God knows my name and He knows yours, too.

Suddenly, she was hit hard. The unexpected impact sent her sprawling to her knees. She could hear the sound of the rain pelting against her large bedroom window. It was all a strange phenomenon, to her. Dark billowy clouds had gathered hovering and intimidating. It was a remarkable sight. The howling winds were a frightening thing to hear. The ominous sound causing chills to dance over the lone woman’s slight frame.The forcefulness of the blow was numbing. There on her knees she was stunned with disbelief.

She watched the hands of time move. The clock on the mantle revealed that only minutes had passed. To her the moments seemed an eternity; hurt can make time feel that way. Hurt painful claws were fiercely embedded in her, refusing her release. The pain was enough to cause a normal person to lose their sanity. A glance around the room revealed nothing had changes. Her bed was still nicely made up, her mass of pillows was still in order.

Her Bible was on the right side of her nightstand. Her slippers were by her armoire. Nothing had changed. Yet, for her everything had changed in a moment’s time. She could not breathe. She felt as though she were in a movie; cast in the wrong role. Enough! Deciding that she would no longer play role of the helpless victim, she raised her chin. It was time for a change, yet she needed answers. What was the right answer? What do I do? How could this happen? Her kneeled position would be the beginning of her transition.

For it was there on her knees, she began to pray. Normally words would fail her, (hurt can do that to a person) today was different. She encompassed with words begging for release and she obliged them with out restriction. With the winds howling ferociously and the rain continuing to fall, still on her knees, her words flowed, as did her tears. It was ugly but necessary. Yes, she was in the right position, there on her knees.

However, the unction to get lower was strong. You see, some people have to dig a little deeper, stretch a little wider than others do.Stretching out on her stomach, the words continued to flow. Suddenly, startled, she looked around the room in question; for a brief moment, she thought she heard the faint call of her name. There in her humbled prayer position, she made a self-conscious decision (and it was a decision) to be free. Praying not out of defeat but belief, she fought past the pain and called God’s name.

Time lapsed, how much she may never know, but what she did know is this--prayer works.She prayed in the storm and God guided her through it. She prayed the necessary prayer of the ugly and God made her feel like new. This was the process: I prayed, believed, and received. Renewed, she got up. Smiling, she dried her eyes assured that everything was going to be all right. As if consenting, in agreement, the rain had suddenly stopped and the wind had calmed. What a phenomenal display of authority! At this, she was reassured; that she is never forgotten nor forsaken, God knows her name and he knows yours, too!

Picture by WAK

Inspirational: Running

It was a winter wonderland. The tree limbs hung limp burden from the fallen snow. The moon was full, illuminating the night with its revealing presence. Confused, she continued her lone walk. She was hurting, not a physical hurt, she thought; that would have been easier to deal with. This was an emotional hurt. The wind pulled mercilessly at her trench coat; the woman ignored its pull. Not even the rapid falling of snow could stop her painful sojourn.

She was numb, not from the cold, but from her situation. She was walking with out seeing, her demeanor completely at odd with mother nature’s divine work.

The passerbyers were hastening to their planned destinations. They were wisely aware, that they were no match for Mother Nature's awesome display of authority. In passing, they cast curious glances her way, wondering what was causing her to act out of the norm. The echoing words in her head became her antagonist. The hurtful words reverberated, causing her to pick up speed. Not fast enough. She had to get away from the problem. Why her? Why? Still not fast enough, she ran faster. She knew not where so was going, pure instincts were driving her.

Everything was a blur to her. She was not aware, when the snow ceased its descent. The wind was tugging at her long braided locks; angrily she shoved them aside. The winds force was trying to slow her process, but she was persistent. Her black scarf went sailing to the ground. She did not stop. A woman sipping a cup of coffee in a cafe’ glanced up in shock at the speeding woman. She noticed the beautiful scarf’s descent. Going outside, she retrieved the fallen garment from the pavement. Standing, she looked at the scarf. It was beautiful. It was embroidered with bold red letters that read TBJ. Looking in the direction, she had last seen the running woman, she sighed. She recognized the running woman. She never met her personally. She used to be her, running. Sighing again, she stood. Running from the situation would solve nothing. There comes a time, when you have to simply deal with it. Bowing her head, the woman offered up, small prayer for the fleeing woman.

Faster, faster, faster. The words became her litany. The wind continued to whip at her, as if rebuking her, for defying its authority. Her hat came off. She did not attempt to capture it. It was a stark contrast against the fallen snow. A homeless man noticed the fallen garment, staggered awkwardly to his feet. Placing the hat on his head, he smiled. His head and ears were now warm. He looked in the direction of the running woman, scratching his head; he wondered what could make her abandon such a precious gift. Shrugging his shoulders, he figured, one-man trash is another man’s gain. Whistling, he staggered back to his make shift pallet.

Her chest was beginning to hurt; she began laboring for breath. Her body fought against the strenuous demand, she was placing on it. All this, and the echoes would not stop. She wanted them to stop! The taunting words pursued her. Suddenly there was a shifting in the atmosphere. If possible, the skies darken. Dark clouds loomed up ahead. Lightning pierced the midnight sky, the booming sound of thunder sent shivers down her spine. The woman stopped. Up ahead was a sophisticated couple, of African American descent. The man leaned in close, in a valiant attempt, to protect the woman from the cold. Their steps hurried, as they sought refuge from the coming storm. The woman looking trustingly in into her companions eyes. She smiled; assured he would get them both to safety. Not far ahead, the couple entered a brownstone terrace apartment, safely beating out the storm.

The heavens opened up then and the rain began to fall. She stood there, trembling, watching the rain melt the ice from the tree limbs. She was tired of the running. The piercing cold was beginning to penetrate. She gasped, realizing she lost her protectants--her hat and scarf. How did this happen? Her hat was a cherished gift from her father. The scarf was lovingly hand woven by her mother; scribed with her initials. Gone. She lost her precious gifts while running. There she stood in the pouring raining, watching the water carry the debris down the gutter. At her precious loss she realized, she should have simply dealt with her issues.

*picture courtesy of WAK*