Counting My Blessings!!!

Today I celebrate my Birthday. For my birthday I decided to count my blessing. I first counted my nieces whom I share living quarters Aziza , Abbie and Nia.  I gave them gifts. What wonderful young women they have turned out to be. Then I celebrated my nephew Kamau twice. He fell off a 50ft parking structure a little over a month ago. His survival is a miracle and the rate that's he's healing is even more miraculous. I went to the hospital today to tell him how much he mean to me. I took him two balloons and a heart full of love.

I think I'll invite homeless Mike to my birthday dinner that my sister insist on preparing for me. She doesn't know it yet, but I have a special gift for her. I have a genuine turquoise and diamond necklace and earring set. She loves turquoise, just last week she expressed a desire for genuine turquoise-like me. How can I not give her something that mean so much to her? I have not worn it in probably-five years.

I talked to me son, he's my greatest blessing of them all. What a wonderful man. I have to think of a way to make this day special for him, my mother and my four beautiful grandbabies. I received so many birthday blessing on facebook and email. I love my community of internet friend, which includes everyone that read fearless reflection. Thank you for taking the time to read my sometimes outrageous, sometimes pitiful, and most times a bit crazy post. I get to share my heart and Abba's love with you and that is a blessing. I love you and you are my blessing.

Birthday's are fun when you count your blessing and they keep coming to your mind. My heart is shouting thank you Father. I appreciate everyone of my blessings. The day is still young, I have so much love to give. See you soon.

LOVE
Fearless

I'm Back

I know it's been a while since I posted. The last couple of months have been pretty busy for me. I spent more time in prayer and ministry. It's been quite a spiritual ride for me. I still feel this self-conscious inadequacy, which makes it easy to rely solely on the Holy Spirit. I'm always amazed at the fact that people think I'm so confident in ministry or counseling. I shared my uncertainty and fears. I was pleasantly surprised at her response. She said I have never been afraid of anything, and she couldn't believe that I suffered the same insecurities as some others. I have always told her that courage is not so much as, not having fears, but doing it in spite of the fears, never give fear a resting place.

I moved back to Lexington. It's still difficult to live next door to a bar where people will attempt to sell stolen televisions in your yard. Last week there was a stabbing, I witnessed the incident. It was young women fighting. Several women beat this young woman. She chased them with a knife. One was stabbed. It grieved my heart to watch women who have probably been abused there whole lives abuse each other. I prayed, cried and called  the police. By the time the police got there the crowd had disbursed. The police came back the next day and told me the girl that was stabbed went to the hospital. She's alright; she was not seriously injured. Despite everything going on around me, I gain strength in the Lord and the power of his might.

My sister Claudia and I planted a garden, vegetable and flowers. I love the flower garden most of all right now, but that's subject to change when the vegetable produce it's delicious rewards. The flower garden surrounds rose bushes, one red and the other a bright orangy/pink and gorgeous. Our flowers are a symphony of colors; lavender, purple, red, fuschia, pink and yellow. I love out little garden and it's gives the house that stand-alone peace in the midst of chaos look and feel. We met our neighbors recently. They saw us working hard to plant our flower garden and some came to help. Claudia is surprised that neighbors that barely spoke before has come out in support of us. We even have a neighborhood homeless guy that sleeps in the bushes between our house and the bar(on the bar property) that left the bushes to pitch in. It used to feel creepy to have him in the bushes, but now he just Mike the homeless guy in the bushes. Like a eccentric cousin that lives in the attic. My sister invited him in during the winter months, but he refused to take a shower and left a scent in her couch that made her trash it. So after a few weeks she asked him to leave. She took him to a homeless shelter, but he found his way to the bushes after a couple of days. When it rains he sleeps in the backyard under our shed.

All and all I find contentment in Jesus, in the midst of all the hurt, pain and chaos of my surroundings. It's far from the beauty of the suburb that I am accustom too, but it's where the greatest need for ministry is. It's where I have found God's good, perfect and pleasing will. It's where love resides.

Fearless

Attention-Getter

I come from a large family. I am the third born child and the second daughter. All my life I had to vie for the attention of my parents and grandparents.  My method of choice was perfectionism. The year after my birth my sister Gina was born. I got a new sibling almost every year for the next several years until there were a total of nine of us. As a baby I suffered greatly with asthma, by greatly I mean several times my breath was so difficult to find that I was actually minutes away from death. However, that one deflect in my bronchial tubes actually endeared me to the very people whose attention I sought. I was mostly quiet and could easily have been absorbed in the background of noise and chaos that comes with my family. My natural shyness, neatness and straight A's in school helped form my flawed character of "perfect" child.

