Issa Healing

If you have been following my diary blog for a while now.

Thank you.

I was a fragmented person looking to find sense in the pieces I had been shattered into, over and over again.

So I wrote. I wrote my truths. I beared my all. I needed to make sense of it all.

I have come to the understanding that the things we go through are important for shaping us according to the purpose God has for our lives. Don’t run from your truth. Don’t run from your pain. Feel it. Speak it. Face it. There is freedom in all of it.

Isn’t that the goal?

Isn’t that why people march in the streets? Isn’t that why we protest?

But Assata Shakur once said she wouldn’t know what freedom was, even having been freed from prison (breaking out?), and having political asylum in Cuba.

But I found freedom in the confines of my mind so I write about it.

I try to walk in love. Love includes discipline, and holding people accountable for behaviors that are outside the realm of approval to God. We (God’s chosen priesthood) are called to live lives that are holy, under acts of purity. How are we bringing the sins of others to God as intercessors when our hands are dirty? When the priests of old got caught doing that they were killed on the spot.

You may be physically alive. But spiritually dead, quoting scriptures out of context refusing to bring your sins to God. Refusing to admit you have a problem. Refusing to acknowledge that some things you do aren’t being done in love.

I recognize it. I dont form an opinion about your chsracter because your actions don’t dictate whats in your heart all the time. I mean havent you ever said something you didn’t mean to someone you loved. Lacking self control. In anger. Wanting to get them back in a spirit of retaliation? But on reality knowing you love them.

See i get it. I too used to be a Pharisee. Judging people. In my reign of superiority because of my religiosity. Knocking on doors. Telling the churched and unchurched they were going to die unless they came to the Kingdom Hall and became one of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

And then here comes Jesus. He stripped me. Blinded me. Maybe in my realm of being too judgemental he allowed me to think that just because a man quoted a scripture real good, looked real dapper in nice clothes to promote policy for my city that he would never violate me in my own space and justify his behaviors with scriptures. See had I prayed without ceasing like I used to. Had I asked God to reveal to me who a person was. Had I done that instead of just letting their reputation precede them as is the bad habit I picked up, after coming to church. I would’ve saw it coming. I would’ve been saved.

I wouldnt have fallen so hard for the man who quotes scriptures so hard but had a spirit of perversion and influence. I would’ve been able to ask God to show me as I always had. I would’ve done that instead of leaning on my own understanding. Then I wouldn’t have ended up being one of those people who chose a way that seemed right, but led me to death.

Right to a spiritual demise.

That’s why when I give the youth, you know those younger than me, advice; I remind them to stop looking at who they appear to be. Ask God to show you. Pray without ceasing.

Like Samuel had to do when choosing David. Flesh will have you choosing everyone but the anointed one of you’re waiting for people to tell you who it should be.

And men. Thinking men thoughts. Side with their own kind. For this act of treason. The nation that sat in my ovaries had just been attacked. And the woman who sat in one place only knew one way to react.

Give it away give it away give it away now.

I wrote that poem in 2014. I ministered it in 2015 at a thanksgiving service my Pastor asked me to after meeting me for the first time, periscoping me, and having no one to validate or give him an impression of me but the Holy Spirit.

Listen I tell you the truth, this years event triggered the same emotions as did during the period the poem was written about, circa 2007.

I began doing what I was doing in 2007. This year I started back smoking cigarettes like a chimney. But God stopped that. Tried to do an ex lover, stopped midway like Psalms 143 just popped up in my mind. Let’s read it.

No I can not go back.

I have healed.

Even if lying men use words of disconnect to bring divisions in my supposed sanctuary. Even if men side with other men for their despicable behaviors. Even if those men who side with said men, try to attack me and bully me for the text messages they were never supposed to see or know about if they had not opened doors for their family members to be a part of the group who got the scoop shared it like ice cream, and everyone dived in intent on demolishing my name.

Maybe I’m imagining the last part. Maybe i am not.

But I get to speak My truths. My testimonies. We are overcome by the blood of the lamb and our testimony. But men that try to tear down my name in a city that does more name recognition than Jesus and Holy Spirit approval recognition, shut down the very ones God has called. And stand in the way of Gods plan for his people. Playing God. So the people I have been called to go get will never be got.

Maybe that’s why the violence is so out of control in Chicago. The people God wants to use are seen as nobodies. Or their name got tarnished by the liars and manipulators who may practice magic behind closed doors but know church people are not familiar with that spirit so they hide in churches, in pulpits, in praise teams and sing over people keeping them bound just like the enemy likes. Or if they don’t, they have a friend who does. Or their influence is just so overwhelming that people fall for their deception every time.

Why else would a nobody be attacked, and their name dragged through the mud?

Yep. The woman with the story to tell is always called crazy. Or she just wanted that man so bad, she wants to get back at him.

But my words. Explain my freedom.

I have been at church for 4 years. It was always about a want.

But everyone has a different assignment. Even the Israelites were worshipping the golden calf and performing the sexual rituals they learned from their time in Egypt while Moses was on the mountain.

Some of us are valley people. Some of us are mountain people. But even Aaron in the valley was still used by God.

I digress.

Jesus always asked the ones he healed in the bible, do you want to be made whole.

I made the choice.

And I understand I am an enemy to the enemy’s camp of darkness and being bound.

Let me tell you though. I have to refuse to be distracted. I know where I came from. Like Esther. I want my people to be free.

The people from the organization where they knock on peoples doors traveling in burning sun, blustery winter conditions, rain sleet and snow, every single day to try and tell others of the bible and the God of the bible.

