Sista, You’ve Been On My Mind

There is a high school across the street from my daughter’s elementary school and most days, we’re on the elevator coming up from the train with those students. (So we’re talking about young ladies and guys who are maybe 15-19 years old.) This morning, we were waiting for the elevator and this young lady was leaning on this guy trying to give him a hug. He then says, “Man, get the f— off of me” and pushes her away. She tried again and he pushed her away again. She pushed him in his head, said something and then she turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and said to her with a smile, “You know I don’t like you in my face like that. Give me a kiss.” And she did. I don’t know the young lady and I may or may not recognize her if I ever saw her again. If I had a chance to write her a letter, this is what I would say:

Dear ________:

You and me don’t know each other, but I saw something that I recognize all too well in you today. What happened with you and that guy was not okay. You disrespected each other at the very least and I do not know how long you have known him or have been involved with him, you two are in an abusive relationship, whether you realize it or not. I know you may think it was not a big deal and it is probably a part of your everyday relationship with him, but that is how it starts. Have enough respect for yourself to walk away from that and get the help that you need while praying he does the same.

You are probably thinking who I am or better yet, who do I think I am. I am someone’s mother, sister, daughter, aunt, niece and friend, and I grateful to be here to say that. At an early age, I witnessed someone in an abusive relationship. This person was being abused physically, mentally and emotionally and I can remember it clearly as if it happened yesterday. I used to tell myself that I would never allow myself to be treated in that manner by anyone. My freshman year of high school, I had my first boyfriend and we were together for two years. For the most part, our relationship was good.  We had that typical teenage, cutesy kind of relationship, but we would argue occasionally and I would hit him. He never hit me, ever, but one day he became so angry that he hit something else and it set off the fire alarm in the school. He was upset that I had hit him, but in my mind I was thinking, “I’ll hurt you before you could ever hurt me.” I had promised myself that I would never allow someone to hurt me as I had witnessed someone else being hurt yet I did not understand that I had taken on some of that abuser’s actions as my own. During my senior year of high school, I met a guy who was a well-known dj and he was helping me with some journalism work that I was interested in. Things started out simple enough, but then we started spending more time together and were soon dating. By the time I graduated, I was seeing him pretty much daily and it was not long before he started showing me his darker side.  He was extremely jealous and possessive and the verbal and emotional abuse soon surfaced. I was 17 and he was much older than me, so in that sad kind of way that most girls who grew up without a father reach out, I was somewhat looking to him for something. It was common for him to have get-togethers at his house and there was one in particular that I’ll never forget. An up-and-coming rap group was in his basement recording and I had gone down there looking for him, but he was not down there. As I was walking back up the steps, I literally bumped into him and  off top, he began accusing me of “flirting” with the guys. One of my best friends was there with me and before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and taken me into his bedroom where we continued to argue over his accusation. My best friend walked in as this guy was grabbing me and laying me across his lap, slapping my backside hard. HARD. I was screaming and he tried to make it as if we were playing around, so my best friend laughed and walked out. But he turned to me and said, “Don’t embarrass me again’ before walking out of the room. I’m very light skinned and that bruise was there for a long time. So was the memory of that interaction, but I continued to see him nonetheless. Our relationship continued until one night where he snapped on me in a club. Again, he was a dj so while I was under the legal age requirement to get into the club, he would get me and my friends in. Me and one of my girlfriends went to this club where he had a set.   When we saw each other, he greeted me with a hug and a kiss and then we sat and listened to the music. A guy spoke to me briefly and kept it moving.  No big deal in a club setting right? My girl wanted to walk around so we did and I walked past my boyfriend, who had his back to me, and thumped him on his ear. He turned around, saw me and immediately grabbed my wrist while pushing me back into a corner. I had stepped out of one of my shoes and he was yelling at me that he would “break my f’in neck” if I ever put my hands on him again.  He was saying some other things before two of his friends came out of nowhere and literally pulled him off of me. There was one guy who he hung out with and we did not care much for each other, but that night I watched that guy jumped out of that dj booth quick and grab my boyfriend off of me. Had he not done so I don’t know what would have happened next. My girl was in shock because she had turned her head for a second. We immediately got out of there and he called me for days nonstop, but I left him alone. Unfortunately,not long after that,I walked into another situation that was not any better. At all. My next boyfriend started off the same way that my previous boyfriend had. Only a week or so before we met, he had been arrested for 3rd degree assault and violation of a court order. I read about the charges in my local newspaper and when I asked him about it, he gave me his version which satisfied me and we continued on. This guy was a sweetheart in the beginning and he was a lot of fun to be with. Life of the party, cool dude, cutie. We had a good time together. I soon became pregnant and all hell broke loose. The verbal and emotional abuse came first and it was horrible.  Horrible.  He would say the most vile things to me and I would often come right back at him with my own unladylike words.  Then we would literally kiss and make up. He too was extremely possessive and jealous and we would physically fight a lot. Then we would make up, so much so that those around us did not pay much attention when we would claim to be done with the relationship. I knew that he had some issues (and I certainly had my own), but I felt that he needed me.  In his own manipulative way, he was able to convince me that everyone walked away from him and in my attempt to show him that I was different, I stayed. He claimed to love me, but his actions said otherwise. One night, he tried to push me from a moving car. Another night, he called me 80 times – yes, 80 – in a matter of hours before calling my mother and asking her to pass along an extremely disrespect message to me since I refused to take his calls. Then there was the time when I was at a party at his fraternity’s “house”. I saw him when me and my friends walked in, but I bypassed him without saying a word although he asked if he could talk to me for a minute. Not long after, I was standing inside talking to someone when he walked up to me,  picked me up and took me outside. Cute right? He must have loved me because he was doing all of this. Or so I thought, which is where a lot of young ladies go wrong  in these relationships. A few years later, I was in my apartment at 2am on the telephone with my girl as we listened to him outside my door screaming and kicking it. Did I call the police? No, because I did not want to see him arrested. I just wanted him to go away and eventually he did, but the calls were nonstop. After that, I was done dealing with him.  Even though I talked about two different guys, I was pretty much dating the same guy. See, I had to get professional help to understand why I was behaving in the way which I was and why I was attracting the type of guys that I was in order to be able to move forward and seek a healthy, happy relationship.  If I had not gotten the help that I needed, I may not be here today because it would have gotten worse.

