From Death to Determination: Finding the Lost Love that I Burried and Forgot

I was drowning. Lost in the waters of uncontrollable emotions. I had given up hope and was ready to stop fighting against the torrents that tossed me about and allow myself to slip into oblivion. I was ready to die.

Then something funny happened- I decided to live. Now, I don’t mean simply breathing, eating, taking up space type of living, but consciously living. I had made the decision to live with purpose and passion.

Everything had started to spiral downward when I was given a choice: my relationship with God or my relationship with a man I had fallen madly in love with. I had choose God; or at least that is what I told myself and anyone who asked. However, with the ensuing depression, self pity, lack of motivation, and thoughts of suicide, I had really chosen no one. I walked away from both the men in my life and fell into a dark hole.

It was only when it dawned on me that I had turned my back on God when I turned away from my at the time fiance, that I was able to start picking up the pieces of my broken life. I was able to see what a miserable person I had become: I was cynical, weepy, drunk half the time, totally self consumed, and filled with multiple other emotions I couldn’t even name.

I also realized that I had a choice. I could stay that miserable person, I could die or I could become the most awesome version of me that I possibly can be. I chose the last option.

Now, I am on the beginning of my journey, but I can already tell you that it is so much better than where I was before. I know that the journey may become difficult, that there may come times I want to give up, and that there may even be people that will feel (possibly express) resentment and my becoming healthy- however, I have made up my mind and refuse to turn back.

I can do all things through Him who created me, and i know that He will be with me, because I am doing this for Him. I know that He wants His children to reach their fullest potential, to be beacons of light and love. I couldn’t call myself a Son before, because what type of representation of Yahweh does that give? I couldn’t even call myself a slave, for I was presenting nothing of value for anyone. I was dead; and like Yashua, I am rising again and shall become the glory and the love this world needs.

I am on the quest for spiritual perfect and know that it will encompass mind, body, and soul. I am opening myself up to Yahweh to be the best me everyday, and improve myself everyday. When someone sees me, I want them to see love. That is my ultimate goal: to be a vessel of my Father’s love.

If you look around and all you can see is hate and sadness and no matter how hard you look there is no love to be found- become the love that you so desperately seek.

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Memory of the life that could have been

I am shutting down my blog “Tales of the Field” that was to chronicle my journey as a budding EMT and Firefighter since the last embers of that dream have burned out.

However, I wish to keep the memory of the experience close to my heart and possibly spread a little joy with it. I know I will live a new dream and as long as I keep living I will always be able to find passion within myself.

This is a re-post from January 19, 2012:

“Receiving my acceptance letter to the new member academy at the firehouse was a joyous moment that marked the beginning of my career in the emergency medicine services. My first day was a bit of a wake-up call. Imagine my surprise when I was the only female, at least a head shorter than everybody else, and overall lacking in girth.

You see, I had found one of the only firehouses in the area that accepted people that were medically certified that weren’t actual fire fighters. The only catch was, by the end of the academy you needed to have a fire skill.

So, it was me the little EMT-B amongst all these big ole wannabe fire fighters. I was quickly filed away as the little sister of the class. This included the occasional support in between all the teasing.

I was presented with the opportunity to make my first big impression on the night that the bunker gear was assigned.

My first challenge came in attempting to find anything small enough to fit my womanly 5’4” frame. Once I deduced that the smallest pants on the rack could still fit two of me: I just had to suck it up. I swam in my coat and my feet felt as if I had slipped on clown shoes instead of fire boots.

Then came the time to put it all together and be checked off. Slipping on my pants, I attempted to find suspenders short enough to work. After one of the lieutenants attempted four different suspenders in an attempt to find the smallest ones, he gave up and told me that I would just need to grow a few inches and sent me off with suspenders that slipped off my shoulders.

Next came the boots. Now I knew the boots were supposed to go inside the pants, however, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to get them underneath my pant legs.

Now, I want to take a moment to once again emphasize that I was the only one in the group who was not fire fighter minded.

After failing to slip the boots under the pants, I decided to take the pants off, put the boots on, and try going about it that way. It wasn’t until my boot was stuck halfway down the pant leg and I fell onto my behind that I realized that was not the way to go about it.

So, there I was on the floor struggling to pull my boot out of my pants. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed when one of my class mates had to help pull me free. He then proceeded to show me that you are supposed to slip the boots into the pants before you put either one on and then you slip into the boot through the pant leg and promptly pull the pants the rest of the way up.

