Walls (Short Story)

Part One

I looked in your eyes and for the twenty seconds I was mesmerised, I forgot that the sun rose in the east. The sparkle, the gentle glisten that fell into my sight reminded me of a clear sky on a soft summer's night.

I began to tell our grandchildren the stories of our first encounter, it went a little like:

My heart felt safe. The walls didn't crumble the first time we spoke but the bass in his voice definitely shocked them into cracking. My walls were the only safety I knew so I didn't allow him to pursue. I ran. But he chased me, he wouldn’t allow me to succumb to the voice of my fears. Every time they showed up, he also appeared. Since my fears were my comfort and always been my cheerleader, I listened when they advised me that he was no good for me.

Insecurity began to lace up my shoes.

Disappointment handed me my coat.

Doubt held the door open.

Discouragement was the wind in my hair.

Since these were the only friends I done been had, A1’s since day 1, I took heed to their counsel. I ran.

Afraid of the comfort and security that would ensue from disappointing my fears and doubting my insecurities, I continued to stay on the move.

One day came where he pleaded his cause. Like a lawyer fighting to keep his client from the death sentence, he petitioned me. The day came but my friends warned me this tactic has always been in his artillery. He worded his sentences carefully and ensured the full usage of my name. Grace slid from his tongue like a perfect plie and there was a hint of desperation in his eyes. “please,” I feared he was near tears, “just give me an hour of your time”. Something began to rise in me that shared no relation to pity.

I felt a crack again. It was as subtle as the sun piercing the sky at dawn illuminating the dew stained grass. I checked myself, my walls seemed to have sustained enough damage for my eyes to catch a glimpse of what was behind.

I spent enough time to peruse what was living behind there but I brushed it off because I had not seen her in quite a while. Her hair was unkempt and dishevelled, sleep seemed to be in a fight with her eyes. Her nails were long and dirty and her face seemed to be as blank as the walls she lived behind. It was apparent that she had not seen or had any human contact in decades, she seemed as thirsty for conversation as she was for water. Her lips were cracked from thirst. How she survived the years is everything a miracle.

For many reasons unknown she responded to the bass in his voice. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird flitting between bushes.

My frantic attempt to repair the walls proved futile because I couldn’t stop him from speaking, worse yet, I was captivated by his bass-ridden song.

My friends purposed to do damage control. When I was asleep, they’d visit me in dreams with false premonitions of how this one was like all the others. They predicted that he would eventually leave. Once awake, I decided to ‘wait him out’

Logic inferred that maybe we could ‘humour’ him for the duration of his visit. Logic further suggested, that after a few brutal, aggressive answers, he’d give up. So that was the plan.

The hour was agreed, planned and confirmed. Logic and company decided that all they needed was 20 minutes. That after this he would conclude that he was wasting his time and they could resume control over my life.

I arrived with jitters and he appeared fresh faced and sweetly fragranced. Without warning, there was a crack. This time the corner of my lips pointed upwards as well. Fear reminded me of the plan, I tried to resist. Fear replayed the movie of how this would end and I fell back in line.

He spoke and Fear or Doubt would respond.

I grew distracted every now and then thinking about the girl I saw behind the wall.

I looked up and realised an hour had been and gone. I shuffled glances between my watch and his eyes. He received the signal. As I mentally packed up to leave, his hand involuntarily reached across the table and met mine.

There was another crack. Another crack I did not care to suffer.

But I looked in his eyes and something seemed familiar. It was like a taste of something I had before but couldn’t quickly identify. As his hand lingered on mine, I felt a deeper touch as though something had been healed, like my pain healed his. I had the power to cure his hurt? It was confusing and unexplainable.

I could feel very little because walls were still intact but I positioned my heart to understand. My friends told me to run but my mind didn’t get the message to my feet quick enough and then he began.

This time his words sounded like they came from a teenage boy who was found in the rubble of an earthquake. His voice was tarnished with the glory of fell walls but mighty was his story of survival.

As he spoke my ears perked because his story sounded familiar. It spoke of a time when he was young, he fell in love, had his heart broken, and vowed never to love again. He spoke in awe of his little boy escaping those walls and specified that it was in likeness to the girl who lived behind my walls.

