I’ll Move on When it’s Finished


This is my issue with the world. We want to paint this American Dream like it’s for everyone. The world was not created for black boys and girls. Can we not take one moment to see through the eyes of oppression? There were constitutional laws in place that denied blacks rights. It wasn’t until 1965 black were able to vote and even after then it took years to get over, through, and beyond the loop holes. Segregated schools with less funding and hand down books. 

Can we stop pretending we are so far advance these times? We were declared free with nothing to buy land with. We were given books yet no one ever taught us how to read them. 

I’m so tired of hearing how we have the same opportunity that everyone else do. 

Opportunity with no tools, but we overcome. 

This country was built off the backs of blacks and we’ve been fighting to get up ever since. 

Now, that’s just reality. 

I gave that synopsis to say this:

I’m tired of letting it go!! I’m tired of underlying the issue. I’ll move on when it’s (injustice and inequality) is finished.

I have been that “all lives matter” self-righteous one. It was the easy perspective.

When you say “but all lives matter” you are choosing to dilute the very reason someone once said black lives matter. 

When you say “but all cops aren’t bad” doesn’t change the fact that some cops are still bad. That statement ignores and avoids the issue at hand. How does an issue with a bad cop becomes a celebration of a good cop? 

When you say “but not all things are racist” you are dismissing the fact that this thing is racist.
Listen, they invited Phil Castile’s mother to the funeral of Dallas police officers that she didn’t even know. WHILE SHE WAS PREPARING THE FUNERAL OF HER SON WHO WAS SHOT SENSELESSLY BY A POLICE OFFICER. Do you not see an issue with that. Sit aside your pain, ignore it for a minute, forgive urgently and come show your support for these good people who lost their life even if your son lost his to one that was bad. 

Ignore Phil for a minute and come support our law enforcement. 

Listen, I appreciate cops. They protect me as I respect them. I have one on speed dial for every situation I may be in. They know me. I know them. I’ve never felt threatened or feared by the cops in my city. I’m thankful for that. 
Yet, I know my story does not mirror the story of people that look like me across the nation. Because when I choose to look through those eyes, I’m closing my eyes to the racial and unjust issues of the world.

I’ll be honest, I’m not interested in holding hands in unity unless that comes with a conversation before, during and after. 

I’m not interested in being comfortable until we as a nation confront the issues. I’m a lover; I love, I still and forever will operate in and out of love. However, my love isn’t blind. I would be remiss to remain comfortable in this world today and leave the mess for another generation to attempt to fix.

That is where I’m at right now. I’m not willing to sweep mess under a rug so that my living condition looks clean. I’m not willing to smother an issue with kumbayas for my own illusion when my brothers and sisters are one moment away from a hashtag. 

I want to talk, like for real, even if it’s tough. 

I Love My Gay Son and You Cannot Change My Mind

Hi, it’s me, Amber.

I haven’t blogged in a very long time. I’ve missed writing but life has had me mute for a season. But, I’M BACK!!! And the reason I choose to come back with this particular topic is because I am so intrigued by Christians that actually love like Christ. It’s actually a rare attribute to find.

On Sunday mornings, at Transformation House in Greenville SC, I get to worship with the Kirwan family. I absolutely adore this family because they really are an example of like “tossed salad”. What I mean is that within the family you have “some of this and some of that” that comes together so beautifully. I can imagine the thing that really tossed the family up is that one of the Kirwan’s sons, Isaac is gay. At least that’s what I assumed, until talking to Mrs. Virginia, Isaac’s mom on this past Sunday. I said “I bet it is probably still hard at times right?” and I could have cried when she started to respond to me. I followed by saying, PEOPLE NEED YOU!! Which is why I asked her to join me in this blog.

Listen to her heart in this dialogue.

Me:             Mrs. Virginia how do you, as a Christian, accept your gay son?

Virginia:     Because I am his mom and he is my son. Who he is doesn’t change my heart or my role as his mom. I accept my child as he is with his loving heart, his adorable face and all of his gifts and I am proud of being his mom every minute.

Me:             How do you handle that with your faith? What about when other Christians feel your tolerance is not of Christ?

Virginia:     My faith tells me my number one job is to be a loving mom to my son. Nowhere can I find one thing that tells me different. I am so in tune with what God is telling me to do that what anyone else thinks I should be doing fades far into the background of my life. I have never felt so confident in God about anything.

The mistake Christians often make is thinking it’s their job to make sure everyone is doing what they (said Christian) perceive to be right. We need to do what God says is right.

My job is to point my son or anyone else to the overwhelming love of Jesus and trust that the power in that love will do whatever work God wills in that person’s life. All I have to do is love and that’s the fun part.

I have no problem letting people who question my tolerance know exactly where I stand.

Me:             If you could say anything to a struggling LGBTQ person or a struggling parent what would you say?

