Like nothing in this world

I could not for the life of me understand why my brother would not quit his addiction to heroine.
I thought he was selfish and heartless for not wanting to change for himself...for me.
I begged him so many times and he broke so many of his promises...to me.
It killed me to see him finish away and see all the scars and marks that his life choices left on him.
My brother was beautiful, he had beautiful skin and broad shoulders, he became a skeleton and I watched him, helpless.
I could not understand why he did not fight hard enough to get better, to not be controlled by his cravings and to instead desire more out of life than being in and out of prison every few months over petty crimes to support his habit.
He didn't want it enough and this always broke my heart.

I once sat down with him and asked him what smoking Nyaope felt like.
He gave me an answer I will never forget, he said "Sis, it's like nothing in this world" and he smiled.
His answer made me understand him so much more clearly. I wanted so hard to be angry at him for being so selfish because I still needed him but I couldn't because I understood that I could never give him the life that he needed, so this was his escape of choice. I was the selfish one.
This world that surrounds him is a small community called Rietspruit that doesn't have a shop, no ambition, barely a functional clinic and the kids have sex with each other for fun.
Cows and dogs get along just fine and men drink to comfort themselves from unemployment and lack. In this world that he is in, he has no mother and has never met his father.
He longs to be loved unconditionally. He misses his sister, me, because I live far, far away from him.
I remind him of his mother and she loved him deeply. He misses her love.
He feels alone, hungry, unloved and of no use to society.
Society sometimes reminds him of this and he believes her.

When he smokes, there he is happy, there he is out of the present world and there is no pain.
It is still.
I looked into the casket and saw how perfect he looked and I could not help but remember his words.
He was finally in the other world he so desperately longed for.
My mind struggled to see him as dead because he looked so beautiful.
He is my late mother's last child, Banele.
It means that they are sufficient, enough, complete.
Rest.

I'm in love with a stranger

I'm in love with a stranger.

For the past 5 months I've known about your existence and have read and heard many things about you but we have yet to meet. It's crazy I know. But I love you in advance.
I pray for you and yet I don't even know your name yet.
You're so perfect and I'd do anything for you but I don't even know what you look like.
I know you're beautiful because you come directly from God so I'm gonna love you based on that first. I'm also gonna love you because you are gift from a union build on a foundation of love and passion.
I can't wait to meet you my love.
I love you.

I found myself

I found myself looking into the beautiful big eyes of a woman who went through hell's burning gates and back, she saw death and its stench, she felt struggle touch her skin, she knew loneliness, she was accustomed to hurt and was used to tears in her lifetime but ...her smile stayed strong even when everything around her seemed to be weak. It was solid. It was real and wasn't fake. I found myself staring at her beautiful full lips and wondered how many prayers she had made at the midnight hour speaking to God to help her. I found myself looking at her ears and prayed that whatever hurtful things that were ever said to her never penetrated and reached her heart. I found myself staring deeply  at this woman who was telling me about a life that could have killed me if I was in half the situation she was in...but there she was smiling and laughing and happy that she was here on earth. She was genuine. I found myself admiring her brave heart, her honest laughter, her tenacity, her strength, her will to live! I found myself silently praying that joy and mercy chases her and stalks her until the day she dies. I found myself praying for her children while she spoke, I found myself proud that she trusted me with her life and personal story. I found myself wishing she never again goes through anything like this, I found myself confessing that the enemy will no longer have a say in anything to do with her, I found myself speaking life and success into every area of her life! I found myself m ...yes, that's it, I found myself ! Through the beautiful big eyes of this woman I found parts of myself embedded in her story. Her beauty. Her drive. Her hustling -never -give-up- for- nothing mentality. I found a part of myself I aim to be when I'm her age. I found a version of myself I yearn to be through her trials and tribulations. I found parts of my faith where I pray to God I reach. In those minutes, with this woman, at that time...I found myself.

I got up and went!

I remember one of the lowest points in my life a few years ago when I sat in the streets of Aukland park with the weight of the world on my shoulders and wept. 

I had no money, no mother, no father, no airtime and no place to stay. 

I desperately needed to move near school but there was nothing and no solution in sight. 

I did not want to call my aunt because I knew she'd use her last whatever as a sacrifice for me.

I did not want to call my gran as I knew she too had nothing. 

So there I was...alone...sitting on a corner and I wept. 

A street kid from somewhere around there who knew me came to me and tried to console me. 

How ironic the whole scene was , but also how sad it looked. 

