tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21583785849998101692024-02-07T16:07:29.672-08:00Bare Foot Thoughts Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-72811960090906652782017-12-17T18:32:00.000-08:002017-12-17T19:01:48.421-08:00Deliberate Gratitude<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I love to
write. It’s my passion, my purpose and my calling. I’m sure of it. However,
when we hold our gifts to the world and ask permission to be heard or seen, we
often find ourselves in stiff competition with others who have the same
purpose, which can and sometimes will, drain our creative energy and leave us
feeling like a number. Then we draw back in fear of failure. Comparison is our enemy. Pushing past it takes effort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The question
for me was:<i> How do I share my work in a way that is attainable for
me right now? I'm a working mom who simply wants to live out her passion, but cannot abandon her
career to do so. What resources do I have?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writing a
mini ebook was the answer to those questions and I am grateful. The idea that I
could sit down and just let the creativity flow and write under my personal theme made me
happy. The theme that I write under is <i>freedom</i>, and I believe that this was given to me as a gift. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At this
stage in my life, I must live free. Free of the constraints that could silence
my writing voice and keep me hidden for the rest of my life. I could always find a reason why I couldn't go
further to pursue my passion, but today, like the man at the pool of Bethesda,
I will take up my bed and walk into my purpose. (John 5:1-9)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writing this
mini book is the first step in a continued journey of becoming an author in my own way. Things don’t always happen the way we think they will,
but if we’re willing to be flexible and creative, something amazing<i> will</i> happen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">About the book</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">: Some would say, judging by its
length, that it is a quick read. I would not. I would say that what it lacks in
quantity, it more than makes up for in dense quality. It is one of the richest,
most earnest and heartfelt pieces that I have ever written. It’s meant to be
meditative and healing, to be visited over and over again at any phase of life.
Read it when you’re lonely. Read it when you’re grateful. Read it when you are
believing for the best. Read it when you’ve found out the worst. Read it when
you’re seeking. Whenever you do read it, I hope that it speaks to you deeply and peacefully. I
feel a divine connection to every word, and I pray that you do to.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Who is this book for?</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> This book is for anyone who has ever
felt locked <i>in</i> or <i>out</i> of religion, when all you want is an honest encounter
with God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thank you to Ja’el
Andrea Knott for pushing the momma bird out of her nest…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTx4ISCyY_j7nEgwiWH7SPJWoOx3wdGg91fSv3uqe_11uTTjYeJmhpNs6Jw96p2ZJ4LxN3qQyQzEdD0wNbEeJSOwkW9KwOjKsHoh80R1LJeRu_ZiImetqtZoi_t3QB_T52gyC-vqQ5vs/s1600/flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTx4ISCyY_j7nEgwiWH7SPJWoOx3wdGg91fSv3uqe_11uTTjYeJmhpNs6Jw96p2ZJ4LxN3qQyQzEdD0wNbEeJSOwkW9KwOjKsHoh80R1LJeRu_ZiImetqtZoi_t3QB_T52gyC-vqQ5vs/s320/flower.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click link below to purchase a copy of my book</td></tr>
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Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-43068733041535914702017-08-02T16:20:00.000-07:002017-08-02T16:20:12.519-07:00The Continuous Demotion of Black Women<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are some writing assignments that move me into action out of a sense of duty and responsibility as a citizen of this world. I often consider my creative voice to be mission driven and a necessary tool for processing life’s challenges. But then there are some topics that, just in contemplation, leave me feeling naked to the world and extremely heartbroken. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>This is one of those topics…</b></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hate more than anything else right now, that after all of these years and so many blogs, essays, poems and even one woman shows, I am at the place where I can no longer avoid writing about the continuous demotion of the black woman. I loathe that this is the blog that needs to be written more than any other piece that I’ve embarked on so far. In fact, when I woke up this morning and realized that this raw truth was welling up inside of me, preparing my mind to put pen to paper, I cried and truthfully as my fingers press these keys now, tears are still falling.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These tears are for every black woman that has ever arrived at the numbing conclusion that your best, in the eyes of many, will never, ever, ever, be good enough. These tears are for my beautiful, classy, shy, intelligent, witty daughter, who on the cusp of turning 21, knows this all too well. She, like so many other young black women who constantly find themselves in predominately white settings, will experience more microaggressions in one semester of school than we can imagine all year. May I just add that her sense of awareness, quiet resolve and resilient energy, is what makes her emerging beauty so powerful to me as her mother, and I often glean from it. Staying in tune, informed, and in love with who you are and how you were made is how one survives the ugly truth of constant doubt, suspicion, and demotion.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve been deliberating on how to broach this subject for the past few hours, a subject that has been written about and discussed for decades now, without sounding like a wounded victim. You see, black women do not have the luxury of being victims, ever. In fact, if and when we do suffer at the hands of injustice, we quickly become suspect to being an accomplice to a crime that was committed against us. We are often blamed for injustices towards us, our children and our men. We are considered by many in society to be lazy, uninformed and disinterested in the lives of our children. In fact, once a black woman looks for outside assistance in any way, perhaps because of job loss, divorce, illness or simply needing help, she often falls under the interpretation of wanting a hand out and not being worth the investment. Because of our constant portrayal in movies or television of being angry, violent and unnurturing, we are not even allowed to be outraged when something is in fact an </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">absolute</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> outrage. We must remain calm and keep our demeanor at all times, because rest assured if this doesn’t happen, we are labeled, punished and dismissed as “the angry black woman.” Consider the careful demeanor of the mothers and wives of the slain black men and women who suffered at the hands of police violence. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Their pain is measured in suspicion. Sympathy or condolences are given in limited ration from the outside world and many do not acknowledge these grieving families at all. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know all of this first hand, as do many of you who are reading my words. For every classroom, break room or, God forbid, courtroom that we enter, there is a pre-determined stigma waiting for us, to question our validity in society. Whenever I entered into a parent conference on behalf of one of my children, I had to come armed with my very best information about my child’s needs, personality, accomplishments and home life, in order to prove that I was in fact an informed and capable mother who cared deeply for her family. Whenever I interview for a position and want to be seriously considered, I have to pull out all of the stops, from my appearance to my command of the English language, there is no room for error. Because of this, I have often been considered “very articulate”, which usually lands me high praise and a consideration for what would normally be handed over to my white counterparts. I must enter the room with poise, while doing my best Bruce Lee impersonation in my mind to fight off low expectations. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Again, none of this is news to a large majority of us. This, and much more, is the thing that makes us stronger, even when we feel as if we have gathered the strength of Samson and would rather be damsels. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And speaking of damsels</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, one of the most heartbreaking discoveries for this divorced woman is how grossly demoted we have been by black men in our society. Again, I hate that I have to talk about this publicly. It doesn’t do much for the ego, nor does it make us shine as a culture, but not discussing it is like ignoring a dancing elephant in the middle of a coffee shop during the morning rush. It’s an epidemic that at this point in my life potentially affects me.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Disclaimer</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: I am not against interracial relationships. I truly believe in the power and force of love bringing two souls together to connect on an organic level, while pushing all obstacles aside. I do however, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">despise</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the concept of dating someone because of a racial fetish. It’s objectifying and belittling to only pursue someone out of curiosity about their skin tone. It diminishes the concept of seeing someone for who they really are and getting to know their personality, likes and human struggles. I can’t imagine deep abiding love being born from a fetish. Fetishes began on the plantation, and we all know that black people were only considered three fifths human beings during slavery, which means when a woman or man was taken by force for sexual purposes, they were not even looked upon as being worthy of a choice, but rather useful and exotic while being considered subhuman at the same time. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That being said, I have noticed first-hand the difference in the responses that black women get as opposed to white women from black men. While a white woman with a serious or intense look on her face may still be spoken to and encouraged to smile through recognition of a door being held open or a </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">good morning</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> being offered, a black woman with the same facial expression can easily be ignored or barked at for not smiling, because we are considered to be evil or angry at the world. Both women may be carrying the same concerns with them throughout the day but only one will be penalized for having the audacity to show it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In my younger years, while walking in my own neighborhood, I was often assaulted with the words “damn baby, smile!” thrown at me on any given day. I always felt like apologizing for allowing my inward pain and angst to show to the world and not knowing how to mask whatever was plaguing me at the moment. I rarely, if ever heard, “how are you today?” or “are you okay?” I learned early that how I felt did not matter to the males in my community outside of my own mind. I was constantly labeled as evil looking or angry.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast forward many years later, and I often feel as if I have to say </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">hello</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> first to my black brother whenever I encounter him in public. It’s as if to say: I’m safe, I’m not angry, I come in peace, in order not to be judged by him. Even still, it’s a short lived interaction that makes absolutely no impression on him from what I can see. Perhaps I’m jaded and I’ve learned to live on the defense. Or, perhaps I see correctly and this brother is loaded with his own impressions of me already. Perhaps it’s because he dated or married a black woman that turned out to be “angry” i.e. wounded by life’s experiences past the point of his patience and understanding. Perhaps, because he himself struggled immensely with a life or a childhood that was not that kind to him at all, he harbors self-doubt and confusion about his own worth. Sadly, perhaps he decided to buy into the notion that black women were too much work while white women were a kinder gentler and even easier alternative. I’m embarrassed to know that such mindsets exist within black men but they do and short of wearing signs that say </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m not a stereotype, I’m just living out my life the best I can, bruises and all”,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I don’t think there is anything we can do about the population of brothers who have chosen to look away from black women all together. Perhaps, we remind them of a pain that they do not know how to heal…</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am consciously trying to avoid sweeping generalizations on this subject because I am all too aware that in doing so it shuts the listener down and my very vital points will be muted out by the sound of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Not all ___”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> .However,when I speak about the experience of the black woman, those who can and will attest to what I am saying would also admit that our experiences make up a collective, dreadful norm and not an exception. Because of this, black women experience emotional fatigue in our daily lives that would otherwise be reserved for mid to high level crises for most other people.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As sad as it makes me to have to admit that we have lost the love, adoration, and support from a lot of our black men, one of the greatest tragedies that has come from being constantly minimized by society is how a great deal of black women minimize one another on a daily basis by refusing to speak to each other in passing, failing to support each other’s endeavors or lend a hand to one another when needed. We have allowed the green eyes of jealousy to be our tour guide through our own communities when viewing one another. We have taken to allowing our hair length, quality of our manicures, value of our cars, houses, jobs and education status determine how we interact with each other. I think of this as class separation within the black community. Again, a mindset that was arranged </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">for</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> us during a time when blacks were property and not people.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am amazed at how we judge one another even during a struggle.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was recently reminded of how painful it can be to go through an all-time low in life and be told by one of my black sisters to basically “get over it.” Her comment went something like, we’ve all been there and we all made it out and you will too. I expected this “pep-talk” from everywhere else but it deeply hurt coming from another black woman, someone who I witnessed going through her own personal struggles, tears and all, for many years. I remember thinking about how hard a person would have to become to blast another hurting human being and what mindset lead up to her response to my situation. I concluded that in her mind she had arrived and nothing else needed to be said to me but “you will too”. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The sad truth is that some of us black sisters are not accustomed to hugging one another, comforting one another or crying together for too long a period of time, if at all. Unfortunately, you cannot model what was never modeled to or for you. While resilience is an important quality to possess in this life, there are often many facets to overcoming tragedy, pain or affliction that we must process through in order to get on the other side. In Christian circles this is often overlooked or not understood. Some black women however, may not have the luxury of therapy, counseling or processing through pain for very long. We have too much to do with very little support, and cannot afford to sit or lay on a counselor's couch for weeks or months on end, if we are able to have the opportunity in the first place. Those who center their lives around the church may heavily rely on the counsel of a pastor or spiritual mentor who means well, but has no counseling experience whatsoever or even worse, a deeply flawed interpretation of scripture. Some sisters use scriptures to hurl at each other at top speed to shock one another out of depression or anxiety. We use the idea that one is lacking in faith or scriptural knowledge if they are sinking too low into a pit of despair. Church attendance, sin, and just a lack of salvation or spiritual maturity are continuous characterizations that the super spiritual use to thwart at vulnerable aching souls who simply need love and compassion. But again, how do you show what you do not know, especially when strength and resilience is often the most praised quality for a black woman?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sisters, can we just “be” around each other? Can we relax and release our stress and concerns with one another without judgement? Do we have room for one another in our own hearts? If not, who does?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Excellence is exhausting</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I often credit my father for much of how I carry myself through life because of the standards that he had for us at an early age. He was the father of six daughters, and as a black man who came from humble rural beginnings during the Jim Crow era to acclimate into a mostly white professional world, he wanted us to know how to present ourselves at all times. A neat appearance was huge with my parents. Our clothes, shoes and hair had to be at near perfection before setting foot outside our house, particularly if we were going somewhere special. Proper grammar was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> optional, mainly because my parents knew all too well the assumption of being considered ignorant before having the chance to make a good impression. I was born in the sixties just at the turn of the civil rights movement, so you can imagine what my parents went through just to own a home and strive to further their education, let alone land a government job like my father eventually did. Excellence was a must for us and we all tried as hard as we could to live up to those standards on a daily basis, even when I was accused of acting white by my peers. In our house, the test of being presentable in every way was pass or fail on a daily basis. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I do not fault my parents for my upbringing, nor am I resentful of my father for his harsh critics of my hair and clothes during my youth. I don’t fault him because I now realize the pressure that he felt to be excellent at all times. It wasn’t easy for me to live under constant scrutiny and I still have to give myself permission not to be ‘just so’ all the time. But I can honestly say as a mother that I understand him now more than ever. I understand the feeling of walking into a room and taking on the responsibility of immediately breaking every stereotype known to man before even saying hello. Especially because I may have been the first or only black person ever invited into that room. I understand how it feels when I (at times) look into a white person’s face and see the look of utter surprise at the quality of my conversation and the depth of thought I put into every single word. I understand how it must have felt to know that you will never outlive racism and the overall idea that you are a </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">minor</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ity in a majority world. My dad was concerned for us, much like I am concerned for my children. The amount of preparation that it takes to consciously raise a black child in America can be exhausting. Being a black woman with years of excellence demanded on me during my upbringing, while constantly feeling like I was falling short, has led to a chronic case of perfectionism in my adult life that I am still working through today. But such high stakes would have never been raised if we were ever seen as equals by our white counterparts.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Dream</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would love the opportunity to try and fail and try again like everyone else, without harsh conclusions being drawn about my failures. I would like to be seen as an individual and not a demographic. I would love to be treated like a lady by men, seen as beautiful, and be perceived as a valuable partner, lover and friend just as much as my fairer skinned friends. I don’t always feel like being strong or sassy. I mostly prefer the softer side of me whenever possible, but circumstances don’t allow me to relax enough to show that side, and I cannot afford to let go of the strength that I have obtained through years of struggle and hurt. It is a necessary tool of survival, even for one who prays and deeply believes in God.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">More than anything else in this world, I would love, even if it’s just for a season, to relax, laugh out loud, enjoy my life and allow my soul to be a free spirited, uninhibited black woman who desires to contribute to her family, friends, faith and country just like any other woman…</span></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-29040154455057376552016-11-18T06:17:00.000-08:002018-11-11T07:19:40.818-08:00We the People Have the Gift of Resilience <div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>I have told
you these things so that you may have peace. In the world you will have trouble
but take heart, I have overcome the world. John 16:33</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>In the past
week since the results of one of the worst election periods in recent history,
I have read articles and listened to reports of a surge in racial hate crimes
and sexual assaults on women as well as LGBTQ bullying in alarming proportions. The loathsome mindset
of white supremacy and misogyny has gone from hateful verbiage to outright
physical attacks. All the while, I wonder if many of those who thought that they
were voting their conscience are in fact conscious of the results of their
decisions. I wonder if many conservative Christians have openly denounced racism, sexism
and homophobia in order to begin to heal the gaping wound that is seeping out
and infecting this country. I hope so.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>I wonder if
they care about the state of this nation as it stands today, or if many would rather look the other
way and pretend not to notice the aftermath of siding with extreme hatred. I’m
trying to remain hopeful that there is a segment of that population that is on
its knees praying for justice and equality in America, even if the hate crimes and attacks are not
affecting them. Are there conservatives who care about the rest of us and the
daily angst that comes with being a minority in America? I pray so.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>I’ll be
honest, I have planned a reasonable distance between myself and those who do
not seem to notice or show concern that we are at war against hate in this
country. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the notion that there can
exist within oneself a duality of viewpoints when it comes to love vs. hate.
