You wrote it, I lived it.
You took the credit,
I felt the pain.
You forgot I was here
But that’s not the worst part.
I forgot too.
Didn’t remember that I mattered.
Instead, I bought the idea
I was an accessory.
Excessive, tossed and turned out.
About in the world alone when
I thought I had company.
Foolish I know, right?
You wrote it, I lived it,
died by it and refused to
admit the pain.
Photo credit: Louis Galvez for Unsplash
Lessons must be learned.
Teachers, the things, and those unexpected.
But the lessons will be learned.
Abandoned at birth.
Rejected as life grew us up.
We never knew what we didn’t know.
Lessons taught at great sacrifice.
The student unwilling, unknowing.
But the lesson was learned.
Knees bruised; hearts broken.
Life the canvas, with no erasers.
Learning through pain our value.
Lessons will be learned.
Taught, denied, ignored.
But they will be taught.
Life is lessons created.
In the dark to be taught in the light.
To be walked out, lived in.
The moment.
The miracle.
The disaster.
So, don’t stop living.
Life is a lesson, and it will be taught.
Taught whether you pay attention...
...whether you like it or not!
Out of time outs!
Time to come back to church.
Time for high ignorant praise!
I took the liberty of referencing my holy ghost Webster’s and this is what I found on the definition of High Ignorant Praise:
That high ignorant praise: (Adj. Verb and a Noun)
High Ignorant Praise is that thing that has been shut up in your bones for far too long and NOW
You are ready to let it go!
That praise where you just don’t care who’s watching or
what anybody is thinking or how you’re looking.
High ignorant praise is that ugly cry
when your face is contorted, your mouth is open
Showing all your teeth!
It’s that run around the church
on bad feet and bad knees praise,
It’s the act of being willing to risk
the heels on your new shoes or the corns
squeezed into those new shoes!
It’s time for some high ignorant praise!
Let’s get ig’nant, just plum crazy for the LORD!
Just because.
Just because he woke you up (yesterday and today)
Just because you can!
Just because it’s due!
Just because it’s time!
Because he saved your life
from sin, from things...
It’s time to stop wondering if its time.
Praise Him! Ignorantly, fanatically, ugly, loud!
PRAISE HIM!
Photo Credit: Akra Hojo for Unsplash
“...and then I realized that my tears did not make me weak.
They merely watered the ground where I stood;
the place God had chosen for me to take root,
and grow,
and become...
new."
-Whispers From A Brown Girl
You thought you were a rock until
Life like a hammer hit you hard
and broke you to pieces.
But you weren’t destroyed,
You were changed,
and the pieces that you
have become are possibilities,
and blessings and second chances
to start again.
I heard the noise, breaking the silence sounding like fireworks.
Was it the dawn crashing the darkness of night as day claimed its place?
Was it the clapping of hands to music that touched and warmed and made my feet move?
No, it was none of those things; it was my heart breaking.
Shattering in a million pieces and sticking to the ground as a reminder that the memory of what has happened cannot be blown away by the wind.
It was my heart, that thing that used to beat on purpose, and on time for you; because of you.
Now I must beg it to beat, and to keep pounding.
Your absence has made things that used to be reflex, impossible.
I heard the noise it broke the silence like fireworks.
I'd felt comfortable in the silence assuming I'd see you again.
Silence now only means sorrow.
Your life was important only to me it seems and there are no more heartbeats, no more songs no more clapping of hands or feet dancing to your beat.
What was that sound, the cracking, the booming, ear-piercing noise?
The noise...that noise...cracking,
and booming
like fireworks
was my heart,
breaking!
Photo credit: Claude Wolff for Unsplash
Chelsea began each day sitting quietly on her second-floor patio. The early morning sun greeted her like an old friend and the small sparrows nodded hello as they retreated from their spots on the wooden banister.
Her seat gave her a bird’s eye view as the world walked by totally unaware of her presence; men, and women hurrying past rushing to jobs and tasks that gave their otherwise meaningless lives purpose. It always seemed odd that very few looked up to notice her.
In her mind, Chelsea created lives for the strangers adding new chapters each morning. Like Alejandro and Odell, not their real names of course, who stepped off the bus and headed down the sidewalk toward the wharf every day. Alejandro first then Odell, strangers who’d followed this routine for years without ever acknowledging each other. Chelsea imagined the two as lovers pretending to be strangers; in the evenings, the two would meet in some secret place and make love well into the night falling asleep in each other’s arms until the next day demanded they begin their ruse again.
Alejandro was a mariner; his dark leathery skin told her as much; the lunch box and thermos was a necessity for the long day at sea. He’d fished on the endless seas for years supporting himself with hard labor on a boat he did not own. Odell followed the man until he reached the corner. As he glanced both ways before crossing the street, she pulled a key ring from her purse and let herself inside the small seaside bakery. Chelsea assumed that the woman had named the place, Chloe’s after her only child, a sweet but spoiled little tyke with long coarse pigtails. The older woman had dreams of the girl running the shop one day, but the girl had other plans choosing instead to become a doctor on the other side of the country.
