God: Write.
Me: I don’t know how.
God: Write.
Me: I don’t know what to say.
God: Write.
Me: I don’t know who to write to.
God: Write.
Me: NO one will listen.
God: Write.
Me: NO one will care.
God: Write.
Me: I don’t have any money.
God: Write.
Me: I don’t have the time after working all day.
God: Write.
Me: I don’t feel well, today. I barely had enough energy to make it through the work day.
God: Write.
Me: Mom died.
God: Write.
Me: Mom died! 😢
God: Write.
Me: MOM DIED! 😡
God: Write.
Me: I’m tired.
God: I know. Write.
Me: NO one will respond.
God: I know. Write.
Me: NO one will understand.
God: I know. Write.
Me: God, WHY do You want me to write?
God: Ah!
Me: God, what do You want me to say?
God: Aha!
Me: Ah?
Me: Aha!
God: Write.
Me: I will.
God and I have been having this conversation for most, if not all, of my life. There has always been this call, deep inside, to write. To, encourage others. To, encourage myself.
I longed to impact the lives of millions. MILLIONS! And, for no reason other than to let people KNOW they were loved.
Why? Because they are.
YOU are.
Loved.
All these years I have done what I can to let folk know that they were and are not alone. Doing so has been a lonely road. Yet, not. Jesus had been My Homie, the whole way. The Holy Spirit has guided my steps. The Father, ah, beloveds, has truly become MY Father during these long, lonesome, yet not, days.
During these times, I had been soooo discouraged that my labors had been in vain.
I can not even tell you the myriad of folk, over the years, who professed awe and faith in my, supposed, gift. Countless times, I would be promised ‘help’ to assist me with my writing/giving passion. Yea, these folks helped. THEMSELVES. To, my passion. To, my gift. To, free labor.
For me, or so I told myself, it was a labor of love. It was. Yet, I deserved to be the one profiting from the words born from inside me. Profiting so that I could make my living from the gifts and skills given to me. Profiting so I could continue to love and encourage others.
Over the course of time, I reached out, less and less, with my writing. At least, not how I used to. How I truly long to. It just hurt too much to not be able to do and be how I envision.
Back and forth, God and I have battled/reasoned/cajoled one another. He, to ask me to keep on going. To, keep on trying. To, keep on believing:
In, others.
In, me.
In, Him.
In, you.
Especially, in you.
Keep going, beloveds.
You are building something.
A foundation.
One, in which will sustain all you are. One, in which will uphold your dreams. One, in which will withstand EVERY test, trial and storm.
Keep going, beloveds. You were not meant to see the foundation. You were just meant to build it!
Build your foundation on sure ground:
Faith.
Hope.
Joy.
Love.
Empathy.
Forbearance.
Laughter.
Song.
Thanksgiving.
Life.
Jesus.
God.
The Word.
And, many, many, many other bricks in this thing called life.
God: Write.
Me:…
To be continued.
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: Be encouraged. In fact, just be. You are building a legacy that shall cover, sustain, uplift, exhort, protect others long after you have drawn your last breath. In the meantime, love, live, and laugh. You CAN. You WILL. As, will I. I love you. Love me back.
- BELOVEDS, YOU CAN HAVE MY FLOWERS. I DON’T NEED THEM ANYMORE.
- Forgive them, Cassandra, God said to me
- Still In Love
- REAL TALK: DESPISE NOT SMALL BEGINNINGS, BELOVEDS.👘🦺🥾👟🥿👞🩴👢🩰👡⛑️🔌🕯️🔎🖌️🖋️📢
- IT ME!
Why Can't I Be Loud?! 