Cognitive dissonance is not a workable reality for me when it comes to the
marginalization of entire communities of people. It’s not a matter of moral
superiority but compassion and empathy. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><b>The Good News is:</b><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>There is a
gift of resilience that has been given to the marginalized in this world. We
have survived with remarkable odds, many attempts at total ethnic cleansing and
the desire to silence anyone who is different from the majority. The sickness
that infects the mind of the man/women who believe that there is a superior
race of people, has not managed to succeed at total domination. That is not to
ignore the massive damage that it has
done, as well as the many lives that it has taken. It is just to say that we the people have persevered beyond the
unthinkable, again and again. It’s what we do. It's how we're made.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Personally,
in order to stay hopeful, I draw my strength from the person of Jesus Christ,
whom I believe was the example of the greatest humanitarian known to mankind.
He had the ability to stand up to his enemies, expose religious hypocrisy and
love the marginalized from a heart ignited with a passion for humanity. That
divine action, is what is desperately needed in our grief stricken world today.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>If any
lesson bears repeating in the seminaries of Christianity, in order for it to
maintain any semblance of credibility, it is the lesson of Jesus Christ and love thy neighbor as thyself. If we dare
to believe any one doctrine, it should be the doctrine of equality through the
love of God.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>WITHIN A SEGMENT OF THE POPULATION:</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Somewhere
beneath the mere surface of humanitarianism, lies resilience that is primed through
love in action. When we are in motion, caring for one another and standing in
solidarity against the evil that comes as a result of festered hate, we grow stronger,
see clearer and resemble more of what is needed in this earth. We are actually
lending a hand, as well as a heart, to the efforts of diminishing hate. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>We the
people, who are the ancestors and by-products of all those who have ever been
the target of racism, sexism and exclusion of any kind, are inherently strong,
undeniably brave and unapologetically fervent in our stand to live in freedom
and justice. We may stumble, for just a moment, as a result of inhaling the
noxious fumes of hatred that pollutes our country from time to time, but we
don’t stay down for long. We draw fresh breath and strength from the example of a
time when love clothed itself in human flesh and walked the earth to silence
hate…</i></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-40732043811927918352016-11-11T17:14:00.001-08:002016-11-11T17:17:06.852-08:00We Are Better Than This...<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Three days later and the unthinkable
is still a reality</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How do we
begin to recover while living in a country that now suffers from self-imposed
tragedy? For anyone who has ever suffered hatred, economic and racial
injustice, oppression, sexism, violence, loss through unjust murder or is a
victim, in any way, of the rape culture, the devastation is tangible.
Collectively, none of us can ever breathe the same again. And to clarify for
the ones who love to use religious platitudes in a time of profound suffering,
we know that the President is just a man. We know that God is still in control
and we know that Jesus is still Lord, for those of us who choose this as our
belief system. Thank you for your pep talk, it won’t help in our grief however.
Now let’s get down to brass tacks. This mortifying election was truly about
love vs. hate, unity vs. racism and freedom vs. oppression. The outcome was the
symbol of our nation’s heart… and what a sick, fragmented, hateful heart it has
become. But that is not who the majority of us are. There is still much hope,
if we ban together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The healing</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On Tuesday
morning, as my mind began to spin out of control, I heard the villainous jeers
whispering in my ears: <i>hate won, hate
won, what are you going to do now?</i> I cried, not soft quiet tears, I cried
from my belly with guttural moans. The prophetic resides in the belly. I cried
for every Native American ever terrorized and murdered on this land. I cried
for every slave ever beaten, chained and whipped. I cried for every body that
ever hung from a tree from senseless hatred. I cried for every immigrant used
and abused by this country. I cried for every woman humiliated and discarded
through sexism, misogyny and rape. I cried for our children who have to bear
the weight of a careless and greedy nation. I cried over graves with no headstones because
the bodies within were never considered human beings. I cried for every gay man
and woman disowned from their families and attacked by society, both physically
and religiously. I cried for our elders who worked so hard to bring us to a
better land only for us to wake up on the same bloody soil. I cried for our first Black President and First
Lady, who endured hardness like good soldiers and still managed to maintain
dignity and grace. I cried for the deceived religious elite, who really believe
that they can reach the world through hatred and division. Oh, did I cry…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I thought
that it would take days to collect myself. I couldn’t tell my youngest son the
results on my own. My despair was too heavy, that’s when I reached out and the
healing began. I began by group texting my older children along with their
father. <i>Help</i>, I said, <i>I can’t tell Tim</i>. <i>I don’t want him to see me this way. </i>One by one they began to
respond. Tim’s dad called and explained the results to him in a way that wouldn’t
worry him. We all kept texting, expressing grief, anger and sadness. The
healing was beginning. By mid-afternoon I had texted, called and messaged
several of my friends from various backgrounds and ethnicities. Their voices
were important to me. I needed my community of diversity to help restore my
faith in the world. We grieved together, we encouraged each other. Love was
working. I began telling my friends that I loved them in one form or another.
Each time the words came out, my heart grew stronger. I felt less faint. Love
was healing. I slept that afternoon for the first time in days. That evening I
had dinner with friends who represent interracial love. We talked, laughed and
grieved together. We sought out the light in the darkness together and I felt
lifted. Love was winning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May I
encourage you to seek others who love humanity with the same intensity as you
do? When my daughter said that she was nervous about the climate on campus
Wednesday, I told her to look for the people who had grief in their eyes, they’re
hurting like you and can be trusted to mourn with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The separating: <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">During the
last few days, through much thought and prayer, I have come to the
understanding that there is a time in life that we all must assess the people
and ideologies that we surround ourselves with. This election, along with the
pressing social injustices that have flooded our news in recent history, has
uncovered the darkness in the hearts of many, along with the unwillingness to admit
to the faults of this country and its sins. It has been open season for all who
wish to express in clear undeniable detail that social injustice persists. Many
have clung to a belief system that was rooted and grounded in the Jim Crow
error and the church that turned a blind eye to hatred for people of color. I
have read commentary from those who blame the victim and claim ignorance at the
same time. The hypocrisy is astounding and I can no longer bear witness to it,
nor befriend it in the hopes that such hearts will change. It is obvious that
the line in the sand of good and evil has been drawn and many wish to dwell in
the land of evil claiming it as their birthright of patriotism, while defiantly
ignoring the call to love your neighbor as yourself. And just to clarify, this
does not mean that I choose to separate from anyone who doesn’t share my same
belief system in all aspects of life, this separation is about far more than a
mere differing of opinion, anyone who has been trying to tap below this granite
surface for any length of time understands that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The revelation:</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">These are
the words that have resounded in my ears within the last few days:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The American church has
lost all credibility with the world. It will never be viewed the same again.</span></i></b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> This has been a long time coming. Slowly but surely those who warmed the
pews have spilled out into the streets joining those who have never entered its
doors. The American church has revealed the highest level of hypocrisy for the
entire world to see. The by-standers are just as accountable as the perpetrators.
By refusing to speak up and to cry aloud and spare none, many have sown hatred
where there should be peace as well. There is no such thing as a neutral stance
between good and evil. Remove yourself from the appearance of religion
completely because it is an empty and lifeless exercise. It will simply prove
itself as a display of an antiquated behavior, producing no real results for
the world. I am ignoring the religious and the loveless of this land. Rise up
with the poets, the prophets, the teachers, the singers, the dancers and the
artist. Become an activist pursuing love at all costs, especially for those who
do not share your culture. Come out from your sterilized surroundings padded
with people who look and act like you. Abandon the notion that I don’t hear the
prayers of the entire world and all those that seek me in ways that are foreign
to you. Stop trying to get people to come into your buildings and go into the
streets, the cities and the highways to live amongst the seekers, while asking
me for wisdom and guidance along the way. Choose life, outside of religion and
receive new life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Lend your church buildings to
recreation centers, daycares, </span>after school<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> programs, employment agencies, food
pantries and civic centers. Offer your lavish establishments and your
storefronts to community needs instead of hosting your own weekly club
meetings. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The rebuilding:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tuesday
morning’s resounding question was: <i>what
are we going to do</i>? There is
rioting, kkk rallies and harsh dissension all over the country. People are afraid
of being attacked on the streets. How do we live amongst such hate and go on
with our daily lives? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My personal
directive is to dig deeper and stand my ground with civility and knowledge.
Ignorance and hatred is what got us into this mess and it’s going to take
higher thinking to get us out. We don’t have to be doormats and accept the
visceral behavior, we just have to outsmart low level thinking. They want us to
display the same hate that they are showing. It thrills a racist mind if we
choose to become fearful beyond words and angry with rage. Fear yields power
and tells your enemy that you believe that they are stronger than you. Refuse
to be intimidated by the men in white sheets and the shaved heads. Refuse to
let them steal your peace and relinquish your power. Stand strong and <b>fight the power</b> of hatred with
civility. Head up, chin raised, eyes toward heaven, with an un-flinchable
resolve, that’s the stance that we need to take against the self-appointed
oppressors. Dignity is not a language that they can understand or war against. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Take that
stance into your workplaces and communities. Teach your children how to walk
with authority and wisdom. Read often and speak boldly about the history of
this nation and its slow moving demise from its inception. Create a new
language of unity and acceptance. Broaden your social circles. Stop just having
that “one friend” who’s (insert ethnicity here.) We can’t keep thinking that
this movement will only be advanced by one particular race of people and others
cannot be trusted. For those that like to quote Malcolm X by saying<b><i>: By
any means necessary</i></b>, remember that his life changed when he traveled to
Mecca and began seeing men of other races who believed the same as he did. Only
then did he understand the error of what he was taught to believe and that the “blue
eyed devil” is a misnomer. Remember there have always been abolitionists who
aided the oppressed at the expense of their own lives. They are still alive and
well today. The movement is love vs. hate, not black vs. white.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There will
only be a remnant of Christians that answer this call and leave their Sunday
morning rituals for action that makes a difference. The majority will be people
who do not claim to belong to any one belief system but who do have genuine love
for their fellow man while desiring nothing more than to ignite a love
revolution. If that shocks or bothers you, just remember the church has had
more chances than we can count to come out of its lifeless ways and to actually
live as Christ. This is the final result of seeking after its own self-interests
and ignoring the greatest humanitarian ever known…Jesus Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you
belong to a ministry that actively seeks to model Christ’s behavior in its
ENTIRTY, then you are part of a much needed remnant in the earth. But make no
mistake, this is only evident to the world by how you treat your fellow man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The hashtag:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">#lovealution
(love revolution)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I hope it
catches on…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-23864254998128592292016-11-07T05:39:00.001-08:002016-11-07T05:39:06.925-08:00Are you a river, a well or an ocean?<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wake up to many thoughts and questions in the early
morning hours when I would probably prefer to be sound asleep, if I didn’t know
any better, but I do know better. I’m not new to the fact that the whispers of
my Creator come in the hush of the darkness, before daylight, before business.