The room smelled of yesterday’s pastries, coffee and sandwiches and the woman made her way through the dimly lit room to the light switch near the kitchen entrance; the hum of the florescent lights buzzed seconds before the room lit up. Like every day before, she grabbed the apron, slipping it over her head as she stepped past the curtain into the kitchen.
Chelsea swallowed the last few drops of her coffee as the street below grew quiet. It was time to release Alejandro and Odell from her imagination and begin her day. With one last glance at the street below she exhaled and went inside.
The morning morphed past the afternoon into early evening; Chelsea stepped onto her patio again, this time with a glass of wine in one hand and a small plate of meat, cheese, and crackers in the other. Just like earlier she watched the people below rushing to beat the sun before it disappeared below the horizon and relinquished its duties to the moon.
Chelsea closed her eyes for a moment as the cool air brushed across her skin. Then she opened her eyes just in time to see Alejandro cross the street at the corner. She noticed him glance slightly toward the bakery as he passed. Moments later, Odell stepped out of the bakery, locked the door, and headed toward the bus stop just a few steps behind the handsome fisherman.
The two were good at ignoring and pretending not to know each other Chelsea chuckled to herself as her imagination took over. The sound of the bus swishing to a stop caused Chelsea to stand and lean slightly over the rail to get a better view as the passengers boarded. Alejandro and Odell were the last to board.
Alejandro glanced back at the petite woman, even from where she stood, Chelsea could see the twinkle of approval in his eyes. Stepping aside and offering his strong hand, he helped her on. Nodding her thanks, the woman smiled and disappeared down the aisle. Chelsea smiled knowingly wondering if there was more to her wild imaginings than she thought.
The bus doors closed as Alejandro also disappeared down the narrow aisle. Chelsea wondered if the man would have the nerve to sit next to the woman or would their game continue. Tomorrow, she’d have to wait until tomorrow to learn more or to draw her own conclusions. Whatever the case, life would go on and perhaps even love.
To be continued...
THE END
Photo credit: Anna Keibalo for Unsplash
Arrogant irreverence to the facts and
writing the rules with invisible ink.
Set up for the mess up and
I have no one else to blame.
Sweeping my soul’s floor with
blasphemous strokes of irretrievable
Rhetoric, I blew it, you knew it but
You let me fall.
You said it was for my own good-
that big knot forming on my head.
Sometimes humility is found
in the lowest of places and
so, I visit and stay awhile.
My recovery was not what I expected.
I healed but still bear the scars.
The lessons are etched on the lonely
places in my heart.
Humiliated I sneak back home where
things have changed but you have not.
I’m ready to clean house, make room,
and begin again.
Ripping my heart from my chest I held it out offering it, still beating to you. Reluctantly, you took it from my hand and set it on the table.
Stunned, I watched you blankly stare back at me as if to say, “And?”
I thought the gift needed no explanation yet there you were…waiting. I glanced at the beating, dying organ on the table; each beat slower than the one before. You didn’t give a shit! I wanted you to give a shit. You shrugged; it wasn’t your heart after all what did it really matter? I wanted it to matter.
My eyes fluttered because that’s what the truth does; it makes your eyes flutter. Second looks don’t change the truth. My heart was the sacrifice to prove that I loved you.
Crazy how I thought that yanking my heart from my chest was all I had to do to hear you say, “I love you,” in return. Your lips remained still; no words uttered on behalf of my dying heart.
I wanted you to love me, but you didn’t; you couldn’t. Yanking my heart from my chest was just another futile act of suicide I’d played over and over, and my heart was the victim.
Love does nothing but leave hearts on the table, the spoils of foolishness. There you stood still, standing boldly in my face waiting for the answer to the question in your eyes, “And?”
Funny, I realized that I was begging for love from someone that wouldn’t even speak. Wouldn’t part his lips to say what he really felt. My heart was on the table and there was a gaping hole in my chest and I was DYING to hear the words, “I love you.”
Even as my heart continued to slow, I waited as you watched me in silence; mocking me with your stare of, “And?”
“Do you love me” I asked tearfully?” I so desperately needed to hear the words before my heart stopped beating. I remembered not so long ago, feeling so special when you kissed me. But I wasn’t the first or the only that you had kissed, and I wanted to be I wanted to be special!
“Do you love me?” I asked again.
You took a step closer our bodies nearly touching. Simultaneously, our eyes turned toward the table watching the heart as it beat ever so slowly. I prayed silently that the sight of my heart would give you the courage to speak the words I needed to hear.
“Do you love me?” I asked, perhaps you hadn’t heard me before. Then you turned, looked deeply into my eyes and with a stern quiet voice you asked, “Do you?”
It was late.
