Can you imagine a paintbrush filling lines and going over the untouched places on a blank canvas?

Can you see paint filling the white backdrop with colorful hues that brings a portrait to life? The details that now create fluidity in the movement of strokes of artistry across a piece ready to be displayed openly.

Can you see a blob of clay? Lifeless and clunky, awkwardly taking up space. Until. It is now in the hands of a skilled potter. The potter begins to shape, mold, create, bring a blob of nothingness to life. A whole story is then created through the hands of that potter. The details and attention given to what feels like mud, that gets one dirty in the process is surely an act of love.

Because love is an art.

It is action. It is creating. It is imagination and invention. It is purposeful, detailed and clever. It doesn’t flow because thought and intention is put in the actions behind love. 

It is AMAZING!

It is beautiful.

I have spent so many blogs talking about the bad, refusing to reminisce on the good. Because of all the Issa Rae like Insecure mistakes I made I didn’t truly believe God’s grace would cover me and give me another chance to feel that type of love again.

But it is beautiful.

As a baby, the religion of my youth taught me more about love than I ever learned anywhere else.

Oh we showed love. Others have different experiences. There was good and bad. So I choose to focus on the good. 

The fact that I was the Kingdom Hall baby. Often moving from one pair of loving hands to the next. Growing up getting my first marriage proposal at the age of four and his mother loving me so much as I began to tower over him saying it didn’t matter how tall I got, as long as we served Jehovah together. Being reprimanded, encouraged, and often getting that report card money from the families in our congregation.

It didn’t stop there. Even when I moved to Boston. A family took me in like I was one of their own. A mother with all boys. I became the girl. The love of teaching me, paying attention to my needs, bringing me into their family like I was one of their own in such an unfamiliar place. Boston was often known for rudeness. I didn’t feel that, however. I felt love.

The flyest guy, looking like a Young version of LL Cool J, with this super sexy Trinidadian accent to match.  Lips and all chose me. I think we went to two movies every weekend. At 17, my mother let me have my first date! I was ecstatic!

My mommy. Died two deaths for me. She knew there was no coming back from a body 90% overtaken by cancer, but she agreed to be resuscitated because I asked her how was I going to live this life without my mommy.

She went above and beyond for me and friends all my life. Everyone she met she had something to give them. Whether it was butter cookies, aromatherapy concoctions to help with migraines or acne, or caring for children. I think my sleepovers were always lit. 

I learned love!

I told someone the other day. If you have a flower potted in soil that doesn’t get sunlight, water or nourishment that plant is not going to survive.

The same way with people.

If people are not given the right type of attention, encouragement, and love they die. Maybe not physically, but spiritually. Their dreams die. They self sabotage, and self destruct. They throw away perfectly good lives wanting and waiting to be validated thinking validation equals love.

Look at poor Kanye.

A lost mommy with no real support leads to breakdown.

Well. I decided to love. I planted seeds all summer. I loved on the most unlovable people. I encouraged, offered support, kindness, and even advice.

But when a person is not used to being loved, they run back to those they see as valuable and try to take their new feel good self to the people who will never accept, support, or upbuild them. And depositing into the wrong banks will have them betting big and losing all. 

I died to my flesh doing this. My flesh kept telling me how stupid I was texting people who didn’t respond. Being kind to people who obviously didn’t deserve it. But maybe those people needed it the most. I have such an overflow of love to share with those with no strings attached that maybe in hurt and pain those who act like they don’t want it need to feel it for real, so they can flourish in greatness.

I planted seeds is all.

Now when I get good morning prayer sessions or good afternoon, I love yous. Or calls just to check in. Or real actions of love coming through to me; I know these are the seeds I planted. 

We all reap what we sow.

Sometimes immediately. Sometimes later on.

Some seeds take a minute to grow deep enough roots.

But love. Is like art. Takes a real artist to appreciate the acts. And takes true perception to pay attention to those who just come to entertain and perform but have no real depth behind what they do.

But we can only be as deep as the crew we run with. 

It’s all packs. Wolves run with Wolves. Lions with lions. Not snakes, snakes eat other snakes.

Hey you get what you give!

Make sure to give it your best. Give it your all. Walk in truth, and love. 

And watch love bring you to life!

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