By the time I was a teenager perfection was getting  harder to maintain. Though my need for attention had not weaned much. The year I turned fourteen I started noticing my body changing. My breast got larger and perky, my waist got smaller, and my hips expanded into peach shaped roundness. My little slightly protruding  belly  was gone, replaced by a  lithe body of a young woman. One day my oldest brother Jimmy came in the house an announced to me that his friend had made what he considered an inappropriate statements concerning me, and my newly developed body. Jimmy told me he said I had grown up fine with a nice body. He got into an argument with his friend and was in a huff by the time he walked into the door. Jimmy had always been fiercely protective of me. So I pretended to be mortified, but I was secretly thrilled that someone thought I was  fine with a nice body. Little did I know that one comment would created a new character in me. This one even harder to maintain then the first. I went from studious although somewhat silly to teenage beauty.

Looking back I can not remember how I formed this character. I do remember changing my walk so that my hips would sway and my breast would bounce. I walked with books on my head so that every step was perfect and timed. I found a new way to get attention except this time I wanted the attention of a man. A year after my first relationship fiasco and being told by my parents that I could not date until I was sixteen. I went on another quest. I would not kiss or have a boyfriend, but I did go through a excessive longing. I developed a major crush on my mechanical drawing teacher Mr Latika.

Mr Latika wore expensive suits under a body that Mr Universe would envy, and he always smelled of cologne. He had caramel brown flawless skin and soft  brown/gold eyes. He is one of the most handsome men I have ever met. All the girls at Ferndale High, black and white had a major crush on him. He was in his early thirties. Most of the male teachers back then were old and smelled of stale cigarettes and moth balls. Mr Latika was like the handsome guy in the My Mystery Date game that you hoped you would picked. He was the Adonis of Ferndale High School.

My freshman year of high school is the year that the girls had to start taking the usual male only classes. That year it was required that the girls take mechanical drawing and wood shop. The boys had to also take home economics and sewing. Times were changing rapidly- the woman libbers burned their bras, and like a answered prayer I got assigned to Mr Latika's class. I was elated, until I actually had to learn mechanical drawing. The truth of the matter is, I never really wanted to do "men" work. I did not quite understand The Women Liberation Movement. My teenage perception was  of women with swingy loose boobs climbing telephone poles and doing construction work with blistered hands....I wanted no parts of it. After wood shop and mechanical drawing I was even more convinced I would not become a Women Libber.

My first day in Mr Latika class was bliss to me. His voice was like music though his words were Greek to me. He handed out bow pen compasses, pencils, rulers and other small uninteresting tools. I took them with glee. I don't think it would have mattered if he would have handed me a designated grenade. Before the week was out I had come to hate that dreadful bow pen compass. I could not get it to work for me. Despite my new walk and mostly imagined teenage beauty, I was still extremely awkward. I attempted to imitate the beautiful circles, squares and intricate pattern that he made. Mine looked like an odd squiggly mess that a two year old drew. I hated mechanical drawing,  I did not understand, could not grasp it, and I was acutely distracted by Mr Latika's prettiness.

I daydreamed of Mr Latika falling in love with me. We would marry and have beautiful babies, and since my mechanical drawing skills were non-existing I did what any self-respecting teenage wannabe beauty would do. I wowed him with my new-found homemade allure. Everyday when it was time to do our assigned drawings I would raise my hand, bat my eyes and ask him to come and help me. I told him I did not quiet understand. In my mind I was the helpless damsel in distress and he was my handsome "bow pen compass" wielding prince coming to rescue me. He probably thought I was mentally challenged with an eye astigmatism, but faithfully everyday he would  not only start my drawing, but he would complete ALL of my drawings. I loved it! As he worked on my drawing I would learn real close to him and breath in his cologne. One day I even mustered up the courage to touch his arm-as if by mistake. It was firm and solid and I could not stop talking to my friends about it.

One of my best-friends Cheryl was also in the class. One day at lunch as I was going on and on about Mr Latika, she blasted me. She said that I should not call on him all the time, or sniff his cologne that it was disgusting and a little trampy. She did not think it was fair that others in the class worked real hard and I did not. I think that was the first time Cheryl had ever been angry at me, though we had been friends since kindergarten. I apologized to Cheryl and told her to just asked Mr Latika if she needed help like I do. She said she would not lower herself to such cheap theatrics and that I was just an "attention-getter;" Those words seemed to hurt worse than all the previous insults. Mainly because those are the same words my sisters have used when they were being mean and hateful toward me. I could hear it with the same venom I heard so many  times in my life.

