My Blackness

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On tomorrow, I will be celebrating the heavenly birthday of my grandmother, Beatrice, affectionately known to her family as Mudear. There isn’t one day that goes by that I don’t think of her “figures of speech, quotes, words of wisdom, or just a matter of fact response to any kind of drama that is going on. I got my first lesson on community from living in her tiny apartment in the projects. Her place was filled with smells of fried chicken, grease popping and cabinets that displayed it, hair pressing, and the love that she had for her family.

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I wrote the following poem ” My Blackness”, this past week, after dropping my car off for an oil change, and then waiting for my son to pick me up. I read the poem to my son, and he was surprised that I was able to write it so fast. His response, “Hmmm, I’m surprised that you didn’t need to have the perfect writing conditions present”. My response: “Yes, I know. Totally a God thing.” Me standing there on the sidewalk typing a poem into the Notes app on my phone? I then explained to him that I had read a blog post by a black blogger on the Black Lives Matter topic, particulary Juneteenth, and was immediately inspired to write poetry that helped to express my feelings about everything. Feelings about why we judge, what we judge, and what we think when we just don’t understand.

Well, here goes. Mudear, this is dedicated to you:

My Blackness

Is it the sassy in my voice?

Is the hips I’m given by choice?

Is it the knots that’s in my hair?

That makes the crowds shake heads and stare?

Is it my eyes that’s filled with grief?

Above the teeth that’s clenched by thief?

Is it the music that makes me sway?

That helps me heal from day to day.

Is it the movies that recall drama

Of taken lives and baby mommas?

It’s part of blackness.

Oh, can’t you see?

My Godly image, “identity”.

Have a blessed Sunday!

Season of Uncertainty

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We are definitely living in uncertain times. During these times, it is important to keep ourselves anchored in God and his promises. It is also crucial to establish a creative outlet for ourselves, and our kids if they are still at home. Practicing self-care will help our souls and our ability to be resilient when everything around us is on shaky ground. This poem”Season of Uncertainty”, deals with our life as it is right now worldwide. I am currently reminded of God’s goodness as I type this because there are several birds singing their tunes right outside my kitchen window. To God be the glory! Blessings my friends!

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Season of Uncertainty

The sun and birds.

The walks and talks.

Slowdown and family time.

There’s a growing whine.

When at home we dine.

In the midst of uncertainty.

It’s the unexpected.

When you feel neglected.

And a need to be hugged and seen.

When our faith is tested,

and the fear has rested,

in our hearts and in our souls.

It’s a time to trust.

Trust that God is good.

When the picture’s not whole, looks bleak.

When we search for others,

There’s no need to look further,

When his kingdom we will seek.

Last poem: Triggered

Triggered

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The word “triggered” has become so overly used in this day and age. For those of us who live with trauma/PTSD, triggers are real. And when they occur, gaining solid grounding is what’s needed in order to get past the episode. This poem, entitled, “Triggered” paints a vivid picture of what it’s like.

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Triggered

Triggers-everywhere.

Sights and sounds.

Beyond compare.

The bad seems worse.

The good seems better.

Triggers in all forms-

By Good “Ole Friend” Weather.

One word. One sound. Tilts you off the ground.

One look paints a picture.

Identity in Christ-Our one and only fixture.

Completion

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The Completion

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Photo by Brodie Vissers

He died.

Upon that tree.

He moaned. And groaned. Then bent the knee.

He said his last words.

Through the earth and through the nation, the completion was heard.

“It is finished.”

Yes, he said it.

It was for you and for me.

The conniving and all the striving…

The shedding of blood…

Broke it free.

After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, “I thirst!” 29 Now a vessel full of sour wine was sitting there; and they filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on hyssop, and put it to His mouth. 30 So when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished!” And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit.

John 19: 28-30

Our Stories

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My theme for the last few weeks has seemed to focus on our stories. It is so important to gain freedom from telling and owning our stories. I came up with a poem that I would like to share with you all for reflection.

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Photo by Matthew Henry

Our Stories

Our Stories.

No, they don’t define us.

Our Stories.

God’s Word Realigns Us.

Our Stories.

Takes Us Back to the Beginning.

Our Stories.

Helps Us Sift through all the Sinning.

Our Stories.

Gives us Depth and Relation.