He begged me not to cry because people would think he did something to me. 

I was too sad and too upset and too soaked up in myself that not for one minute did I stop my tears look at him and think about what his life might be like. 

I had the option to pick up a phone and tell someone what was happening.

I had the option to maybe quit school get a job and go back to my studies later. 

I had OPTIONS! 

There he was filthy and stinky as he was, no matric, no education, no home, no family and he was comforting me! 

He probably had his own issues of being unsure of what he'd eat in two days time, unsure of where he would sleep tonight, unsure of his tomorrow and the day after that and he was comforting me...someone who had had breakfast that morning, I had clean clothes on...and I was in tears because I could not find accommodation and was missing out on school.

He'd never entered the gates of the varsity where I sat and cried and yet he was happier than I was. 

he was content...always smiling and comforting people like me,

I am not down playing my struggles which were very real to me, but I am however saying that don't ever forget that you have more than you need. Someone out there has even less than you and yet they don't sit and bask in their problems. They move on, upwards and forward.

Get up and go!

I am that type of woman

I'm the type of woman who was born to be with a guy who is ready to be a man. Yes, since I was young, guys haven't seen me as that hot chick you wanna undress and never call again, or the fly chick without a man. Not because I'm not attractive like that, but my brains, personality and character are what you'd take home to your mother and introduce as your wife.
I am not someone you'd take to hang out with your boys while you get high.
I was destined for respect.

I was born to dine with a man who could hold an intellectual conversation about politics, a man who can amuse me with stories about his yesteryears as a youth.
A man who can take me to an expensive restaurant and make me giggle as he speaks to me in Tsotsi taal about life in the ghetto as a kid while we chew on i-kota from eNdofaya.
A man filled with the word and not air. A man who had deep conversations alone with his father Yahweh. I was born to be loved...

I'm prepared to be different

I am prepared to be different. I am okay with standing in front of a crowd and calling myself odd. If it means no-one will like or welcome me with a red carpet I am fine with it. From early on, I knew that the choice I made to love you would come with a lot of insults and judgement. I have chosen to run this race as best I can without looking back. And if I stumble on the way or get laughed at by onlookers it's okay, I know and am sure of where I am going. I am willing to set aside my self in order to run that race and to do it hard. Run with me if you must but I won't let you hold me back... God is my beginning and my end.