To be truthful I never meant to hurt Cheryl or my sisters. I, like them was a child and children need to know that they are loved and important. I needed to know that I was loved and important. So I gave the adults and even my siblings and friends what I needed. I gave them my love and attention. As sad at it might sound, that comment from my brother Jimmy's friend validated me. I felt pretty and confident for the first time in my life. I was able to call on Mr Latika for help without that naggy uncertainty that clung to me like a cheap suit. To this day people accuse me of doing the same thing with Jesus. I have been told many times that I act like I'm the only person Jesus talks to. And just like the situation with Mr Latika, I was just talking about him, because I am in love.

I got a "B," in Mr Latika's class. I never told Cheryl, because she told me that she got a "C". Why throw kindle on a flame.

Fearless

Killing of Trayvon

These are my thoughts though I have limited knowledge of all facts:

I heard about the Trayvon Martin killing a week or two ago. My sister Karen was watching the news and I was in my bedroom writing. I asked Karen what upset her so that she would scream out, "Oh no, he killed their baby." I said who? She said a man in Florida. I didn't go investigate her claims, I just sort of stayed in my room absorbed in what I was doing.

A couple of days later I was watching the news and the story replayed itself. I wondered how anyone could become a self-imposed cop and kill another without any repercussion. Somewhere in my psyche, I had this emotional block. Today I listen to the 911 tapes. In the back ground you could ear the kid screaming and begging for help. That open the flood gates of my soul. I cried for hours. I cried for his parents who listened to the tapes, and have been inconsolable every since. It's being said that the hollering may have come from the self-proclaimed neighborhood watchmen who killed the boy. I doubt that. I, as a parent know my son's voice. I know when his voice when annoyed, worried, scared, or even petrified, that comes with the territory of being a parent. I'm sure they knew their son's voice when they heard it. I remember why I blocked my emotions.

When I was thirteen years old I had a cousin who was also thirteen. It's something about having cousins your exact age, that will breed something special. It might be the understanding or knowing the mind and heart of another your age. Even though he was a boy I loved him dearly. He was killed by police in Boston when we were only thirteen. He was five feet tall with a slight built. His murder was classified as a mistaken identity. He was vindicated from any wrong doing. That din't stop the pain or the amount of grieve my family suffered. The police was never charged or reprimanded in the case. I remember feeling that we're only kids, why would someone harm him? How do you justify murdering a child? And why is the fact that they're black make it controversial, or the fault of the victim? Do people not realize that we loved our children just like white people  love theirs?

I watched in horror when I went with  my Aunt Saundra to identify her youngest son in a hospital following an accident that claimed his life( a different cousin).  As soon as she saw him her knees bucked and she lost her balanced as the grieve absorbed her. That night I think she may have cried a million tears.  I thought I would faint from the pain, not only my own, but my aunt's as well. I don't think anyone can comprehend a mother's grieve at the lose of her child,  no matter what the color of the child's skin.

I heard Trayvon's screams for help on the 911 tapes, they were the terrified screams of a child. Many witness have come forward and told that the kid was asking for help. The self-proclaimed neighborhood watchmen called the police and said it was a suspicious looking guy walking the neighborhood(black male in a hoodie). Trayvon had went to the store at half-time of the all star games to buy his little brother candy. He was armed with a bag of skittles and a can of iced tea. By all accounts the watchmen George Zimmerman pursued the kid and overtook him, though he said he killed him in self-defense. I am so sad for the parents. Trayvon died a hundred feet from where he was staying. His young blood soaking the earth. Probably crying out to God like Abel's. I know God hates innocent blood shed. I pray for the family of Trayvon,that God grant them peace and forgiveness in this difficult time. I pray that Trayvon is vindicated and the truth comes out and that Mr Zimmerman has his day in court, and that his soul be saved.

The day my mother told me about my cousin(in Boston) I was eating Now and Later candy. As I cried the Now and later candy mixed with tears did not make my sorrow sweet, it made the taste of the candy bitter. I have not eaten Now and Later candy since that day. I wonder if the taste of skittles will do the same for Trayvon's little brother. Will has mother ever enjoy the brisk cold taste of ice tea? The police refuse to arrest Mr. Zimmerman, and he has went into hiding after numerous death threats. I just want justice for Trayvon. It's sad that in almost forty years justice is still blinded by color instead of being colorblind.

My heart hurt so bad today...

