Inmypromise White

Today I woke up in your arms. I don't care that the socket was detached from your body. Laying against your rib cage I'm not bothered by the fact your heart has been removed and, gift wrap for someone else. I feel the air blow from your side. The skimpy rotting flesh barely covering your bony torso. Laying on your chest holding true to the only part of you; I have left. The stench is so strong the mourners stopped coming by years ago. I should move on but, laying here with you feels like our first night. Remember that time I got up, opened my heart, and was wounded? I came running back to you. You were here; arms out stretched ready to hold me. Well, lay there and let me rest on your arm. Reading is fundamental but, imagination can do wonders. I don't mind that my fingers rest on your ribs when I reach to embrace you. With you I know what I'm getting. I know where I stand. The sun is peeking in. I will go and smell the roses. Alas, I was hurt again. He doesn'

Capture each moment and savor it. Is time passing, or are we flowing through time clasping keepsakes? Memories last forever but, essence is a flicker to be tasted but, never fully consumed. Celebration is our haphazard attempt to pay homage to the passing of "now". True honor lies in basking in immeasurable moments. That moment which tastes so good only after the last morsel is realized there is no evidence. We rely on smells, sounds, scents to carry the legacy. We hold the snapshots in our hearts nestled and warm. That tear wiped away as we shake ourselves from another time. The smile turned grin as we reflect on previous lessons learned. Capture your now because what was, is then, and what will be doesn’t have foundation. Now we choose joy despite our circumstance. Truth is circumstances are subject to our embrace. Hold on to the now , squeeze every drop out. Choose joy even if means chooses faces that smile in front of that were not a part of your rearing. I have co

I can't be an autopilot christian? No, really; I can't put a bit in my mouth and follow where my steps are ordered? I surrendered to my Captor. Is He not responsible for my well being? How does that work? How do I have free will but I surrendered my all. I filter my choices through the bars of righteousness. The challenge is not the filtering but, the challenge of identifying my desires. They are in my heart. HE has access to the list because my heart is His possession. Gift wrapped, humbly presented the last time I yielded to the revelation of sonship. Not owned but a seed, with all rights to eat the table. Revelation fully manifested, I believe I belong at that table but, I don't know how to act. I don't know to operate in this environment. I watch my siblings but, we have different desires. I don't want what they want. Does that mean my choices go unspoken because I fear the backlash of an incorrect selection. Why is this difficult? We had a system. I gi

The heat broke like fever. This burning that had been emitting from my stomach for weeks. Suddenly, I was released. I had been travailing with what seemed like no solution. The temperatures were the soothing heat of a massage ointment. The salve stayed just long enough to cause discomfort but, was not strong enough to fulfill. I plead to my Father to quench this desire. Holding on to the truth that what I feel and what I know are never at odds. Finally, I felt the rush wave of cool roll over me. In the wake of this shifted mindset I am ashamed. I saw that dark shadow of the old me. I choose to grasps what I know and not stay on what I feel. I know I am redeemed. Now, head straight, armor equipped I press ahead. I am going into the enemy's camp, and I want to vengeance.

What if Issac would have refused to lay down? The rope was in tote. The wood had been cut. The spot on the mountain had been chosen. One may have the obedience of Abraham but, what happens when the sacrifice does not want to comply? Is one penalized for disobedience if their complete execution of the task is dependent upon another? If we present a living sacrifice then some struggle is to be expected. Were it an animal it is acceptable to break a limb as you tie down your offering. But this sacrifice is a human. Blood is blood but, there are so many different standards for lives. I do not set these standards but, history continues to reveal in it's wake the fruit of these standards. Kill a lion and they mourn in droves. Kill masses of humans and, does it make a sound? Like the riddle about a tree that falls; it depends on the ears that hear. The ears attached to the heart of those who listen. Had my Issac been stolen then I would not be so confused. I was victimized by a