In the beginning

Chapter 1-When he first rocked up While dusting the kitchen cupboards I carefully consider the precious China I bought while travelling overseas. I pick up the expensive pieces and admired the detail that went into each drawing. Remembering the price I paid, I carefully replaced the cup on top of the equally beautiful saucer and continued dusting the set. When he rocked up at my doorstep...he caught me unaware. He rang the bell but I was reluctant to open it. I looked out the window from my bedroom to see who it was. And why he was there. When the bell rang it found me at a time when I was reciting Psalm 27:14 and waiting for an answer. A tall good looking gentleman stood outside with nothing more than the black Hugo boss suit on his body,a bible in his hand and the glasses on his face. He patiently waited at the door while I looked for my key. What he came to do I don't know. But I'd like to find out. The duration of his visit is unknown. When I delayed in opening the door the young man didn't walk away or look down with disappointment instead, he raised his head with confidence and looked up into the heavens as he waited to enter. I saw him speak to his maker. It was beautiful. His patience astonished me,his faith left me breathless as I scrambled and searched the house,turned it upside down,inside out in search of my key I looked outside again to see if he was there. I could no longer see him. Disappointed I looked again. There he was, he decided to sit down and wait for me. While he waited he opened his bible to Phillipians 1: 2-10 I heard him read it out loud... He perhaps knew that I didn't know why he was there. So he read it to me. I walked towards the window again hoping that he is "HE" I smiled to myself and continued to look for the key. While searching the work tops for my set of keys it dawned on me that the person I'm about to open the door for has never actually stepped foot in my house because not just anyone was welcome here. In fact the only people who come over were sales men trying their luck at selling me a product. Products I usually have because it just so happens that my father was a wealthy man who left me an inheritance that I still haven't fully made use of. Even though I recognised the figure at the door I found it strange that he had nothing but his bible under his arm. No flowers, no perfume just his book. I almost gave up on myself trying to find the key,but still he waited for me. A few minutes later, I walked towards the door. Sad and in tears that I couldn't find my key. I stopped in front of the door and was about to collapse out of exhaustion and misery. I knelt down on my knees and prayed to God to show me where my key was. His back against the door from outside and mine against the door from the inside. I knew that the person I'd been waiting for is only one step away. He was only a step away. A step that I had to take and HE would come in. God spoke to my spirit. He told me that the door was never locked. Chapter 2-The brother walks in I opened the door giving my widest and most welcoming smile, I greeted the brother and he greeted me back. I recognised his spirit and he knew mine. He was from church so I wasn't afraid. I felt safe. Something about him brought a calmness and peace into the house. So opening the door and showing him in seemed automatic. But I didn't know why he had come over because if it was the word he was gonna preach, I already knew it. If it was God he was going to tell me about then he clearly didn't know that God owned the property. Me included. "Hi" he started. "Hello" I returned. He then walked inside the house as if he'd been here before. I didn't stop him, so he continued. I stood back and watched this young man walk into my house and life with a boldness I'd never seen. I was astonished that his skinny self dared enter my house not knowing if "He" was around or if there was a"He" who existed at all. He immediately went for the couch I had kept special for when "He" would arrive. I didn't want to be rude and ask him to get up. But by the time my senses had kicked in he had put his feet up and was paging through my diary on the table. I quickly went up to him about to take my diary from his hands. Something about his hands made me stop and step back. I saw his hands glow, right then I knew he was a healer. I questioned myself as to why he was here because I was not sick. While he sat in MY house in MY space reading MY book he occasionally smiled or rolled his eyes or giggled at what was written. I tried to look at this man to see exactly who he was, even though I was at ease I was still very curious as to why he came here. "You write very well, do you know that?", "Yes" I said impatiently. "Your ministry is in writing" he continued, as he flipped the pages I thought about his words and the power they had behind them. I wondered who this man was and why he had come. Staring at him for clues, I noticed the dust on his shoes, he said he had come from far. His cracked lips said he might be hungry or thirsty from his travels. "Can I pour you some water?" I asked. For the first time since he got here he looked into my eyes and as he was about to speak he paused as if he just realised who I was. Silence. The seemingly arrogant healer then humbled himself because he now knew that he stood in the presence of a queen. He for once put himself and his ambition aside and acknowledged who I was. "I would be delighted" he responded. Off I went to the kitchen happy that he finally got over himself and saw me. I brought him his water on a tray in one of my best glasses, he looked down embarrassed, at that I stood back and looked at him drink. He slowly drank his water and placed it back on the tray. "Are you married?" he asked. "Why are you here?" I returned. He then became gentle is his approach towards me, he could see that if he didn't speak soon I would send him back to the scorching sun outside. "God sent me here" he finally said. I asked him if he knew what God had sent him for, his reply was "No mam' I don't know". I was confused because when God left the house this morning he didn't mention a visitor coming over. "I guess we will wait for God to return and tell us why exactly you're here". He asked to see the house, "You can't just walk here and look into my house" I said harshly. "I'm not here out of my own accord" he said arrogantly. His arrogance was not of the world. It's the type of arrogance preachers use when addressing multitudes who didn't believe in Christ. I was one and I not only believed, I belonged to Christ. Annoyed at his personality flaws I showed him my house only because God was our common thread. God was the only figure standing between me and showing this young man the door! He asked me many questions as we walked through the house. I answered all of them, not that he gave me a choice to do otherwise. While we walked through God's house I too asked him questions and we laughed and chatted, we got along so well that our differences started to mean nothing. He told me stories of the places he had been, the places he wanted to go to and what God had done for him. He told me testimonies of who he was before God came into his life. I did the same, this went on for hours on end. I cannot tell you as to how long because I wasn't aware of what time it was when he arrived. But at the end of the day we knew God would return from work and tell us what we were suppose to do together. We went outside and sat in the sun together, I cooked him a meal, he read me his favourite passages and spoke about Kenneth Hagin. I told him about the novels I've written and the authors I've met. He listened attentively to the words I spoke. He admired her speech, she reminded him of his mother. The only woman in his life to have loved him fully. As the sun began to set the woman became anxious. The young man saw this and said to her "Be anxious for nothing". In a panic she looked at him "No, I'm not, but you have to leave". Puzzled, the young man was hurt by her words, he asked why he had to go only to be told by the woman "I don't let anyone into my house especially if I don't know why you are here. You have been here all day and don't know why. You didn't bother to call God and find out your mission here. I don't need healing as we have established, so perhaps you should go because it's getting late". The young man refused to go. She ran to her telephone and dialed God's number. Voicemail. "Aaaaahhh!" She screamed. She began speaking into her phone "God, it's me, the gentleman you sent me...doesn't know why he is here. You didn't tell me he would be here, so I wasn't ready for him." While she spoke frantically the young man began to pray for her because he now knew why he had come. "Please call me back because it's getting late, he doesn't seem to have a place to sleep and he can't sleep here and, yeah. Please come home quickly, if you're working late please call me urgently". The man stood up and walked towards her. She began to weep and insisted that he leave. "You're hurt" he told her. "No I'm not! Just go!" she yelled. She walked towards the table picked up his bible and shoved it into his hands. Ashamed and in pain, he took his book and went towards the kitchen door. As he reached out for the handle he looked back at her and started "Just give me your hand and let me touch..." She interrupted him "No! Just go! I am and always have been fine without you, please just leave...please" she cried like a child. His heart broke for hers. As he tried to walk towards her to hold her, they heard the sound of footsteps from outside. The door handle twisted. They both looked up. Love walked in. Chapter 3-Love returned "Both of you sit down" he said. We both sat down and in unison we were ashamed of our short comings when he walked in. We knew we got in the way of what God was trying to do. Our pride stood between God's work and we knew it. "Did you tell him you're hurting?" he said looking at me. "Did you tell her you're in love with her" he said looking at him. The both of you have always known about such a day as this. You've prayed for it, why then are you surprised to see each other? Young lady, did you expect him to come on a white horse holding flowers, perfume and sweep you off your feet? Young man, how far do you think you will go unless you learn humility and throw away your arrogance? Both of you get up and come here. In absolute silence we went. God's glory was so magnificent I thought I'd die. His presence filled the room so much that the air became thick, my head was light and I could no longer feel the ground. The closer I moved towards the Lord the more I drifted in and out of what I thought was consciousness. I looked to my left, the young man was in a deep sleep. I tried to stay awake I battled. God looked at me "Daughter, let go so that you can heal. Your healing is in the heart and hands that this man has. I've put him in your life because his heart is pure, he's my son. I want to show you a love you can't contain and I'll do most of it through this young man. Let him in". No! I replied. To be continued...