I also know why. It is at this time that my mind and body are most surrendered and
willing to move beyond the natural into the eternal and receive in a deeper
realm. I know too, that I am not alone at this hour. Many awake to the still
small voice and assured presence of a God who knows no space or time. It is a privilege.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, when faced with
what appears to be a philosophical question, with one ear on my pillow and the
other towards heaven, I tuned in deeper. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Am I a river, a well
or an ocean?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I knew the answer immediately and was more eager to find out
from others how they saw themselves. This might have been one of my favorite
questions to ask of all time. I may never stop asking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here are just a few samples of what some of my friends said:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I would lean towards
ocean because I think I unite large land masses (ideas) and am full of experiences
(as oceans are full of life) and depth. It’s not always safe out here, where
you can’t see land and not everyone is comfortable with that much freedom. I like
the expanse of an ocean and the sense of adventure in it. - Mike<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>At first glance of
this question, I’d have to say a “river.” A river’s source is from somewhere
else, it feeds into other tributaries as it moves toward its final destination.
Particularly after seeing footage of the recent floods, a river has a
destination, it’s moving toward something and it cannot be stopped. – Ken<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A well goes deep, a
river is constantly moving and ever changing, and an ocean undulates in a
gentle manner and touches nations. I am an ocean. – Eden<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Others offered their answers in the definitive with no
explanation:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A river –Bruce<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Definitely feel like a
river –Gabe<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>An ocean –Tim<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some <i>leaned</i>
towards their answer:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A river, I think –J<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I’m probably most like
a well. –Lottie<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some were not sure at all and will have to think on it a bit
longer before deciding. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This subject fascinates the philosophical geek in me. I love all of
these answers and can’t wait to hear more. But mostly, I love where this
question takes us. How it makes us look at and appreciate our place in this world,
while helping us study how well we all relate to the healing power of water in
any form it takes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Water is necessary for life and so are we.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A well provides a pure source of water from beneath the
ground. To access this water, wells are drilled deep into the bedrock. People
are constantly drawing from wells and it causes folks to gather. Well water is
worth the effort to retrieve, but not everyone can manage that effort. Wells
require work. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A river flows smoothly, until interrupted by nature. It
rises and falls, expands and extends. It can be an endless source. People are
drawn to rivers for rest and relaxation. Rivers can also go beyond their
boundaries and overtake dry land.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An ocean can have boundless energy. It roars at times with
high tide and passively paints the sand ever so gently during low tide. An
ocean can incite and excite the senses. People are drawn to the ocean mostly
for its wonder and expanse. It is unpredictable and fascinating all at the same
time. Some, who cannot swim, are afraid of the ocean because it can be so
powerful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was younger, I was an ocean, probably more for my
unpredictable nature than anything else. I felt boundless and strong. I was
good at being an ocean but not necessarily for all the right reasons. On my
high tide days, I challenged the world and everything in it. On my low tide
days, all I wanted to do was to be a part of the landscape with little effort. I
was often overwhelmed with my own vast interest and I didn’t know how to begin
or end. The creative in me will always be drawn to the ocean. I believe that’s
where it all began for me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are days when I miss the energy that I had then and
the excitement with listless freedom I displayed. But through adversity, much
pain and loss along for the need to be hidden and grounded, I have become a
well, for myself and those who are closest to me. I’ve learned how to be subtle
and quiet and I’ve traded my boundless energy for rest. Being a well has allowed for me to become more thoughtful and disciplined. I consider a thing more before moving or speaking. My quiet days far outweigh my outspoken days. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love spending time with the rivers and ocean friends in my life however because they bring
a new experience to my underground existence. My river friends feed and comfort me. My ocean friends stir up the creative in me and provide an escape. I need them both.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps, when I begin to travel,
I will revisit my ocean season again. But if not, I am content in being who I
need to be for the purpose that it serves my time on this earth. After all, it is <i>well </i>with my soul. Get it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So now it’s your turn. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are you a river, a well or an ocean? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take your time and get to know you. There is no wrong answer…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-29620906410948314652016-09-07T06:03:00.004-07:002016-09-07T06:07:10.271-07:00Balance is the key...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Okay moms, back to school season has arrived, so I thought I’d
tell you a little story that may help you find balance in your life if you’re
struggling to find it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I’ve had experience in being both a working mom and a stay
at home mom and I can honestly say that either choice/necessity has its challenges.
The biggest challenge for me was my total lack of balance in both cases.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As a working mom, I felt a lot of guilt leaving my very
young children every day. Daycare was not my favorite option, so after a while
and some asking around, I hired a mother’s helper who saved my mommy life for a
period of a year. I am grateful for this young lady to this day. She came to my house every morning and took
over while I finished dressing and getting ready for work. She made sure that
the kids were fed, changed, read to, entertained and happy when I came home. My
kids loved her. I loved her. She was young and energetic and they needed that
with two working parents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">At the time, I had a bit of a demanding job working for a
non-profit school for pregnant teens. We had three sites, which means I had to
travel for work at times. Not only was the job demanding but it was stressful…very
stressful, crazy boss stressful. I was in a struggle to navigate through the
trials of my work life and the demands of my home life. The only solace that I
had was that my mother’s helper was taking great care of my two youngest
children, while my oldest was in a good school. There was something to be
grateful for, until she announced to me one day that her gap year from high
school was over and she wanted to join the military. I almost begged her to
reconsider, okay I did. In retrospect that was selfish thinking on my part but
in all honesty after her, I’ve never met anyone else who I felt as comfortable
with taking care of my kids.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After Camille left, I tried preschool for my two younger
ones, which didn’t work out well for the baby, who by now was a toddler. He
kept getting ear infections. When the doctor told us that he would need tubes
put into his ears if they kept getting infected, I decided to quit my job. From
where I stood, there weren't enough paychecks in the world to justify putting
my baby through that discomfort. I understand that not everyone would have been
able to make that decision and I respect the moms who have to do what they have
to do, the decision is not always that cut and dry. At the time I was married
and we worked through the sacrifice, sort of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My favorite memory from that time in our lives was the day
after I quite my stressful job and sat on the floor with my two toddlers
watching Sesame Street. The phone rang and it was my boss (crazy lady) asking
me if I could come back in to work from time to time to help out. I gladly told
her no and hung up the phone. I felt so
much freedom in that moment. I felt like I had control over my life again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">But did I?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">What I didn’t realize with having hired help at home was
that I was missing more than I wanted to at such early stages of my kid’s
lives. I was glad to be back home and having one on one time with my kids…most
days. Of course, the challenge I faced
after that novelty wore off, was feeling invisible in the house all day with
the kids and not having enough grown up time for myself. I realize now that I
didn’t know how to strike a balance between the two worlds that I lived in
while my children were young. I was either all in and working all day,
sometimes extra hours trying to breathe huge gusts of independent air before
going home, or I was closed in my house most days on a rigid routine attempting
to make my kid’s worlds feel completely protected and safe. In short, I extreme
mom’d.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I thought that in either situation I had so much to prove to
everyone around me. Growing up, the notion of an at home mother was very different
than it is today. Anything modeled on television was between June Cleaver and
Mrs. Brady, and she had Alice. (Some of you will have to google those two
references.) Neither woman represented me at all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My mother stayed at home on off when we were children but I
never asked her what she did while I was in school all day. That question would
probably not have gone over well anyway. It always ends up sounding like: <i>So what do you do all day while the rest of
the world is working hard at keeping the earth rotating on its axis?</i> It’s
one of those implied questions that can sound insulting to any busy mom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">At this point, I didn’t have a good support group for what I
needed to know about staying at home with my kids in this season of my life and
I needed to strike a balance in my life badly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This leads me to the discovery of learning how to be still
when necessary and my second favorite memory as a young mom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It was when my youngest son was finally ready for preschool.
This particular child was a DOOZY!!! He ran instead of walked, shouted instead
of talked and knew his way through a temper tantrum like a pro. I was tired all
the time with him, even when he was just waking up in the morning. But on this
glorious day…the sun had a special shine and the birds seemed to achieve a rare
harmonious pitch. I could have sworn I saw rainbows without rain. Even though I
was a bit nervous that he was leaving the safety of home that day, I felt good
about the preschool that he was attending and they came with the gift of all
gifts…THEY HAD A VAN THAT PICKED HIM UP IN THE MORNINGS!!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Que the theme to the
sound of music complete with birds flying above and me spinning on the top of a
mountain…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After kissing my rambunctious toddler bye-bye and standing
on the curb watching him being fastened into his car seat with other oblivious
toddlers who had no idea that their mothers where probably at home in a semi-conscious
state of glee, I stood there listening to the soothing sound of his driver’s
southern voice. He was in good hands. I then wiped a tear or two from my eyes
and went into the house to begin my full day of being a productive mom. <i>(Notice
I didn’t say a productive person? I never thought of myself outside of my roles
at home then. Take note.)</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I had plans and they were big ones. I was going to start
cleaning at the very top of the house and finish in the kitchen as any good
mother should. I was about to delve into my extreme mode on a whole new level. No
yoga pants and ponytail for me thank you. You can keep the Starbucks and Target
lines for this mom. I was going for the gold in housekeeping Olympics and you
couldn’t stop me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Until…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I went back upstairs to my bedroom and made the maddening
mistake of turning on the television out of curiosity. Toddler shows at this
hour were all that I was accustomed to. What grownups talked about in the
morning was a mystery to me at this point. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We had just moved into our home and our cable service was
new, which of course came with a free preview of HBO. I stood there for a
moment looking at Tom Hanks. I like Tom Hanks. I’d never seen Castaway but I had heard it was
a good movie. Before long, I was stretched out across the bed glued to this
movie feeling like quite a castaway myself at home alone for the first time in
years. I kept checking for guilt but it seemed to have taken the day off. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After the movie, I fixed myself lunch. It was
intermission and I was hungry. The previews said that The Legend of Bagger
Vance was next. I like Will Smith and I had never seen this movie… Okay, I may
have folded clothes through this one but I realized what I needed more than anything
was a day of nothingness, or close to it, to recalibrate my mind. It was
wonderful and I was relaxed and excited to hear how my kid’s school days went
when they came home. And while I cannot claim that I had achieved this level of
relaxation all the time (a neat freak has to do what a neat freak has to do) I
can say that I learned the art of mommy naps, reading and quiet time that
carries over until today…even as the kids are all grow up and I am no longer
answering to just the title of mom. As wonderful as that title is (and it is my
favorite) through the years of learning how to take time out for myself, I have
discovered my many interests and titles that go along with me just being me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I had to learn to balance work with play and that I could
have both in my life in order to be at peace. This however, is a lifelong
lesson for all of us in all seasons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Balance is the key…</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-56985712945157519992016-08-08T08:03:00.000-07:002016-08-08T08:03:29.384-07:00You become who you resent...<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Think of this in terms of your
parents or whoever the caretakers in your life were. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You become who</span></i></b><i> <b style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">you resent</b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">. This was taught
to me by a counselor years ago and it is a lesson that I will never forget.
When we hold on to unforgiveness for those who have hurt us throughout our
lives in any way and we refuse to forgive, resentment fills our hearts. This
occurs through a series of </span><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">judgments</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> that we hold over our family members for
their unhealthy behavior. We become so judgmental of the person or people who
caused us pain that we silently fixate on all of their wrongs to the point of
obsession. We think by doing this that we will be able to avoid the same behaviors,
but this is not true. Obsession keeps us staring into the past. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When this
happens we inadvertently begin to duplicate the very behavior that we are
fixated on because it’s all we see in our minds eye. We have not changed the scenery
of our thoughts making it impossible to produce a better life for ourselves,
because we are constantly staring at an old blue print.</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i>So
if there was alcoholism, neglect, abandonment, extra marital affairs or overall
irresponsible behavior coming from our parental figures and we have never fully
been able to forgive them, we are in grave danger of repeating the sins of the
past by way of resentment.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lord, unveil the hidden
pains, hurts and devastations of my past that may keep me emotionally stunted
and turn my voice into a bitter instrument of contempt. Help me to heal, reach
inside of my heart and remove the hardness that has occurred through suffering.
Free me Father, from the past so that I may be prepared to live anew and
practice forgiveness in my future. I cannot do this without you…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-49786135044640905612016-07-31T06:54:00.002-07:002016-07-31T07:00:43.684-07:00I'll Rise Up...<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What bears
repeating time and time again, is the simple truth that in order for new life
to come forth, our old life must die. In order for healing to take place, the
old body must be laid to rest, sometimes figuratively as well as literally. It’s
necessary that we understand these truths in order to survive the trying times,
the lonely times, the painful times and the times when we feel as if we are
suffering so much that we are leaving this earth way too soon. I say this in
honor of all those who have, those of us left on this earth to live, must do so
with purpose, determination and gratefulness. We must honor each breath as if
it is our last. We must let go of the things that are destined to hurt us, for
the things that are destined to heal us…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God, I seek you in ways that I never
thought my spirit could cry out. My desperation for all things love has brought
me full circle back into your embrace. I’m broken inside, surrounded by a
shattered frame, the ghost of my own strength. I refuse to pretend anymore
because I know that you meet me in truth. I cannot run from the calling within,
that has kept me seeking all these years, because I have run out of road, still
I have many miles to go with you. I cannot speak without you, walk without you
or live without you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This surrender in this season, has
taken me to a far off place that I’ve never been before. I cannot navigate this
climate on my own. My hand searches for yours in the dark. I still myself and
wait for dawn. I seek my reflection in a stream filled with tears, only to find
staring back at me the image of a tree. Branches reaching for the sun and
earth, leaves singing in the breeze, a lullaby for the spirit, roots one with
holy soil, pumping new life through its veins. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You allowed the life I knew to drive
me to my knees, if only to seek you on my face. I cried out for death to take
my soul and you released me from my pain and raised me up within the limbs of a
tree. “Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth, shall ye not
know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.”