I flinched and retrieved my hand from under his. My friends wasted no time chiming in with the juvenile taunts of ‘I told you so’ mockeries. I grabbed my purse.

Insecurity paid the bill.

Disappointment held the door open.

Fear was the wind in my hair.

I ran.

The solitude of the night sky was the perfect canvas for me to unpack what Fear and Insecurity were telling me. The things I perceived to be true.

The overwhelming distinct taste of truth repeated the question of ‘how did you know?’

He knew about the walls; he knew about the girl. It was like he had seen a horror movie about my life and still enjoyed the worst parts of me.

Insecurity invited confusion to the party and they ran a marathon in my mind. Sure I had work the next day but this mystery was bound to be solved even if I had to rename myself ‘Nancy Drew’

I couldn’t go back and ask him now. Pride was here now so forget that scenario. But I couldn’t let it go. I was desperate to find out who she was, intrigued to get to know him more and curious about these walls.

Why were there walls?!

The last recollection of that night was me being so highly annoyed that I couldn’t mute my thoughts in order to go to sleep.

Part Two

But sleep came. My dreams were silent and was only interrupted by the obnoxious blaring of the alarm on my phone. 6am. I rolled over in a bid to make sleep come back but was unsuccessful.

The only memory my mind would replay was the jeering smirk lingering around his lips. It spoke more to the healing properties of sharing stories than seeking an  opportunity to mock me.

I set about being intentional to delete the events of the previous evening from my memory. My friends were enjoying slumber as they were slow to mock me at the break of dawn. Maybe they were reserving the jeering for a more embarrassing moment.

I showered, got dressed and made up my mind that it was the last time I would see him so it doesn’t really matter. Damage was done and controls were in place to prevent any further cracks.

What I couldn’t live with was the cracks made to my security devices. They felt irreparable. I couldn’t get them plastered, the walls scoffed at my attempt to Band-Aid a situation which clearly needed a wrecking ball. Or him.

I snarled at myself with disgust “how dare you even think of him” Fear retorted. Yup, my friends were awake. They replayed the scenes I carefully tried to forget. They added jingles and special effects. No detail was excluded, no detail left to question. Naked, open, bare. Vivid memories, it was like I was there all over again. I remembered things I didn’t notice initially. I recalled the peace that flooded from his eyes when he spoke. I reminisced about the way his upper arms would gather chill bumps when I laughed. I recollected the way he started intently at my thoughts as they rolled of my tongue. I recall begging for me to let him in. I remembered.

My lips parted to release a pitiful sigh. I envisioned for the five seconds what it could have been before Fear interrupted my fantasy. Then I imagined differently as all the ‘shoulda, woulda, couldas’ played by.

I filled my lungs to their capacity and slowly released it. Almost as if I didn’t want to exhale just to discontinue this process.

I did no further research on cracks and little girls, there was work to be done.

I gathered thoughts and lunch. Drove to work and allowed the day to pass.

Part Three

I closed my eyes and exhaled. Work was long and my body was thankful it was in bed. It was time for rest.

The phone buzzed. I sought to understand what demanded my attention and threatened my rest. It was a text. It was from him. Instantly, my whole body started to suffer. My hands got sweaty, my heart beat increased, my feet got hot and a headache introduced itself.

Before opening the text, I plotted my response. It went a little something like: “Hey, nice to hear from you!!! Thanks for inviting me out the other day, I really enjoyed myself. Not sure if I can make it out again though because I’m fully booked”

But his text was a bit deeper than I had anticipated. It read “Hey beautiful, I had a great time with you the other night. I feel like we connected on a deeper level. I just want to let you know that I am praying for your walls and I am willing to march around them like Jericho’s until they come down. If you never want to see me again, I understand but please, all I need is an hour if your time. Again.”

My generic response wasn’t going to cut it so I put the phone down so I could continue panicking. Then my friends woke up.

These guys never seem to be awake except when they are least wanted. However, I knew I could count on them to talk me out of situation and provide the necessary evidence for justification.

Fear chimed in “remember, he is just like all the others”

Insecurity reminded me of all my shortcomings and how that disqualifies me from being with him.