I waited

Yes I waited on the Lord before I met my Shwam shwam. I waited a proper 3 years before my eyes were open to seeing him as more than a friend. When I say I waited I mean I was single and not flirting with guys. I was focussed on God with no interest in anyone but Him. I told God that he'd have to personally come down in His linen robes to show me the one physically coz I was just not in that dating/courting space. I didn't mind singledom. It hurt less. I am beautiful so don't think that people weren't interested in me because that would be a lie. I stumbled across many tongue speaking, suit wearing, tall good looking brothers who saw my beauty. There were plenty of brothers who seemed right, spoke right and acted right. They recognised the Esther and Ruth qualities in me from a mile away. There were times when I'd ask God 'Is he the one?' because he just seemed so right but I knew with all my heart that the fact that I didn't see it from the get go was in itself an answer. NO POPS HE ISN'T! I refused to be distracted by little boys who weren't yet sure of who they were. I refused to put up with part time Christians who didn't quite get the concept of 'You will never see so much as see my lower collar bone unless we are married'. I wasn't willing to toy around with brothers who had even the slightest potential to move me an inch backwards in my walk with Christ. I didn't tolerate this late night chatting, midnight flirting and Facebook macing because I knew there was a specific man of God waiting for a Pops. A man who was busy with the things of God because of his love for Morena. So I did see the male figures who tried, but I chose to be blind to their short sightedness while I looked ahead. So I waited. My colleagues called me mad. Friends called me unrealistic and others thought I was in the closet. While I waited I wasn't just sitting around picking my snot, goodness no! I was busy in the things of God. In the praise and worship team, worked in the church, had a job, went to school. I was busy. My man didn't find me in dire need of him. He found me hidden in the things of Christ because he himself was buried there! Our love for God was what opened our eyes to see each other. When he saw me he didn't see big breasts and thighs, he saw a sister in Christ he respected, he saw character he loved and a smile that touched his senses. When I saw him I knew it was him because my spirit was at peace at the thought of forever with him. I didn't have to fast for 60 days to get a clear answer, I knew him because I had prayed for a time such as this during my time of wait. I waited for your love to arrive in the palm of God's beautiful hands. It did and it was perfect. I love you.

