I been running all my life!
Running from myself. Like Moses. Running from my past. Running from my future. Running from Radiance.
I preferred the chick they called Rae-Rae or Rae for short. The gurl who hits the dance floor at ten and won’t get off until four in the morning and when we leave that spot ready to go to the next place that don’t close until seven.
My turn up was real!
I had an ID that looked almost like me and as the bouncers would snicker knowing that picture wasn’t mine they would let me in anyway.
They wanted the pretty faces on deck. Maybe they would get the chance to shoot their shot.
Anyway. I ran. I thought I was having fun. I thought drinking like a fish and not really feeling the effects was the thing to do Friday and Saturdays and maybe a house full of spades on Thursday or Sunday. I can’t really remember. I just know we partied.
Grandma said she did too. My father did too.
They ran too.
My grandmothers dreams were so vivid she would be able to describe caskets of soon to be dead loved ones. My daddy could preach a church down. Still they ran.
My daddy ran so hard he died alone in his basement apartment at the age of 39.
Yes. I know about running, because really you can’t outrun God.
So a couple of weeks ago I discovered who I am to God. I had a gist. I kinda knew. I didn’t want to believe.
So when it was confirmed I was sick, literally. I cried uncontrollably. Like God why would you choose me?
I already knew based on what a deacon at the mother church told me. Her words were confirmed on that day.
I mean how could the party girl, with the sinful lustful nature, and the bad attitude, and the slick words forever on the tip of her tongue, and the heartbreaker, and the adulterer, and the liar, thief, etc be used by God?
I guess He really does take the foolish things to confound the wise.
Yes. My sacrifice truly is a contrite and broken heart. I’ve never really cared too much for people. But I’ve always been crazy in love with God.
Just had a poor way of showing it.
So I’m sitting on the train. A man with an unkempt beard, disheveled clothing and teeth that looked stained from some type of addiction sits two seats away from me. He smiles. I wait. He opens his mouth.
“How long you been waiting for me?”
I look. I pause. I listen. I hear.
I say, “No. The question is how long has He been waiting for you?”
He looks at me taken aback and shakes his head. Too long he says.
I know these days people aren’t really attracted to me. I don’t carry the weights I used to. I don’t carry lust, fornication, adultery, etc. The way I used to. I guess men see a sense of self worth. I am being kept by my Savior.
I figured he must have been attracted to something that his heart truly longed for. I carry God with me daily. My relationship isn’t at it’s best but its better than its ever been.
He then began telling me about all the signs he had been asking God to send Him. We talked the way I always talk to someone I feel like God is leading me to talk to that look as if they are struggling with some type of addiction.
See. When I see the man on my grandmothers back porch on the verge of getting “dopesick” I offer food. Knowing he won’t eat until he gets a fix, so still he knows he can get a plate from me if I’m on the stove. Or if he needs a midnight snack.
I might be used to speak to the ones who knew their calling but left it behind to pick up a pipe to smoke their dreams through. I can’t see the bad in people. That’s been my downfall in men and friends. I tend to only see their potential to become. So I encourage and motivate. I push, poke and prod.
I really want everyone to strive for greatness.
I mean aint no fun, if the homies can’t have none.
So yes. I ran.
I know who I once was. I once loved, nurtured, cooked and took care of men who served up peoples misery on a platter. I struggled with my own addictions.
All addictions don’t debilitate us. I’m greedy. I like to eat. For example.
I can’t understand, but I can empathize.
So. While I was sitting around feeling unworthy. God was quick to remind me that sometimes the people I will talk to, encourage and motivate are people that other folk might no look twice at. Other folk might clutch a purse, or allow fear to grip their heart when seeing a person lost to a substance that they really just want deliverance from.
The things I’ve seen, and experienced made me not really ever succumb to fear. I’ve seen God come through for me on too many occasions. He honors obedience.
So. Many are called. Few are chosen. Maybe some like what glitters that looks like gold. Maybe some, like Samuel when looking for a king to replace Saul and overlooked David, only look at what the outside appearance presents them.
I am now thankful. God gave me some gifts. He sees fit to use me. Sometimes to encourage. Sometimes to uplift. Sometimes telling me things so that I can pray for people that are hurting.
He loves us. He uses us. Only if we are willing. And since. I do not want to end up like my father, I walk into my calling. To be who God has called me to be.
Will you answer yours?