The people who are taught to be intent on not sinning. And when they sin some go and tell on themselves. I told on myself. I didn’t much like the deception of living a double life and hiding my sins. I went and told the brothers this is what I did. I need help.

That’s why they disfellowshipped me and I couldn’t talk to my family and friends. I knew what was probably going to happen. But for me, doing what I thought was required to by God was more important than how others saw me.

The people who show love amongst themselves. The gatherings they hold to come together. The small groups of 10-30 they used to break the congregations of 150-300 down to study the bible in someones home. The hospitable people. The organized people. The people who went to get a member if they weren’t at the hall for too long. Like literally knocking on their door and sitting down with them, praying with them. The people who worked hard on building relationship and teaching each other how to build relationship.

My memories vary from others but I have no hostility towards the organization.

Yes. The people from whence I came.

There are over 7 million who still believe paradise is on earth even though the bible says something completely different in Corinthians.

Dont add to the word. Please don’t take away.

The devil. The father of the lie. Surely uses his children who love to lie to bring darkness in front of Gods chosen ones.

I’m not for this drama. I will speak my truth. I have walked into my freedom.

No more of a laundry list of things I, PERSONALLY, wanted to be made whole and cleansed from. Like a leper.

These words on this screen, carried to far away lands sometimes as far as Brazil, Africa, etc have reached people. Who probably stopped and prayed for me. And I thank you all for following my journey.

It was hard work healing.

I speak my mind a little bit sounder. I don’t internalize it and keep it to myself then go on an eating binge, then beating myself up with the what if I had said…

No. Let’s address it, and move on.

No grudges being held. If you don’t like what I have said, and no longer want to talk to me then your interest in me was purely superficial in the first place.

I’m never going to be your superficial phony fake as grass on a miniature golf lawn friend.

I watch my friends get free, experience joy and go do the same things I’ve done with them with others.

You know a tree by the fruit it bears.

Where’s the fruit?

But I’m done. Thank you. For reading. For commenting, whether on the page or amongst your friends. I’ve got my freedoms. I hated being bound to sin. I am still a sinner as everyone on earth that is imperfect is, but the things that used to have me craving what wasn’t good for me is gone.

Even if I do it, I don’t have to wallow in the mess I have made.

That’s what freedom looks like.

I pray.

Gods will be done.

I hope you enjoy my new series as I get ready to release the first book in my series, The (i will reveal it later) series. My character will be introduced with her initials only until the first book is published.

Truth is stranger than fiction. So I write about it, and use my imagination. I hope you all will continue to join me on my walk. This journey has been expansive. But for me it has been a blessing and a privilege.

Stay well. Be easy, but not too breezy. Pursue peace and walk in love.

May the God of Abraham Issac and Jacob forever guide you to the place he intended you to be upon conception.

With love.



Happy Mother’s Day

I am grateful. I am blessed. I have walked in my healing. I have purpose and peace.

I used to be a revolutionary. All power to the people. I wanted so bad to help my people. But then when it came time to save me I wanted to know where was my people at to help me?

I am a survivor. Of domestic abuse. Now wait. Lets sit this right here. So many women who love abusive men would like to tell me it was my fault. My mouth shouldn’t have been so big. I shouldn’t have this or that. But I never have the power to stop anyone from using their body to harm another.

That was his self control.

Or lack thereof.

But. As a result of leaving behind a relationship that caused physical, mental and emotional harm I had some setbacks.

Maybe my setbacks were necessary for my comebacks.

I lost everything. But my daughter. She was my rock through it all. She kept me pushing towards greatness. She kept me focused on a better life for us.

There were times I wanted to leave her behind but I couldn’t. I couldnt bare the thought of my baby not seeing me for extended periods of time. Besides where would she go?

My mother passed away September 2008. My family disconnect already being high from the religion that kept us separated had me trying to figure things out on my own.

But maybe not on my own. God had always been there with me. He ordered my steps.

I will never forget the shelter my daughter and I lived in right after walking away from her father. That’s where the healing began. That’s where I learned community amongst women. We would take turns cooking for each other. We had chores. We walked the streets of Evanston as a family. A group of women who were strangers to me in the beginning but friends and sisters at the end.

I made sacrifices. I didn’t have the support system of family and friends to turn to. I had to make a way. Or I had to let the way be made by the steps that had been ordered by the Lord for me.

In losing it all I lost my dreams. Being kicked out of UIC the year I was in the abusive relationship, then turning to care for him while he was unable to fend for himself, and care for a newborn, and work part time, and go to school full time. I damn near lost my mind too.

I thought I made as many good choices as I could.

My daughter’s father was only chosen in my grief induced state of despondency and despair.

I was missing my mother and afraid of living this life alone.

But I lost it all.

Now when I look back I realize maybe it was all Gods plan.

Philippians 3:8 What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ.

I lost a lot. But I gained this relationship with Christ!

I used to drink my sorrows away. I used to smoke the pain away. I used to sleep with men to rid myself of the numb feeling I had inside. I used to be an attention seeker. I used to do all the things to fill the void of my Lord and Savior.

Listen. I am not a perfect mom. Maybe you don’t feel like you are either. All moms don’t always have the emotional health and support needed to raise a child according to the standards society has given us. But do your best sis.

And when that’s done ask God to show you how to be better.

I am grateful. My mother asked me on her death bed to show her I could do more with my life besides drinking and smoking it away.


I am a mother. Missing my mother on mothers day. But I plan to shine bright for my diamond like treasure, my daughter.

I am fighting a new cause. Fighting to heal to remove toxicity from me for my daughters sake. I am fighting to heal so I can show my sisters how to.