Once I had overcome that mountain, I slipped on my coat and moved on to get my helmet; which of course fell down into my eyes. I continued to push it up and assumed I was just stuck with it, until once again one of my fellow classmates showed me that there was a screw in the back which tightened the helmet.

Having been utterly humiliated, I was glad to be done for the night. I was the only one who hadn’t played with fire equipment before and I was the only girl. In the back of my mind I was really hoping that they didn’t connect the two.

The rest of the new member academy went fairly well and I gained my fire skill of tender operations (basically the person that brings the water to the fire fighters). Of course there was the fact that I couldn’t lift let alone throw the hose larger than the one and one half inches. Or the fact that I was too short to simply climb into the fire trucks like the boys and needed to swing myself like a monkey into the cab. Or that I was the only one who needed to stand up on a tire to do the engine checks. Or…well you get the point.

All in all, I survived the new member academy and made it to probie status. For those of you who do not know what this is let me explain. A probie is basically the lowest of the low for six months at a minimum. A probie is the house maid, truck cleaner, food cooker, brunt of all jokes, is known as probie or the ever affectionate “red shirt”, and of course let us not forget the pranking: such as, banging on bedroom doors, shaking chairs, being asked to complete tasks that don’t exist, and well, the list goes on.

I am now three months into my probationary period. I have had the joys of falling down in the back of an ambulance, having my very first patient attempt to comfort me as I was a nervous mess, be snapped at by a doctor because I wasn’t giving my report fast enough, and driving training.

Oh the driving training.  Now for a girl that only ever really drove a compact car, an ambulance is more than just a little big. I was able to pass the driving course with only a slightly horrific carnage of cones. The real driver training began with my crew. This was where I learned the importance of smooth stopping and turns. My paramedic in an attempt to drill it into my head that every little movement you feel up front is amplified in the back, took the lid off of my soda and set it up on the dash.

For everyone who has not done this before I’ll just let you know that it is extraordinarily stressful. Add in the fact that you are surrounded by really expensive electrical equipment and I’m hoping you can feel my pain. The entire time I was just thinking over and over “please don’t spill, for the love of all things cute and fluffy just don’t spill.” I did fairly good and was attempting to appease my paramedic by “not taking my foot off the gas until told”, when tragedy struck- the cup began to slide across the dash. My only saving grace was that it was sliding toward the paramedic and he caught it not wanting to be drenched. He lovingly told me that had it been falling towards me he would have let it spill.

After the cup torture, came the timed test. Getting across town by a designated time limit and knowing that for every minute you are late you will have to do it again. It is funny how impending torture can make you drive faster. By the end of the day, the paramedic was impressed with my progress and said next time I will be driving lights and sirens…oh fun. Don’t get me wrong, I want to run code three eventually, but I am terrified at the thought of having to speed in a giant vehicle that definitely doesn’t stop on a dime. Oh well, guess I will cross that bridge as it comes.

So, here I am with three months left of probation and wondering what the next shift will have in store.”

It still brings a smile to my face thinking of the firehouse and my old crew no matter how much I was teased and prodded. Yet it no longer causes my heart to ache with longing and wallow in self pity. Yes, I lost this dream: it was stripped from me by a split second accident and a doctor that didn’t truly listen, but I will find a new dream-there will always be a new dream. In fact, the fabrics of passion are weaving a new path for my heart to follow.

No matter what happens, or how life tears away the only thing you can see, don’t be afraid; for there will always be a dream to follow and a call to light the passion in your soul. Dare to dream and dream again as many times as necessary. 

A Call for Righteousness

How do you keep from overflowing with passion at what is true? How do you keep it bottled inside without screaming and shouting on roof tops and road ways? Better yet, how do you keep it hidden inside yourself that not even you can tell that it is even there?

We have become blind to our own passions, floating through life doing whit is expected and what is agreeable to others.

On one hand, that could be the right way to go about things, for it is written: “as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” However, does peace mean traveling through life numb? And that is where the answer is “peace”. What does peace entail? Thus unravels the other part of the answer, “as far as it depends on you”. Yashua is to be our example, he is the living word; therefore, he was living in peace with everyone as far as it depended on him.