I only saw you for a few minutes, but what I saw was cause for concern. It is never okay to put your hands on someone else and when you pushed him in his head, anything could have happened. Even the smallest man, when angry, can find enough strength to inflict serious pain. What you did and what he said is not good conflict resolution. And it certainly is not love. You do not have a healthy relationship and at this rate, you never will. You are still young and God willing, you still have much life to live, but you should want better for yourself than what I saw today. You should desire to be respected and you also have to give respect. I do not know what type of friends and family you have, but I would hope that someone close to you would share with you the same words that I am.  Not to mention, you should always conduct yourself as a lady.  Part of being a lady is how you conduct yourself in public and being seen fighting and cursing is not ladylike at all. Do not disrespect yourself or allow anyone else to and if you need help, do not hesitate to seek it.

Prayerfully,

Shay

We all know that often children repeat behavior that they see – be it good behavior or bad behavior. Those children then grow up to be adults who will most likely repeat that pattern of behavior because it is what they know. Domestic violence is a very serious issue and unfortunately, more and more young people are getting involved in abusive relationships because they do not think it is the problem which it is. There are signs which should not be ignored and when they surface, we have to take action whether it is to help ourselves or someone else.

The following organizations are a few that can help:

National Domestic Violence Hotline

Domestic Violence Services 

National Resource Center on Domestic Violence

In hindsight, I wish I had said something to that young lady, but I had my daughter in tow and that would not have been an age-appropriate conversation to have with her present.  I only pray someone is able to see what I saw and reaches out to her.

– Shay

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The Forsaken and the Forgotten: Victor

A week or so ago, I decided to include in this blog posts about the issue of homelessness in the Washington, D.C. metro area. There are numerous organizations that work on behalf of those in need, but as you can imagine, the number of those in need far outnumber the helping hands. I know we have all interacted with someone living on the streets, whether it was someone we know or a complete stranger. My daughter and I take the train into the city pretty much every day, so we see homeless people all the time. We exit the commuter train at Union Station and there is always an elderly blind man, with a blue stadium cup, who asks for change so that he can get something to eat. Now, from what I can see, he isn’t filthy and seems a bit more together than others who I’ve seen asking for money. Even still, before we leave the house, my daughter has to hit up our change bowl so that she can take him something. I don’t stop her because what he does with that change is on him. If he really does need it, good. If not, God knows our intentions were good.