The turn of the axis, like the turn of a chin. My life is on a swivel. Death is all around me but, it may not take me. It took her. They say dreams are a shadow of death. There is no light, no life in a shadow. Perhaps it is because those around me celebrate death as a caricature? A grayish image to be placed on display. Death is not always immediate. Sometimes, we carry it in our moments of pleasure. Our jubilant actions serenaded by whimsical debauchery, conducted by our flesh. This soiree eventually comes to a halt. At the point where your feet, your arms bounce but, we realize He are being pulled along. Then as our hearts open still in the arms of the former partner. We reach out to the Suitor, under the light. No gracious apologies, HE whisks you away to a place of life. Your strength and your life has increased. Our sure footedness has been acquired. Now, the attack comes at my most vulnerable state. I wander off to the allure of slumber. In the wee hours of the night I see, to

Step right up! Step right up! Here for one night only see the juggling woman act. The conductor projects in the crowded room. Here she goes........ balancing the career, ambition, and business on three plates. The awe flows through the crowd. Now, behold her lift one leg and, push the button of peaceful balance. Wait for it.... A discreet servant slides in a ball for her to stand on with her remaining leg that she lands on gently coming down from a quick hop. Laugh out loud at myself this is what I see when I close my eyes to the circus surrounding me. I leap from center stage, and discard my props. I find the nearest secluded rug and I push in. The ringmaster is silenced to my tears that soothe my drumming heart. The lion at the end of the whip has nothing on the roar that escapes from me. The ground around me begins to sway. I hear a song from my spirit. The boisterous gale of a melody cracks the whip on this pompous tent action attempting to overtake me. To my th

The phases of the moon reflect how I once saw it as a parasite. The aching call that I was not ready to respond to or acknowledge. A massive undertaking, a daunting task I was too unworthy to carry out. I held my blanket of fear so close it became my comfort. This idolatrous lifestyle consumed me. I was at the beck and call of fear. I began to show; not intentionally. That which was in, would some how seep. A statement here, an observation there. Over time my blanket became worn. Two forces at once. My greatness was starting to develop, while my fear started to recede. New identity was given and, I became free. . Now, after long pang staking nights of rubbing my well blossomed womb is time. After years of denial, betrayal, disbelief, acceptance, appreciation, and effort. My baby is crowning. I have carried this in my womb for so long. This has been a trying labor. I am not without the assistance of tremendous midwives who stroked my back, scratched my pain, force

Abel cried with his life blood and, thus it is a powerful force. The blood that fills us speaks, and,feels only to empty out. Yet does this blood also control? Does this blood that has the ability to cry out for help also possess the means to dominate us from within? Yes, I am bone of your bone and flesh of your flesh but, I am not controlled by the blood we share. I was engrafted and given a great transfusion. Now my veins though they occasionally war internally understand that my life is controlled by the hemoglobin of my Father. Desensitized though my outer man be to this chaos, rage, and anger. I will not succumb to the temptation to assimilate. I will not fall prey to the desire to respond with such malice. My eyes have seen the aftermath of these exchanges on too many encounters. I weep for the child who witnessed these encounters and, accepted them as the norm. I weep for the impressionable young girl who would gauge all conflict by the life threatening, blood cur

The problem with greatness is that spills out of you. I am not cocky I am confident. Like the fiend chasing that first high with hopes to die on the ride. Those with greatness attempted to run from it. The chuckle erupts into a boisterous laughter. The price of the call is a heavy mantle. People who hold destiny in their bowels call themselves cowering like Saul. We embody the substance of greatness and this releases in our walk, choices, rejections, betrayals, acceptance, desires. Outsiders see them post casualties of war, late nights of prayers for an alternate mission. Outsiders call them leader, pastor,dancers, singers, artist, coaches, boss. These are the people who ignite change, pull masses, cause rebellions, redefine the sphere of influence. Each day like Moses reminding themselves of their inadequacies. Pushing forward because the crowd is so thick they can't turn around. The passion is so strong they can't let them down. Fighting for something intangib

The smiling faces tell a story. The story of what was, and what will be. I loose myself in the moment and allow those smiles to carry me. I was taught how to release. I was granted permission to remove my chains. I used to watch from behind my cage in envy at their innocence. I longed to share with my past selves. Tell the old me the outcome of the new me when we chose to make that decision the last time. The disappoint, let down, broken pieces but, those heavy portions left deep marks in my muscle mass resulting in weight gain. This new weight helped me to push the boulders of doubt, fear, and disbelief. Chains turned bracelets now I dance with words. I fly with imagery. I pull on my greatest passions because the vulnerability I show the stronger they see me. I see the shadow of my former self stand and marionette off the wall. They see a woman who has overcome great trials and have hope that there is a tomorrow. They need me and I need them. We educate each other on