Fearless

I haven't stopped

My sister Gina asked me to pray for her job situation. She has been without gainful employment for several months. She applied for a job she really desired. She ran into several stumbling-blocks. She was feeling really uncertain and her faith was beginning to waver. So I prayed. My prayer did get long, but it was Holy Spirit lead. Some days my prayers are short and sweet and others days they're full of the fire. That was a fiery day.

She sent me a text the following day and let me know she got the job and she thanked me for the "powerful loooong prayer." I laughed at the way she wrote long. That night a mutual friend called me. She asked about Gina and I told her about the job situation and her text earlier that day.I told her that it had been awhile since my prayers were that spirit filled. My friend cut into me for my prayers being long. After that she went on to reprimand me for talking about Jesus too much. She said it was not real or the "real world." She told me that some people including herself sometimes, get upset because they don't hear from Jesus like I do. Boy, I didn't see that coming.

She went on to pray for me. She asked for wisdom in my prayer and she asked that I would not mention Jesus as much as I do, because he already know how much I love him. The prayer was full of her thoughts and attitude toward my prayers and conversations. She asked for me to have something else to talk about beside Jesus, to give me something real to talk about and help me not to turn people away from Jesus, like she did her husband.

It took me a minute to close my mouth and comprehend what had just happened. I felt as if someone just pour a bucket of pig blood on me, like Carrie on prom night. Before I knew it I started defending myself. I said I usually don't pray that long and I think about, write about and be about Jesus all day long. I told her that I spend hours on end listening to friends tell me about their latest boyfriends, interest, hobbies and whatever they want to talk about. I want to talk about Jesus and for me that's as real as it get. I said I don't beat people on the head with the bible and for me it's about relationship. I went on to say if people have such a problem with my conversations and prayers, why would they call me? My sister told me she appreciated me and the godly wisdom and prayer that I give her. I went on and on, for every perceived injury I had a defense. I guess I really could use that wisdom she prayed for. I need the wisdom to not defend myself.

It took me two days to realize that I was tested again with the not defending myself. Ha! I did a horrible job that time. When Abba tells you he want you to stop something, you will get tested until you get it right. My test have been going on for a year and I still defend myself. Self-righteousness and pride run deep! The next time I'm going to get it right. I wonder if Abba would mind, if I just say God bless you and hang-up the phone before I go any further...is that rude? I am going to get it right next time...I'm waiting the next time someone starts hurdling accusation, insults, or anything that puts me on the defense. I will NOT defend myself.
 Please pray for me.

Fearless

Grateful

Rev 2:10  Have no fear of the things which you will have to undergo: see, the Evil One will send some of you into prison, so that you may be put to the test; and you will have great trouble for ten days. Be true till death, and I will give you the crown of life. 

Rev 2:11  He who has ears, let him give ear to what the Spirit says to the churches. He who overcomes will not come under the power of the second death. 

I am thankful for so many things. Today I decided to be more conscious of my surroundings. There is beauty in  simple things. Today I noticed the first spring buds on the trees in the backyard. My first thought was of the new life. My second thought is  of  the brown dead leaves that will one day lay like dead soldiers on the dying grass. I completely dismissed the season of new life. These thoughts made me wonder how much of my life have I missed while focusing on death.

When my son was a child I spent his childhood waiting on him to grow older. When he was in his terrible-twos every morning he would get up before me and make a big mess. He was very inventive, some days he would climb up on a chair and turn on the washing machine. Or pour cereal all over the floor. He was funny and fun exploring the world around him with awe and wonder. The fact that I was the person responsible for keeping his antics to a minimal left me tired and haggard most days. I didn't enjoy my child like I should have. Now I miss that baby boy and all his crazy toddler stunts. He has grown to a good man and a great father. I still sometimes long to go back to those days and hug that baby that brought unconditional love and trust into my life. He was the first person that really needed me. I didn't know how to be in the moment and enjoy it. So many blessing have went unnoticed in my life.

The bible says to bring every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. I finally get it. I have been paying attention to my thought pattern. I have to rebuke much of what I think. I do have high thoughts that exalts themselves over the knowledge of God. Those high thoughts are fears. Fear of failure, fear of what others will think of me, fear of sounding like a nutjob. I guess anyone that really followed God sounded foolish to others. I'm sure it was not easy for Noah to build and Ark while the rest of the world were partying. What I have feared most lately has been the coming judgment of our wicked generation. 