We have no control over how people will react to us living righteously. This is clearly seen with Yashua; he lived his life by and taught love and he was hated. It even warns us that we will be hated. Yet we live in fear of the hate no matter how we deny it.

So, instead of standing up, in fear of being the nail that is smashed down, we shrink into the crowd doing what is right in the eyes of the herd instead of those of Yahweh. Never truly breaking Yahweh’s will, but never standing up.

Perhaps, on a rare occasion, we muster up the courage to do what is righteous, but the reward doesn’t pan out or the consequences are too steep and we shrink back into our camouflage of normality.

Even knowing this truth isn’t enough to make us act. No amount of knowing can change our heart. Is has to take hold of your soul and change your entire being. It is not something you can plan or do on your own. In fact, it might not happen; in likelihood you do not want it to truly happen.

But those whose hearts are longing and pure- He hears your cries. Be obedient. Be persistent. Don’t let go. 

Dreams Lost

It is a strange sensation to realize you don’t really recognize yourself anymore. To wake up, look in a mirror, and wonder what happened to the person that you thought you were. I’m not sure whether it is a good or a bad thing that I have changed: perhaps time will tell.

The fires of passion are fickle little beasts that can consume you whole and then leave you dry. One day you are willing to stand in front of a speeding semi if it would help your cause and slowly, without noticing the change, you simply don’t care anymore. I don’t want to give the impression that hope is dying; the exact same thing happens in reverse. Simple little things that I never ever cared about before, I am now giving lectures on to anyone willing to listen.

So, is this shifting of dreams just the normal path of life, or am I missing something crucial? Has something happened without me noticing that now has me spinning out of control? Is there a force in action that I need to be battling to stop these changes, or can I simply ride it out and see where I end up? Perhaps I am just questioning myself because I question everything in life.

My birthday just passed and I am even further into needing to be an adult. Yet, try as I might, everything I thought I had figured out has crumbled away. Everything I thought I wanted to do with my life is gone- slowly stripped away by broken dreams and harsh reality.

On the other hand, I have met the love of my life. He completes me entirely. My love and trust in him has brought me further away from home than I have ever been; and although positive, has completely changed my life. Life in the city is simply different than living in the mountains: not saying better or worse, simply different. However, I wouldn’t trade living in the familiar for the love that I have now. A couple more weeks will mark one year with the man who proved that I do have a soul mate. And as happy as I am being with him I can’t help but feel like something is missing.

A purpose. That is what is missing from my life. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Well, I know that I want to be a wife and a mom and have an amazing home, but until then is missing. I feel like I should be doing something meaningful and helping people. Perhaps that is the influence of growing up being told that you are special, but deep down inside of me I feel that it is true. That I can make a difference. That I can do something. That something somewhere is calling out to me and waiting for me to respond. I keep waiting for the synapses in my brain to connect the dots and provide me an answer, but for now I come up blank.

I know this longing is magnified by my rocky relationship with YHVH. I don’t even feel right calling Him Papa right now with how I have been treating our relationship. I know that needs to be fixed before anything else will make sense. I know that imbalance gravitates outwards and affects everything else. I just don’t know how to fix something when I can’t identify where it is broken. Or maybe that better description would be that it is broken in so many places I don’t know where to start building from again.

Hopefully the next time I write I will have found one of those cracks and filled it in causing the ripple to reverse and bring a little clarity.

Crashing and Burning and Coming Back with Flames

“Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28

Recently, I have been sick; nothing serious, but a constant dragging that adds to the endless feeling of being tired. I finally heard my Papa calling to me: “Do I have to make you sick for you to rest.” So, I spent an entire day in bed “resting” and thinking that would make everything better. However, I was missing the big point; I was missing the type of rest I was supposed to be receiving. I just continued to grow more tired and the more tired I became the easier it became for the enemy to prey upon me.

I had allowed myself to grow completely blind to the stronghold the enemy was building on me. I was growing angry- really angry. I was angry at men, all men. I got so low I was ready to give up on love. Give up on ever finding anyone that would be everything I was looking for. I was so down I threw myself a nice big hate filled pity party. I kept thinking back to all the men who had done me wrong and all the pressure and chaos that was in the world.

I wanted to explode with all of the emotions raging inside of me. And then Matthew 11:28 rang through my ears and Papa calling out to me and asking me to rest. It wasn’t the physical rest that I needed (though I had been lacking that too), I needed to run to the one man that had proven himself trustworthy time after time; the only man that had never hurt me and only ever loved with a love so powerful it is hard to comprehend.