The farm boy who married me

...God said to me that if healing was what I wanted to do then letting go was something that I needed to begin doing. He told me that this young man would not hurt me because with all his heart he just wants to love me as I am. He didn’t care about my imperfections, my issues and my past...he just wanted to love the woman he was looking at. In exchange for loving me he wanted me to see him for the father he wanted to be for my future children, he wanted me to love him in his entirety. He wanted me to see him as a man who knows how to take care of a woman before I see him as a boy from the farms. He said I should please see him as my helper, the one who wants to pray for me every day, he wants me to see his inside before I focus on his greasy hair, gold teeth and lack of style. God said that if I was still living in yesterday then the relationship would never be about love, it would be about history. I heard what the Lord said but I wrestled with the idea of making him my man. It was not because I thought he didn’t love me. But I feared more that I could not love him back the way that he wanted me to. I clutched onto the image of my ex boyfriend and painted every man with the same paint, same colour and the exact same picture. CHEATER, LIAR and a THIEF! God told me to let all of that go of that ideology and give him a chance to love me, he said I should give myself a chance to love him back. Withholding nothing. He said all these things and all my mind could reply was “But what if...” Unsure of what the balance of where I stood with him was I decided to love him deliberately, I let go of yesterday and tried not to look back. I tried. Really I did. So I forgot my pain and let him into my house, heart and life. When he entered, he came into the house with his confidence packed in his suitcase and wore a proud hat that made him look like a son of a god. He took off his shoes and walked around as if he was no stranger to my house. He looked into my eyes and asked for a glass of water. I thought he was bonkers, arrogant and such a fool. He totally ignored my insecurities about his presence and made himself comfortable by going through my bookshelf and invading my personal space. He knew that I loved him but he also knew that I feared love itself. Before I could open my mouth to ask him to leave, he went down on his knees ashy knees and asked me to please be his wife.

The freedom I know

While our more privileged peers who had fresh cornrows sat every Friday afternoon enjoying their weekly pocket money from their more privileged parents with fresh cars we sat and watched. We admired their lifestyles from afar while we felt sorry for ourselves from nearby. We felt sorry for the brown townships we came from and felt sorry for the dirty, younger siblings who would unfortunately have to sit in the same bench and have to watch this very same sight themselves when they got to varsity.

We looked on as the people in our class gave themselves over to expensive booze, careless sex and irresponsible parties while we sat almost admiring their freedom. The strange thing was that despite their lavish foolishness they still managed to pass and pass well in class. Were they clever and we stupid? They had a freedom we can't fathom. The only freedom we know is the one Madiba promised our parents back in 1994. The one that said something about a free education for all and opportunities for whites which were equal to that of blacks. We got excited when we heard him say that in front of white people because surely the grey headed man wouldn't lie to us.

Here I am on a Friday afternoon starring at a group of white kids, maybe 3rd year students with cars my own father has never even prayed to God about owning. He would have thought of a prayer like that as almost been mocking heaven. It was these kids' reality. We are the same age. Born in the same year, under the same sky and the same free and fairly elected government. He drives a BMW 1 series. I take a Hiace to class. He has a cheque card, I have a savings account from Standard bank. A plus plan account to be exact. It's cheaper than a normal savings account and I've had it since I was 13. The most money to ever enter the account was R700. I felt like Motsepe's daughter even though the money was deposited for my aunt from my dad to buy food for when he came over with his new girlfriend for Easter holidays. I bet R700 means nothing to these kids. I'm looking at a white boy named Mark Smith. Good looking, for a white. Tall. Blonde. I'm filled with hate and envy all at the same time. He probably had a full English breakfast with extra toast which he probably didn't even finish. What he had left over was probably thrown away. It wasn't given to the dogs because they have their own special food. His left over food gets thrown away. I had half a loaf of bread with jam and tea. We ran out of milk last night. My mother will buy more today because it's pay day.

Getting enrolled into varisty itself was like milking a rock. Mark probably did it online. He can afford it. I can't. He's privileged, I'm not. Higher education is optional for him. For me...it's my families way to a better life. Failing would have ruined the chances for my younger sister because I'll have to put her through school when I start working. If I fail I'll delay the chain of income. When we are both done with school our mother can retire and not have to clean after Mark Smith and his dogs everyday. She'll be free. I'll be free. We'll be free.