I am still revolutionary. But how can I change the world when I can’t even change myself. I have to be my best self to give that to others to show them how to be their best as well.

So I do.

As a mother. As a sister. As a friend. As whatever I can give.

And I know you can too!




I am doing this thing these days. If I start with something I aim to finish it.

Like if I start encouraging a person. I aim to do that thing until God says stop.

Or if I start with this vegan lifestyle, I plan on picking every piece of egg I can find out of the fried rice I forgot to tell them to make without egg.

If I am working on building a better me, then I want to be able to do that consistently. I remember when walking and running miles were my thing. Then I fell off. But consistency would have kept me on.

I need consistency.

I need routine.

I don’t care if you are a consistent shady character.

Just don’t ever change how you treat me.

Until you are ready to come clean about how you been throwing shade and me under the bus. 

I have come to brace myself for certain individuals and their sly comments and almost compliments. 

I have something to look forward to. 

But, I have expectations.

See consistency. That’s all i need.

Someone consistent in their decency.

If someone is going to be in my life they have to consistently be a decent person, with morals and integrity. Trust is such a big thing to me. And if I cannot trust a person they cannot be in my inner circle. 

See consistency is such a tough thing to find these days. 

Then a double minded man is unstable in all his ways.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in the train. A man I had been crazy about for all of 2016 happened to be on the same car as I. We were both so busy in our phones that we didn’t see each other. Or maybe I didn’t see him. Maybe he saw me and had his own private agenda. Because his story of wanting to go to Giordano’s is not adding up when I just looked to see what time they opened today. They open at 11 AM. We were getting off at my stop at a little before ten. He was definitely not about to wait until 11 until they opened up. 

So we were walking. I told him I threw my feelings for him away. 

Buddy was under the impression that all women get hooked on something and will stay. And maybe he thought because I am a nice person who was interested in encouraging him so let the words God has given me to help him on his journey, in addition to my attraction was going to cause me to allow him to mistreat me. Even though he would not give me what I was asking for, he thought I would still be willing to stay around for the foolery.

I am an only child. I enjoy my alone time. I have only ever been in three official relationships, because once I start something I ride that thing until the wheels fall off and even then I am slow coasting on the rims.

So he asked why. I explained that if my feelings were unnecessary and weren’t going to be put to use what use are they. If the feelings weren’t being reciprocated, why hold on. I threw them away. I have no plans to go and find them. 

He began to explain how I come up with all types of conclusions, that aren’t true. 

And the more we talked, I knew my mind wouldn’t be changed. When I am done I am done. Forget everything else. That’s it. That’s why I don’t commit. If I was committed I would have been compelled to try. But no commitment means a towels throw away. 

As our time together progressed he began to ask me for a kiss. 

Not a chance buddy. We are literally fighting for kisses. Me to not give him one, and him to force me into giving him one. 

When I explain to him why he begins to go into details about all the women he is interested in that is not me.

Is that double minded or what? Why would a man be wrestling with a woman he is not interested in?

I need consistency.

I knew he wasn’t consistent. 

Some days I would get texts, some days I would not. 

Some days he was available to talk, some days he was not.

Some days we would speak to each other, some days we would not.

I was so over it.

Consistency is king in the land of confusion. 

Life is too short to not know what you want. Life is to be lived, and what you want shouldn’t change with the current of the wind.

Nope. I want consistency.

See I have a couple of goals. And like Joseph led Mary to a place to birth her promise safely, I need someone who is consistent about listening to God to follow the path we are supposed to take to make that happen.

I know a consistent person will push and motivate me to become my best consistent version of myself, because that is something they have already conquered.

Anything else will quickly get dismissed!

Everything I want is not good for me. So I will consistently stress to myself that I deserve the best life I was placed here to live. And live abundantly. I will live consistently and on purpose. 

Love on time, at the right time and in the right season. Love like a sculpture on the potters wheel. Love like you are willing to conform to a mold that best suits the beauty of this life that you want to hold. Some sculptures, like vases, have a small opening, and some sculptures are wide enough to hold larger pieces on display. 

Whatever you allow love to mold you into, make it the you that has the most to give to the rest of the world!

Spread love. It’s an art. It was never meant to be kept to yourself, because when it’s real you can’t contain it nor hide it. The whole world will know about it!


I used to listen to Steve Harvey talk about the ways a man will show his interest in a woman. 

Those three things were to provide, profess, and protect.


I need a man to hold me down in the areas I can’t when it comes to being safe in this world.

Remember Miss Sophia said the world ain’t safe for a woman child in a house full of men. And here we are in this society full of men who think rape culture is alright. 

She must’ve asked for it, about the woman who said no repeatedly to the man she let in her home just for tea or coffee. 

Remember For Colored Girls? 

Just because I enjoy your company doesn’t mean I want to enjoy your body.

I always had to be tough. Who was there to protect me? 

My father died when I was 15. My stepfather was a joke, and I didn’t meet my brother until I was 26.

Yeah. I don’t think too much about fighting women. We been fought, beat up, abused, mistreated, made to be responsible while the boys got away with bloody murder.

It’s easier for me to forgive the transgressions of a woman than it is for me to not hold a man accountable for his behavior. He was built to lead. And I can’t see letting him fall short of using traits that will make him a better leader. 

I am more mature these days, even at my lowest. But I remember how I was always quick to jump in a dude face screaming, “I fight boys.”

I would’ve, it I had to. Until my momma died. My baby was in my belly and the boy who wanted to fight me wanted to abort the baby in my baby too. Yeah. I just humbled myself.

I don’t keep much beef with my sisters. 

