The Colors Of Hope
The last blog for “31 Days of Estrogen comes from such a awesome, talented and wonderful sister that words cannot describe her! You simply must get to know her for yourself. So please visit her website and her blog! Follow her everywhere…you will not be disappointed! Jhae Small, known artistically as Mo’kha, is a supernova of sorts! I met Mo’kha online several years back…she inspired me to write and write some more…her persona was amazing. We were poetic princesses on “Poetic Mic” and we formed a cypher sisterhood with Sadie Collier, whom you heard from earlier this month and Gina Rene. She shares a heartfelt testimony and piece of her soul. One that is near and dear to my heart. Thank you Mo’kha for lending your voice!
Two and a half years ago I began a journey that would take me from the grip of darkness into the brilliance of light. It was by no means pretty or perfect. I stumbled many times and at one point I fell so far down, I thought it would be impossible to get back up again. But God’s unflinching mercy, enduring love and limitless grace filtered through my core being and made me whole.
On September 9th, 2011, my goddaughter took her life. As I watched the aftermath of her choice wreak havoc on my best friend and her family, my children, husband, and myself, I knew that was a fate I’d never meet. Before that day, my life had been consumed with thoughts of suicide; having two failed attempts under my belt, it seemed my destiny to die by my own hands, though I’d plan to unintentionally take my life.
I spent countless days trying to figure out how to end my earthly life, without damming my eternal soul to hell. In the meantime, I drank too much and participated in behavior that I knew would eventually cause my demise. Even after meeting my second husband, who I believed was God sent, I was miserable and concluded that surely I was undeserving of unconditional love and shackled to a life of discontentment.
The week before her death, I had been battling with those demonic voices again. This time no amount of alcohol or sleeping aids could quiet these voices. Still I continued to ignore the very being who could save me. I’d become set on blaming God for every misfortune in my life; accepting every horrific encounter that transpired as punishment for something I’d done or a generational crime committed by my ancestors. I thought it was my destiny to suffer.
I’m so grateful God had a bigger plan for my life. One day while standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I finally cried out to Him. And like a gallant white knight, he rushed in and saved me. Not only did he rescue me, but he showed me what true love really looked like. How it felt and acted. He also helped me to see myself as He saw me. The greatest gift however, was a ministry of HOPE and an unrelenting desire to share it with as many people as I can.
My life is now filled with joy and peace, in my heart, mind and soul. I am truly content with any situation I find myself faced with and I know, without a shadow of a doubt I’m not alone and I’m worthy of treasures on earth and in Heaven.
Letter to a Dying Woman
I want to tell you how courageous you are,
and how graciously you approach your end.
Though you may not believe it to be true
your ending is also your beginning.
Dying now brings new life later,
And is far greater than the eternal dance
With darkness you’ve been contemplating.
Freshly awaken, I know that from the moment you took your first breath
until this moment we’re in right now, our lives have purpose;
we’re created with Divine intention.
I also know, paralyzed from years of self-loathing and fear
you’re breathlessly anticipating the next line,
further emphasizing you have just lost your way.
I know because once upon a time
I was just like you…Sleeping.
Dying piece by piece, breath to breath,
from color to grey.
And just like you, I too had lost my way.
Wandering through the murky, dismal
darkness of immorality,
Filling my discontentment with lascivious libations
and bread that never made me feel full.
Making bedfellows with sorrow that consumed me
and a fiery presence that seemed uncontrollable.
It burned every good thing and
my aching for release couldn’t be contained.
I spent my days substituting fruit
with color coated circles and embossed oblongs
that hushed my soul and stilled my higher aspirations.
Weighted down by my regrets and insecurities,
death had me firmly secured in its grasp.
My soul was parched; thirsty for righteousness.
And like you,
Weary from driving this
winding road alone, I cried out.
In the clutches of my despair
my soul prayed for salvation.
And He heard my cry,
wrapped me in His beauty
and hid me safely in His arms.
And just like me, He will restore you.
Back to that quiet existence in your mother’s womb.
For in the midst of my desolation,
hope came to my rescue, loosed my shackles,
filtered light into the core of my being
and colored me with Joy.
He claimed me a daughter and clothed me
with Grace, Virtue and Humility.
And just like me, you too
can be free.