My problem has been a lack of balance. I, like Noah have been shown the heart of God. How he grieve innocent blood shed and the degradation of our society. I watched in horror the way his name is blasphemed and people in ignorance shake their fist at him. I cried with God for his people. I cried at the way his love is rejected and thrown back at him as if it's a worthless thing. I have seen only the destruction coming to the world. I missed the life that comes to all that believe. Not only life but eternal life. God is showing me that I should keep my eyes on the prize, Christ Jesus. It's time to sound the alarm and stay focus on life and forget about death. Death has no victory! 

I'm always in awe at the simple way God answers my prayer. I have been praying, for the things he showed me. He knew that the mind of the flesh would see only death and decay. He also knew the revelation would make me seek him. In a simple spring bub he showed me my thought pattern is off. I love that he takes time and enjoy the simple things with me, even while showing me great truths. He's never exhausted or haggard waiting for me to grow-up. He takes time to enjoy me. I think he even thinks I'm fun and funny even though I'm messy most of the time. It that unconditional love and trust that he sees. I need him. I am so grateful for his tender care.

Fearless

Hearing His Voice

John 10:27  My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.

I am learning how to hear my Shepherd's voice. As long as I've been in Christ you would think it would be easy by now. I do hear from him, but not nearly as much as I would like to. Sometimes I hear it and don't heed it. Mostly because, I will second guess it or try to rationalize it with my own human reason. Which is always a mistake. I could probably avoid a lot of headaches if I listen and obey. However like any other discipline it takes practice and for me,  that always mean trial and error. I learned that it's not that he doesn't speak, it's the fact that I don't listen. I sometimes allow the clamor and distraction going on around me block out his voice.

The Lord is faithful even when we are hard-headed and full of what we think we know. He told me to repeat the scripture, Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not unto your own understanding in all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your path. I thought it's hard not to lean to my own understanding, but that's not the real problem. The real problem is I listen to the mind of the flesh, which is always with enmity with the voice of God. It's always a war going on between the spirit and the flesh. If a thought makes you comfortable and fit the wisdom of the world, 99.9% of the time it's the flesh. No, scratch the latter part of that last statement, 100% flesh. Who doesn't want to feel comfortable and in charge? Who wants to be misunderstood and called crazy?

Since God started showing me things in the spirit I have been looked at as a fanatic, unstable person that sees a demon in every situation. People I used to think I had a spiritual connection with stopped talking to me. Some of them refuse to return my calls. One well meaning family member went as far as to say, "our family has a history of mental illness, I think we all have a slight problem." She was willing to pretend she was talking about herself as well. I knew better, I had just told her about a certain situation that involved witches. These are not nonbelievers. These are people that read the bible, go to church and study the scriptures. I told her I'm not crazy anyone that don't heed the truth of the bible today is crazy. She was telling me the story of Paul casting out the spirit of divination in a woman following him around. I told her of a true and more recent story involving me, some witches and the holy spirit. I guess it's easier to believe Paul.

They, like I used to do ignore the fact that Jesus whole ministry was healing the sick, casting out demons and setting free all that are oppressed of the devil. Jesus even went as far as to say, these are the signs that follow those who believe, in my name they shall cast out devils, they shall speak with other tongues and pick up serpents and lay hands on the sick and they shall recover. God's people use to believe in the scriptures, now we have this water down doctrine of demons preaching that God no longer has power to endow his beloved with. And  hell, demons and devils are not real, only crazy religious fanatics believe they are real. On the other hand there are books and movies and the media continually glorifying the works of witchcraft, wizards, and satanic powers.

How long will God's people refuse to see the truth when it's staring them in the face? The wisdom of the world wants to distort the truth of God. They paint him as weak and powerless, ancient and old fashion. The wisdom of this world is the real foolishness. It's sad but it looks like the devils are very effective in their deceptions. I guess they have had a lot of practice. That's why it's so important that we learn to hear God's voice and obey. He knows what's before us, what's behind us, and what we fight against daily. I started a prayer journal. In it I write to Abba,  and I wait to hear his reply as I hear I write it down. It's like taking dictation from the Most High God. So many days his reply to me has left me crying, gave me direction and rebuked me, and encouraged me on in my path. It has been a blessing to me and I encourage anyone reading this to start a journal. Learn to listen, we are in the eleventh hour and we have to learn to trust the Lord with all of our hearts.

Fearless

Adoption: part three

One of the children from the school and his girlfriend started asking me if it was okay to visit me on the weekend.  Although I liked my weekend to be stress free, I said yes. All week James seemed excited about visiting me that weekend. He kept asking me if I changed my mind, can he still come. His excitement was infectious and I found myself trying to come up with ways to make sure they would have something to do. To be honest I can be a rather boring person. I listen to worship music and talk about Jesus all day. That would have to do. And that's exactly what I did.