There is, however, another man who recently popped up around the school and is indeed homeless. When I asked his name, he hesitated and said “Victor” so that may or may not be his real name. (I really wanted to take a picture of him, but I didn’t want to offend him by asking if I could take one.) Victor is between the school and the library and he has what appears to be all of his things in tow. A couple of days after I saw him for the first time, I walked over and gave him a pack of graham crackers that I had in my bag. Then I started packing a few extra things in my bag in the morning just in case I saw him. I’ve brought Victor meals, coffee and a blanket. He sits on a chair (maybe given to him by the library, I don’t know) and he has a storage tote filled with stuff. Victor also has a ton of bags and he’s layered up in clothing from head to toe. As of lately, it’s been really cold out and I worry about him. In the mornings when I drop the little one off to school, we walk past him and we wave and he smiles and waves back. One day last week, he offered me some of his banana loaf bread and fruit punch. I have no idea where he got it from, but I wasn’t about to take it although I hadn’t yet had breakfast. As I was politely declining, he then said to me, “You know, you always bring me something and for once, I want to give you something.” I told him that while I appreciated that, I was okay. Victor smiled, but then continued with “I’m going to get back to where I was.” We all know how bad the economy has been and many of us have been affected in one way or another by it. I’ve been up and down financially and I know others who have as well, but by the grace of God, I’ve never been without a roof over me and my daughter’s heads. Giving him food doesn’t entitle me to know Victor’s business, but I was curious to know just how he ended up living on the side of the library and how long he had been without a home. I was in Panera (St. Louis Bread Co. to those of us from the Lou) and I ordered a bagel, but they toasted it although I didn’t want it toasted. So they fixed another one for me and then I thought about Victor, who I knew was in his spot across the street, and I asked them for the toasted one too. They gave it to me for free and I also grabbed a hot chocolate for him. When I took it to him, he told me that he appreciated me “looking out” for him and then he said that he’d been on the streets since the summer. He had a place and lost it, but he doesn’t have a wife or kids to take care of, so he is “a-okay”. Victor speaks well and he told me that he used to be a teacher. Wow. The temp was in the teens overnight a few nights last week and I wondered why he didn’t go to a shelter, but he said that he felt better being where he is rather than being in a shelter. (I’ve heard other homeless people say that before.)

I often wonder about the back story when I encounter people who’ve hit hard times. At some point, they were probably doing well in their life. Things do have a way of happening despite all attempts to prevent it, but then when you’re down they say you can only go up from there. I’ve learned that you really cannot judge a book by its cover because you have no clue what the story is really about. I don’t know Victor’s circumstances, but I never would have figured I was looking at someone who taught as a profession for more than 20 years. There have been many times that I have bypassed someone who was asking for money or food for many reasons. But I really am blessed and so for me, if I have the change in my purse, it won’t kill me to give it to them.

The one thing I have taken away from my encounters with Victor is he wants me to understand that although he is down right now, he doesn’t plan to stay there. This too shall pass. I told him that I know he will get back on track and then I smiled and walked away. Yesterday and again today, we exchanged smiles and waves and I didn’t take him anything because I understood that he was trying to hold on to his dignity in offering to share what little he has with me. I certainly wasn’t trying to make him feel bad by reaching out to him, but I get what he’s saying and I believe he appreciates my efforts. My daughter and I also pray for him, as well as others in that same situation, every night as we give thanks for the roof over our head, clean clothes on our bodies and food in our stomachs.

I’ll continue to “look out” for Victor and I’ll wait a couple of more days before I take him another hot chocolate.

-Shay

Borrowed Time

A friend recently suffered the loss of a loved one. He’s been offered words and expressions of comfort, but there is not much that can be done to take away the pain that he is feeling. Pain he will probably feel for a long time. We’ve all lost someone who we love and it’s never easy to deal with.