Doubt merely scoffed at the idea

Disappointment was telling me that it was waiting to be used.

So I left my phone, afraid to touch it.

Insecurity showed up again with a vengeance and a point to prove. Whilst listening to a podcast, a group of friends set about discussing sexual history and what matters in their future potentials. They spoke about the things they wouldn’t like to see and one by one insecurity took me through the list. She reminded me that my past excludes me from having a great future. She showed me the heart of a man who would prefer someone without a history. So, I used that paintbrush to paint all men. So, he wouldn’t want me because of my past so I don’t have to reply to his text. Job done. And it was a good one.

For as long as I could, I hid. From my own phone, as if I didn’t pay the bill. As if he could see me unintentionally ignoring his text whilst I battled with my friends. As if he anticipated my reply but knew what it would be and factored it into his question.

I kept reading the text. Of course I didn’t open it because I had my read receipts on I really had to pretend I was busy. I mean, it is like a full time job wrestling with thoughts in your head. Repeatedly I read the line “willing to march around them like Jericho’s until they come down”. On my fifth read of that line, there was a crack. It was like my walls had responded to that one line in the text and by some authority, they knew they had to come down.

I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next.

Part Four

Up next was like a scripted scene on reality TV. Except there were no lights, no camera, no director yelling ‘action’

My fingers moved to reply before my mind could approve the words, before fear jumped in to do his work. Tears formed in my eyes though they never made it to my cheeks I typed:

“Hey, nice to hear from you!! Thanks for inviting me out the other day. I really enjoyed myself. I really just want to tell you how much I understand what you mean about how we connected on a deeper level. I really felt like the world shifted when your hand touched mine. I felt like I didn’t have to pretend with you around, I felt safe. Your eyes told the story of how I could fall in love with the monsters in me and somehow you would still rescue me. I felt peace, I felt comfort and maybe this is crazy because we have only been out once but I don’t want you to march around my walls, I want to let you in, fear stops me”

Of course I didn’t send the text. That would be the uncomfortable option.

Fear gasped as though I had dug a spear into his heart. I could see him slowly running out of oxygen but something allowed me to stand there and watch him die.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt too. It was like losing an old friend. That day I lost an old friend. After all, I took his advice, listened to his music and danced to his rhythm. For twenty-five years I have been alive Fear was my friend and in that draft of a text message, I lost him. I grieved. And there was a crack.

All my other friends just looked on in disbelief. They lost a friend too!

The beauty of it all was the revelation that he wasn’t the one cracking my walls. I was responsible. His presence made me want to open up but it was none of his own doing rather all of mine.

I desired to get in touch with the girl who lived behind those walls so I arranged to meet her.

Surely Insecurity had something to say this time she cowered in her approach to me. She was riddled with anxiety but spoke nonetheless, shaky voice and all. “Erm,” she stuttered “maybe that’s not a good idea”

I had no response because I was feeling homicidal. Killing Fear heightened my taste for blood. I wasn’t afraid to kill them all.

Maybe she saw that in my eyes and slowly backed down. I called her as she walked away because I wanted her to see the dagger that I hurled in aim of her forehead. Her death was quick and painless. I mourned, only because I was dissatisfied with the way she died. Maybe I should have let her cry and suffer like I did.

I met with the girl. She had a plethora of stories and an extensive collection of memories.

She was me.

She told me stories of happier times in my life before innoncence was erased, before childhood came to an abrupt end, before survival was my default mode. She displayed times when I smiled, when I was happy.

Part Five

I was free, I was fearless, I smiled, I cried, I hurt and bounced back. I never gave up, I ran, I stood up for what I believed in, I had faith, hope, love and a spring in my step. She played me all these memories that I barely noticed how time escaped.

I so badly wanted to know more of who I was so I stuck around. What I wasn’t prepared for were the scenes which detailed the construction of my walls.

I was ten, or maybe even eight years old and I had friends. We were nowhere near rich but we managed to eat food. I was touched for the very first time. The first brick was laid because even in my naivety, I knew there was something wrong about this particular activity. It didn’t feel right. I couldn’t gather the words to express the events that occurred much less the way I felt with each time it happened and with every failure of mine to describe what happened and how I felt, another brick was laid. The blood of my innocence seemed to be the cement holding it all together. I couldn’t tell anyone so it kept occurring. A notification was sent to my brain telling me I was being robbed. I had to take control, I had to build security devices.

