurse my grieving heart privately. I consciously abandoned the fences of religious expectations that place limitations on my process and seeks to persecute the validity of my faith. The oversized, sackcloth of sorrow drapes my flesh and replaces the superwoman cape, which attests to my humanity. In the exiled swamp of my tears, I release the anchors of doubt that tries to drown me. As I float on my back and close my eyes to what-if scenarios, I inhale his promises. His peace leads my anxiousness beside the still waters of his calmness. My bones hover over a body of childhood memories. As I drift further, I see familiar hands reaching for me, but I'm out of proximity. ...

"The song is ended, but the melody lingers on." -Irving Berlin The one thing that has remained constant over my tenure here on earth, is my relationship with my grandmother. Seasons change . Climates change . Time changes . BUT our hearts NEVER skipped a beat. We never lost connection. Our records never scratched. Her vocals planted a " lifetime right " of poetic muse in the depths of my soul so strong that I can't help but hear the melody continually play on. As I cling to her bedside watching for any sign of consciousness, her unresponsive eyelids has my spirit a little " unsettled. " Every breath sounds like a struggle. I look for hope for an extended stay, but I see her frail, physical body wrapped in a spiritual cocoon of protection. She's above us now. I know ( without a shadow of doubt ) that she has faithfully served with all she had. I know that she has executed her race wholeheartedly with grace. I know that she is pat...

"those memories you hold onto are poisonous, and until you can learn to let go, you will never fully heal."  Billy Chapata, Sour Honey & Soul Food We never know the depth of a wound until we start undressing the bandages..... I've never been afforded the opportunity to fully wrap my arms around the totality of love. I assumed that my heart's rhythm had been severed by arteries that hemorrhaged during seasons of shock. I remember waking up in ice cold, lifeless rooms full of stainless steel after suffering from cardiac " love " arrest. Defibrillators sent jolts of electrical currents to revive the remains of the deceased. There was no pulse. No sign of radioactivity. My heart never made a full recovery from the sustained trauma. In that vacant spot, weeds grew from the empty cracks. On occasion, the weeds required pruning, but I refused. Pruning meant acknowledging the evidence of buried roots. Instead I opted for the anesthesia of denial and su...

"For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."--Nelson Mandela        Overwhelming gravitational forces chased me down the road of self-care over the weekend. I temporarily suspended all responsibilities to practice the power of the pause . I removed the hats, shed the layers, and let my hair down. Living up to self-imposed, daily expectations can be quite the journey. At times, I " choked " on my own breath by insisting on being my biggest enemy, worst critic and loudest voice to silence. However, this was not the time to summon myself into a boxing match full of self-doubt, insecurity, and indecision. I couldn't afford to lose momentum because time was a " coveted " commodity. Somehow, I managed to grab hold of the keys and unlock the chains.   I set myself free from perfection .     I set myself free from criticism . I set myself free from judgment...

"Women yearn for change and will make great sacrifices for it." -Lydia, A Dream Compels Us: Voices of Salvadoran Women                       On Friday morning, I traded my normally scheduled work day for a mental health day. One of my top priorities (school) had been counterproductive for a few weeks, because my attention span was crumbling under pressure. My sanity drowned in a debt of unresolved, surrounding crisis. My cup overflowed with anxious thoughts and chest pains interrupted my calm. My body went into " fight mode " and my blood pressure spiked.  I was sick and tired of " being sick and tired ". Everything inside of me was screaming on the inside but no one could hear me. People were fighting their own battles. In survival boot camp training, I was instinctively taught not to flinch at the presence of pain but to endure in silence. Because 9 times out of 10, not one was coming to " save you ." I quietl...

"The question which one asks oneself begins, at last, to illuminate the world, and become one's keys to the experience of others. One can only face in others what one can face in oneself. On this confrontation depends the measure of our wisdom and compassion."  James Baldwin, Nobody Knows My Name A lot of people attached to me are struggling with some heavy burdens. Not only does it grieve my spirit; but oftentimes, I feel the weight of their pain resting on my shoulders. Many times, I have walked through the same fog of darkness that holds them captives in the valleys. Naturall y, my flesh desires to " rescue ," but I offer intercession instead. Impulsiveness has taught me to avoid offering myself as a living sacrifice. My frustration with others reluctance to lean into God's power caused me to evaluate my spiritual journey more closely. I had to get still with God on last night and ask him a difficult question. I asked, "Why do w...