I had already been feeling the push to truly reveal what love was according to YHVH. This was just more of a reason to find the answers. I had been using the idea of “love” to beat myself up and ride myself to basically a breaking point. The spiritually conscious part of my brain knew that this wasn’t real love in the slightest.

After deciding to do this study, redefine myself to be focused solely on YHVH and Yashua, to light myself on fire for YHVH more than ever before, something hit me. That while I had been angry and moping about my Ish not being here and wondering where he is and what he is doing. That entire time how much was I dulling him? How much harder was I making it for him to stand? How long did he struggle while I was letting my flesh control me? The very thought sickened me. I made a decision then and there that I would do everything in my power to be the very best Son I could be so that I would not burden my Ish, but instead be the suitable helper to lift him up and empower him like I am supposed to.

So my quest for both of these starts with this study. Starts with finding out everything I can about YHVH’s love and how I can embody that love to share with those I encounter. So here goes. Here is to setting my soul on fire, for finding my voice once again, to becoming wholly YHVH’s with a heart for Yashua.

Being Sick

Being sick has to be one of the worst feelings. Your body revolts on itself in an attempt to self destruct. Now, I had a very healthy run and cannot remember being truly sick for several years. So, it was a complete and utter sucker punch when I became sick yesterday.

I had just completed a twelve hour shift in the emergency room and finally parked in my driveway at 7am. I wasn’t able to convince my body to sleep until 10am. At 2pm, I woke up crying in agonizing pain. My stomach felt like my kidneys, liver, and intestines were reenacting world war two. No matter how I tossed and turned I could not find a position that would alleviate the pain. It was the worse pain I had experienced since right before my last surgery when my stomach was literally folding on top of itself.

So, I called my best friend and asked for her to pray with me. I convinced myself that the pain I would feel getting up for Tylenol would pay off (which I later learned was a lie), and swallowed two extra strength tablets. I promptly crawled back into bed and tossed and turned for another hour. There was someone at my door and I had to find to will power to crawl out of bed.

It was my best friend with a care package of Gatorade, Powerade, chicken soup (homemade), rice, crackers, and a baggie of Tylenol and IBProfein. I hugged her, thanked her, cried, and walked her back out to the door.

Pouring myself a glass of Gatorade, the yummy fruit punch one, I crawled back into bed and snuggled into the blankets. The next twenty three hours were spent in agony. Praying, quoting scripture, and singing myself my favorite Hebrew lullaby, were the only things that kept me from a complete and total breakdown.

It took several moments of convincing and self preparation in order to simply turn on my side and bring the cup of Gatorade to my lips. The trips to the bathroom felt as though they would kill me and the only thing that forced me out of bed was the knowledge that simply going in the bed was not an option.

Somewhere a little after midnight on a trip to the bathroom, I checked my temperature: it was 101.4. I rejoiced at that fact. I was elated to know that my body was fighting back and there was hope that I would burn the virus off.

Many hours were spent in desperation seeking a position that would alleviate the pain to my stomach, kidneys, sides, back, head, and to keep my body between freezing and boiling.

I came to complete consciousness around 12:40pm. The pain had subsided, and when I checked the fever had broken. I promptly ate two bowls of chicken soup with rice- it had been thirty hours since I had last eaten. As much as eating boosted my energy, I felt disgusting with the layers of dried sweat from maintaining a fever for most of the night.

After taking a shower and putting on clean clothes, I finally felt like a human again. I thanked my Papa for pulling me through it, for keeping me focused through it, and for the loving friend He had graced me with.

I came over to visit with my friend now that I was feeling better. I am still a little nauseas with a slight pang in my kidneys still and I don’t feel completely here (probably because I was baking my brain last night), but I am definitely a lot better and everything in manageable.

Looking back I think it is kind of good to experience real pain every once in a while. It has definitely renewed my compassion for my patients that come through the ER. But it also did something more than that, because even as I was moaning and wailing with tears streaming down my face, I could feel my Papa with me, holding my in His hand and whispering to me that everything was going to be okay and that I could pull through this and every time I started to struggle with a verse or my song He would whisper the right words in my ear.