Control kicked in. I was in charge when I could rather than have it taken. She showed me each brick, through the touching, mental blocks and being in control, how individual bricks were laid down. Some of them significant enough to have a name engraved.

Like watching an emotional enough movie, I was screaming at the scenes being played “don’t do it”, “it’s a trap”, “why doesn’t she just tell someone”

I had questions and feelings. But she couldn’t hear me. She was masked with pain, anger and a vendetta to make things right. To make herself whole again.

Thus the walls were built. To encapsulate and preserve whatever innocence, though it was scarce and fragile. She was fuelled with determination to rebuild herself so she kept the little girl hostage, imprisoned she vowed never to let her go because she never wants to lose her.

She held on to her.

She was me.

I didn’t realise that I did myself more harm than healing. I failed to recognise that my attempt to save me was futile.

My idea of me being a saviour did not involve a cape and spandex; my idea was to build walls around the last time I was free.

Whilst this transpired, I imagined that I had been here on this self discovery journey for hours. Days even.

The text!! He texted me, I forgot.

Before I responded to the three day old text, I could hear a trickling. It sounded like a gentle river which had overflown its banks. Not rushing but still bustling along.

I turned around and noticed it was coming from behind the walls.

I investigated, I asked her why there was water and why its flow was steady and constant.

She replied “It’s all the tears you never got to cry because you were trying to hold it down. It was for all the times I nearly drowned because you were crying on the inside”

The look in her eyes reassured me it was okay to let it go. She had that proud parent grin forming around her lips.

As I wailed, she disappeared. I wonder where she went. Later, I found out she didn’t go anywhere, she just wasn’t imprisoned anymore.

My text reply to him was simple: “Hey, tell me where and when and I will try my best to be there”

Instantly Doubt and Disappointment held hands. Without notice, they found themselves a door. I had a slight inkling one day we might meet again so I bid them goodbye for now.

Part Six

Like a woman in labour I could feel waters breaking. Before long, there I was standing in a pool. It barely reached my kneecaps but it threatened to keep rising. What was strange but not disconcerting was the pieces of rubble I saw in the water. I knew what it was. Just like she had told me about the tears, she also let me know eventually, her freedom would destroy the walls.

I cried. I cried because I knew I was free, I cried because I knew I was loved. I cried because I thought I was free but I never truly was until I unpacked my past to discover old parts of me which were never healed. I cried for the taste of freedom. I cried because I released so many others from my pain. I cried because I was merely breathing but now I can live again. I cried because my past wasn't a blueprint but a foundation. I cried because I had found love and he was beautiful.

The End

For months on end I battled with the desire and the reason why I never thought to ask her her name. Surely she was important enough to have one. One day, I encountered her presence whilst I took a day trip to the countryside. The only question I posed was to enquire of her name. She smiled and the clouds parted as rays of sun gently rested her cheeks. “You can call me Grace”

Inquisitively I questioned her further because she didn't say that was her name. She simply said “I was here all along, pulling you through, and that's what grace does”

Overcoming Church Hurt

What do you do or how do you feel when the place you ran to for healing begins to hurt you, begins to remove your bandages prematurely? ‪#‎OvercomingChurchHurt

For the longest while I have been prompted by the Holy Spirit to “write where you are” and for the longest while I have not written anything. I always have the urge to write but I never know what about. I always put it off thinking that an idea will come, but the Spirit of God keeps saying to me “write where you are”

It is kind of emotional because I have to figure out where I am in order to write it. A feeling has been on my heart for the longest while. Church hurt. I’ve heard about it and the last I expected was to experience it. The topic came about because I saw a previous blog about it and when I fell in the situation, I tried to find the blog but I couldn’t find it. So, where I am, I will write.

Church hurt. My definition is simply the people in church who will hurt you. Understand that the purest form of church is Christ Himself and He will in no wise hurt us. Yes, the situations He gives us the grace to endure will definitely hurt us, we are human so inevitably our perception will force us to believe that it is God who has hurt us but that is far from the case.