But these guys. The guys Who are supposed to be protecting his sisters. The guys lying on their dipstick just trying to see how many licks it takes to get a chick to drop her guard and let him in. 

Those lying boys.

They love to pretend as if they have gotten notches on their belt, when they have really just gotten dismissed, looked at in contempt like why are you here looking to undress yourself in my space as if I am interested in pursuing you on that level?

Those lying boys. Supposed to be protecting sister girls image. Supposed to be protecting her heart. When they pretend they want anything more than sex they allow a woman’s heart to be unguarded. They are supposed to be protecting her body. Why satisfy your cravings on a woman treating her like a toilet. Just someplace to do your business?

What is wrong with settling down with one woman?

I often wondered.

And then I saw a post. It talked about hazing sin fraternities. It spoke of rituals I would care not to discuss right now. But it caused me to wonder about men and their ability to be with one woman. Does it have anything to do with needing an urge and a craving satisfied that a woman never can?

Is that why my brothers refuse to protect their sisters. Protect their reputations after one  out of character deed, forgetting all the good they did before? Protect their minds by speaking truth to them. Protect their bodies by honoring their no. Protect their hearts by treating them with kindness and dignity?

Who taught black women how to hate themselves. Was it the black man with his love of the exotic features? That same mans’ love of the look of women who have never and may never walk along side them in the struggle? Is that why we compete with each other like crabs in  a barrel. Who has the longest weave, the fairest skin, the most European features is the one who will get chosen by the man who hates himself, and hates his sister in the process.

Brother I needed protection. Ten years ago. On this early morning when I supposed to be headed to school. 

My dreams were left there with the hauntings of a naive, not so innocent, young woman who never knew what being protected felt like. 

There was no savior back then.

But that’s why I love my Savior like I do now.

I used to choose men based on what my physical self told me was good. If he looked good, or smelled good, and did this and that good. Yep, it’s him. He is the one for me. But now a days things are different. If he doesn’t have integrity he is a no go. You remember the traits I discussed in the last blog? Those values would be honesty, loyalty, and moral fibers in his values; now let’s add, and be able to protect me to the growing list. If he doesn’t have those basic things; I am not interested.

I get this. This is not all my brothers. But I have been so bad at making choices, it is hard to be able to discern between what’s real and what’s fake. 

I just dismissed the fake. The fake that got mad at me for not letting him in my home, and not letting him kiss me. 

Nope. No sir. These lips are on reserve for somebody God has deemed worthy. 

The fake that got to spreading vicious rumors about me behind my back, but failed to say a word in my face. The fake that keeps harassing me with his nasty display of indecent behavior by gossiping and repeating secrets I thought I told a friend.

I Guess. My brother became my enemy.

But the Lord is faithful. He will strengthen me and protect me from the evil one. The ones that refuse to become accountable for their behavior. That keep lying to themselves about where their self hate, and hatred of women comes from. The ones that never try to live by the standards they grew up believing in and have let their moral fibers be given over to the enemy they used to sing songs in praises to Jesus to defeat that enemy.

The ones that would rather beat their mother down for being a failure, instead of loving her through her storms and accept her where she is. The one who treats women based on how he feels about the mother that failed them in life.

We are not to blame. And therapy helps us address deep seated hurts that cause us to fail in our interpersonal relationships as adults. 

That mother did the best she can. She probably just wasn’t protected from something that changed the whole course of her life. I know about being that woman. I know about healing from hurt and trauma. I know that it takes a lot of strength to do so. And sometimes it is hard to find that strength while trying to be strong for little people that demand so much.

Those who are critical of others usually have a hard time accepting theirselves. So. Accept you are doing the best you can, as we all are. I am sure my brothers would protect me if they knew better. And when they know better they do better. 

Do better, and be your best. There is a whole world waiting on your greatness. But in the meantime. 

Protect your sister the same way you want someone to protect your daughters and sisters. 

That’s love. So love on purpose. Intentionally. Like in art. It takes time to complete the masterpiece. So take your time to love someone. It is not always easy. But it will always yield fruit, because it is a seed!


I will never forget the year I fell in love I with a married man.

He was tall; 6’4, caramel complexion, and so handsome. 

I was walking up to my friends apartment, square in hand, and whatever had me stressed had me smoking the cigarette until the butt. 

He asked for the county short. I looked at him in disdain. I mean what kind of man is trying to shoot his shot at a woman walking in an alley. I immediately discarded him as trash.

But me, forever being nice, and always wanting to give what is asked of me proceeded to walk towards him to give him the short. I figured he had to be going through worse than I was if he needed my short that was nothing meow than fumes really at this point.

He tricked me though. The first time of many. He didn’t want my short, he wanted me to be his shorty. His nucca no matter what as he chose to describe it later as we got closer.

I wasn’t really interested. Especially after he told me he drove a city transit bus. I was too bourgeoisie for that. Bad, and boujee. Especially after he asked me was I a stripper. I already knew what type of man he was; and I had just come back from California visiting PhD programs at Berkeley, Stanford, UCLA, UC Davis, UC Santa Cruz just to name a few. I was being groomed for the life of the upper echelon. My ‘guy’ was working on his Masters. 

No sir. My family lives in the hood. Just because I am a product of the ghetto doesn’t mean I am a ghetto progeny. My story will not end here, and it looks as if you live for the hood.

No and thank you.

But. Life happens. Shifts change, and currents tide. 

My mother as dying of cancer, and my ‘guy’ was being dishonest. Besides, he never told me he was married. What he did tell me I disregarded because he said he wasn’t married.