It didn't seem to matter to the children. I would pray for them, reprove, rebuke and cook for or order them pizza. They never failed to tell me these horror tales. I don't think I listened as intently as I should have. Mainly because I couldn't believe tales of people being tortured, who would peel someone skin off. Then one cloudy, humid day as the children sat in my backyard telling me horror tales. I walked in the house to get them some lemonade. When I returned, their eyes were big as saucers, they actually looked afraid. As I handed them their lemonade they asked me, You won't tell anybody what we have told you, will you?

It was at that very minute, I realized that they were telling me the truth. I also realized what God told me in the dream, he said there were witchcraft, child molestation, child sacrifice and every evil work. I would like to think of myself as brave and self-sacrificing, but I'm not. I wanted those kids and their demonized families far removed from me. I couldn't wait until they left that day. That following day, I spoke to all my Christian friends and asked what I should do about the situation. I was told that the devil sent those kids to me and that I shouldn't have anymore contact with them, but I should pray about it. That sounded like a plan to me.

Ha! Life in Christ is never cut and dry is it? I prayed and Jesus said, "feed my lamb." I tried to explain to him that this was way over my head. He repeated, "feed my lamb." So I decided to do as he requested. He didn't mind that I am the least qualified for the task. The children started visiting every weekend. Things went on that way for several weeks. Than one weekend James told me he has an Alter-ego who hurt people. He say he didn't want him to try and hurt me, and that he said (The Alter) I was trying to take him away from him. The demon was mad at me. I knew it was only a demon. I asked James when did he get this Alter-ego. He told me when he was six. I knew it came in through trauma. I asked what happened to him when he was six. He didn't want to talk about it. So I didn't press it.

I told him I wasn't afraid of his Alter-ego. I asked James to ask Jesus in his heart as his Lord and Savior. He did. That really made the demon mad. I repeated that I wasn't not scared of that demon. The next thing I know James face is distorted, his eyes have really dark circles and he look like pure evil. He has a sharp pointed instrument in his hand, poised to attack me with. He said in the most frightening voice I ever heard. F**k GOD. The first thing I remember feeling is heart-pounding fear. However I didn't run like my flesh told me to. There's a braver me that came forth and said in an authoritarian voice, "Drop it! and with shaky hands, he dropped the instrument. I knew at that moment, greater that is in me then that is in the world. The demon had to do as I said. I thanked the demon for protecting James when he was to small to protect himself, and I said Jesus will protect him from that day forward. I called him a trespasser and demanded that he go. I could hear him leave, it was like he went out the window, but not before telling me it's not that easy.

When I looked back over at James he looked like a angel. He was absolutely glowing, his face was sweet and innocent. I had never saw him like that before. He looked at me and asked, "mama, what just happened?" He was elated, he grabbed me and hugged me tighter than anyone had ever hugged me. I was still to shook-up to even attempt to explain. I had no explanation, except, Jesus is Lord! I still had much work to do with these children. This is only the beginning.

Fearless

I am being my best

Sometimes that rat part of my brain, you know the part that the demons like to speak to. Well, it tells me that I am the worst writer in the world. The worse are the writer who refuse to write, because they think they're not good enough. Ha! I don't fit in that category and I am glad. Today I am a writer! Because I wrote something.

Fearless 

I started a novel

Okay I started a novel a few days ago. This is my forth attempt. For one reason or another I lost my first three.I am determined to finish this time. I don't work, I have a small income and a quiet place to write. What more can I ask for. I also started writing a new journal. It's a prayer journal or my journey of asking. A couple of years ago upon arising one morning the Lord spoke to me and said, ASK. A year before that he said, my people have it wrong, they want me to bless them financially and I don't mind prospering my people. My word says ask and I will give you the nations as an inheritance and the utmost parts of the earth as a possession.

Now I think it's time I do as I have been instructed. I started a journey of asking a few weeks ago. I knew it feels a little selfish, but it's really hidden pride that's trying to stop me. I am not used to asking for stuff. Not from people and not from God. Well, I do ask God in desperation. Apparently he wants me to learn to depend on him for everything. I will come here periodically and write, but as you can see my plate is full. I also have another publisher and an editor. I will update here my blog as often as I can. This is my practice area where I don't have to dot my I's and cross my T's. Pray for me and see you soon.
Fearless