My biggest problem is perceiving that people in church are always godly, I place certain expectations on “church folk” and I expect from them a certain type and way of behaviour that when they don’t live up to the standards I placed on them in my mind; they have failed and they have hurt me. I specifically remembered one prayer I prayed in church “God, please remind us that we are the church and we merely attend a building to fellowship”

It was wrong of me to expect behaviours and standards from people just because they were in church or in a position of power within the church. I feel like that is a plan of the enemy to distract us from the true purpose of attending the church building, which is to fellowship with the saints of God.

Another thing is when you have expectations of other people it disqualifies them from needing grace, so as soon as they mess up we automatically don’t forgive them, allow them to heal and move on. People are not perfect and that is why we leave church hurt because we expect to behave supernaturally giving them no space to be human.

I’m not saying that their behaviour is acceptable or we should subject ourselves to be treated like dirt; I’m just saying that sometimes, most of the time the problem is our perception. That person who hurt you needs Jesus, forgiveness and salvation just as much as you do!

What if that person is acting from a place of hurt and their behaviour is just a cry for attention?

We should allow God to deal with our hearts, we should ask God to give us insight, maybe the person who hurt you is the only way they could get attention and they just want somebody to pray for them.

So how do you overcome church hurt?

The safest, most effective way is to run to God. Ultimately, He has all the answers.

That means that take all your problems, the way you feel, the person, the pastor and all the members of the church before God. Cry if you have to because the bible says He is touched by the feeling of our infirmities. He knows what it is to feel pain, to be scared, God knows and He has the power to do something about it. It makes no sense to sit on the phone and complain to other people who are powerless to fix the situation. God can fix it. So, run, run as fast as you can to His throne of grace. Maybe, just maybe you need a lesson in forgiving other people!

A Love Letter To Satan

You remind me of a Disney fairytale. 

You were a knight in armour but only your eyes were shining. Bright lights emitted from between your lips, it was your deceptive smile that lured my heart into a whirlwind of lust. I knew I could change you, rearrange your thoughts and make them submit to my bible, my gospel, my truth. I knew I had it in me, and when your hands touched mine my heart playfully bounced and confirmed what I knew in it to be true. I loved you. Your hand touching mine told my mind that you will forever be mine, souls intimately intertwined, disturbingly desirable, pathologically pleasing, appeasing the very DNA of my mind. I had you. Right you needed me to be but I was blinded to see that you had me, right where you needed me to be. 

In my mind you were. Mine. I looked past your infidelity and adultery because I chose to believe that if you possessed the pieces of my past you could grant me the wholeness that I so desperately pined for. You were my saviour, I worshipped you as such. I granted you access to the parts of me no one else could see, and even if they did see; wouldn't believe. Because I thought you would heal me. I made sure I was yours, consecrated myself to your thoughts, hopes, desires and plans, did everything you asked of me. Even committed suicide, I made sure I died so you live through me. 

I could call you my prince of peace because you seemed to take my broken pieces and give me piece. I was attracted to your chaos, it quietened mine. It granted me reason to believe that, maybe my brokenness isn't all that bad if you had all the symptoms I had. But you were just a mirror, a photocopier, showing all the things I am in a bid for me to stay comfortably where I am because then I would stay where you needed me. Broken. Only you showed the parts of me that made me look and see me, I thought I was falling in love with you, but it was me cause if I could love where I was; I'd have no real reason to leave? 

Right?

So I gave in to your relentless charm, that charged the gates of my heart like a red bull, you became my monster. But I felt the need to heal you, rid you of your ogre-like way and cleanse you of the gremlin within you, I saw what goblins you gave birth to but convinced myself they weren't of you. Just so that in my lovesick mind, I could be satisfied with the thought that you were as close to perfection as one could be. It was like a thousand angels gave you light, you constantly were pure in my eyes. You brought out the saviour in me but more than I needed you to be my saviour, I felt the need to save you.

But that's not the truth because fairytales aren't supposed to end badly, even when she ate the fruit, even when she lost her shoe, even when she encounters a beast, or has to kiss a frog, she still had her Prince Charming but you, your charm was beyond earthly royalty, it could be likened to no other, it felt so...... other worldly. Truth be told, I began feeling uncomfortable, it was like your truths became my lies, and even though I would often fall deep into your eyes I would miserably fail to realise that this was a trap. I was beyond mesmerised so I didn't bother to get up. 

