I’m talking to my daughters granny Sunday.

Life, love and the usual rigmarole. 

Because whenever we get together it’s like old girlfriends who haven’t seen each other in ages and the conversation goes on and on, and on and on. E. Badu style.

But we’re finishing off the conversation about me catching feelings for her son’s friend. She got confirmation from her daughter that my friend, her sons old friend, is a good guy. They talked about him being good to his kids, and how well he cooks. And man. To my inner and outer fat girl I think it’s harder to let go of the reminder of those greens I was almost slurping up than anything else. Not really but you get the picture.

Anyway. She’s reminding me to sometimes just let things go. Be easy. Chill out. 

It’s so true. I was a relationship sabotager. Before I loved me I couldn’t fathom how another could possibly love me. So I be messing up. It’s that fruitage of the spirit, self control I was lacking. 

Anyway. I let her know why I was so crazy with her son.

My mother had just died.

I had no religion. No place to worship. I was a distant memory from the religion of my youth. But even still everything I wanted, whether I asked God for or not, he would give it to me. I got so arrogant with it that when I didn’t get something, or someone, I just said I must not have wanted it bad enough. So of course, I just took for granted that God knew I needed my momma. I didn’t even bother to ask him to save her life. I mean I had spent the summer working eighty hours each week, for the first eight weeks in A management training program and as a security guard, at night. 

But all that chasing money had me losing what I valued most, when really all I ever was supposed to do was love God first and he would add all other things unto me. 

My aunt kept telling me on the phone to pray, I kept telling her what the doctors were saying. And screaming like a maniac, it’s too late!!!

Anyway. I reminded my baby’s granny, who knows what it feels like to lose a mother, of the pain. She finally nodded understanding.


Here I am yesterday. Just so happen we are riding past the tent I would avoid like the plague as a young teen. Madison and Laramie. The tent been around the corner from where I grew up all my life, before I left for Boston, but I never believed there would be anything from God under there for me.

But two years ago. Jesus! What a powerful name!!

So yesterday.Tye Tribbett is giving a good word. 

Genesis 32: 24 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. 

Right before Jacob became Isreal he wrestled.

Tye posed a question. I shall paraphrase.

What if we all wrestled like Jacob, but it was with our inner wo/man, the person who is need of change? The person who needed to submit to God. And we have to break something before we give in?

How many times do I have to go through heartache from a man who loves the streets more than he loves me before I am willing to submit to a man of God’s love? How many drunken calls will I excuse? And his inability to cherish me like Christ does the church because He doesn’t even know much about Christ to know how he is supposed to love me? How many fake friends will I accept just to be accepted? When God is showing me the beauty in me to be a leader, stepping out in faith alone, knowing that He is guiding my every move.

I mean. The kind and wonderful woman that sat next to me at the Cincinnati fest said she wished she could be like me, willing to adventure life alone and still be able to enjoy herself.

No fear.

Didn’t proverbs remind me yesterday? About being careful about those friendships.

Proverbs 27:6 Wounds from a friend can be trusted,
but an enemy multiplies kisses. 

The commentary says, 27:6 Who would prefer a friend’s wounds to an enemy’s kisses? Anyone who considers the source. A friend who has your best interests at heart may have to give you unpleasant advice at times, but you know it is for your own good. An enemy, by contrast, may whisper sweet words and happily send you on your way to ruin. We tend to hear what we want to hear, even if an enemy is the only one who will say it. A friend’s advice, no matter how painful, is much more valuable.

I need real, and why do I have to go through pain in order to be willing to reach for it. I’ve been in bed, heartbroken for the month of July sleeping too much, or exercising too much. Really? I’ve only combed my hair one time this month. Trust me. This natural thing wasn’t supposed to be this natural. I was going through, but I’m coming out.
See it wasn’t that I couldn’t have what I wanted. I just couldn’t have him sober, he wouldn’t sober up for me. I couldn’t have him put me first, baby momma got me moved out the place he gave me. Oh well for that.

Every good and PERFECT gift comes from the Lord. So patience.

No need to run into pretense and profitability. Because sometimes people only enter into your inner circle to see what they can gain from the interaction. Failed relationships, love and friendships have cost me much. 


Win some, lose some. It’s life it goes on.

So now. I struggle. I write poems I don’t want to recite. Maybe they’re not good enough. I’ve written a book or two, that maybe no one will want to read.

But Jay Ivy told me. One day. As he signed his book for me that I would be doing the same for him.

Maybe that lady was right. I am my own worst enemy. And what do you do to enemies? You fight them. Maybe I have been wrestling with myself. Wrestling with my potential for greatness. Wrestling with my possible accomplishments. Wrestling with going back to school. 

Graduating with a 3.7 with an associates degree is nothing to a self sabotager, when she has gotten kicked out of UIC.

Yes, I. Shaking my head at me. Not in pity, but in disbelief. 

I can travel alone, drive 60foot vehicles, deal with Chicago’s west side public and I’m afraid of an itty bitty pen. 

To sign up for school? To revise poems for delivery and execution of style? To edit novels?

No. No. No.

Change soon come.

I let someone call me Jua’Donna. He was afraid to call me Radiance maybe? He ran from my light. I cried. He tried to return, but I have a hard time letting exes come back. You shouldn’t have left. So he left again.

For real fellas. The only reason a woman leaves is for you to come and get her. 

Where’s the chivalry?

But for the persistent type, like my running to make sure he not late to pick me up. Calling singing me songs on the pay phone. Bogarting the  line to make sure my free tickets for Jilly from Philly doesn’t go to waste with us being too far behind the cut off point for the almost to capacity club. Yep that ex got chances. A heart once reserved for him found freedom in God.

The struggle for me has always been within.

But victory. It’s in store. Right around the corner. I see victory waving, and I’ve got my white flag of surrender.

Like my daughter told me last night. “God says be brave.”

So. I shall.

The Spirit will always lead, but how broken will I have to be to follow?


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