Time is fleeting but how we dance with it as it passes sheds light on the marks to be received. Spending your time learning who you are in CHRIST will yield and understanding of who you are. Once this knowledge is attained one not only is able to but must exercise the new body gained with this spiritual transformation. Strength, growth, change comes through passing time utilizing these new attributes to serve other has great reward. This application is a life wasted through living and life gained through giving. That is not what JESUS would do, but its what HE did. Now, alive HE passes time praying for, taking care of us. How are you spending your time?

Little boys like to run and jump off of everything. The world is their trampoline. The highest heights become the greatest spring boards for the he who dares take the plunge. The corner of the couch and a towel are just the right ingredients for a superhero's entry. Then there is a shift and the same voice yelling like Tarzan is at the kitchen table macking. Run, jump, and fall in love with the first girl who smiles and likes a photo. ©InmypromiseWhite

I saw a woman at a pot. She stood there hand on hip, chin up in deep thought. One of the children around the table had a asked her a question. There we stood, some leaned waiting for pearls of wisdom to drop from her mouth. Others grew restless waiting for an answer but I did not move. Did they not see the lines on her face that scripted a lifetime of lessons. She shook herself back and began to stir the bowl in her abdomen. Like giving birth she released a nugget, a perspective, a salve of wisdom that could carry the recipient for years. Those proverbs etched in her pensive glare. There is something to be said about those who stay, absorb, and digest. She sees the capsule in their eyes that confirms they have been here before. Her recollections of past loves, hurts, joys, and pains a reflection of the revelation she sees in the pupils of this next generation. Yes, we stay and take these morsels. She can smell the oven is done. Now retrieving her myriad of ingredients to add

It is not a “me or you” situation. This is a “if you love me let go” situation. If I love me, I have to pull away. I don't want to be let go of by you. I do want to fly and, my wings are not strong enough to carry us both. My resolve is that I fight to love me at all costs. I have to hold on to the promise that we will meet at the same destination as long as we both pursue triumphantly. I have to lay aside every wait. There is no time like the present. I have played with this gift for far too long. I have but, I haven't; see, I have not been wasting time but, I have not been making progress. I have not been idle but, I have not been advancing. My time has been otherwise allocated and, it occurred to me that the only person making those allocations a priority is me. This admission hurts to make because the time spent was precious. I am busting at the seams with greatness and, it is spilling over into your “love me when I need you” time. Still, that is no

A dollop of transparency over a huge cup of vulnerability later....... I have seen my BioDad. I was able to ask the questions that used to be hard and turned into cautious but, are now just unanswered. The change I have found came when I took away the expectations. I released rather at the prompting and encouraging of several who pour into me. We've seen eachother, we've establised a new connection, now to walk out this new dynamic and create new memories.

It was one year ago, tomorrow that I last saw my biological father. I make the distinction because I have come to find completion from all the hurts, scars, and emptiness that his absence left vacant. I now have my Heavenly Father to guide me, hold me, reassure me, and discipline me when I need it. One year ago, tomorrow I aided a stranger. I facilitated a need for a man who knew my mother as I grew up. I was around him because he would show up at my paternal grandmother's home quite often. This stranger would not play with me. This all be it on the outside, friend of the family did not read me stories as you do to build rapport with children you just met or, have seen only a couple of times. This man would attempt to scold me and teach me. He did not look or act like the teachers I had known. One year ago, tomorrow I accompanied the family friend who by biology is my father to run some errands. He made it a point to announce at each destination I was his child. It was

Please don't touch my bruise. Please stop picking at my wound. I don't want to talk about it and, it hurts when you pick at it. Leave it be and let it heal. What do you mean it won't heal covered up? I need my badge to keep out the dirt and debris. I covered it to keep it from getting infected by your persistent words. Stop! Don't pick at it like that. No, I will not tell you again where it came from. I don't want to replay that moment in time. I prefer to nurse this pulsating pain emitting from me. After a while the pain goes numb and I cant feel anything. I like the numb because it spills over to other wounds that seem to not be healing. I know a girl who is proud of her scars. I admire her triumph. Yet, I sometimes wonder what does she do with the pain now? ©InmypromiseWhite