However, when a year later he did come clean I didn’t leave him all the way alone. I insisted he leave. I insisted he get his own place. I was bossy and demanding. And he did.

Oh the repercussions!

I met an abusive man shortly after that. One that refuses to help raise his child, and quits a job every time child support sends papers. Touché.

I had never been a person who had a hard time finding and keeping love around. After that, however, love always seemed to slip through my fingers. Jobs became hard to come by. I got kicked out of school. The job that was waiting for me after my graduation was forfeited. My mother died. My friends became busy with their own lives. My family couldn’t help. I knew homeless nights a time too many.

And then here comes Jesus.

And then here comes this relationship with my Savior. 

And then here comes repentance, and obedience.

Jobs started lining up, money started rolling in, homelessness is a thing of the past, even after not having an income from my job in almost three months. 

Then here comes a secret desire of mine being fulfilled. Before all the horrors of the year my mother died and cavorting with the married man, I had this amazing boyfriend. One who took me everyplace I wanted to go, bought me everything I thought I wanted, and loved me unconditionally.

And he once took me to see Def Poets on stage.

I wanted to do that. I wanted to share my poetry with people on a big stage. 

But I never told anyone that. 

But one appointment. One meeting with my pastor, and he offered me a spot on the stage.

See my pastor didn’t know me. I hadn’t been recommended to him. But God knew me. He knew my changes had come. He knew I sent the married man home to his wife encouraging him to be true to her and love her like he did when they were teenagers. He knew I blocked all contact, and vowed to never make that mistake again.

He knew I was living a sacrificial life. My God knew this. He recommended me.

And I made a promise. Well not really. I stated some words. I said I was patiently waiting for my husband at the end of that poem.

Lord knows I meant it. But, the way my resistance is set up these days. I fought a good fight. I ran a good race. But someone at my job hindered me. 

Those words became meaningless and futile.

So now the hurt and pain I am suffering letting go of something I was never supposed to grab hold to is a constant  nagging reminder of why obedience is better than sacrifice.

See lack of obedience is why Saul lost his kingdom to David. And David’s taking Uriahs wife is the reason why his child with Bathsheba died, why his son slept with his wives, and why someone was always going to die by the sword in his household.

2 Samuel 12:10,11: 10 From this time on, your family will live by the sword because you have despised me by taking Uriah’s wife to be your own.
11 “This is what the Lord says: Because of what you have done, I will cause your own household to rebel against you. I will give your wives to another man before your very eyes, and he will go to bed with them in public view. 

God holds us accountable for our behaviors. We have to suffer the repercussions of our actions. This is why, i always ask God to show me how to deal with people dealing with hardships. If they are being disciplined by God because of sins against Him who am I to step in the middle of what crooked path God is making straight? If a person is constantly going through the same thing because like Jonah they are running from obedience to God, and I step in to help them, should I be surprised when I am hit because I am blocking Gods hand from hitting them.

God is a God of mercy and grace, when we repent. But he is also the same God who caused the earth to swallow up whole families who were disobedient in the wilderness, even when only one member of the family was guilty.

Guilty by association.

But God was merciful. To David.

1 Samuel 12: 13 Then David confessed to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.”
Nathan replied, “Yes, but the Lord has forgiven you, and you won’t die for this sin. 

I often wondered what was the key to the gospel of Christ.

Acts 8:37!

All I have to do is believe. Believe that Jesus is the Son of God and he died for my sins. Once I believe I know that when I confess my sins they are forgiven, and thrown in the sea of forgiveness. Then I run a race working hard to win no more. 

I hold myself accountable, all while remembering there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus. He is my only judge. He judges with grace and mercy. 


We all fall short. A righteous man falls seven times, stands up eight.

Get up. Someone is waiting for you! You did it. But grace, being sufficient, said all is well. We are imperfect beings whose desire to is to serve a perfect God. So go, and be. Become all God called you to be! Because He is the one who authored, and finishes our faith!

Let it be done!


I have some big dreams.

My dreams require some places that most people would never be able to enter into.

I need God to help me get there.

How in the world can God entrust me with my big dreams, if I can’t be trusted with some of the smaller things he gives me?

Like, the ability to love the people who have shown love to me. Or, the responsibility to be honest in my intentions towards others? Or, carrying someone’s secrets who came to me in distress and wanted me to hold onto their pain? Or, respecting people.

Sometimes I have a hard time respecting people.

My issues with authority is long standing. My mother always promised me my big mouth would get me into trouble.

And I will never forget. It did. 

2011. I was driving down the block my daughters father liked to smoke on. I saw him, blunt in hand, in the car with his lady, and became livid. Yep. I did my vindicative thing. I called the police. Little did I know the police that came would put me in jail. 

But I was talking. Every time they tried to get me to leave I reminded them I wasn’t going anywhere. I had rights. It was a free country, etc, etc, etc.

I am not easily scared.

When they removed me from the situation and I had to be bonded out of the situation, I wanted so bad to run and tell all my daughters father’s secrets about himself to his face and anyone who would listen. I mean he told a lie, the policeman told a lie, and I had to pay a couple of stacks to a great lawyer to free my name from something that had been made up.

But, integrity.

I recently was close to a young man who enjoyed telling me all the sordid details about his significant other. He also told me all about his friends and their secrets. 

How can a man with no integrity expect to go any place in life?

It doesn’t matter how great a person’s talents are when their moral fibers are few. It doesn’t matter what a person does well when they treat people like trash. That may be why a talented person who has been working at their talents for decades still has shows where no one can sing along with the songs. Or, no one shows up at all. 

Mediocrity at its best. 

Mediocrity and lack of integrity goes hand in hand. 