Isaiah 43:18<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No longer a shattered frame of
desperation, I am now a tree standing against the forces that dare take me over
to steal my voice and render me helpless. One breath from you Lord, and I rise
up in new form, to bask in your sun and give shade to all those who embrace the
You in me…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll rise up” <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bonita Y. Jones © July 30, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="line-height: 18.4px;">Feel free to listen: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BWsrd_aXQA">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BWsrd_aXQA</a></i></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-5966117956342948602016-07-17T12:51:00.002-07:002016-07-17T12:52:49.576-07:00Dear God...<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am writing to you today, not because of any one personal
need that I have as an individual, but because I have witnessed your unfailing
love and total commitment to my life for many years now. Your faithfulness to
me cannot be rivaled by anyone else on earth. For that I want to say thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God, I am writing this letter about the state of my country
America. I will admit that I am not a patriot as some would be. I am not
consumed with the colors of the flag nor am I enamored by the tales of how this
country was established because hidden history has been revealed and revived
and lives to tell its story. The truth is my ancestors, both Native Americans
and Africans, are the story. Because of this, I find it hard to pretend that we
are not standing on the remains of those who were here first. We have built
highways and shopping malls over the trail of tears. We have turned plantations
into quaint inns and banquet halls. We mock the murdered by distracting tourists
with t-shirts and coffee mugs. But this is not the America that so concerns me
on a daily basis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am writing to you about Christian America. The select set
of citizens who wear crosses and gather on Sundays to worship. The people who
claim to know you intimately and take communion to remember your suffering for
us all. I am concerned God, truly concerned by the double standards, the mixed
messages, the lack of love for fellow man, the anger and racial tension that
abides deep within those who claim to be your people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It seems as though your teachings have been replaced by the
need for political power and the lust that comes as a result of a long standing
adulterous affair with weapons and war.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Murder has become acceptable and division a way of life.
There are now sympathizers of Cain and a calculated response to his rights for
killing Abel, only with modern day scenarios.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Holy Scripture is used for waging war against anyone who
doesn’t look or act “American” and some Christians wish silently for an ethnic
cleansing by openly supporting those who will attempt to carry this out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dear God, I have two well-mannered educated sons who have a
bright future. But even if their manners </span><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">weren't</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> so polished and their
education not complete, they still deserve to live. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have a daughter who is the promising jewel of our family
with great hopes and the ability to change her generation. But even if she
didn’t always act promising and refused to carry the mantle for her generation,
she still deserves to live.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have raised my children well God, all with your
help and guidance. I have raised them to be Christians and now I’m not so sure
what American Christianity means or what it stands for. </span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I feel as though we have bought into a construct that has
nothing to do with you because it is being used in direct opposition to who you
are. I feel betrayed. Not by America, our relationship started with betrayal
but by Christian America who pretended at first that we love the same God and
then deserted me for political power and a false sense of freedom, only to side
with the murderers of the innocent speaking on behalf of Cain instead of mourning
Abel…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gracious Father, please intervene, heal our hearts and our
minds. Deliver us from evil and heal our land by way of a mass repentance. It’s
the only way back to you Lord.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Love Always,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Your Daughter & Descendant of Eve…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-45545665875987857842016-07-06T08:56:00.000-07:002016-07-06T08:56:10.266-07:00When someone says "I believe in you"<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently I
sent a letter out to a group of friends in order to receive support for a
program that I’ve developed called EMPOWER ME TO READ AND WRITE! This was a
difficult task for me because it involved a request for help with funding my
project. Asking for funding help is not my strong suit. Asking for anything is
rather difficult for me period. Still, I felt led to send this letter, so I did
it afraid. Here’s what happened…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Words of
affirmation reached my heart:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I believe
in you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m proud
of you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I support
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You’re
doing wonderful work!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Those words
were sent along with financial support. I cannot tell you how amazing it feels
to be validated this way. I </span><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">wasn't</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> expecting such a response. Perhaps I’m a bit
jaded because life has been tougher than usual lately and when we are faced
with persistent challenges during hard seasons, our perspective for good ever
coming our way becomes clouded with doubt. That doubt manifests itself as a
huge roadblock which seems impossible to get around particularly if it’s never
met with a frightening leap of faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe we are
most afraid of taking risks because it leaves us completely vulnerable to being
rejected or ignored. Maybe it feels safer never knowing if someone is in your
corner if you don’t ask for their help. Whatever the case, I’m starting to
believe that the perfect antidote for such fear is pushing past all the
apprehension and asking for what you need, butterflies and all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lately, I
live with a lot of butterflies in my stomach because everything that I’ve known
to be the norm for me is turning upside down and I have no choice but to learn
this new path that is being paved for me. My program is living proof. I work
with children to ignite a sense of love and passion for literacy and when I
step into a classroom, I never know if my ideas and methods will work but somehow,
by the end of class, I have managed to get their attention and actually get the
students engaged. But the butterflies stay because there is always a next time
and a next class.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What propels
me to keep going is the fact that I love what I do and who I do it for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But what
gives me wings…are the words of affirmation spoken by friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I believe
in you”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Empower-Me-to-Read-and-Write-695357987153595/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">https://www.facebook.com/Empower-Me-to-Read-and-Write-695357987153595/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-34174638894511652082016-05-24T08:37:00.000-07:002016-05-24T09:57:28.098-07:00 The heart of a swimmer in the frame of a Mosquito…<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can recall my earliest memory of jumping in over my head
literally, when I was five years old. My family and I were visiting with
friends who had a pool in their backyard. It was above ground and the older
kids were entrusted with the younger ones to keep us safe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My oldest sister Monica, eight years above me, had the job
of carrying me around on her back so that I could take part in the water fun. After
tolerating me for a while, there may have been some misbehaving on my part, she
sat me on the side of the pool and told me to stay put while they played without
me. I sat on the edge of the pool watching the independence of the older kids
and envying their every move for all of five seconds, which felt like an
eternity. Just when I could not take being benched any longer, I jumped in on my
own and began to sink to the bottom while flailing. At first, the gang had no
idea that I even entered the water. I was so small that I couldn't even muster
an alarming splash to warn anyone. My nickname was Mosquito, so that should
explain my size and inability to create a proper ruckus when my jump occurred.
It wasn't until I grabbed my sister’s leg on my trip to the bottom of the pool,
did they even notice me missing. She quickly grabbed me up and brought me to
surface. I scared the crap out of everyone. After gasping for air, being told
on and whisked away from all the fun, I decided that jumping in unannounced didn’t
exactly get me what I wanted. I wanted to join in on the games but all I got
was scared, a nose full of water, in big trouble and locked in my mom’s
maternal worry grip for a while instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is where I <i>should</i>
tell you that I never jumped again…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward about 10 years, when a couple of my sisters and
I decided to drive out to the suburbs to go swimming in the heat of the summer
at a community pool. We arrived, paid our money and entered the pool ground.
After being flooded with stares, we were obviously not part of the neighborhood,
we sat down and tried to muster up the courage to actually swim with these
strangers. I should mention that we were not good swimmers, in fact we were
still learning. These children seemed to have had lessons and access to a pool
all of their lives. We just loved the water. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mother got me started with the notion that I could
actually stay alive in a pool when she began to teach me how to kick and push
away from the edge while we were on vacation in Florida staying at a Days Inn.
It was the 70’s and black children were not exactly making Olympic swimming
history then but we were unaware that this was even a problem since my mother
seemed so confident that we would be able to swim. We did get called the “n”
word while in the process of learning that day and one of my sisters got pretty
pissed and shouted “<b>YOU</b> get out of
the pool then!” We kept right on
splashing and trying. That may have been the beginning of my fearless pursuit
of being treated with respect <i>as well as</i>
becoming a swimmer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After sitting there on the side of the suburban pool
in the scorching heat for a while, I noticed that most of the kids were
constantly lining up for the high diving board. They seemed so excited to climb
the tall ladder and jump off with their various forms, making really good
attempts to point their arms properly and glide into the deep just so. After a
few seconds they would resurface and swim to the edge of the pool to line up
again. I became fixated on how easily they handled this feat. My fixation
turned to curiosity and before I knew it, I was in line to climb the ladder to
jump off of my very first diving board (the high dive that was probably used
for competition) along with all the other kids. I ignored their stares. Some
kids were actually being nice allowing me to go ahead of them. I took each step
with such outward confidence that even I was beginning to believe that I would
make it through my dare-devil attempt gracefully. My heart sounded like the
clock just before the TNT explodes in the Warner Bros. cartoons, but it was too
late. I was already at the top and it was my turn. I had no earthly idea what I
was doing and yet, true to Bonita form, I was doing it anyway. I walked to the
edge of the diving board, curled my body forward, mimicking what I had seen,
pointed my arms above my head and essentially fell into the water at a
harrowing speed. I pierced the water and began heading straight toward the
bottom of 12 feet nonstop before I realized that I did at least know how to
point my arms and torso upward and surface to the top. Once above water, I
began making my way to the side of the pool with absolutely no form and crawled
out onto the pavement feeling incredibly lucky to be alive. I refused to make eye
contact with anyone and ignored my sister’s remark of me being completely crazy
when I sat back down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was my first and
only diving experience. And when I told the story later…I nailed it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m sitting here laughing at that memory and the complete
irony that inside of me today is still that leaping kid, eager to find out if I
can do what I’ve never been able to do before, on a dare only to myself. I
still don’t want to miss out on the fun. I still don’t want to sit on the side
lines and wait. I still don’t understand why them and not me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my adult life I DO NOT recommend jumping into deep water
without knowing how to swim in the literal sense. However, I do recommend it as
it pertains to life’s goals. Sometimes, you just have to try what you don’t
know and figure it out in the process. Sometimes, if you wait too long for
everything to feel just right, you miss out. Sometimes, it’s more about having
heart than experience. And yes, sometimes there will be people who will call you
ugly names in the process of your own self daring efforts in order to
intimidate you. Just look them straight in the eye and let them know that your
journey is just as valuable as theirs’ and you’re not going anywhere!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No wonder the ‘Nike’ brand uses their “Just Do It” slogan so
well. The ads create a synergistic oxymornic mix of contemplative impulsivity within,
resulting in an outward leaping forward to challenge yourself. JUST
DO IT! GO FOR IT! IT’S YOURS IF YOU WANT IT!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m a much improved swimmer these days and I practice in the
summer season often. But I still do it my way, preferring swimming underwater
to the traditional above water breast stroke. I love being completely
submerged, eyes wide open and challenging myself to make it to the end of a lap
without coming up for air until I finish. My form can use a bit of work and I
see better swimmers with faster speed than I have all the time, but I refuse to
stop and compare their journey to mine. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Being in the water is my way of challenging myself to be
better at something that I have come to love so much. I was never supposed to
make it past the first impulsive jump but I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my writing, teaching, performing and living in general, I
just want to make my own signature splash in this world and come up smiling
big, feeling satisfied and inspiring others before the sun sets, the Lifeguard’s
whistle blows and it’s time for me to get out of the pool for good.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe, none of us are ever meant to sit on the edge and
watch everyone else splash and have a good time. Maybe, inside of all of us, is
a great big daring heart beating behind what feels like a tiny mosquito frame.
I have two words for you if that’s you:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Just leap…<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-62110087523657355242016-04-01T06:03:00.002-07:002016-04-01T08:23:12.328-07:00Love's a Beach...<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been months since I’ve blogged. The other day I wrote
my first poem of the year (I believe) and it’s March. I’ve let my creative side
slip into a small coma while trying to figure out the meaning of my life in
this season and why I am the way I am. Ironically, I need writing to sort
through those things. I need writing to breathe deeply into the lungs of my
inner soul and then exhale into the atmosphere with punctuation and symbolisms.
I need metaphors like a cat needs a ball of yarn to keep her active and
playful. And yet, I laid it down to sort through my heart. Interesting. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My youngest son and I just returned from the beach for a
four day getaway to stay in a private cottage. It belongs to friends and it is
beautiful in every way. It’s homey and crisp, well decorated and relaxing. The
island feels like home when I visit and I have secretly moved into the
neighborhood in my dreams.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once on the beach,
Tim (my son) started running. This is my child that is glued to something
electronic every day and who has to be reminded to go outside and ride his bike
at least once a day. This is my introvert child number two, so by now I know
what it looks like. But this day, he took off like a gazelle, all six feet of
him, running toward the ocean and then back to me. He looked amazing. He had
perfect form and he looked like he should be in the Olympics, at least for
beach running. He did this a few times and then, after running toward me said: “I
like to practice my running on the beach.” I smiled and said: “Looks good T,
you look real good running.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My child, who is on the Autistic spectrum didn’t squabble
about how often this can or cannot happen, since we don’t live near the ocean.