Faces in the portrait. I want to go back to that little girl in the picture. The bouncing bundle of joy with the little red ball. The yellow back splash surrounding the caramel jaws on that blossoming queen. Funny how the frame can capture the moment. Faces that hold still the memories, feelings, smiles, laughs, joys, hurt hidden behind the laugh lines. I want to to stroke her face and tell her it will be alright. I want to sit next to her and assure her this too shall pass. She is still in the photo. She sees not that which will be unleashed. I want to go back to her because she is me. Who is she looking at? Who has her attention? The smiles that she gives so generously, she shares with all who would acknowledge its presence. I want to be that face in the portrait. I want to be that carefree, innocent, happy queen. She has not a care in the world but, to hold her little red ball. I have been told my slate has been wiped clean. It has been affirmed that I am rede

Shout out to my Sheroes. Those who tore through hell brick by brick for myself and so many other women. Those pillars who send shock waves through demons and minions. As I rest on my pillow of joy and peace I have to ask a question. Who prays for the prayer warriors? Who intercedes for those continually prostrate for others? Who knocks on heaven to push past the throne room and get the LORD'S attention on behalf of them? Fresh eyes allow me to witness a deeper vulnerability. Empathy reveals that she may be tired, she may be disappointed, she may be broken, she may be warring in the house and out. Could she talk to you about it? Could you provide the same type of encouragement and reminder of GOD's promises that she dispenses so selflessly? Who prays for the prayer warriors? Who is righteous enough, fervent enough, desperate enough to turn and face the wall with no intentions of taking "No" for an answer. I believe these women like Jacob grew tired of who they used

My Daddy walked me to work today! That was my response when they asked me the cause of my beaming as I grinned from ear to ear. He took my hand and walked with me reminding me that I was the most precious girl in the world. “You are forty-three,” they said with a touch too much dismay. “I really should introduce you to my Daddy because he can love you as well,” I said. Aren't you too old to be a Daddy's girl?”, they asked in mockery. “No, I say, because he was waiting on me.” My Daddy will restore the time but, I had to lay aside every wait. “Wait until I stop feeling this way, wait until I get older, wait until I am ready to settle down, wait until I get this out out my system.” All that waiting was me tied to the weight of sin. Sin separates and sin separated me from my Daddy. He was was patient and called me from afar. He called me and reminded me that I was His child. Like time stood still for Joshua, time has been restored for me. The weight of sin did no

How dare you measure my hunger? The beast within does not piddle and beg for scraps. No, my patience is not fear or hesitation. I've been through too much to allow any form of complacency. These steps executed are calculated and timed. I have been watching my prey for far too long to act prematurely. I have had this morsel in my sites for several hunting seasons. This elusive fawn has traipsed past me countless times, and I refuse to miss my mark by rushing. The depths of my hunger compel me to be wise and precise. I am the lioness on the bank of the river eying the delicacy. My hunger is so great, my teeth are dry. I can not and will not permit this nourishment to get away. Crouching down in position, senses heightened like never before, instincts work operably, I attack! I am holding on to this promise with a giant vice grip in my jaws. I feel the heart beat beneath my chest sync to the pounding of my own. Tenaciously I hold on because she who has the greate

I looked in the mirror today. The mirror of the eyes that were once and will be me. I was appaulled by what was seen. I saw myself retreat. I found myself in the midst of great opportunty. The right place at the right time and, my greatest opposition all this time has been me. I have taken a step back when I should have leapt forward. I need to dive in head first, resting on the promise. This is not a new expereince. Like commercials at Christmas; HE has been preparing me for years. Flashing before me the promises like neon signs as HE held my hand. Was it disbelief? Was it doubt? No, worse! It was fear. I have absolute belief in the Risen Savior. I unequivocally trust that GOD is able. The deafening questions have been, “Will I fail? Can I be used? Am I truly worth?” Glass shattering before me I turn away from the past. I am a new creature in CHRIST. I do not have the spirit of fear but, of peace, power, love, and a sound mind. I now speak to the various shards