When I look in the mirror in the morning I see myself without any makeup, with every mole, scar, and age mark exposed. There are also line marks from were I slept to hard or even a little cold in my eye from sleeping with the fan on, but those things are the past and they remind me ever day of what I've done in life. Last night, yesterday, or 10 years ago it's the past. Sometimes we try to forget our past like it never existed. There might be things we aren't proud of but you still did it so not judge the next person because you don't do it anymore. I am never ashamed of who I am or what I have done in life. My mistakes have been corrected and whatever the situation I was in can be a testament to someone else. As I get ready to start my day I am back at the mirror putting on MAC and Cover girl not to hide anything but to see growth, because I am not who I was I am becoming who God created me to be. See that scar can still be seen, the mole is a beauty mark and the age lines are wisdom. God didn't bring you out of something for you to sit and be quite, we can talk about everything else from men to clothes so encourage someone with your story.
With Love,
Attica
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Forgivness...........
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “People I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I Have Betrayed.”
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told”, “Comfort I Have Given”, “Jokes I Have Laughed At”. Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Other I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger”, “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents”. I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards?
But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with mysignature . When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I Have Listened To”, I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts”, I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only and inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.
But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to itsslot .
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self- pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With”. The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?
Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. “No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written in His blood.
He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “People I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I Have Betrayed.”
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told”, “Comfort I Have Given”, “Jokes I Have Laughed At”. Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Other I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger”, “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents”. I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards?
But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my
An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.
But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self- pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With”. The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?
Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. “No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written in His blood.
He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
This poem gets me everytime Forgiveness is a powerful thing if you can do it. Sometimes we not only need to Forgive someone but we need to Forgive ourselves. God says Forgive your enemies 77 times just as He has Forgiving you. Matthew 18:21-22. Forgiving ourselves realeases us from things in our past that has held us from our future. So I encourage you to start Forgiving Today!
With Love, Attica
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
3:00 am
So I've worked all day came home and relaxed with the hopes of getting a goodnight of sleep, but I am still up. This has to stop this is the 3rd time in a week I've had a sleepless night. My brain is on overload and I have written down every thought, dream, idea, and feeling I have if I could only get some rest so I can have the strength to make them all manifest. Sweet Dreams.......
With Love, Attica
With Love, Attica
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Growing.... Lesson Learned
Mistake overturned so I call it a lesson learned, My soul has returned so I called it a lesson learned. Life perfect ain't perfect if you don't know what the struggles for. Falling down ain't falling down if you don't cry when you hit the floor. It's called a past cause I'm getting past and I ain't nothing like I was before you ought to see me now.
Alicia Keys
I love this song by Alicia Keys just one of many. Right now I don't have many words just this song on repeat and I start to sing extra loud when this part comes on. I am so motivated right now. I had been taking small steps but now I taking a leap of Faith. It is not a fight that I need help so you will have to sit on the sideline for this one. Thank God for clarity and understanding!!
With Love, Attica
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Growing......
This is how Webster dictionary defines the word Grow- a: to spring up and develop to maturity. b: to be able to grow in some place or situation. This is were I am in a growth process but in order to grow I have to deal and forgive my past to advance in my Growing Future.
I think I speak for a lot of people when I say that you can't let you past define your future. My parents divorced when I was a kid and the impact it had on my life I didn't fully realize until I got older. Often times I blamed myself for actions I had no control over, but as an adult I grew from that situation placing blame on no one, but understand that sometimes people aren't meant to be together. This never changed how much I loved my parents because I forgave them. Our family unit grew stronger no matter who your mother or father is we are all brothers and sisters we don't use the word step because we are Family. The morals that were instilled in us as kids we embody them today. This is one of many areas in my life that I am sharing there will be other Growing post. So I challenge you to deal with your past to you can Grow into your Future!!!!
With Love,
Attica
I think I speak for a lot of people when I say that you can't let you past define your future. My parents divorced when I was a kid and the impact it had on my life I didn't fully realize until I got older. Often times I blamed myself for actions I had no control over, but as an adult I grew from that situation placing blame on no one, but understand that sometimes people aren't meant to be together. This never changed how much I loved my parents because I forgave them. Our family unit grew stronger no matter who your mother or father is we are all brothers and sisters we don't use the word step because we are Family. The morals that were instilled in us as kids we embody them today. This is one of many areas in my life that I am sharing there will be other Growing post. So I challenge you to deal with your past to you can Grow into your Future!!!!
With Love,
Attica
Monday, November 5, 2012
With Love, Attica
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