At the age of 15, I lost my maternal grandmother, Mema. My mother was young when she had me and we lived with my grandparents, so I was basically raised by my grandparents. During the time of my grandmother’s illness, there was a lot of conflict between my mother and me so when Mema died, I felt as if I’d lost my mom. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in early 1993 and she died within months. I still find it so unbelievable how quickly that disease took over her body right before our eyes and there was nothing we could do. It was very difficult for my family, my grandfather especially, and we’ve honestly never recovered from that loss because she was the glue that held us together. We knew she was dying, but that still didn’t prepare us for what that loss would feel like or how it would change our lives. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the image of my grandfather carrying her body down the steps and onto the gurney that awaited after she’d died at home. How hard that must have been for him and yet he held it together for the rest of us. He was dad to my mom, her two sisters and brother, and me as well, and he showed great strength to carry us through. I remember him spending a month or so in California as a way of beginning his grieving process. One of my aunts had just had a baby and another was a month away from her wedding that had been moved up in hopes that my grandmother would live to see it. Unfortunately, she died exactly one month prior to it. I started the first of many journals as a way to get my feelings out, but I also started acting out in ways that screamed for help. It wasn’t until I was in my 20s and understood the magnitude of that loss that I was able to begin counseling.

In 2005, I experienced two losses. The first was in august 2005. I was living here in Washington, D.C., and had a friend by the name of Carlos. He was, without a doubt, one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met. We would hang out and always have a good time because Carlos was upbeat and enjoyed life. He was a good friend and I loved him. Carlos didn’t like drama, but unfortunately he got caught up in some mess on the streets of D.C. and someone took his life. I’ll never understand how someone could hurt him. Never. The night that became the last night of his life, he called and left me a message and I listened to that message for months after his death. I still keep his obituary in my wallet. I leaned on prayer heavy during that time and I found out a lot that I wasn’t aware of about Carlos, but it didn’t change how I felt about losing him. He was someone’s son, father, brother and friend, and that was how those of us who had the chance to know him will always remember him. I wear my hat tilted to the side because Carlos always did. In December 2005, I was 5 months pregnant and was hit with news that made me literally fall to the floor in tears. The phone rang at my mother’s house that Wednesday night and she and I both answered. My aunt was on the line saying that my uncle Byron had been found dead. I was crushed. The relationship I had with Byron was closer than close although he’d moved to Los Angeles before I was born and had lived there all my life. He made sure I knew him and he was very much an active part of my life. We talked all the time and sent letters, cards and pictures regularly in the mail. He always encouraged me to step out the box and do whatever it was that I wanted to do. Byron was beyond excited about my pregnancy and the day before he died, he called to let me know he’d received the ultrasound pictures that I had sent to him. I was the last call in his phone and because of that call, a detective investigating Byron’s death was able to get in contact with me and my family and let us know what was going on. Losing him shook me in a way I still can’t explain. He was such a gentle, and in some ways misunderstood, soul and I was one of the few in the family that he felt “got it” although we all loved him. My pregnancy was already somewhat delicate and Byron’s death shook me to my core, but I found comfort in the fact that he lived to see me in the beginning stages of motherhood.

Sadly, death is a part of life that is inevitable. Whether it’s a lengthy illness or a sudden death that takes someone away, the pain is still there. It hurts not having them around, but it’s important to celebrate who they were and what they meant to your life. My grandmother instilled in many so many things that I can appreciate as an adult. It hurts that I can’t see her or talk to her, but I had her and I’ll never forget her. She’s present in my daughter. Brooklyn’s soul is much more mature than her 5 years and many times, people have said she’s been here before. That depends on what you believe, but I figure that’s my grandmother’s spirit alive in her. I also see my uncle in her fearless ways, busy-body behavior and love of animals. Byron never met an animal that he didn’t love and Brooklyn is the same way. I can see Carlos’ smile clear as day as if he were standing right in front of me. They aren’t here with me in their physical form, but they will always be with me. They are my angels.

We each deal with loss in our own way. I’ve learned that it’s important to heal broken hearts and move forward in a way that preserves the memory of lost loved ones. I also have a better appreciation for life. You never know when God will decide it’s time for another angel.

LIVE your life.

Shay

No Harm, No Foul

In partnerships of all kinds, there are deal breakers. You know, those things that people do that make us say, “Okay, I’m done”. Not too long ago I met this guy and in the getting-to-know-you process, he shared with me that he is an atheist. I’m no Mother Teresa by any stretch of the imagination “kay? I don’t try to push my own personal beliefs about religion (especially) onto anyone or act as if I walk around living this perfect saintly life. So I was respectful of his stance, but pushed for a better explanation as to whether or not he meant that he doesn’t believe in following a specific religion or if he thought there is no God at all. During the next conversation, he stated that “I’m not into that religious stuff and praying’ and all that. Good things happen in my life because I make smart decisions.”  Word??