It was an amazing feeling to know that even when no one else in the world was there with me, my Papa was there. That my God is great enough that He knows the second I get sick and He picks me up and carries me through it. I am so thankful and feel so entirely loved. So, I guess being sick doesn’t have to be so bad after all.

Creating a Proclimation

Here I am in a new year and wondering how I got here.

I am become more and more aware that I am an adult. That I have a job, bills, and that if I’m not looking out for myself, I am the only one to blame. It seems odd to finally have that feeling of: wow, this is what life is like; while at the same time still feeling just a bit like a kid. I have been struggling a growing through a few things.

I am learning that there is a lot to learn about my body. Over the past few months I have begun to change my diet to eat healthier foods and cut out the junk that I don’t really need. It came as a shock to me to find out that I had taken healthy eating too far and that I actually needed to eat more calories than I was taking in on a regular basis and that I needed even more since I have begun to exercise regularly.

See, my goal is not to lose weight in any of this. In fact, I am very happy with where I am at physically even though the actual number confuses me. My goal is to be able to keep up with the boys in the fire station and to be able to be at 100% throughout my entire twelve hour shift at the hospital. Right now, my endurance and strength just aren’t up to par. On top of all of that, I am still healing from previous injuries to my back, hip, and knee.

My plan of action included integrating yoga into my life on a regular basis. I have actually fallen in love with yoga, and if I haven’t done my yoga for the day I have a longing for it. I did a short session this morning and plan on completing another routine before bed.

The other part of my plan was starting some sort of high impact physical exercise. At first I was kickboxing and now I am doing Jillian Micheals 30-day shred. And if the pain I am feeling now is any indication, by the time I am done with the work out I should be much stronger.

Despite all of this: the eating healthy, exercising, and taking care of me: I still feel…lacking? I’m not sure what the proper word choice should be. I know that I will dress up really nice and proclaim that I am beautiful, because if I’m not the one saying it then no one else will. It kind of wears on you when no one takes a moment to point out that they think you are beautiful, that you were fearfully and wonderfully made. Instead of doing what some of my friends do and say that I am ugly fishing for a compliment; I will walk into the room with a smile, do a little runway strut, spin 360, and compliment myself.  Sometimes I think it annoys my friends, but I have to keep proclaiming that I am truly beautiful if I am going to make myself believe it.

In the bottom of my heart I know that Papa thinks I am so incredibly beautiful and that He believes I am gorgeous even on my very worst day. But, for me to actually truly believe after so many people telling me that I am not is an uphill battle every day and it is only through the strength YHVH gives me that I am able to look in the mirror and be proud of who I see.

On that note, however, I have let my relationship with my Papa slide. Perhaps that is way the little battles day to day are becoming harder for me. I pray every day, but I have made it routine. Something I do out of habit rather than an intimate relationship with my counterpart. I had myself convinced that reading a chapter of my bible every now and then was sufficient because I was busy.

I am standing up to myself now to say “NO!” that is not okay. How dare I proclaim to people that I am a Son of YHVH and believe in His word as the absolute truth when I haven’t read every book there is, let alone every word.

I am going to start from the beginning and read through. I will share questions and experiences with you as I do. I’ll share everything I can. Through reading I will also refocus myself.

I will rekindle the fire that burns within me that is so in love with YHVH. I will have an even more intimate relationship with my Papa than I have ever had before. I will be a Son approved and an Isha to be cherished. I will be the bride ready and waiting for Yashua’s return.

Creating Growth, Confusion, and Longing

So many thoughts running through my head, I’m not sure how to even begin to sort them all out.

The end of last month I threw myself a pity party. It was big and it was pathetic. I wallowed in feeling sorry for myself over basically nothing. Thankfully it only lasted a few days before I heard a few harsh words I needed to hear and I slapped myself together. Trying to remember now…I have absolutely no idea why I was even feeling sorry for myself. I write this now as a reminder to myself not to allow any part of my mind to wander back to any of those thoughts.

After I pulled myself together, I enjoyed graduating my new member academy at the firehouse and conquering my first twenty four hour shift. I also dominated an interview for an emergency department tech position and was offered a job; I go over the details tomorrow. With that I was able to put in my notice at my current job.

I think leaving my current job is going to be an enormous positive influence in my life. Though I truly believe I am a stronger person now for enduring the time I spent there. Who knew working at a pizza place would be so hard. From the teasing and sexual comments to the constant ridicule about my beliefs and the way I live my life, to the continuous harassing about how pure and innocent I was as if it was a bad thing.