He simply shifted into this free beach runner spirit and took off. My mom guilt
began to wonder if I was harboring the next Usain Bolt in the suburbs of North
Carolina instead of moving him to the beach to let him run free. My slight
panic coupled with a quick prayer: “God if this kid needs to move to the beach
to become the next Usain Bolt, please let it happen…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As time went on Tim asked: “Think maybe I can take my shirt
off now?” He was ready to shed his civilian land wear for the bare chested
beach bod, be it ever so thin. “Umm, I’d give it a bit to warm up.” Cautious
mom, ever cautious mom. I sat there in a beach chair in my bathing suit and
cover up zipped until the sun assured me that it was going to do its job that
day. After two days of rain, I needed more assurance than a half hour
appearance. Tim said okay and went about splashing in the ocean, trying to
build a mote, creating sand art, running etc… I thought to myself, you know you
did something right when your kids love the ocean. I read and watched him for a
while and learned a lot about living on your free side from my son that day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I realized that life, love and relationship can often be a
wonderful experience, no an amazing experience, when you allow yourself the
pleasure of taking off with wild abandon and enjoying the scenery and breathing
the air in big deep swallows. I learned that just because you live in the
suburbs far away from the ocean, doesn’t mean that you can’t allow yourself the
privilege to run free from time to time. I learned that the journey to freedom
may be a 4.5 hour car ride and having your GPS take you off the main road to
save time, but it’s worth it. I also learned that you need a willing
participant, if you so choose not to journey this life alone, to allow you to
be you and take your shirt off to run on the beach. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mom nature would ask Tim: “Why are you carrying dirt into
the ocean?” To which he would reply: “It’s not dirt, it’s sand” and keep
walking with handfuls that he would drop into the water. I thought it was odd,
he didn’t care. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At some point, it was warm enough to shed his t-shirt and me
my cover up. This made him feel freer, me too actually. I had given permission
to enjoy the elements without limit and he was happy. I was too. I sat there
now allowing myself to be covered in exquisite warmth and my mood shifted from
cautious mom, to relaxing mom. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This made me think of relationships of a non-maternal
nature:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you’re in relationship with someone who just wants to
enjoy the full experience, no matter how cautious you are, no matter how many
rules you have and how dangerous vulnerability feels, allowing them the freedom
to be their full authentic selves in front of you, without limitation is a
gift. It’s a gift that you benefit from as well because you will relax and
receive an enormous amount of love and affection given by someone who is
willing to share. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If someone loves you, wants to spend time with you and likes
your warmth and embrace, continually fending them off to keep yourself safe
only deprives you of one of the greatest experiences you can be having. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you are afraid of love, relationship, commitment, fear of
getting hurt etc… you’re afraid of life.<br />
<br />
Life is messy and wonderful and
necessary. Let the one who loves you run free with the sun on their shoulders
towards you. Allow them in, not to extract from your life but to add to it the
joy of being cared for. They were sent to you for a reason and you are a gift
to them as well, you make them feel like they just set foot on the sandy shores
of life and now they can take off and be free. You allow them the beauty of
giving to you from the heart without question.<br />
<br />
Allowing a true lover to love
you is like letting an artist paint without limitation or a writer to write all
the time with endless vocabulary. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It brings new life to weary souls who just want to fulfill
their God given purpose to love unconditionally.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isn't that worth taking a chance?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<i>My dad told me once
when I was young, that I wore my heart on my sleeve too much. My response today
would be: “But isn't it beautiful to look at? It’s so full of love Dad…”</i>Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-58896711688873808032015-12-31T14:30:00.003-08:002015-12-31T16:37:44.923-08:00Failing Forward on Purpose...<div class="MsoNormal">
Small confession: I
don’t particularly care for New Year’s celebrations. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First off, if I’m going to stay up until midnight (not a
night owl here) I need it to be a quiet and easy transition into the New Year. It’s just my personal preference that brings
a kind of realistic expectation of things to come from one calendar year to
another. No resolutions for me thank you, just a grateful understanding that
God is still consistently the same as always.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In God there is no
space or time. God created time. Time does
not bind the Creator. Because of this, I have no new expectation from God
because God does not change. I do however expect a new revelation <i>of</i> God and what He wants for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what are all of
these decrees, declarations and resolutions about? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would imagine that these are desires to see new things
take place in our lives that have not happened before. What I’ve come to
understand is that the “new thing” comes only when I am open to changing within,
not with the changing of the year. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I resolve to understand that my past mistakes are
necessary for my future success, then I am making a ‘resolution’ to move
forward in wisdom and understanding.
This thinking eliminates for me, the need to expect an outward newness
to appear out of nowhere, because I understand that change only occurs from a desire<b><i> to</i></b>
change. There is no magic involved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it comes to the concept that I must leave all bad
things from the previous year in order to enjoy a new year, I disagree. I need
to remember the lessons from my mistakes in order to avoid making them again. I
need to remember my failures the way that a small child needs to remember that
fire is hot to keep from getting burned. I can however, forgive myself for
making such mistakes so that I don’t attach a permanent label of failure to my
life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you think of it, short term failure is not all that
bad. Ask any inventor or athlete. Ask anyone who has ever had a dream that
began with small efforts that failed until they achieved success.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Failure can be a
launching pad if we allow it to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>My</i> failures have
always, always been relational. I’ve gained wisdom in so many other areas in my
life but when it comes to relationships…well, I just kind of stumble through
them haphazardly trying to get them right. Each year I make a tiny bit of
progress hoping for more. Each year I end up with a list of things that I need
to remember not to do again. I’m becoming an expert at ‘failing forward’ in
this area. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead of decreeing that I’ll have great relationships in
2016 however, I’d rather quietly ask for wisdom on how to navigate through the
difficulties of understanding and relating to the people that are in my life on
a deeper level. You see, the wisdom has
always been available I just needed to ask for it, again no magic here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whatever area you need growth in for the coming year, asking
for wisdom is the key. James 1:5 is one
of my favorite scriptures to date: “<i>If
any of you lacks wisdom let him ask God who gives to all liberally and without
reproach, and it will be given to him. NKJ<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you choose to celebrate the new year with a crowd,
blowing streamers and dancing the night away or at a church service or a quiet
party of one, enjoy and remember that what you expect to change this coming
year, can only come when we make the effort to ask for wisdom and guidance,
whether it’s at 11:59 pm tonight or next Tuesday at noon, there is no deadline.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And again…no magic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy New Year<o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-79712654669488513862015-11-13T06:51:00.001-08:002015-11-13T06:52:57.017-08:00The gift of being "Okay"...<div class="MsoNormal">
Last week, I attended an informational workshop on Youth
Mental Health. The sessions were
informative to say the least and eye opening in so many ways. One of the
biggest takeaways for me was what people with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia
go through on a daily basis and what it’s like to hear constant voices in your
head telling you that you should harm yourself or others. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One man’s account via video was so intense that I wanted to
leave the room at some point and cry. His name is Keith and he had been
suffering from bipolar disorder for years when the voices in his head finally
convinced him that he should throw himself off of the Golden Gate Bridge. At one
point he recalled that while he was on the bus on the way to the bridge, he
decided that if one person asked him if he was okay, one person, he would tell
them his whole life story and what he was planning to do. He didn’t want to die
but he felt immensely outnumbered by the voices in his head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not one person asked him if he was okay that day. The voices won and
Keith threw himself over the side of the bridge, shattered the bones in his
legs all the way up to his torso because of the impact from meeting the water…and
did not die. He did not die. In fact, a sea lion brushed up against his legs as
he was rising to the surface of the water. After being rescued, Keith now had
to figure out how to live. It would take much therapy, medication and
counseling but he’s alive to tell his story today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This man now lives to tell others about what it’s like to
have bipolar disorder and how to live with it. The bonus, he met his wife (who
was visiting a friend) while he was in the psych ward. They are a dynamic
couple that travel and speak on the subject together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At one point during the workshop we had to break up into
groups and act out what it’s like to have voices talking to you constantly.
Three of us were carrying on a conversation while one person “the whisperer”
had to whisper negative words in one person’s ear. Words like: “don’t trust
her, she’s lying, they’re trying to get you…” I opted out of being the
whisperer or its victim both times that we did the exercise. Although it was a
powerful demonstration, I couldn't take part in those particular roles
personally. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Here’s why</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know what it’s like to hear negative voices in my ears.
And if you’re telling the truth, so do you. I believe we all do. It’s common to
have to fight off lies and accusations and put downs on a more constant basis
than we care to admit. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we are all bipolar. It
simply means that we are dealing with the manifestation of negative seeds sown
into us at one point or another. It’s so
common that we have self-help books, seminars and life coaches to help us
overcome such negative voices. While it is true that the majority of people
have not experienced suicidal or homicidal voices (and if you are reading this
and you have, there is much help for you) most of us have heard negative put
downs and self- deprecating noise throughout our life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my own experience, I have fought off three words for as
long as I can remember: “You are unlovable.” That’s it, plain and simple. I
know where it came from, I know when it started but I didn’t know how to
overcome it on my own. So on my best day, I was not okay. With family or
friends surrounding me, I was not okay. Having a significant other in my life
did not change the mantra, it only intensified it and made me try harder to be
what I felt I truly could not be, lovable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>The change</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The month of October was an intensified cleansing of the
heart mind and soul for me. It was painful and devastating. I started losing
weight, more than usual (not a bad side effect) but my sleep was sporadic. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why? Because my relationship with God as my father had
finally come to the place where he wanted to take me back to the beginning of
where those negative seed-words were planted. He wanted to dig through the soil
of my soul and uproot them but it would cause enormous distress at times. I
knew this had to be done if I ever wanted to be fully emotionally healthy and
also, if I ever wanted to be a light in someone else’s darkness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So there we went, God and I, to the basement of my soul,
digging beneath the cracked foundation in the dirt of my early beginnings. We
would make this journey several times during that month and each time something
different would be dug up and revealed. I would cry, shake, wake up in the
middle of the night calling out to Him and each time, His peaceful presence
would be there reassuring me that all would be well. God was silencing the
voices of shame, rejection and accusation at a very crucial time in my life,
the time when I truly want to be lovable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>The other side</i><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, approximately 30 days later and about 1,000 pounds
lighter on the inside, being “okay” never felt so good. The sense of peace,
freedom, joy and curiosity about my future that I’m experiencing is
unprecedented in my life. I have never been here before. It’s a good place, a
warm and natural place and I am forever grateful for the pain that it took to
get here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes I’m by myself but I’m okay. Sometimes I’m tired
and have too much to do in one day but I’m okay. I don’t feel like life is
going to break me or steal from me anymore. I don’t sense that my walk with God
has to resemble me in a wheel chair while He’s pushing me. I’m okay with the
ups and downs that come my way. If I need to cry or grieve a loss, I can do so
knowing that while weeping does endure for a night, joy will come in the
morning. I don’t have to pretend to be fine anymore, I am fine and when I’m not…fine
is not far off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that it’s only
been a short time but I can finally handle life on life’s terms and that is something
that I have never been able to do. The sense of heaviness from feeling alone in
the world has lifted. I feel God’s presence on a deeper more intimate level. I
am not invincible, I’m simply accompanied by God’s strength and peace in a more
tangible way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m still sensitive,
tender hearted and full of compassion for the suffering that we witness in the
world but I know that the suffering won’t always overcome me. I’m okay with my
directive to intercede and exhort. The prophetic is not a debilitating cloak
but a mantle that I honor in humility. I don’t know the details of my future
word for word but I’m okay with knowing that God has planned my life without
the aid of my micro-management. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most of all, the thing that I’ve longed to feel for a long
time is AMAZINGLY evident to me now… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>I am lovable</i></b> and worthy
of honest, giving and fulfilling love. Nothing else will do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If that doesn’t
cause my soul to do cartwheels, nothing else will…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you Abba</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>One of the most
important things that you can do when suffering from depression or signs of
mental health issues is to reach out. Life can be traumatic but you do not have
to suffer alone in silence. If you can see yourself in Keith’s story of bipolar
schizophrenia, reach out. Ask for help from the closest person to you and don’t
stop until you get what you need. Fight to live because you are needed in this
world. You may be the answer to someone else’s problem one day. But first take
steps to take care of you.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>If you can relate to
my personal story of feeling unlovable and rejected throughout your life, know this:
You are divinely loved by a living God who calls your name and reaches for you
daily. Answer Him, it will change your life. Tell people that you trust that
you need love, prayer and support. Watch the miraculous happen in the midst of
a common struggle.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Feel free to contact me through this blog if
you need to. I’m here.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Peace be with you…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-7104724161481893572015-09-28T06:23:00.001-07:002015-10-01T06:30:07.017-07:00<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Accepting that I am simply ‘Too Much’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’ve ever found yourself sitting in a movie theater
sobbing while the credits are rolling and trying to picture the story line
beyond the carefully chosen ending, or reading the same paragraph in your
favorite fiction novel over and over again because it spoke to your soul, or
found yourself using the phrase “spoke to my soul”, than it is likely that you
may be a <i>too much</i> person like me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We <i>too much</i> people
feel deeply about things that may never affect us and are usually bottomed out
emotionally by things that actually do touch our lives.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We love like it’s nobody’s business and we run like the wind
when the threat of pain seems evident.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We enjoy deep rich ground breaking laughter and relish a
good heaving cry, sometimes simultaneously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Too much</i> people
write sappy love letters with no prospect of ever getting one in return and we
don’t care. Okay, we care but we don’t let it stop us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we cook and feed our loved ones we look at the
expressions on their faces at the dinner table (especially Holidays) to make
sure that every bite is pure pleasure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We can never hear or say “I love you” too much. In fact, we
know that we will never get our fill of those words and cease the expectation
from others. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We don’t just like sunsets, we have to write about them,
photograph them, sing about them all while basking in them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Too much</i> people
aren't just creative, we’re incomplete without creativity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And by the way, we simply don’t fit in to the normal world.
We can’t be normal and that’s where it all gets a bit messy…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I discovered that I was a too much person when I was a
little girl. I cried too loud and too much. I laughed too loud and too much. I
felt too deeply and too much and it depressed me immensely because I knew that
I would always have a problem interacting in the normal world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started writing poetry when I was about 11 years old. I
needed an escape from reality that painted pictures that I could only dream of.