I stayed and granted you permission to squash my soul like a roach that was a little bit too old and couldn't get away quick enough. I tried to scurry away from your lies but they wounded me strategically over the weeks, months and years so I couldn't get up. I stayed stuck. 

I recall my last days with you like a shimmer of a memory, you know like those ones in the movies? I knew it was over when the mention of your name did not provoke an involuntary response from behind my rib cage as it usually does. When the caller ID gently informed me that it was you and my palms didn't secrete. Goosebumps did not visit my skin when you turned up at my door. I knew it was over when the mention of your demise was the first time I genuinely smiled in my life. It was over and I knew it, I just needed to formulate a route that would eternally detach me from you. The taste you left on my lips was like a bad joke, no one seemed to get it or was laughing.

Once upon a time I had a mirror on my wall... It's brokenness never ceased to remind me of mine. But that's how you do, so here's to goodbyes! I would cry, weep and grovel stating how much I will miss you but you are a lie. A lie who constantly told me lies so that I almost nearly believed you ... Until love stepped in and showed me how not to submit to you, how to dry up my tears with worship instead of a sob song. Love showed me how to tell you goodbye. 

On my lips it tasted like angels flew down and kissed mine. Thirst departed as I sipped slowly from the cup that never seemed to run dry. 

I won't miss you but thank you for the lessons. I won't cry as I bid you farewell because your presence taught me how to war. Here is the good in goodbye where I'll never have to lie down to feel accepted or validated, the good where God can heal the wounds you created and I can be used to let the next girl know that you will sound like a good guy, but you are a lie. 

Letter To My Past

I want to make this romantic, make it sound like I missed what we had but the truth is I stumbled upon a memory of you and I saw the pain in your eyes, you were too young to understand what you were going through so I'm here to explain it to you. 

There's blood on your hands, 

But that's not your biggest worry,

You're trying to figure out how come you're still able to stand, 

After you fell, 

Cried,

Bled

And hurt

Your heart was ripped from behind the safety of your ribs, 

He hopped on a plane with your heart between his teeth, 

And spat it out as soon as he saw someone else that could ease his urge, 

You allowed him to. 

They told you you would never make it out, 

They told you you would never be successful, 

That where you are now is your destiny, 

You'd never make it through, 

You believed them. 

She called you names that you knew didn't correlate with your purpose in life, 

But you listened and believed her. 

You didn't know him but you knew you needed him,

You knew he'd never be there for you how you needed him to be but still, 

You'd pray to a God you were convinced didn't listen let alone respond or understand,

To give you a daddy because life's burdens would surely be eased with a man's broad shoulders to help bear the pain, 

You cried. 

As life insisted on dealing you cards you thought were too much to bear, 

You crumbled. 

It was too much for you to handle, 

So you fell. 

On the way down you grabbed a few people to bring down with you, 

Gained a few scars and bruises, 

You put yourself on the discount shelf. 

You stripped you of your crown and glory, 

Convinced yourself that whatever you went through made you unworthy, 

So instead of seeking redeeming grace, 

You constantly hid your face, 

From the only one who was able to really save and change you. 

You paid an expensive price for a lie, 

That with each person you lay with, 

Cost a bit more of your soul, 

You began to pay a price you could simply no longer afford, 

So you were indebted to him.

You played his games, 

Lying, cheating, stealing, faking, dealing, drinking, partying...

Whatever he would ask of you,

You'd do, 

Just to quench the void of "fitting in" 

Something you were never created to do, 

You polluted your entire being. 

Your mind, body and spirit, 

You thought they were irreparable, 

So whatever you were doing you continued, 

Just to buy further into the lie that you were 'damaged goods' 'reduced to clear'

But you never heard anyone say "you were bought with a price" 

You've never had anyone look past what you did to see who you really were, 

Broken. Exhausted. Defeated and deflated. 

You never knew you could find a love like this, 

That would not only lift you but also dust off your crown, 

Throw a party for you when you returned home, 

Put you on the throne of His heart and call you His own, 

If only you knew. 