Dating for me these days is not easy. I am a single mother and there are only really 3 days or so within a 30 day time period that my daughter isn’t with me. If we can’t catch up for lunch or during those weekends when I’m kid-free, I honestly don’t have time for much except phone calls/texts/e-mails/Skype until I feel comfortable enough having that person in my home and in a position to possibly meet my daughter. Dating is my way of interviewing because I would like to get married. At this stage in my life, I’m clear on what I want and don’t want. There are certain characteristics I look for in my potential mate, who will also serve as a father figure in my daughter’s life, and I keep all of that in mind when I meet someone. I do have a church home and I show my face from time to time, but I have faith that can move mountains and prayer is very much a part of my daily life. It is very important for me to have a partner who is also spiritually connected with God. To be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t thank God at the very least for allowing him to wake up and see another day isn’t for me.  In telling this particular guy that I wasn’t interested in us going any further, I let him know that I respected his feelings and I’m sure there’s someone out there who feels the same way that he does. I’m not saying he’s a bad guy but this is one of those deal breakers for Delesha. I sincerely meant that too. I can’t speak for anyone else but myself on this. There is no right or wrong here, but the elephant is in the room and it was hard for me to ignore and I don’t want to waste anyone’s time or waste my own. He feels it’s “stupid” to pray, I pray about a range of things and I have seen the power of it. This is an area where we strongly disagreed and the tone of the conversation quickly changed. If that isn’t a sign to keep it moving, I don’t know what is.

I truly believe there is someone for everyone and when the time is right, you’re placed together. There have been a few times when I’ve thought I’ve met my someone, but I don’t mind going  through the weeding out process now rather than after we’re sharing the same last name. There are times when you have to compromise and I have no problem with that. But I feel that you have to be in sync in your core value areas in order to build a strong, healthy relationship.

I don’t put a question mark where God puts a period. My faith allows me to trust in Him always. If someone has an issue with that, that’s for them to work out.

– Shay

 

 

The Forsaken and the Forgotten

I grew up in the Catholic church and as a child, I was in church much more than I am now. But one thing that I vividly recall is hearing for many, many years the weekly prayer of an older parishioner. When he’d begin the prayer, I’d usually mouth it along with him.  It went like this:

“We pray for the down-trotten, the forsaken and the forgotten.  For the hungry and the homeless, the widows and the orphans and the children on the street.  Help us to love, understand and respect each other and let Thy will be done.”

It is simply amazing to me how life works because at the time, that prayer honestly meant very little to me. I simply did not understand the depth of it. I was fortunate to grow up in a setting where my wants and needs were met for the most part so I couldn’t relate plus I was a kid really. I only remember this prayer because I heard it so much that I memorized it. But now, 25 years or so later, I completely understand who that man was praying for. Thankfully, I have never had to sleep on the streets or spend the night in a shelter. Neither me nor my daughter have ever missed a meal. But I have indeed had my struggles.

In 2008, I began working with the policy department of an organization that advocated for and developed affordable housing. Typically, my job kept me chained to my desk or attending Congressional hearings, but from time to time I’d get out to the communities we were trying to improve. I loved being able to meet the people who benefited from our work. Their sense of gratitude was overwhelming and it helped me to re-evaluate my own life. My grandmother always taught me the importance of and value in giving, but maturity and my own humbling life experiences made me see things from a more empathetic perspective. I counted my blessings and I continue to do so.

Homelessness is an issue no matter where you live. Most of us don’t pay attention to those who are living on the streets because it doesn’t affect us directly – in other words, if we don’t know them we don’t always see them. I see it every single day and as often as I can, I will either bring food from home or purchase something for them to eat. There are a few people I see regularly during my daily commute and there are some who obviously have issues aside from just being homeless. One day, a woman asked me for money so she could get food so I then gave her food, but she cursed me out and hit me with her umbrella. I wasn’t hurt, but I was indeed stunned nonetheless. (Now I just make sure there is ample space between us when I stop to talk to them.) I once met a woman who was sleeping on the trains and in the train stations with her two children because they had nowhere to go. There’s a library next door to Brooklyn’s school and a couple of weeks ago, I noticed a woman had made herself at home alongside it. I saw her there for a few days and one day, I gave her Brooklyn’s graham crackers that I had in my bag. I didn’t see her again for a couple of days, but then a few days later, it was very cold out and she was there with not much on. I of course was layered up, so I gave her a sweatshirt that I had on. I just hated to think of her being out there and the temperature continuing to drop.