My romantic side came straight out of every movie that I saw and I rehearsed my
happy endings daily in my mind. I was feeding my too much nature at rapid speed
and it kept me cocooned in my own world and away from my dreaded reality as
much as possible. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I grew up in a city where being tough and knowing how to
show it meant everything. I tried to fake my way through bullies and fights by
acting tough but the real me was always crying profusely inside. Mean
spirited-ness hurt me deeply. I didn’t fit in my city because I didn’t have what
it took to fight my way through it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I knew when I was young that if I was ever going to survive
and protect my heart and meet the most sensitive Knight in shining armor that
ever lived, I would have to move far, far away, like Paris or Monterey. So I
moved to Delaware in the 80’s. Today, I currently live in North Carolina…close
enough. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I gave up my fairy tales in my twenties and went along with
the normalcy of life for as long as possible. Every so often my too much-ness
would eek out in the form of a poem, a dance or a good cry but I knew that it
couldn’t navigate my course under such normal circumstances. Deep abiding love
eluded me and only showed up in my dreams and I gave myself a pass on the happy
ending instead, I settled for a good night’s sleep as a young mom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll spare you the rest of the gory details of being too
much and trying to fit in at church, work, my children’s schools, the suburbs
and so on. If you are a too much person, you know how that worked out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward to now. It’s a year before my fiftieth
birthday, my children are nearly grown, I’m divorced and the scary menopause
dragon’s hot fiery breath doesn’t even scare me anymore. “Bring it on!” I yell
with a clenched fist. “I can handle it!” It is now time to allow the real me,
the too much me to live before it’s too late.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With more funerals than weddings under my belt, I’ve decided
not to waste my time being someone that I am absolutely not. I’ve decided that
God likes me…a lot. I’ve decided to be that mom that tells her kids she loves
them all the time, even when they wish she wouldn't. I blog about my life in
order to make my connection with the rest of the world stronger. My prayer life
consists of one endless conversation with God on a daily basis. I cook with
love. Cry often and laugh deeply when life calls for it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The hardest thing is taking part in the pain and suffering
of others, even when I don’t know them personally. Waking up feeling someone
else’s grief is quite taxing, yet it goes along with the territory. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I avoid large crowds even when I’m in them by focusing on my
destination and not faces because I can read faces and sometimes what I read is
not so pleasant. My bedroom is my sanctuary where books and music have free
reign. My closet is literally my prayer closet and has seen its share of
travail. I don’t just love the ocean, I need it to feel alive and to write. I
have a travel bucket list as long as my arm. And I still dream of happy endings
but I’ve decided to make those happy endings a daily occurrence whenever
possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have no idea what the future holds for me as far as
Knights in Armor are concerned, so I let the little girl in me dream big dreams
before drifting off to sleep at night. After all, she needs the validation of
knowing that being a <i>too much</i> little
girl can lead to being an awesome <i>too
much</i> woman…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Too all of my <b>too much</b> friends, don’t ever conform to
the tendency of normal. Your tears are needed, your heart is needed, your
lovingly prepared meals are needed and your overbearing too much love is needed
in this world. You are not broken, so please stop all attempts to fix you and
just continue being the <b>too much</b> you
that you are, for all our sakes. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>With more love than you can imagine,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Your Bare Foot Poet Friend</i><o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-91173598754913038842015-07-02T15:45:00.000-07:002017-08-23T13:56:53.500-07:00Dear LGBT Friends...<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>First off, I don’t think you should write a “Dear Friends in
the LGBT Community” letter to post on-line unless you <i>actually</i> have friends in the LGBT community. The word “friends”
just sounds so superficial and condescending when it’s followed by a lecture of
extreme disapproval. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>That being said:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Dear Friends in the LGBT community,<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>For the past few days I’ve been trying to figure out what to
say to you in light of the reactions by many to the Supreme Court’s decision to
legalize gay marriage last Friday. I felt a rush of emotion that bordered
between mortified and embarrassed because of what I was hearing and seeing. I
honestly couldn't believe that people who love to think of themselves as
Christians could be so rude and hateful. I was also drowning in posts and open
letters from Pastors who wanted to make it clear that they love you but not
your lifestyle. I can only imagine what it felt like to see all of this
verbiage come your way and still try to hold your head up anyway. I’m sorry for
the offense and hurt that this has caused you. I’m sorry that people use the
name of Jesus to be rude and insulting. I know what it’s like to be judged and
I hate the feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt that comes along with it.<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>You and I don’t share the same lifestyles, but I truly
believe that we share the same needs. In fact, the human race shares the same
need, it’s just buried beneath the rubble of life’s chaos and we fail to dig
deep enough to find it and give it the attention that it deserves. The need to
be loved and accepted can be so overwhelming within the human experience at
times, that it causes people who feel like outcasts to become severely
depressed and sometimes suicidal. This despair is not limited to race, sexual
orientation, gender or economic background. Everyone needs to be
loved…absolutely everyone. We were born that way.<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I spent the bulk of my formative years believing that I was
a mistake and unlovable. I struggled with low self-esteem and depression my
whole life. I’ve walked away from more misjudged friendships than I can
imagine…hell, sometimes I limped away badly bruised and broken. But on the
upside, I’ve encounter one particular relationship that has changed the course
of my life forever. I cannot use enough words to describe how adored I feel on
a daily basis. The validation is overpowering at times and I need to step back
and ask myself: “Can someone actually be this loving and accepting of me 100%
of the time?” I even walked away from religion because of this love and have
not regretted it one bit.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I’m sharing this for one specific reason. Last night a
friend posted on fb that the first trans-gender suicide hot-line is now up and
running in the US. It’s called Trans Lifeline 877-565-8860. I want you to use
it and any other resource like this that comes your way for the LGBT community
if you feel that you can’t go on living with so much pain. Please, don’t end
your life, when it can be turned around with love and compassion.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>My intervention came in the way of what I might call a spiritual
resuscitation. I was alone in my tiny apartment in my early 20’s and I had a
major panic attack come over me one evening. I was still reeling from being
ousted from a religious/cult community that I had known practically my whole
life. I moved to a different state because I had lost almost all of my friends
and some of my family members including siblings, which has lasted until this
very day. This night, I remember collapsing to the floor and begging God for
help. I did it despite the fact that I was led to believe that He was not there
for me anymore. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Despite being told that I had sinned too much for God to
hear me, I took a chance anyway and spoke out loud through tears and fear and
asked for help. I didn’t know what help meant then. I didn’t know if I was
going to have to join a religion or worse go back to my old one. All I knew is
that I was tired of feeling unloved and alone. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I don’t remember much else about that night, accept that I
finally stopped crying and calmed down and by some strange series of spiritual
occurrences, God began to send loving people my way. It was something new to me.
I was usually embarrassed about not having family and friends. I didn’t like my
own back story, so I just pretended to be okay as much as I could. But these
friends cared and listened. One person in particular asked to pray with me at
work when I was having another breakdown in the ladies room. (Yes, I was a
mess.) She stayed there with me and talked me through it. Despite how bad a
person I thought I was, she kept inviting me to church and being my friend even
when I said NO WAY! <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>God reached into my life in a unique way to show me love. He
used the very same creation that was used to reject me, he used people. I still
remember the moment that I decided to go to church with my friend some 23 years
ago. I was just as amazed as she was. That day I publicly accepted Christ’s
love and got baptized and for many years belonged to many different churches.
But recently, I’ve felt a pull away from<span style="color: red;"> </span>church
life and its conventional ways, so I no longer belong to organized church. I do
however still belong to the greatest love of my life, Christ. My relationship with
Jesus has been strengthened more because of this change and I can sense His
presence with me always, no matter where I am, which is why I’m writing this
letter to you.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>If you are in a place in your life where you have
experienced all the rejection you can take and you've been told or led to
believe that God is not there for you, I’m here to tell you that it’s a bold
face lie. If you've had to leave home,
run away or been ousted by your religious community, please know that you can
still cry out to God and He will hear you. God was not behind such hurtful
behavior. If you have been smiling and pretending for everyone else around you
but inside you feel pain because of how you’ve been labeled and treated, I want
you to know that God has no labels. He only has love. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>There are a lot of blood thirsty people in the world
parading around as God fearing Christians. They use the Bible as a tool of
wrath and judgment but through hypocrisy excuse their own vile behavior. You
don’t have to answer to them. In fact, you don’t have to engage them at all. If
they are constantly condemning you to hell and telling you that you are all
that’s wrong with the world, it’s because they haven’t gotten to know the true
love of God, they know their religious traditions but that doesn’t always equal
God. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Many have been wounded by these people and they will have to
answer for that someday. But I want you to know that there is a remnant of
people in the world who love God and have been down enough to have compassion
and love for the hurting. Most won’t claim to be evangelical experts and really
don’t care to be. Most of us are just people who never forgot that moment when
we couldn’t take it anymore and cried out for help. I hope you come to know
more of those people throughout your lifetime. I hope you come to know how
incredible and loved you are so that you can spread that same love to someone
who’s been hurting like you. I hope that you find joy and peace if it’s missing
from your life like it was mine.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I leave you with one thing, if you can remember nothing
else, remember this: God.Is.Love. Any other message is counterfeit...</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-77912947127468173322015-06-10T11:11:00.001-07:002015-06-10T11:11:20.180-07:00Jesus the social advocate...<br /><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After reading the news headlines, I keep being tempted to
give up on humanity as a whole. But then I have to remind myself that I would
be giving up on myself and those closest to me as well. Yeah, throwing in the
towel on all humankind would be counterproductive indeed. The truth is, there
is no easy or pat-answer to being able to digest the atrocities and injustices
that we all see going on every day. For those that believe in God, we say
pray…not a bad start really. But is there more? Are we required to do more than
pray? If not, how do we pray? Do we pray for example: “Lord please end all
racism?” I’m sure that seems really sincere. Perhaps something we would hear
our 5 year old pray. But if that were enough, I’m pretty sure racism would be
over by now. Or do we pray: “Lord, please give me the strength and conviction
to speak up against racism or sexism and all the other isms that exist? Help me
be a true example of love and equality as you are.” Maybe we’re onto something now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I know of Jesus from the scriptures is that He was a
talker. He talked to people in their hometowns, he talked to the disciples as
they traveled and when they rested, he also (one of my favorites) talked to
crowds by the seashore. Jesus talked and talked and talked. His talking is
documented more than His praying…hmm. So should we be talking more? Should we
be discussing why for example it’s wrong to openly judge other people all the
while knowing that we harbor secret sins in our own lives? Or should we (those that live by such convictions)
just keep quiet and pray that everyone would be treated fair? Which seems more
proactive? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Speaking out and advocating for what is right is difficult. It
requires deep soul searching and an understanding as to who we’re supposed to
be on this earth and how we should behave toward humanity. But the way I see
it, we have the best example of an advocate ever in Christ. He was so committed
to it that He even advocated for the men that crucified Him as He was dying.
“Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do!” Wow…He spoke in defense of
his murderous enemies to his own Father. He pleaded for their forgiveness on
account of their blind ignorance. Who does that?! Perhaps someone deeply
committed to his cause to love and rescue mankind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What a tough act to follow.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What would you advocate for on behalf of others? And how far
would you go to do it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-14346975348530509702015-05-26T11:25:00.001-07:002015-05-30T06:36:57.431-07:00When in doubt, protect the children...<div class="MsoNormal">
Because of the religious system that I was brought up in, I
was taught not to question anything from “authority”, unless of course that
authority was not a part of my beliefs.
I was not to question the elders of the congregation, those who answered
to the elders, the bible, God or anything that could lead to thinking on my
own. We were supposed to just trust the directions that were given to us concerning
our lives without a second thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The problem that I often encountered back then, was that I
had so many questions and no one to ask. I lived in a constant state of
perplexity about my life. What’s worse, if something inappropriate happened to me
by way of an adult in this setting, I never told. I especially did not tell on
anyone who had the authority to spiritually punish me. It was something you
just didn’t do. There were too many systems put in place to protect the men in position
around me which were a part of this religion. I saw speaking up as a lose-lose
situation. So consequently, I heard and experienced some pretty creepy things
within the confines of this religious cult as a child. It would be years later
as an adult, while living many miles away, that I would begin to talk this out
as a means of healing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found out that I was not alone and that there were other
young girls and boys who had been affected by this closed community who policed
their own behaviors. I also found out that some cases were so extreme, that the
perpetrators were “set aside” to be dealt with in a disciplinary fashion by the
heads of the congregation. Sadly, the
authorities were never summoned. Of course the victims of molestation and inappropriate
behavior with a child were rarely ever cared for. Not to mention the embarrassing labels that
got attached to the innocent. The whole set up was a nightmare for anyone who
needed an advocate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are many factors that have occurred in my life over
time that have led me to choose a life outside of organized religion and I
would dare say that spiritual abuse ranks number 1 on my list of reasons to
stay clear of self-governed groups. Spiritual abuse is inevitable when the only
authority that you are to adhere to is the one that also runs the congregation and
the one to whom everyone answers. Many, without realizing it, have put the
welfare and safety of themselves and their entire family in the hands of those
who cannot even control their own actions, let alone keep you safe from “evil”.<br />
<br />
Once we become ingrained in the thinking that someone else can hear from God
better than we can for ourselves and that we are protected solely under a spiritual covering i.e. man, a
feeling of helplessness and deep submission to ‘the powers that be’ set in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the saddest things about my experience in this cult as
a child was that my own father would have protected me and raised holy hell if
I would have told him anything inappropriate that was happening to me. He was
not a part of this robotic mindless belief system, so he was not held captive
to their lies but he was helpless to take care of me in a way that would have
served as my own personal protection, because I was too afraid to tell him what
was happening. I was afraid of being blamed or called a liar and then punished
and shunned for speaking out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know my father would have gone through great lengths to
protect me because he proved it to me when I was in a similar situation with an
authority figure outside of my religion. He went through hell and high water to
seek justice for me through the court system but to no avail. It was a time
when children weren’t so easily believed when it came to molestation. But my
dad still acted as my defender and that made me feel safe and protected even
though I was deeply scarred.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As confusing as it sounds, I differentiated the perpetrators
because of who they were in my life although their behaviors were the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The difference (in my mind) was that one was a part of my “congregation”
and the other was not. There was asylum for the “religious figure” but not for
the outsider. Weird isn’t it, that a child would protect the reputation of a sleazy
pervert no matter who he was. This is
what brainwashing and fear does to a child. It causes them to split right and
wrong in half and protect someone who wears a spiritual title even when his/her
actions are harmful. This is more common then we care to imagine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Recently, there has been a lot of pathetic rhetoric on social
media protecting a man who is a religious figure in his community. He is part
of a family which has its own reality show. However, it has been discovered
that this man violated little girls when he was a teenager. Part of me doubts
that this behavior has ever really stopped but has simply transferred victims
over time. Yes, that’s pure speculation but highly likely. His advocates want to
dole out ‘God’s grace and forgiveness’ and ‘judge not’, applying verse to a
situation that cannot be gracefully flowered over with scripture. Tragic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I know about the cult mindset is that it doesn’t think
well for itself. The cult mindset has to be told what to believe and how to
believe it repeatedly, until it automatically reacts and responds to life like
everyone else within its teaching. It is one of the most dangerous ways to live
and one that is most accepted within some sects of Christianity. There are
those who worship their pastors, elders, deacons, presidents of their
denomination, priest, prophets, evangelists, ministers of music and anyone else
that has been placed before them and deemed ‘highly favored and anointed by God’.