Since when is the word “virgin” used as an insult? Or more importantly, why? I choose to live a biblical life. Because of that, I don’t eat certain foods, I don’t cuss, I don’t participate in dirty jokes, and I don’t mess around with boys. Why is all of that seen as a bad thing?

What has happened to our society that I have been told by different people that my flaws include being “too pure” and “too nice”? Why in the world is purity and kindness frowned upon? I wonder if it is just a scary thought for those that aren’t. The people that want everyone to play in the dirt with them so they don’t feel so dirty. I think that is kind of pathetic.

Why is it that people are so quick to judge, label, and wish to change or destroy?

For instance, today, for the first time ever, I started talking to a friend of one of my friends. Out of nowhere I am starting to be interrogated by that person’s ex simply because I was having a conversation with someone. I am still trying to piece together what made them jump to the conclusion that something was going on between me and a person I had barely known for three hours. Is that how to world normally works? Am I just working on some other weird level and I’m the one out of the loop? If so, keep me out of the loop. I don’t want to partake of that kind of world.

I’d prefer stay on the outside if the inside is that ugly. However, I am learning I cannot do that with all the aspects of my life. It is still my responsibility to love and to show kindness and mercy even to those that have hurt me- especially to those that have hurt me. So, I am learning how to smile even as I see the knife coming to stab me again.

I admit it is hard and my flesh wants to fight it the whole way…but my heart knows it is the right thing to do and therefore it is what I will do. I will love and show kindness, even if it means being hurt again. I will do so, because I know that is what my love desires of me and he paid such a higher price for me than I could ever even imagine partaking.

p.s. Oh Ish, I know not where you are. Until you find me I lean upon Yashua and look to him for guidance. I am doing my best to stand strong and firm and wait patiently for you. I could wait until the end of my days, because I know that even if I don’t see you here on this earth I will be with you in the kingdom. However, I wish dearly to be with you. For you to hold me in your arms, play with my hair, and whisper YHVH’s words to me to build me up. For you to be here to encourage me in my growth and help pull me through the trails. I wish to fall deeper and deeper in love with you each and every day. I wish to have a family with you and make a home. Oh how I wish for you to find me. Until then I am loving you and preparing myself for you.

Creating Self Improvement

I have come to a realization- I have been neglecting aspects of me. I end up so focused on one part of what makes up me that I forget about everything else. I can’t allow that to happen anymore. I need to grow as a whole, not just parts. I have decided the best way to do this is to set up goals for myself to achieve. Objectives that will keep me from becoming stagnate.

When water isn’t moving, the life inside it has trouble surviving. Life is the same way. There must be movement and growth in order for life to flourish. I want to flourish. I may be a simple little acorn, but I will become a mighty oak and nothing will stop me. I will stand tall and strong and be filled with life.

I am happy with who I am and where I am going. I am happy that I can see any weakness that dares to grab hold of me and make it strength to wield. I am happy that I am YHVH’s and that He is with me always. I am happy to be alive.

Yet…as I say this, there is something inside of me that is sad. Something that wants to scream and cry. I don’t know why. I’m not quite sure what it even is. I don’t know why it is there. I have a good life. I am loved by my Papa, what more could I possibly need? Why is there a part of me that hurts so badly? Why won’t it simply go away. I need for it to heal. I need to heal myself.

I will continue towards my goals and won’t let anything stop me. I will continue to improve myself and in doing so I will heal any hurt that may linger in my being. I will be the mighty oak. I will be a Son of YHVH. I will be strong. I will be whole. I refuse to allow any part of me to remain in pain, I will expose all weaknesses, all injuries, all the broken little pieces of me and my Papa, the almighty YHVH, will make me whole.

I am a vessel created by my Papa’s hands. And as it is said of great pottery, it must go through a strengthening process. It must be put through a kiln at severe heat for it to come out stronger. I will endure the kiln and become an even stronger vessel. I will not allow myself to wallow in any negativity. I will smile brightly at the prospect of becoming a stronger and stronger vessel for my Papa. I will never be crushed, I will never be destroyed, and no crack shall ever penetrate me. I will stand tall and resolute.

I will serve my Papa and smile brightly on the future.

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