I’ve decided to write a weekly blog entry here about homelessness in the Washington, D.C. area. I’ve been in contact with a few organizations that focus on homelessness as well, but this will be my way of bringing attention to one of the many matters that I feel very passionate about. I’m going to label the entries as “The Forsaken and the Forgotten” because more often than not, they are walked past and stepped over and ignored. It’s really sad to see. If I could buy up a lot of these vacant buildings and convert them to housing, I would. For now, I’ll continue to do what I can to raise awareness for this issue.

Be blessed and be a blessing,

Shay

 

The Five Year Old and the Guinea Pig

For Christmas, I bought my five-year-old daughter, Brooklyn, a guinea pig.

See, what happened was…we were on one of our “walk-through/make no purchases” adventures to the pet store. When I was a kid, I had hamsters, fish, turtles and a bird so I’m no stranger to all the little pets.  Brooklyn has had a few fish since her arrival in 2006, but lately all she ever talks about is her desire to have a dog.  We currently live in an apartment and I’ve been saying that until we get a house (more space and a big yard), we’d be without a dog although our complex does allow them.   Okay, so we’re in the pet store, it’s a few days before Christmas, and Santa just so happened to still have a few things (although not a pet) in mind for Miss Brooklyn.  As we were making our way to the store exit, we both spotted this little fur ball and we stopped.  I did think he was cute plus he happened to be on sale.  However, my intention wasn’t to take him home with us.  The sales person came over and asked if we wanted to see him and before I could say anything, Brooklyn had replied “Yes please!” and he was on his way out of the cage.   He was going to let Brooklyn hold the guinea pig, but I objected seeing as though it would be her first time ever and the floors were hard.  (I was thinking about the safety of both the big girl and the fur ball.)   All the while she’s playing with him and a million things are going through my mind.  Was Brooklyn ready for a pet?  Was I ready to be the primary caregiver?  Do they bite?  What do they eat?  How big do they get? Honestly, I was a bit nervous about holding him myself.  It had been years since I’d had and handled a small pet and I hadn’t missed it.  Yet I knew we weren’t going to be able to walk out of that store without that guinea pig because Brooklyn had taken to him within those few minutes.   After going over a few things with Miss B – he’s YOUR pet, this is a Christmas gift, don’t ask for ANYTHING else until next Christmas – I decided to get the guinea pig and get out of that store fast.   Once we got him home, Brooklyn wasted no time picking him up.  I was a little surprised, but I shouldn’t have been because Brooklyn shows very little fear about animals.  She absolutely loves them and most days, she thinks she’s a lion.  She approaches most things and people without apprehension and while it’s something we’ve been working on as it relates to strangers, I somewhat expected her to be a bit cautious about her new pet.  Nope. Not at all.  That child reached into that box, scooped him out and started talking to him as if she’d known him forever.  I wish I knew what the guinea pig was thinking, but needless to say Brooklyn has done surprisingly well with him.  She is constantly talking to him and picking him up despite his attempts to sometimes outrun her. She happily feeds him apples and carrots and tells everyone she comes into contact with about her pet, Squeakers Apple.

As a parent, I’m learning more and more with each day how to see some things  through my child’s eyes.  As I contemplated making this purchase, I kept debating between the inconvenience for me and the happiness it would bring for her.  Yes, I’m the one who handles the overall care of Squeakers, but Brooklyn loves on him.  I have to admit that while she was away last weekend, I even held him for a minute.  She was even gracious enough to tell me that I can play with him whenever I want.  I told her that I can’t wait.

 

“We find delight in the beauty and happiness of children that

makes the heart too big for the body.”  

 Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

– Shay

 

Speak It Into Action in 2012

We’re all familiar with the old saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”.   I understand what that was supposed to mean; however, words can sometimes do more harm than a stick or a stone.   A kind word can uplift someone in ways you couldn’t imagine, but hurtful words can cause everlasting pain long after they’ve been said.

Words hold great power and in this new year, if there’s something you want in your life you should speak on it as if you anticipate having it – or better yet, as if you already have it.   Use positive words not only over your own situations, but others’ situations as well.  God and His universe will take note and you’ll be amazed at the changes you see take place.

I wish you all a very happy, safe and prosperous new year!!

– Shay