Our Stories.

We Are God’s Own Priestly Nation.

The Path to Healing

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Each one of us have a different path to healing. No two paths are alike. However, our commonality lies in the fact that we are all human, we all struggle, and we all have childhood wounds of some sort that need to be worked out in order for us to heal and grow. Healing is a lifelong journey. Just when you think that you have completed this journey, it can be one random thought or song, or one major trauma or death that causes you to revisit certain areas, and then go in at a deeper level. The poem “The Path to Healing” reflects thoughts on my healing journey. God bless!

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The Path to Healing

Abandoned?

Not by His love.

Wounded by earthly doves.

Journeying through all the pain.

Dancing in sun and rain.

Forgiving for damage unknown.

Believing the good will be owned.

Entangled by triggers unfounded.

Triangled-The Trinity keeps me grounded.

I Can’t Sleep!

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Sleep is one of those things that we can’t live without. At one time or another, we’ve all had problems sleeping. But what happens when lack of sleep starts to get the best of you? Read the poem below to find out.

I Can’t Sleep

I can’t sleep! I can’t sleep!

Do I pray or do I weep?

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Let the music play in your head.

Rest in Jesus while in your bed.

This lack of sleep, all part of trauma.

Give him your fears and all your drama.

I can’t sleep! I can’t sleep!

“I know my child.

My grace runs deep.”

Family

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Lots of times being with family can bring out a full range of emotions all at once or individually. This particular poem illustrates the happy, freeing moments of family time. As you read through the poem, ponder over the following questions: What are some words that come to mind when you think of family? What are some of the emotions that are stirred up? How can you engage more with your family?

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Photo by Sarah Pflug

Family

Family-it’s what we need.

Family-there’s strength indeed.

Biological or spiritual-doesn’t matter.

Some prefer the former, some prefer the latter.

Hold them tight.

Hold them near.

Just have fun.

Make it dear.

Laugh and twirl.

Turn around.

Dance and sing.

Hit the ground.

Move your feet to the beat.

Hand in hand.

Oh, how neat!

Reminisce.

Good old times.

Gather ’round.

Time to dine.

Jesus saith unto them, Come and dine. And none of the disciples durst ask him, Who art thou? knowing that it was the Lord.

John 21:12

Direction

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Background on the Poem “Direction

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Photo by Matthew Henry

There are times in life when we don’t know which way to go. During these times, if we seek the Lord, then our mission, our purpose, and his will becomes clearer. Of course, it also means that we have to still do our part. Our part involves intentionality, setting goals, and aligning our will with his. We also need wisdom discerning in whom we should confide God’s great revelation.

I will stand at my guard post and station myself on the ramparts. I will watch to see what He will say to me and how I will answer my reproof. Then the LORD answered me: “Write down this vision and clearly inscribe it on tablets, so that a herald may run with it. For the vision awaits an appointed time; 

Habakkuk 2: 1-3

Direction

Listen- to every word that I say.

Vision-making it plain, don’t you sway.

Write it-on your heart and your mind.

Do it-all in wisdom and my time.

Show it-to your siblings, the believers.

Hold it-From the wicked, the deceivers.

He Speaks

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This poem was written as a reflection of some of the different ways in which God speaks to us. We like to put God in a box. We often forget that God has an infinite way of relating to us, and allowing us to hear his voice. When Elijah was in the process of running away from Jezebel, God revealed Himself to him. Elijah had put God in the box of coming to him in a “great and mighty way”. Instead, he whispered to him in the still, small voice. God knows what we need, and when we need it. He is a God who meets us right where we’re at.

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Picture by Sarah Pflug

He Speaks

He Speaks! He Speaks!

But where will it be?

In a message, in a song, or the birds in a tree?

Will it be in the coolness of the wind blowing at night?

Will it be in the calmness of the crickets singing in flight?

Will it be in the morning when the rabbits talk to squirrels?

Or the munks tunneling through grass, and the robins dancing a twirl?

Will it be in the waves that are splashing at the beach?

Or the smiles of the saints as they’re waving “Hi” to me?

Will it be in the sun that is setting in the sky?

Or the swans overhead that are reaching by and by?

When he speaks, will I hear him, same voice as before?

Or will it be with great trumpet?

All of that, and Even more!

God bless,

Katina