It’s hard to build a following of people when respecting people is at a minimum. It is hard to be loved by adoring fans when a person is not honest about their motives for another person. Why not be honest about what your purpose is in a persons life?

Who sent you?

I am thankful for every area in my life I fell, I failed, and had to work hard to rebuild. 

Rebuilding teaches humility and with humility comes integrity. 

There are moral principles I live by these days. 

I will not lie to get my way. I will not disrespect those who have been kind, or have come to help me. I will not pretend to be interested in a person’s life just to get them to consume something I have to offer. I will not pretend to love someone just to get their attention when I feel no one else, I want, is giving the attention I want. I will not be disloyal. There will be no talking about the people I am close to when they are not around if I have no intention on telling them how I feel about them when it all cools down for me to share. I will have concern for others. I can’t be a person who is only concerned about what a person can do for me and how they make me feel. I have learned to take responsibility for my personal actions. When does one grow into maturity to hold themselves accountable for behaviors that may have led to discomfort in relationships?

See this last situation God used all types of things to remove me from was something I was never supposed to be involved in, in the first place. I kept letting what I saw get me distracted from faith, which is a substance of the things hoped for and belief in the things UNSEEN. 

For all that is in the world is lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes, and boastful pride of life.

All that character did was talk about himself and his perceived accomplishments. What good is accomplishments if changes aren’t happening around us. We live in a society where everyone is so consumed with themselves. Pause, flash for the click of the pic. Where men need to have a woman that represents everything society says we are supposed to be going for and wonder why our children are failing as a generation killing everything like open season at target practice. It almost seems like Everything has a bullseye on it in Chicago these days. Who is raising the children? 

Are they women and men of value, moral integrity and substance? 

Men in the music world are constantly promoting sex. Women believing they have to be sexy in order to be chosen. Divisions happening between women in competition for what they feel is a valuable man. And men confusing women, and overconsuming product to create bait for women to bite. Who has time to raise the children. Who has time to fill them with moral values? Who has time to show love, when lust and greed are the central and key ingredients to our societies potluck?

See in honesty I can say finally I am single because I never had the closure I needed with my ex. I was too busy lying telling him all we were, was sex partners and that’s all it was about. The truth was, I was head over heels in love with him.

But closure came at A visit to my daughters birthday party. The same man, from back when my then two year old called Dadas, like she never knew her father, walked in the door to say happy birthday, and left with a sense of closure. We made the right choice all those years ago.

See while he was chosen for being one of the most handsome men. His encouraging words built me up. A woman has to be up built by her man in order to be the healing nurturing light the family structure needs to grow. He was let go for his inability to be honest, and communicate with me. He chose to get his information from the woman who called herself my sister but hated me like an enemy. 

I let go then, and where I grew over the last four years in one direction and he grew in another; closing doors to a purpose we chose not to fulfill became the plan for our future.

Integrity. I live to love on purpose. I am not interested in a man who sleeps with women for sport. Who calls women out of their name. I have encountered too many down low men, thank God for the Holy Spirit being a snitch. Men who disrespect any woman is suspect. I am not interested in a man who speaks ill about a woman who carried his seed in her womb for months. I am not interested in a man who is not loyal to his circle of friends. I am not interested in a man who has nothing to offer to his community. And while many other women may be, I have to be honest and show integrity to my needs and the needs I want to meet for my daughter.

And if that means I wait until she is a teenager like my mother did and all the raising has been done so be it. If I teach her sheer drive and determination from the beautiful people God has surrounded us with, I shall. I refuse to settle just to say I have something when that thing does not fit my needs. 

I operate in integrity.

I walk in purpose.

I treasure my moments.

And I love.

I love like splatters of paint on an empty canvas. There is no containing it. And I give it freely. Integrity means I give because that’s who I am. I never expect anything in return. I store treasures in heaven for my God to release to me as he sees fit.

And. His treasures have been abundant these days!

My integrity looks like a sun peeking out of storm clouds letting it’s rays illuminate bleak and drab skies. 

So what does your integrity look like?

Single Asf

I have fallen in strong like for the new HBO series, INSECURE.

Issa Rae is a genius. Her writing is imaginative and creative. Her humor is candid. And she uses my favorite word, the f bomb rather frequently.

I never said I was a lady. I often say I am such a fuckin lady.

I know, right. 

I thought you loved Jesus. They will say. 

I do. He loves me too. He knows I cuss. I often ask him to take the thorns that add to my total imperfections away. He often lets the scripture pop in my head that His grace is sufficient. A constant reminder that no matter how good I think I am I will never meet standards of perfection. Therefore, I may as well just accept grace as that gap that gets my sinful natured self to the throne. Shortcomings and all.

Besides. I need to be all things to all people so I may win some. And some people won’t take my soft voice seriously until I am cursing with harsh tones. Unfortunate but true.

Anyway. Single.

Single asf!

One of my brothers in Christ asked me recently about marriage. Do I want to get married?

Now if I were any normal woman chatting with a handsome man, who happens to be educated, successful in his line of work, with a kind nature asking me these questions I might immediately stop and think he is asking because he is interested in me.

I am blunt and direct. If you don’t say flat out, Radiance I like you and I am interested in you, you stay in the friend 😍 zone forever! 

So. I get to thinking. Do I want to be married?

That was never a goal in my younger years. I once told a woman I would never get married. The disdain for the arrangement that I saw with the only examples I knew made me want to run away from those possibilities.

Fairy tales were for TV. And Prince Charming was only available for the women who had everything going for themselves like the TV depicted. Long flowing locks of hair was one attribute. They always had these teeny tiny waists perfect for being slung in the air. 