The entire week had passed, and you hadn’t said a word.
You came and went as if I wasn’t there even as you grazed your shoulder against mine.
Our son was the witness…seeing how the only man he knew treated a woman.
This was your expression of love toward his mother…and mentally he took notes.
Then it was midnight on the seventh day, and you were ready to speak.
So of course, you expected that I was too. After all, the baby was down
the dishes done, and the laundry neatly folded in its place.
You’d mastered the art of saying a lot without really saying a thing.
You talked, I nodded and when you were finished, I noticed your bags packed and sitting in the dark corner near the door.
Your house key glistened on the table. I hadn’t noticed it before.
Perhaps the finality of your announcement made everything brighter.
“I’ll be back for the rest of my things,” You said.
I thought about the fact that you had convinced me to quit my job only days before
and we had to eat. Your son needed diapers…milk…
It was odd that you had not mentioned those things in your ramblings.
“This time it’s you not me.” You said proudly happy to finally have the last word.
I saw you stuff the checkbook in your back pocket and the extra cash that we kept in the cabinet above the sink.
You thought of everything, except…
You forgot that I was strong. That I had been a survivor long before we’d met.
You forgot that you weren’t the beginning or the end of my world…just a part.
I knew love was never anything you understood or recognized.
You wanted to be uncomfortable, angry, and so I was happy
that you had at last succeeded at something.
And then it was morning. There was a knock at the door. It was Joy!
Photo credit: Sid Sun for Unsplash
I stood at the sink facing the mirror terrified at the unfamiliar face looking just as terrified back at me. It had been a long while since the two of us had spoken to one another.
Looking ahead and bending down I tried desperately to wash the taste of last night’s truths from my mouth. The bitter taste like the leftovers from a heavy meal had thickly coated my tongue and I used it as an excuse not to speak.
I continued to look I hated what I saw had always hoped of being more still I wanted nothing to do with the truth. What had I done to find myself here, alone, and disgusted? There was nothing to say.
Apologies seemed so vain; so futile, such a waste of time. Yet, I needed to speak the words, I owed you that much. I struggled to look again at you, still a stranger, still demanding answers from me. “I’m sorry!” There just a whisper but the slight flinch told me that you’d heard.
“I’m sorry.” A little louder this time. You didn’t believe it, neither did I since I was never one to apologize. Never one to back down or step up…it was a fact, my fact. My truth right there in front of me and I couldn’t deny it.
I’ve treated you poorly. I was supposed to be your best friend and you mine. I denied you and mistook you for the enemy shooting first and watching you fall dead at my feet. “Please forgive me!” I shouted, and my tears filled the sink before me. Blood and tears, tears, and blood…mine, yours, ours.
I faced you the terror fading but still present. I saw the slight relief on your face too. This had been long overdue, and it felt good to talk again. I love you and I need you now more than ever to be my sister, my confidante, and my best friend…again.
Let’s keep in touch.
Photo credit: JD Mason for Unsplash
You’ve dropped your dreams in a bucket, covered them with dust, and doubt and time. Now it’s time to dig and pull them by the roots from that damp, dark place that has long been forgotten because fear has distracted you and made you forget that you had ever dreamed at all.
Photo credit: Photo by Pedro Da Silva on Unsplash
Mothers
We bear the burden,
take the blame and get none
of the credit.
We lose sleep,
worry and wear the wrinkles.
We fix our faces with smiles,
and cry silent tears in the dark
when everyone else is asleep.
We are the armor bearers,
the prayer warriors, the advocates,
the encouragers, and the secret keepers.
We are the providers sacrificing ourselves
for the unknowing, the clueless and the ungrateful!
We’re mothers doing what we must at all costs
not for the plaques, the mugs, or the flowers,
but because it’s who we are, it’s our calling.
It’s how we love-fearlessly, hard, nonsensically.
Indescribable, unthinkable, and tirelessly!
No, thank-you expected because we signed up for this.
Not always knowing how or why.
Not knowing that the bad days
often outweigh the good.
What we did know was that our love was enough.
It had to be enough to get us and them through
the good, the bad, and the in between.
Just love, it was both our superpower and our kryptonite,
our greatest joy and our deepest pain.
But it’s who we’ve become.
Birthing nations and futures and possibilities.
God chose us and gave us everything needed
to complete the assignment.
Yes, we’re mothers a crown we wear with honor.
We know who we are!
We are Queens with earthly kingdoms
located within the possibilities of our offspring.
We are diplomats, negotiating peace
as effortlessly as ordering pizza.
We are doctors and lawyers without the degrees,
Fighting and slaying dragons on our knees!
We are Mothers, Slayers, and Prayers.
Leaping tall buildings and loving just because.
Knowing what others did not,
that God had chosen and equipped us.
Then breathed breath into or desires.
Giving us the stamina to do the work
that feels like joy and hope and
all things good!
Thank you, Lord for the Crown of Motherhood!
