herlucidlife

Sitting on the sofa watching young black and brown skinned women like me reach monuments on homely social platforms, household names in their own right…instantly I thought, “it’s time to loc it.” Never wanting to transition to the statement in the past, not looking highly upon the style, it just wasn’t my cup of tea. Nothing negative to say, seemed commitment was stuck in my mind. Considering life, the amount of control I have is little, while many. Every moment is a decision, compacting onto the other like foundation, all details not designed for my hand are none of my concern. To allow my coils to twist into themselves, holding onto every hair, mangling into frizzy cylinders swelling in size over time, hanging down the back…my hair is an example on how to actively let go while purposely working. 

Doing only what is needed from me, allowing the rest to take the course designed. Internalizing that my life is the loc and letting God grow and deepen what He wishes while I simply maintain the fruits He develops. I want to understand true obedience over sacrifice through simple actions in quiet living. Beginning to think sacrifice is the same as disobedience. Spending my last on green, watching the gas tank on low after handling much needed responsibilities. God sent help, “she said she was worried about me.” A dear friend of mom’s, coming to my aid by God’s timing unprovoked. Filling in the gaps, doing an odd job, I was granted financial reprieve. Green lighting the collector that needed it the most, the rest went to substances that helped nothing. 

Having a problem is more than knowing but it’s a reach out for help because without acknowledgement it could become too much. Making a decision to kick the habit, past circumstance it’s more than coin, regardless I will always feel defeated at the beginning of the journey. First couple of days and weeks are the hardest, it becomes questionable around the two month mark…that’s usually when I stumble. Having faith the habit can be kicked, I’m not a feign though my emotional and spiritual hives have flared up. Staying away from religious gatherings containing the word of God, sometimes I retreat to the God that sits quietly at home with me in my hurt. Father is everywhere, multifaceted, never changing, always consistent. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss Him, rather I just needed to feel His gentle presence on my heart as I sat in front of the window feeling the breeze brush in. 

He is here. Never leaving. Father, Abba. Granting grace sufficient He gets me through every single nano second of the day. Getting through is grace, mercy is being unscathed, unbroken, glory is being healed, love is being helped, and Father is God.