That was just not me. Not ever.

I kept cutting my lengthy hair short, probably so it wouldn’t be me.

No. Sir. I tell the guy. I would only want to be married right now for help with my daughter. And help is not a good reason to be married. Because she only has 12 more years at home. Unless she goes to boarding school then it’s only 8. So then what will I do with this man, who my heart never wanted to love but just allowed to come in to help me?

I will be gone like and with the wind.

I explained. He would have to be a friend who just so happened to creep into my heart and make a pallet there. Then all of a sudden I look up and I am in love.

That seems to be the way things happen for me. I am always running from love, dating, and relationships. Never allowing people to get too close. 

Then all of a sudden I am getting rides home from work. And someone I would never look at like that for real is pulling a Daniel and Issa moment in the car. And I’m going in and pulling back and catching feelings.

Catching feelings. 

Friend zones passed. 

Friendships crashed, like overworked hard drives. 

There is nothing wrong with communicating. There is nothing wrong with a man telling a friend you are interested in them like that so motives won’t be the motivating factor behind a situation. And it is alright for a woman to stay out of a mans face she is interested in. Not pretending under e guise of friendship, more often than not to send him off about every woman he is interested in hoping he will see her for the dream she wants to believe she will be to him.


I am single asf. 

I am waiting on a feel. Someone who motivates me to be better. Like when I am on the phone I just want to clean my whole house. Or write a thousand songs and poems. Or love and hug my daughter a little harder. Or exercise with consistency.

I don’t need fairy tales for real life. Carriages and horses for hire are not my thing. Rocks on my finger would probably get caught on everything since I use my hands a lot for creating things. I just need a partner. A business partner. A life partner. A coach. A teacher teaching me the things I don’t know but he does.

I see. My vision is not so cloudy. 

I tend to see who a person is going to be to me before they do a thing. 

So. Listen. Or read. There is nothing wrong with waiting. Usually I don’t have the patience for it. I always move on to the next when what I want doesn’t give me what I want. But, I always miss out because of that pride. No more pride. Patience. That’s the virtue. Being single is not a death sentence. It is a place of comfort and joy if one allows God to guide, teach, train and mold one while waiting.

So I wait!

Pep talks and things

b$&@h what kind of basic bullshhh are you pulling right here? If you don’t get your act together. Da fuq wrong with you?

That was my real live conversation to myself as I almost shed a tear, and was already upset at the fact I cried off my eyelashes the night before.

I can’t believe I done pulled a mokensteff. I have fallen in love with a man who don’t love me.

In my mind I can see me beating my hind end up. Because wtf is wrong with me.

Self to other self.

How sway?

He said he…

But you knew he was a playa, a womanizer, a dawg.

Atomic dog!

I didn’t know a thing. I assumed. Maybe I…

Maybe I make excuses for people who have exactly what it takes to be right here with me, in my presence and actively in my life if they choose to be.

But my mind holds onto the memories of us holding pointer fingers not wanting to let go. According to one person, My name made big smiles appear on his face. The hours we spent in conversation. The hugs, the attention, the grabbing me like he didn’t want to let me go. All the wrestling, and play fighting as I struggled to keep my cookies in their jar. He let me win, and hold on for a moment. His strength. The reminders that he was not like the rest and I needed to wake up and see.

My short term memory may be shot right now, but I still remember the first day I met him. Inquiring to the person who introduced us if she had a thing for him. This thing been brewing for over a year now. How did I let a seed flourish into a full grown tree whose big stupid roots are breaking up some things in me.

Like my callous, nonchalant, dismissive, or vindictive behavior. I realize now. When you love someone truly love someone you don’t want to see them hurting. When we hurt people that we put time into love wasn’t the motivating factor. It may have been lust, addiction to their presence or flesh, or the need to create an imagery through appearances.

It was my fault. I should’ve run like the wind. 

See I had red flags. He never wanted to go out. He never followed through on the plans he would say he wanted us to make or do together. He was always trying to get in my place. It was either for tea for a cold. Pretending to want to watch movies. Or to use the bathroom. 

I thought we were friends. 

But friends shouldn’t be…

We had already crossed the line.

Then another, and another.

Now I’m in the feelings I have caught like a bad cold. Suffering alone. Nobody to nurse me back to health.

And he’s probably off trying to make a new conquest believe he is ready to give up his thot pockets. Yes. He has claimed he has thot pockets.

I did the dummy.

I’m writing four page Aaliyah esque letters. Or maybe ten 1 page letters. Four of which haven’t been delivered. I bought a gift. Twice.

And ignored all the good guys.

I played the fool. 

I wrote a poem years ago saying i wasn’t going to do it again. But here I am. Failing tests and learning lessons again.

Maybe I didn’t love myself enough to set the bar, and create the standards I know I deserve. Maybe, I wanted to believe what I knew wasn’t real. Maybe I wanted to prove to the world that I am lovable, even though others say otherwise and don’t even know me.

Maybe. I finally have a heart of flesh when I once had a heart of stone.

I watch the Issa Rae show Insecure. I see a name. The name is the Facebook name of an ex of mine. A real ex. Not just a former situation. I think of the cold hearted way I dismissed him.

He was calling my phone on repeat. Finally I told him, “all this was about was sex. It was good. We did what we did. Now it’s time to move around. Stop calling my phone.” He stopped calling. I never reached back out. 

Even though I cared about him.

Back then. I would rather cut my nose off to spite my face. My feelings were rather surreal at the time. But I couldn’t let him know I was weak. I couldn’t let him know I was soft. I couldn’t let him know I had feelings. And when he tried to come ‘home’ I wouldn’t let him.