In some cases, these men and women have been given total authority to run rough
shot over the lives of all those that submit “under” them, without so much as a
simple question <i>why</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When this occurs, children who have the misfortune of being
raised in these environments become neglected and mistreated. They can be
overworked “for the sake of the church” and under supervised because of busy
parents trying to please the powers that be. These children are being told that
to look good is better than to feel good and pretending and smiling will keep
the family a float and in good standing with the church community. In short,
children’s lives are being ruined out of ignorance and blind devotion to man,
which leaves the door wide open for rage, addiction and even suicidal thoughts
at some point in their lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know this all too well, particularly the rage and suicidal
thoughts that followed years after escaping that cult. (Okay, I was kicked out but thank you just
the same.) This was my chance to finally encounter Christ on my own, which was
a life changing moment for me. <b>Insert
gratitude and relief here.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sad truth is that Christians are losing the respect of the
world in record levels and no, it’s not because of persecution. It’s because a
large segment of the population cannot see what everyone else on the outside
sees about them. It’s because some forget that they live in glass houses and
yet decide to throw stones anyway. It’s because some have mindlessly given
themselves to man and not to Christ. It’s because some sacrifice their family’s
well-being in exchange for title and position.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s a statement that’s bound to increase my popularity<b>… I believe that many Christians are
ruining Christianity and tainting the reputation of Christ Our Redeemer, by being
ignorant of their own lives and protecting wrong doing within the four walls of
the church</b>. This is sad, but it doesn’t have to be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What has helped me to continually strive to maintain balance
and understanding between the difference of God given authority and self-appointed
authority over the years, is the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Without truth and
knowing, without God’s divine guidance, we follow the masses. However, when we
pull away from the many voices that surround us, to tune in to the only voice
that truly matters, God speaks to us individually in His own way concerning our
lives. When we make this our lifestyle,
we stop depending on man to be our spiritual leaders in every aspect of our
lives. We are then more prone to pray for one another because we recognize that
<b>ALL</b> sin and fall short of the grace
of God on a daily basis. Not just the peons.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It removes the hierarchy mindset from church and makes for a
more ‘eye to eye’ relationship with one another. It also keeps anyone from
being above the law because we do not perceive anyone as being perfect.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you subscribe to a traditional church setting, then there
will always be those who are put into position to carry out the various tasks
of the ministry. These people will have titles. The important thing to remember
is that these titles should not compete with God’s place in your life. You can
respect the title and position and still maintain your own constant
communication with God, allowing Him to be the highest authority in your life.
This is sure protection from spiritual abuse and blind following.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To reiterate; Cults consist of people who answer to <b>human ‘spiritual’</b> authority over God’s
authority, as if the leader is <i>God
himself</i>. The act of acquiescing to a man or woman because of his congregational
status as if they are God is extremely dangerous and compromises our lives
greatly.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we can clearly see the difference between man and God,
we do not excuse abuse of any kind simply because it occurs within the confines
of religion. We do not hide illegal activity and sweep it under the rug. We
openly acknowledge such things and allow justice to be served on behalf of all
those involved. We care for the victims. We protect our children. That’s what
Jesus would do…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>To speak specifically to
this current news story about the man I mentioned previously who has confessed
that he is guilty of being a molester</i>: <i>There
are so many great causes to stand up for that scripture is against; racism,
sexism, abuse, violence, poverty, exclusion etc… So why in the world would anyone want to waste
their God-given time by blindly supporting criminal behavior within the church
and risk the reputation of the gospel? </i> <i>This is
not sound thinking… it’s an example of following <b>without</b> thinking.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Emperor with no clothes is not the brother who is
suffering exposure so that God can be shown as a just and forgiving God that
covers over his bare body. He is simply just another naked man in denial…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
*I feel compelled to acknowledge that I am in no way suggesting
that Christianity as a whole is a cult. I am suggesting that cult behavior can come
from any religious group that worships man (his opinions, judgments and
actions) over God. This behavior can manifested even with those who call themselves Christians.<o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-89902306241207299062015-04-15T07:00:00.003-07:002015-04-16T08:01:21.609-07:00Will the next generation even want the baton that we have to pass?<div class="MsoNormal">
I think often about my part in this world as well as my
role as a mentor of some sort to the next generation. I question what I’ve
always believed, what I think I have been absolutely sure about or what I would
say are my core values. Which brings on more questions like: Where did I get my
beliefs? (From religion or relationship with God) Do I share the same values as my parents had? And am I as open minded
as I think I am? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To my surprise, much has changed within me through the years
when it comes to values. Instead of elevating my personal beliefs above others,
I have shifted to valuing others without worrying about the fragility of my
personal beliefs. What I now realize is, what’s core is core and it will always
be a part of what defines me. With that in mind, I’m free to listen and
consider the hearts and minds of others. This is what I’ve learned from talking
so much with my three emerging adult children. “Listen and listen well because
what we have to say mom is not necessarily what you believe.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know for certain
that having this kind of discourse with my children over the years has made me
understand what the next generation needs and it’s not necessarily what we
think. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For instance:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t believe that our children need to be told that they have
to carry on our traditions when it comes to spiritual matters. What they do
need is to be given the freedom to find their own way just like we did and
develop a spiritual life befitting for them. (That comes with trust.) The train up a child in the way he should go scripture could mean to lead by example as well as discourse. I know that the things that I remember most about my parents came from what I witnessed in their behavior, not always what they said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once they
have reached the age of accountability, they don’t need to be told good from
bad and how to behave anymore. They need to develop a conscious for themselves,
which may come with some real life trial and error, along with consequences. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And
last but definitely not least, they don’t need to be given a broad brush to
paint the entire world with. Instead they need the discernment to be able to
see people as individuals and to care about them with compassion, which leads
to a kinder gentler generation than we are.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I’m afraid that we have modeled for the next generation
is brash behavior, full of judgment and scrutiny over anyone or anything that
is different from what we believe or practice. We've shown them that we have
more faith in government than humanity or even God. We've drawn lines in the
sand clearly marked US vs. THEM and our children have stood by and watched us
shout our way into oblivion at one another in order to prove that we are right.
Because after all, isn't being right the most important thing?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have faith in the next generation, more faith than I have
in my own. Simply put, we screwed up with our war loving, fist pumping, materialistic,
closed mindedness while refusing to back down or humble ourselves to be corrected.
Our kids are watching us and the older they get, the more of their own
minds will be made up, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Because passing
down a mindset that doesn’t allow breathing room for new thoughts or ideas for
fear that there will be anarchy is somewhat outdated, not to mention cult-like and paranoid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The way I see it, God reached out for me when no one else
was around to tell me what to do and how to behave and He hasn't changed. So
why would I try to mold my children into someone I think they need to be when
the one who created us all knows them by name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sad reality is, most of us Christians would say
that we want our children to be Christ Followers, when in fact we have barely
touched the surface of what that truly means for ourselves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The beauty beyond that fact is that we can all (parents and
children together) sit at the feet of Christ and learn what it means to have compassion and love for
one another…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-5388436465126557952015-03-11T06:56:00.000-07:002015-03-11T06:56:54.206-07:00Hope from a sand dollar...<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve had writer’s block for months now, which for me, feels
a lot like needing a good cry with blocked tear ducts. I’m not sure what bought
it on exactly, except that I’ve felt overwhelmed with the sting and rip of the
world’s current trauma and I have taken it all quite personally. I don’t suspect that a person wants to take
such things to heart (war, racism, oppression, murder etc…) it’s just the
inundation and brutality of it all overwhelms us sensitive people. It feels a
lot like having an angry parakeet on your shoulder repeating the tragedy of the
day over and over in your ear. It’s maddening and sometimes inescapable. When
that happens, I can’t write. I mean, I can scribble some quick thoughts to page
and blurb about the reality of injustice, but I can’t be poetic and free flowing
on a constant basis. This is quite painful to me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But today, here on this beautiful island, I am free. My
thoughts are chasing my fingers and I am young at heart in the free flowing
nature of my poetic being. I am fearless and relentless and happy. Oh sweet
quiet solitude of joy, how I miss you. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took a walk on the beach with my son this morning and we
found again, the reason why we keep returning back to the ocean. Its expanse is breathtaking and reminds us of
our small but significant place in this world. It reminds us to be grateful. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stopped trusting humanity this year. I stopped believing
that people really do want to come together to achieve peace and create a world
for our children that will be better than what we have. I stopped believing
that racism, sexism and all the all other isms were losing ground and slowly
dying. I shied away from people with
extreme views on the world that just didn’t seem realistic in nature. We all
can’t be the same. How hard is that to fathom? Yet, that seems to be the main
bone of contention within humanity. If
you think like me, worship like me, politicize like me, then you are right like
me. I swear that will be on a t-shirt soon enough. So I began to dread people and their voices
and commentaries about morality in an immoral and wounded world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From deep inside of me, rising slowly but surely, was a
shock-wave of anger which announced itself in verbiage wrapped in thunder,
sounding something like: “JUST BE THE DAMNED THING YOU CLAIM IS RIGHT AND
JUST!!! JUST LIVE IT AND STOP TRYING TO ENFORCE IT!!!” That’s what I want to
tell zealots in any form. Nothing good
ever comes from force. Deep sigh. Those
words have been brewing within me for some time. I’m freer now because they are
outside of me and not locked up anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we walked along the beach this morning, we approached a
lady and her dog. I wanted to turn and go the other way (because I wanted to
avoid the people thing) but we were too close and it would have been obvious.
Right before she got to us, she bent down and picked up what I thought was a
seashell and walked towards us. She stretched out her hand and said “This is a
sand dollar, take it back with you and dry it in the sun. This can be your
souvenir from Emerald Isle.” Humanity…just when I think I have you pegged,
you change the game on me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trust is subjective…<o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-81889267706816174632015-03-02T19:03:00.002-08:002017-08-23T13:59:00.398-07:00Table for 1...<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I’ve come to an interesting discovery at this moment in my
life; being afraid of being alone is much like fearing the dark. They both hold
a certain ominous uncertainty that depending on our age or maturity level can
get the best of us. If we concentrate on the unknown possibilities too long, we
will panic and react.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sometimes, we make life changing decisions based on the fear
of being alone. We say “yes” when we should say “no”. The idea of being by ourselves seems
terrifying, which leads us to say yes with a maybe heart. Yes, you can call me.
Yes, I’ll go out with you again. Yes, I…like you. Yes, we can get together. Yes,
I’ll join the committee. There can be an endless cycle of yes’s that keep us
from our true self and honest desires, but make us feel temporarily accepted
and wanted.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The problem is that most of us were never taught that not
going to the party or not having a date can be a good thing. As children it was
considered unhealthy not to be a part of the group on a constant basis. Sometimes
we were verbally rewarded because of how many friends we had. We wore being a
part of the crowd as a badge of honor. Nurturing
a sense of self was not heard of in my generation, as much as it can be
discussed now. Independent thinking was not at all encouraged, unless it was
posed as the question: “If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?” We
were only expected to think for ourselves when it came to avoiding bad behavior,
not when it came to being self entertained or introverted, independent thinkers.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Such introspection has led me to a refreshing discovery over
this past year. I have found being
alone, whether I am at the movies, a restaurant or shopping, is exactly what I
need in my life at this time. I’ve spent
too much of my life trying to replace relationships that I’ve lost in my
younger years due to either death or separation, with people that could never
fill those places. I have searched for family
members in friends wanting to create what I’ve missed out on for so long. That sense of neediness has cost me dearly. Because when we’re looking for fulfillment in
other human beings, we don’t see clearly that the people that we are choosing
to spend time with, may not be the best or healthiest choice for us. We end up trusting the wrong people and
sharing a part of ourselves with someone who does not merit that privilege. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> I finally came to a place where I no longer
needed individual or group validation. What I needed was a
respite from wanting to always be part of the crowd, women’s group, coffee time
etc… I needed time to hear my own thoughts, pray my own prayers and be content
with me. I’m not saying that I will never again have a ‘girl’s night out’ or a
road trip with friends, but what I am saying is that I can plan my life and my
fun with or without those possibilities. There will probably always be that part of me that prefers my own silence over the voice of others... most days.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<b><br /></b>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Don't get me wrong, I love good company and I've had some great friendship experiences through the years. I like
laughing and exchanging thoughtful ideas. I love the concept of being in a
close knit community of diverse people from all walks of life and maybe one day
that will happen for me again on a deeper level. If it does, I
will treat it as a gift and have all the more to offer because of the journey that
I was willing to take <i>alone</i> to discover
the beauty of being me…</b><o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-11885191232134714712015-02-02T08:49:00.004-08:002015-02-02T17:40:47.342-08:00When the older woman in your mirror begins to talk to you...<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve always loved gray hair nicely placed at the temples,
particularly on men. The look is smart and crisp. It says, “I know things, life
things.” I don’t reject the look on women either. It’s just hard pressed to
find it as untouched, it’s usually colored or highlighted. Women don’t boast about their gray much, in my
experience. In fact, for some ladies, it’s almost gauche to talk about graying
or hot flashes or any symptom of aging. I think we women are taught to be
embarrassed about it. I think we’re supposed to do it discreetly, with plenty
of appointments to our hair dressers…she knows our bottled hair color by heart.