Virginia:     To the parent: Relax. Choose your child above all of those people whose opinions you are worried about.

God is more than able to bring answers in his time. I personally don’t need answers because it comes back to one thing for me. I know what I’m supposed to be doing.

To the child: You are worth EVERYTHING JUST LIKE YOU ARE. Let God love you, let us love you. Carry this heartache of rejection to him because he wants it. Nothing separates you from Him. Absolutely nothing!

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There are too many broken relationships between LGBT people and their families and the root of the brokenness is God??? Does that make sense?

Virginia, I want to personally thank you for loving Isaac unconditionally. Thank you for not breaking his soul and his spirit. Thank you for not sending him out in a world feeling unloved and unworthy. Thank you for being his friend and a shoulder to cry on when the world is heavy. Thank you for being a perfect example of Jesus in his life. He smiles on you.

Too Late

We couldn’t help that we had fallen deep.
Yet, we couldn’t help we were too late.
Because eventhough she’s in love with me, she chose him.

Yes, there was one there before me, he’s been there for sometime. Walking through Eden’s garden not even recognizing Her worth. He didn’t even realize the freedom he had just by loving her.

I will never have that freedom. He holds her hostage with weapons of mass destruction created by history. it didn’t matter if we felt destined to be.
to love is freedom, yet she wasn’t free.
we were too late.

the way we have learned to love should be studied by Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. Because she has no clue what a love like this is. a love that breathes life into my brokenness making me whole again, wrapping my soul up in a cocoon blossoming butterflies.
She woke me up.
Effortlessly, like a ray of sunlight peaking through a ripped seam in dark shaded curtains. nothing was supposed to be here.
almost like the universe lined up perfectly for her love to shine just for me.
but, we were too late.

it didn’t shine just for me. and he was lost without her, even if he never knew where he was going in the first place.
I understood.
Even for me, she brought direction to a path that once didn’t seem clear. She was light.
He’s ready now, I think. Well, I hope.
Because I don’t know how much my heart can watch her heart being loved half wrong. He only gives her the minimum tokens of love. like the P.O.W. game at Frankie Fun Park, Prisoner of War. More like Plays. Only. Whenever…He feels like it doing whatever in the moment until time nearly runs out. fondling through his pockets desperately to find a few more “I love yous” to stay in the fight.
He’s always right on time. He never let what’s done be done…and lose.
Hogging her like she doesn’t deserve something better even if he knows she does.
I couldn’t help I was too late.

In every moment of all the moments 4,060,800…and 1, and 2, and 3 moments I’ve known her, yes I’ve counted, there was never a moment I didn’t want to love her with my absolute best. I found pleasure and honor in giving her all the pieces of my love. With a mountain of obstacles against us, all I knew was loving her was easy. Without question, without void, I will love her for the rest of my heartbeats.
I wish I wasn’t too late.

Yes, there was someone there before me, he’s been there for sometime. He’s now deciding to fight for her. Well, maybe he still has time. I love her so much to want her to stay here with me. I deserve this time. But, I love her more to let her go and preserve history where she’s invested time. He’s the one she’s always dreamed of…even if I’m her dream. with my greatest “I love you” I give her back to him. With my greatest regret, I couldn’t help I saved her too late.

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No More Crying On Sundays

I sat in a seat, the same seat every Sunday, for one purpose and that was to love Jesus through worship and praise. Yet, peace I struggled to find in a name, Jesus, that means peace because I could not find peace within. While many saw tears every Sunday, assuming it was most likely a move of God; it was more to me than just God’s love. I cried every Sunday for 4 years straight.

The Me that I have known for so long was getting the best of me and no longer in my own body did I desire to hide my soul. I would cover. I would pretend. I would deny. And more than them all, I belittled myself for even thinking I was worthy of a great life bigger than who I was then. I cried every Sunday for 4 years straight.

Let me take you back to those days. I had no love for myself. I created different versions of me like a multiple choice test trying to figure out which best describes me: A, B, C, or D? Why I had to make a choice I wasn’t completely sure of. It just felt like the right thing to do when society looks down on you and when all you desire is to just live a common life fulfilling your common dreams and walk in common shoes. I didn’t understand why the answer could not be “D” which chose All Of The Above. A was Girl. B was Gay. C was God’s child. D was Me, ALL of the above.

I cried every Sunday for 4 years straight. Because the deeper I fell in love with Jesus, I felt ugly inside. Because when the world labels my passion as a phase or a demon or a choice or a rebellion spirit; I knew I could not fall in love with Jesus if he saw with the same eyes. every Sunday I cried because I knew that loving Jesus meant continuing to hate me and hating me was becoming harder to do because I had hated me since grade school. Where is my common ground?

Why can’t I just be the girl that has her heart? Isn’t that every girl’s dream? To live out her heart? Some girl’s biggest battle is what wedding dress to choose. I wish I could walk in those shoes. Every Sunday I cried for 4 years straight.