But you didn't. 

You fell short over and over again, 

You had an incessant need to avoid His blood that flowed freely, 

You cried when you didn't have to because once again, 

The master of lies had visited you, 

Consulted and concluded that with you, 

You were truly beyond repair, 

You couldn't even reach for His hand, 

Because why would He forgive you after all you've done. 

When the question you really needed the answer to was "why wouldn't He?" 

After all He did send His Son, 

For you He bled, cried and died so that you wouldn't have to but you would have life, 

He would grace you with wings to fly, 

Call you His majestic butterfly, 

Because He wrapped you in that cocoon, 

Even then it was His grace that covered you, 

His angels walked with you 

And His Spirit cried for you, 

You overcame what you thought would kill you, 

And for it you are stronger, 

Wiser, fitter, faster,

Consider it exercise, consider it lessons in life. 

I couldn't offer you a glimmer of hope, 

I couldn't write to say "hold on, you'll be okay" 

Because if I did then you wouldn't come out as tough as you did. 

I'm sorry I watched you cry, 

Sorry I couldn't wipe the tears from your eyes, 

I apologise for not holding your hand or coming to your aid, 

I just knew you had to make it through. 

And you did, I didn't doubt that you'd be alive today, 

I made you that way so you know that whatever is about to come, 

Is for My glory and not your demise, 

Hold on, keep your eyes on Me

I will see you through,  

And goodness and mercy shall always follow you, 

And for all the days of you life, 

You will overcome because you have Me on your side. 

I Wonder Why She Smiles...

Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Proverbs 31:30

I don't know how she does it. I really don't. 

I looked at this picture. I stared at it for a really long time. I gazed at her smile, her infectious laugh which almost pierces through the screen and causes me to smile. I wonder what she's so happy about? 

Then I looked back at the girl she used to be, I can't count her tears; they're so many, her grief and pain is insurmountable; I don't even know how she made it out. It's all a blur. From sleepless nights crying to days where she now laughs uncontrollably, if a joke gets too much; she'll hit the floor laughing. 

I just want to say I know both girls. 

To the girl who cries at night: 

Don't give up hope. Whatever you think is out there that is better than what you're going through or where you are now; hold on to that. If you're living with your parents right now; hold on to that house with a front and back garden and double garage. If you're single; keep believing that God will bless you with a husband, not a boyfriend, not a sex partner but a right upstanding man of God who loves God but is not a sissy. If you're searching for your ministry; keep loving God, love Him like you're gonna lose Him, keep praying and worshipping. If you don't even know God or refuse to acknowledge that He has a plan for your life or misunderstand how all your pain could be used as the foundation of your success; I pray you won't give in to the temptation of suicide, if you do you'll never live to see the fruit of your tears. For those who sow in tears will reap in joy. For weeping only last one night - and it may be a long night - but joy comes in the morning! 

I know you may not want to believe it but look at me, I can't believe I made it out; if I killed myself I wouldn't have lived to see this day. You may think I'm writing for the sake of writing but I'm only writing because I've been there I know what it's like. 

To the girl who can't help but smile:

I know sometimes you don't understand the tears that flow from your joy, I know you're used to having your tears associated with pain but keep smiling, it's contagious and not only that, it's giving another girl hope. Another girl is looking at you wanting to know the secrets of the way out. Please share them don't ever keep quiet, scream, every opportunity you get let a girl know that you had to cry your way out because you held on to the promise of joy in the morning. 

I know it hurts sometimes, I know it's not always an easy road, but I also know that you've been through enough to know you're not going back. Please, keep smiling, the world needs your smile. Allow the world to marvel at the miracle that you are, you survived, you're not a victim but a victor let others know how you made it out. 

Be blessed and encouraged. 

To The Single Ladies… The Single Mother:

The sayings of King Lemuel—an inspired utterance his mother taught him. Proverbs 31:1

I have been scared, I was 14 and dealing in business no 14 year old should. I was 16 years and 6 months old when the doctors said “it’s a girl”. With that little girl I had no idea what to do but I know up until this day I am still sick with worry. I still don’t know what to do with her because I’m still learning myself.