Free from poverty... Free from the having to always borrow money for me to get to school. Free from buying the most basic clothes on credit from Jet stores. Free from owing Capitec bank. Free from having jam and tea every single morning to eat. Free from thinking that the chances of me actually succeeding are! Free from worry about what my little sister will eat if mom where to lose her job! Free to one day just sit on a Friday afternoon after class drinking because I can! Free to live like a white kid named Mark Smith! I have no money. My parents are poor and in debt. Living is expensive Living with the hope of success in a country such as this... Is impossible The freedom I know is limited to the number of zero's in my bank account I'm not free to study what I want. Poverty has trapped me! I'm not free to dream as I wish. Money isn't there! God, please hurry up and bless Africa, guide her children and give her the peace due to her.

He wasn't you

There was just something about that relationship that didn't sit right with me. In hindsight it's clear as daylight what is was. But ignorance is a murderer and truthfully I was dead. We both were. Senseless beings just existing and floating in the now.

I don't doubt that he loved me because he did. He tried his best to treat me well. He gave me half of whatever he had because he cared. Shared his most intimate secrets with me and not once raised his hand or voice at me. He bought me beautiful things and anyone knew just by looking at him even when I was not there that he loved me. He knew my smell, laugh, touch and weaknesses. He gave me anything I asked for and did his best to make me smile. This wasn't enough for me.

No gifts, or kisses could compare to the longing I had to just bask in Christ's love. With him around me I knew God would have to leave the room. No hug or present could fulfil the deep desire I had to just pour my heart out to God. But for as long as he was near me, I knew God would walk out of the room and let us be. No caress, or soft touch from him would match up to the craving I had for the Shekineh glory to rest on me. No amount of temporal thrill could compete against The glory of God. No touch from him could stand alongside the manifest presence of the Godhead. The Zoe of the most high. I longer more for The father, son and the magnificent Holy spirit that I did for him.

And that was it...I chose God. Amen

That awkward shy girl

She was one of those girls that guys liked but never really approached because she scared them away. She did it on purpose. She wasn't macho, butch or anything like that, but she was very, very cautious about who she let into her circle. She tried to hide her beauty with hairstyles that would cover her vulnerability and feminism. A fringe that would hide the fear in her eyes, heavy mascara and eye liner that kept her looking strong as if she wasn't hurting. She sometimes hated the fact that she was a woman. Simply because it was easier to be a victim if you were a woman. She hated that word. Victim. So she hated being a woman. She deliberately appeared to be closed off to the world, so they wouldn't notice her. She wanted the world to know she existed sure, but didn't want the attention that came with it. She lived in fear. A lot of it. She was cold and mean to guys. She didn't like men.So she built a barrier so they stayed far away from her heart. Hate was a close enough word. If you were anything remotely like the man she feared... She hated you. His smell, his clothes, the liquor. All of it. Her fear mixed with hatered got in the way of enjoying her youth. She said "No, I'm not interested" more than she said "Hello, my name is..." She hid behind her books, politics and church to avoid dealing with it all. She spent hours and hours acting busy trying to avoid the issues she knew burned and fizzled out her joy. She dedicated her life towards avoiding the one issue that pressed at her very being. She feared men. Deeply so. She feared what potential they had to hurt her. She feared what potential they might have to kill the happiness she used to call hers. She feared in the dark of the night when no one was there to help her, what he might do. She feared that in broad daylight what might happen to her if he was drunk and they were alone. But she didn't know that at every rising of the sun ...there was a war in heaven for her. With every day that she woke up, heaven and hell would come face to face with each other because of her. A spiritual show down daily just because Christ loves her. Body slams, punches, fire and fists would be exchanges JUST because God loves her. She had no idea just how amazing each breathe that she took was to the Kingdom of God. Morena dedicated everyday to keeping her safe. During his journey to the cross of Calvary...he had thoughts about her. When the nails got into his flesh...her name was the only thing that made him stay. His love for her was what kept him hanging on the cross. Her brown eyes and white smile light up God's lounge because she is just so amazing. The power that she has is so great that the enemy tried everything in his power to break her. He thought that sending a man to instill fear was enough to kill her love for Christ. He failed. He thought that by doing this he was making her quiet and hidden in the background and this would slowly dim her spirit and make her mad at God. It didn't. He tried using those closest to her, to shatter her confidence in the word. It failed. Dismally. Instead it taught her how to develop wings and fly. High. She broke the chains of shame and soared because heaven stood by her. She rose up and said "I am a victor" and would not be silenced. Heaven bows when she prays. Angels salute when she prays. God smiles when she prays. I cry when she prays. That awkward shy girl that I love.