Jesus is my all and there is absolutely nothing; no action, no lust, no love, no critic, no choice, no sin, no opinion that can change that fact in my life and in my heart. That name reigns in my life even through judgement, identity, sexuality, and more. He is my rock. And never again will I let a pew, or a seat, or a church, or a man-interpreted scripture, or a voice (rather it’s yours or the ones inside my head) make me feel ugly again by loving a Man that saw me as worth dying for! Jesus! I stopped crying every Sunday after those 4 years.

I am free from choice. I am no longer bound by black and white answers. My soul is no longer held hostage in a body pretending to be just a normal girl. And everyday I find peace not in an answer but in The Answer because my identity is and will forever be labeled HIS.

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Chosen Love

Seeing her in the park brought back memories of what could have been..

Feeling the same as I felt back then..

She gave me a feeling that I never felt before..

Her voice used to put me under a spell..

Her eyes told a story of love..

Her presences controlled my whole world.

I was held hostage by the way she loved..T

ouches and Kisses were like gifts of frankincense..

All the servings of attention I should be punished for that sin of gluttony..

I WANTED TO CHOOSE HER!I REALLY WANTED TO CHOOSE HER!

Circumstances and chances made me opt out for the life of refuge..

To be in a safe place, under the wings of everyone’s acceptance,

The Ordinary Love,

A DADDY’s dream to give his Daughter (His Princess) to her Prince..

The Perfect Marriage and Motherhood, a Mother’s Prayer for her Daughter..

He could give me the son that I always wanted and I’ll call him JUNIOR….

I CHOSED HIM!! I HAD TO CHOOSE HIM!

Why do I Fein for her?

He gives me a picture perfect portrait with no unprecedented love.

I always thought he was my dream..

Yet, I couldn’t wait to fall asleep to escape my reality,

That was where she was.

The person I longed for.. In the only place I could have her.. A Sweet Dream

I imagine fairytales as a little girl.

I felt so deserving I couldn’t wait to grow up.

But the author of my story got the characters all mixed up.

The way I felt about her is the way I should have felt about him..

She was what I wanted and he was what I needed.

It was so good seeing her today and I wish her the best..

There is no what could have beens, My life is permenantly stamped.

I continue to paint the Picture Perfect Portrait, in which this is MY Life..

My Love Story to THE END..

Whoever said you cannot choose who you love?

Inspired Writing…written with my sister Mahogany. Image

Identity Theft

life presents us with many paths and obstacles, as we overcome we identity with them. an Independent Woman has been through so much alone that she now has built such a wall blocking any humble future. Or, what about the young fella that got locked up as a juvenile? Does he now think that this is life, running from the cops in and out of jail? You know, those young girls that finally got attention because she chose to give her sex away? Now, she’s an attention whore forgetting her value and worth?

We are so quick to say, “I am who I am because of what I been through!”…but I wonder, that even in the mix of self-discovery, did the enemy steal your identity? What I’m really saying is, that label that you are wearing, is that God’s intended label for you? Do he really want you to be that woman who never trust a man? Or that man, who no longer dreams because reality is a nightmare?

Don’t lose your identity in this journey! We hand over our true identity over for pride, guilt, comfort and acceptance. Now, you are being robbed, destroying your character and integrity. Find your value…freeze the account now! It may have ruined your “credit” history but it don’t have to ruin your destiny. If you do nothing else today, discover your TRUE identity…your real name…your real label! It’s probably going to take longer then just today…but YOU are worth it!!

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“Forgiveness is not an emotion; it’s a choice” – Perry Noble

i’m making that choice daily. 

through my eyes

the world through my eyes captures my heart and mind…i love this place called life!

 

Grow Up!

Many people talk about a better life and everyone wants prosperity yet no one wants to adjust. You cannot have better without doing something better. No one wants to talk about growing up mentally and spiritually. No one wants to hear about needing to fix their attitude or their outlook on life.

If you find yourself still standing in the same spot it’s probably because you didn’t move. You want to get out of debt yet you didn’t change the way you’re budgeting and spending. You say you want a better marriage yet you still go to bed angry without communicating the problem. You desire to go back to school but you didn’t even make the small step to even apply to the institution.

Don’t allow comfort to stunt your growth and don’t allow fear to disable your maturity.

Aren’t you tired of this better life only appearing in your dreams and imaginations? I bet you wonder what’s the hold up, huh? Maybe even blamed God, your family, your kids, or spouse? Could the wait simply be because you haven’t moved (your mind, spirit, or actions)?

The first step is simple yet the tough part is we never want to hear it:

Grow Up. Do Better! Check Yourself!

We hate hearing it from someone else because our pride cannot receive it. But, when we truly get to a place where we find humility in growth and self-checks, then we can realize it’s essential to the betterment of our life and our future.

Take The Step! For YOU!!!

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