 

I was always worried that I couldn’t do it myself, how does a woman raise a queen without a man to show her what queens should be treated? I was so convinced I couldn’t so it on my own, so convinced and convicted that I could not raise a queen without a king. 

Three years later I had a boy, immediately, I was swept with more worry and doubt, how could I possibly do this on my own? There is no written evidence that this could be done. A single woman cannot teach two young minds; a queen and a king how to act as such all by herself? Surely it is not only impossible but it is beyond impossible. I cant do it. It cant be done. 

But then I was listening to the teachings of a preacher explain how King – don’t miss that – King Lemuel was taught by his mother to avoid disorderly women that would be the ruin of kings, steer clear of the poisonous grip of wine, resist being drunk, to be the voice of those who have no voice and to judge fairly to defend the rights of the poor and needy. 

A woman told the king how to act. 

Proverbs 31 is famous for the ‘virtuous woman’ act. I find that women refer to this scripture when preparing for marriage, a husband and a household which is usually from verse 10-31 of that chapter. I must admit, I have never even realised or paid much attention to verses 1-9 until I heard a preacher comment on it and it stung my heart; the residue of that sting never left.

So I write to you. Do you feel scared? Do you ever pray and cry, cry and pray? Do you ever worry that you don’t have the skills and gifts to raise kings and queens? Do you ever put you and your children on the discount shelf because you think you'll never be able to raise kings and queens? Do you ever back out of the race just because by comparison you think wont be able to raise kings and queens?

I have. I feel like I don’t have it in me. And the truth is; I don’t. but I know the God I pray to when I ask for the wisdom to pour into these children, the knowledge and understanding that comes from His Holy Spirit and only from Him. The truth is I can not do it alone, neither can you, not alone anyway. 

Be encouraged sister, it is not an easy walk but it is one that you have to take one step at a time. 

‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’ Jeremiah 33:3 (NIV)

Call to God and the things you do not know about being or raising a king or queen; He will tell you. 

Are you listening?

Can Two Walk Lest They Agree?

Can two walk together, unless they are agreed? Amos 3:3

We always see this scripture or use it when people are talking about two people; friends, a couple, people in ministry or any other relationship between two people. 

But I got to thinking. What about God? And me? 

Let me make this clear, this is about me, I got to thinking about me and my personal relationship with God. It's not a stab at anybody about their relationship and walk with God but hey... if the cap fits; wear it! Get comfortable in it and rock it HARD!

Anyway, I really want to improve and get better about walking circumspectly in the Spirit of God. 

But how can I walk with God unless I agree with Him? 

He told me I'm beautiful, ordained, purposed, called, holy, made for one, He tells me I'm special, I'm perfect in Him, I can do all things through Him, He said before my days were formed, before I was born, He planned my days, my nights, my tears are numbered, placed in a bottle, He bore my pain, He provided healing before my pain, by His stripes I am healed.... He said...

But how can I walk with God unless I agree with Him?

When I look in the mirror I can't see the beauty that He talks about, when I look in my past, I'm so blinded by all the pain I've been through; I can't see purpose, when I look in the present I can't see how I can do anything at all, I'm blinded by all the tears I've cried so I don't know how He expects me to believe that He has my tears numbered... I want Him to stop numbering them and start drying them! 

So.... How can I walk in harmony in this walk... how can TWO: me and Him WALK together unless we agree? Not that, unless I agree with HIM! Because His word is truth, His word does not fail or fall, He is right and I have to be conformed to His truth... 

How can I walk with Him unless I agree with Him?

I've got to conform, I've got to leave the world's ideas, thoughts and perceptions of who I am. I have got to leave the way the world defines me based on who I am, what I said or how I dress or wear my hair. I have got to be transformed by the renewing of my mind, no longer conformed to the world, I have got to make up in my mind that yes I was beaten, bruised and abused but I have got to leave that all behind. I have to look beyond my past and gaze so deeply in the future - through His eyes. I have got to see me the way He does, I have got to get rid of even my ideas, thoughts and perceptions and live through His Spirit. 

So how do I walk with Him in agreement?

So he answered and said to me:

“This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel:
‘Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,’
Says the Lord of hosts. 

Zechariah 4:6