I also think that it’s highly unfair not to be able to let it all go, at least
for a moment and just be. There are so many products aimed towards keeping us
looking at least 20 years younger, that I can’t help but wonder if we’re
supposed to be ashamed of actually being 20 years older.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I need a touch-up on my temples. My gray is showing, but for
some reason I’m not panicking yet. I have panicked in the past however, while
looking at that older woman in my mirror and wondering when she arrived. But
this time, I decided to let her hang around a bit before insisting that she
hide her years, even if the evidence of age is somewhat subtle…somewhat. I
decided to ask her a few questions while staring in her eyes and inspecting her
skin for lines. I figured she could teach me a thing or two about life,
survival, resilience, and patience. I was surprised at how calm the exchange
feels now. No longer rushed and worried about what to do next. No longer in a
flurry of activity after years of hopeful insistence of now. I can do now, like
never before. The slightly more mature woman in my mirror has time for me like
no one else, and I can glean from her life lessons. I’m glad she’s finally
here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d like to challenge you. The next time you see that older woman
peeking back at you in your mirror and she takes you by surprise, don’t shoo
her away so quickly. Don’t cover her with your best product and send her off to
your stylist so soon. Stop, right out of the shower and look at her, appreciate
her post-child bearing physicality. Compliment her, by not being ashamed of what
you see. Only air-brushed super models get to pose nude without a care in the
world. But we have the privacy of our bathroom mirrors and a moment of
reflection and homage to the women that we are today…body, mind and soul. No
matter how many years have passed, there is still defined and thoughtful beauty
in being a woman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Embrace it…<o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-15494989572226045992014-10-20T09:55:00.002-07:002014-10-20T09:55:19.440-07:00What happened to Radical Jesus at the beach and his friends???<br /><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While having dinner with my daughter the other day and
wanting to know what life on campus was like, she let me know that there are
some racial issues that are in the midst of being addressed by way of a
"community discussion" at Wake. My first thought was great! This is a
good opportunity for you to sit in on these meetings and learn how important it
is to speak up on social justice. Whether you are new to the campus or not,
this subject is not new. I also shared with her that because part of Wake
Forest's legacy is steeped in the legacy of Dr. Maya Angelou, a woman who loved
diversity on every level, this school owes it to the students who walk this
campus every day and to her memory, to work hard at making Wake a landscape of
equality. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You see, it would have been easy for her to go to a school
where everyone looked like her and shared her same opinion on social justice
and equality, but what change in the greater world would that bring? For this
child of mine, who loves culture and language and wants to travel the world,
this is the place to begin her journey. She told me that she had a great time
one evening, sitting around talking with other girls from different parts of
the world: "It was the most diverse group that I've been with so far and I
really liked that." This is the
mindset of a young woman of change, no matter how subtle her personal forum may
seem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have to admit that I believe we have failed this
generation in huge proportions after the 60's and the 70's. Decades beyond the
protests and landmark decisions that would hope to make great strides to afford
everyone having "a place at the table", we have gone backwards in
this arena at light speed. It seems that the goal is to stay in your own lane
and be as safe as possible from anything that would threaten us. It seems that
"turn the other cheek" has been substituted for turn a deaf ear to
the ills of society today. The radical Jesus who hung out at the beach with
everybody, has been substituted for a safe, American conservative who can only
relate to his own kind. How did this happen? And why is radical and accepting
always tied together with the sinful mindset of this world? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm hoping that this generation will do much better at not
just crossing racial lines,but erasing them altogether. I'm hoping that
universal interest take precedent over one country's opinion of the world and
its unquenchable thirst to be number one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm hoping that we can start understanding that being
globally minded doesn't necessarily mean in entirety extending benevolence to
third world countries and the locally poor, but extending interest about the
lifestyles and cultures of all people everywhere...just like that radical Jesus
guy. <o:p></o:p></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-20173826987127900312014-08-12T12:40:00.002-07:002017-08-23T14:20:55.214-07:00I Know Depression<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This morning I awoke with three simple words burning in my
mind and asking me to express them with my heart: I know depression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know depression and its trail of tears and awaking fears
that seem to at times know my every move. I know what it’s like to be the
funniest person in the room and light up faces with laughter, only to feel like
the loneliest person in the world alone in the dark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know depression and its lifelong tease of being an “oddball”
that seems to set me apart in my own mind. I know the feeling of displaying brilliance
and talent through words and performance, while struggling to find a sense of
self-worth at the same time. When I see the genius of an actor or hear the
emotion in a singer’s voice or stand in front of the masterpiece of a visual
artist, I know without a doubt that they have experienced this angst too. The
need to express what cannot otherwise be expressed in a world that seems to
only honor performance more than vulnerability. We can only be vulnerable when
we perform, otherwise…make sure you say: “All is well” when asked “How are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know depression mixed with Christianity which sometimes
feels like a molotov cocktail of confusion waiting to explode inside. The
erroneous concept that your sadness has to do with a lack of faith, love of God
or sin, makes my anger burn at times. I know the moment of realization that the
“friends” that you have confided in about your secret angst will only stay around
long enough to “minister” you through the moment, so that there will be no
stain on their conscious or liability for them, should you take a turn for the
worse and exit the planet without permission.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know depression…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Because of this life long battle, I have been privately
introduced to the only One that knows me, sees me and understands my every
thought. In light of this condition I whole heartedly admit without shame, that
I know a God who is bigger than depression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He speaks in beautiful pictures to my tired soul and gives
me hope that I may have something of wonderment to give to this huge enraged
world. When tears fall down my face and surround my heart over the passing of a
loved one, the fallout with my child, the murder of another innocent black
male, the sounds of war and dying children and other innocent lives, the racial
tension back in full swing in my country, the death of my favorite actor…He
tucks me under His wing and allows me to cry and begs me to write a message to
my friends. Even when I can barely see my screen and I am suppressing my sobs.
He brings me to a cottage just 200 feet from the ocean and sits me in a window
seat and asks me to send a note of hope to those who know depression too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know a God who does not mind my anger, or questions or
stillness when I feel that I can do no more. He seems to show up in my dreams
with abstract answers to concrete needs. I have clutched His hand for so long
that I now know how to decipher such dreams and I find it humorous at times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know a God who knows that my favorite place on earth is
with sand and waves. He paints blue skies and billowy white clouds along with
seagulls and such for my entertainment. He invites me every year, come hell or
high water. No matter what devastation that has occurred in my world and He saves
a front row seat just for me. This year, He has clearly outdone Himself.
Perhaps it was because of a most difficult season that I am just passing
through or the fact that there are words that need to be re-awakened within me
or simply because He loves me. This year is the best retreat so far.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My message to you:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you know depression, you are not alone or odd or crazy or
mentally unstable. You simply are at times, depressed. The key, the secret, the
hope I have for you my friend before you decide that nothing else can be done
and that the sun will never rise again or that war will never cease and
religion has made us all mad with guilt and shame…the secret is to know
someone, some force of Universal Awe greater than yourself. Know that there is
no question too big or no tear too tiny for the God of the universe to answer,
to touch, to wipe away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I beg you, not to leave too soon. There is a message inside
of you that we need to hear. Speak, from your pain. Speak from your joy. Simply,
speak from your heart…we’re listening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In loving memory of one of my favorite actors and all-around
genius minds, Robin Williams. I remember you today and all that you gave but sadly never
received in return…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">*There is no shame in
needing medication, counseling or the listening ear of a friend, no shame at
all. I have done all three and am now
content with the company of God and my closest friends.</span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158378584999810169.post-44439645483786388902014-05-20T07:21:00.003-07:002014-05-20T07:21:58.083-07:00This new kind of peace...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This new
peace is kind of weird and takes getting used to…but I love it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My inherited
temperament<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> never
been low keyed. </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> always wanted to be and </span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">I've</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> admired low keyed people all
of my life. But I was born a ‘live wire’ always popping, shocking and burning
anyone who got too close to me. I would swear, if anyone could attest to it,
that I </span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> come out crying like a normal baby, but I came out </span></span><i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">swinging</i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> and crying. At birth, I was already
agitated at being handled too much.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Change<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">For the past
several months, I have had an ongoing battle with the inner calm that God was
trying to draw from me. I wanted more of it and since </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> experienced it
incrementally throughout the past few years, I craved it. The problem was, I
had no idea that you had to go through hell to get to it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It seemed
that my “island of tranquility” (or the peace that God wanted me to experience
on a permanent basis) was situated right on the other side of the most shark
infested choppy waters you could imagine. In short, I had to dredge through the
heavy weighted nuances of my past once and for all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The lover of
my soul said: “You can swim through this.” Part of me felt like this was an
unfolding plan for Him to take me home sooner than expected, so I stood on
shore for just a while longer. I was praying for courage. I was praying for
another way to go home. I was praying for a more beautiful ending. Finally,
when none of those prayers seemed to be answered, I knew that I had to jump in
and start swimming and I did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With all of
the finesse of a petrified land lover, I began chopping at the waves. I was
making horrible progress and smacking at any perceivable object that was in my
path. I was calling for help, yet too afraid to trust it at the same time. <i> </i>I
was in panic mode.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Still,
because of how He is and who He is, God honored my effort to cross this storm
and just when I was going down for the last time…He reached in and saved
me…again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am now of the mindset that we are allowed
to be saved by grace multiple times until we leave this earth and each time
will be as beautiful and as new as the last.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">In the midst
of one of the worse panic attacks that </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> had in months, I heard God’s voice
say: “This is a test and I will not let you fail.” Honestly, when He said that,
I was failing badly and I didn’t know how to stop myself…but God </span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> seem
too upset about that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God being a Daddy</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I always loved those Dads on TV who
never seemed to get too angry at their kids, no matter what they did. I thought
it was amazing how they could sit calmly and rationally while giving discipline
and direction. I wondered why more Dads </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">weren't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> like that, until I started
calling God “Abba” which means “Daddy” in Aramaic. When I started relating to
God as Abba, my relationship with Him changed dramatically and I noticed that
His responses to me were far gentler than I had realized before. The ironic
thing was, I waited for His disposition toward me to change into full blown
anger and sometimes rejection, but so far, that </span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">doesn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> seem to be His
parenting plan. How I love Abba…<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The journey<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God’s rescue
for me consisted of an intense mouth to heart resuscitation for about four
days. On the second day, (which was a Saturday) He told me that I would be okay
by day three. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">During the
course of those days I experienced emotional vomiting like I have never
experienced before. Childhood, teenage years, adulthood, relationships, issues
with my parents (namely my Dad) my sisters, the church, other Christians, as
well as from marriage to motherhood, nothing was off limits. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He promised
me that His voice would stand above all the other voices in my life, if I would
just focus in on it. Every day, I tried hard to cling to His words and let all
other opinions go, which was a huge feat for someone who wanted approval so
badly. It was gut wrenching change and I needed it fast, or I wasn’t going to
make it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The other side<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">By day
three, I was fully functional. It was incredible. I had spent three intense
days in emotional detox reading three specific scriptures a day (I still do)
and receiving literal breath from God to supplement my shallow breathing…and
this day, this third day, I emerged victorious with my hand still clutching
Abba’s. I am now on the other side experiencing a miraculous emotional healing.
Every day I am becoming freer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The path
ahead is filled with life’s uncertainties and the circumstances that surround
me have not changed much in the natural, but what makes all the difference in
the world, is a healed mind and a fresh perspective. I will live, with my hand
in Abba’s, a gentler, more peaceful and loving spirit and that is all </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> ever
wanted in my whole life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Faithful God<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We say “God
is faithful” out of habit at times, but it takes a real breaking of the will to
find out how true this really is. Deuteronomy 31:6 says<i>: Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of
them, for the LORD your God goes with you, He will never leave you nor forsake
you</i>. This was Moses encouraging the people of Israel that God was with them
in a time when fear and uncertainty could have easily taken over and defeated
them. This scripture is no less relevant in our lives today. Fear and discouragement
can be a prevailing constant for us, which can stand in the way of overcoming
life’s hardest difficulties. But when God Himself promises that He will be with
us always and we hold on to that truth for dear life…there is no way that we
can fail. We will truly get to the other side…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">*I want to note that
the components of this rescue have been building up for years and years. All it
took was a crises (which God allowed) to bring on the full blown healing. I
want to make sure that no one reads this and walks away with the idea that
life’s biggest problems can be solved in just a few days or so. The time frame
of healing is up to God. We can delay it by the way that we perceive His help
however, so be sure to know His voice and fall in love with His heart. Finally, I want you to know that it </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">doesn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> matter what you view a crisis to be or what scale that you weigh it on, if it
hurts us, God wants to heal us and He </span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">doesn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> measure or discard our pain based
on a scale of 1 to 10. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
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Bonitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09028572395861764651noreply@blogger.com0