I was so cold.

Where she at though?

I am sitting here pining for someone who obviously isn’t thinking twice about me. He used to call me on my cell phone. Hot line used to bling. I thought I could make him put his phone, and hoes and reckless lifestyle down. But that’s my problem.

Always wanting to fix someone else. Always wanting to nurture someone else. Always wanting to help someone else. Do you know why?

Because I get to avoid dealing with my own stuff.

So. I can’t help the feelings I have. I have been asking God to take them away since the summer. They’ve gotten more intense. It’s real love. The type of love where you want the person to just be better. Where you pray for them. Where you pray the person they have chosen treats them right, and if they don’t, God shows them how to love them the right way. 

I’ve never felt that before.

But. Since it’s not reciprocal. I take that love that I can’t give to him and use it to pray for him. Then I pass it along to the wonderful people in my life. First of all me. Then extra kisses for my baby girl. Then the people who call and remind me I am loved get this soft, tender and gentle character. I guess that’s what love does. It softens the rough edges. It makes me a little more gentle than I was before. I am not hardcore. I was created to be a nurturer. I am a love baby. Life made me hard. The rough things I went though made me this so called tough chick.

But love. Understanding love gave me grace.

Graceful movements through an awkward society, where awkward moments follow me like a hovering shadow.

And for that reason Of grace I am blessed. 

I guess I can stop with the harsh words to myself.

It’s okay. I am human. I connected with a beautiful soul. He bared parts of himself to me, maybe it was game, maybe it was real life. But I saw vulnerability. He sang beautiful melodies that calmed my spirit. I saw the beauty of his kindness. I saw someone that made me feel. That made me want to be a better version of myself. 

So I can take those lessons and carry them forth into my life. And realize.

Sometimes people come into our lives to teach us things. Sometimes people come into our lives to leave us with something. Sometimes people come into our lives to get us to a certain destination. 

Only God knows. I have no other choice but to Lean on him for understanding. 

So I will. Let Go and let God! 

Whatever is meant to be will be, and what is not paves the way for what is.

Wait for it

“I am the one thing in life I can control.”

Listening to this Usher Raymond song on the Hamilton soundtrack. 

I am reminded of one thing. I can’t control anything but myself.

Sometimes I run away from my blessings because I don’t like what I am hearing. I don’t like how people treat me. I am sensitive to the people I love. I am Harsh with asshole tendencies to those I do not. 

But no matter how bad a situation is, it changes if you are willing to wait for it.

Why wouldn’t I wait for it?

Pride, ego, running after what’s available and ready for me instead of waiting for what I truly want. 

I’m like Ishmael all the time. You know the one in the bible who gave up his birthright for the stew. So hungry for what was right in front of him, he took that and gave up what was his destiny. His brother Jacob who became Isreal became Father to a nation of many! 

A legacy.

“My mother was a genius, my father commanded respect. When they died they left no instructions, just a legacy to protect.”

I am like an orphan. No mother or father. They didn’t tell me what to expect of this life without them being here. I am sure my father never imagined he would die at 39. I am sure my mother had no idea she would leave this earth at 49. 

I don’t have instructions but where I fall short in this life I have Gods word to bring the truth to my life.

Psalms 27:14 wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the LORD.

I’m willing to wait for it. Just because I love someone doesn’t mean I need to have them if they are not who they need to be at the present time to bring out the best in me.

Just because I need a car and have the money to get one doesn’t mean I get it, because maybe God needs to place me in the car with some people. Or maybe he needs me to meet some people on public transportation. Or maybe he needs someone to hear  my conversation of encouragement bringing him glory and honor.

I don’t know Gods plans.

Maybe he didn’t want to move me into the place I thought was a perfect fit for me, because he has something else for me.

Wait for it.

“Theodosia writes me a letter every day”

I write these letters to a man I have a caught a few feelings for. 

He ignores me regularly. He goes out with me never. He sends my calls to voice mail sometimes. He denies me before the people he hang with that have a problem with me. 

That’s not love. But. The male friends that are watching me make a fool of myself are patiently waiting for me to come to my senses and say eff him like they keep telling me to. The funny thing is. I always do this. I always catch feelings for the playboy. The guy everyone else wants. The one with all the options. And I always give my all. And then I finally fall back. And guess who is there to catch all the love that has built up for a person who never wanted it. That’s right. My guy friend. And we live happily ever after for a little while. 

They wait for it. 

My destiny.

I have had people promise me opportunities to help me get to my destiny. Or what I believe is my destiny. But if I had gotten there would I have met the man that prays for and with me, impacting my life and bringing about change in just a week. Or the various women who love me, check in on me and show me love and are not black. See some black people would have you believe white people are the devil, but the LOVE I feel from women of another race that aren’t even church going women is something I don’t feel from too many black women connected to me. Remember I am a love baby. I either feel it or I don’t. But. If I hadn’t had to wait for my opportunities would I have met these people along the way. If I didn’t have to wait for it, would I have gotten over my fear of the stage I got over last year. 

Wait for it.

We don’t know what we are waiting for. But since God knows the plans he has for us, and Jesus is the author and finisher of our faith, and Faith is a substance of the things hoped for and belief in the things unseen. 

That’s right.

“I am not standing still, I Am lying in wait”

So I stand still and wait on the goodness of God. Knowing that every perfect gift comes from him. I know he has something perfect for me. It will be Just for me, it will be a perfect fit.

“And if there’s a reason I’m still Alive/when everyone who loves me has died”

I am waiting….