This past week has been a rather difficult one for many different reasons. When things get tough in my life my immediate instinct is to run. Well, this time running wasn't an option, at least it wasn't the best option. It's during these times that I forget what's been laid out for me, the help that's available if only I ask for it. Well today I found something that I wrote at the beginning of the year that could've been useful had I remembered it sooner. It was a reminder that I made myself specifically for times like this (silly me). I kinda just felt like sharing it cause we all can use reminders. Pretty much everyone that reads my blog knows that I'm LDS, so the foundation of this is based upon gospel principles that I sometimes forget to apply in my life.
February 27th, 2011
Don't forget how much your Father in Heaven loves you. Remember the importance you have in His plan. During times of trial, remember to turn to Him. Seek His counsel in the scriptures and He will guide and comfort you.
Have patience and faith in the Lord. Find peace in knowing that you are not alone. Your Savior, Jesus Christ, atoned not just for you sins but for your trials, discomforts, and afflictions. As your elder brother, he wants to protect you from the woes and hardships of the world. All He asks is that you come unto Him.
Strive for the blessings of the temple and remember the covenants you made there. Know that even when all that life throws at you weighs you down, the temple is your refuge. There, you can feel the spirit of God and commune with Him without disruption.
Remember how grateful you are to have a home where there is a priesthood holder. Be thankful for and honor that priesthood. Having grown up in a home without it, you know the difference it makes in your life. Turn to the priesthood, when you feel it necessary, for counsel and blessings.
It's not the greatest reminder in the world, but it's what I needed. Sometimes the tide comes at you so fast that you don't see the wave as it drags you under. And as I'm panicking and struggling to break the surface to get air, I forget that I need to relax and wait. I get so caught up in my trials, trying to get passed them, that I forget the one thing that will help me.
One of my favorite churchy songs (I don't listen to a lot of them) is called He Will Not Fail You by Jenny Phillips. I just love these particular lyrics as it talks about when Jesus calls Peter to walk out onto the water.
Like a ship that’s worn
With sails so torn
Drifting out to sea
The wind is blowing in
And you’re tossed again
Is it time to leave behind the ship
And walk to Him?
Do you believe
That the seas
Will hold your feet
If you go?
Close your eyes
Feel Him inside
Walk to what you know is true
And He will not fail you
Remember (and I say this especially to myself) that even with the torrential rains pouring down upon you causing you to sway and sink, the Lord can bring peace and comfort in your life. We just have to go to Him and trust that He will do what He has promised to do. And I know without a doubt that He'll never let us down.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
A Small Piece Of My Mind
It shouldn't really come as a shocker that I'm a Black woman. (*gasp!) Yes, I know I said Black and not African-American. That's because, I don't really know where my ancestors came from and there's nothing wrong with saying 'Black'.
I learned a long time ago who I am and where I came from. For as long I can remember, My Grandma Terry told me that I was different but that I was just like everyone else. Different in the sense that I had two wonderful cultures that make me...me. And the same as everyone else because at the time, even though there weren't very many others (and I mean, HARDLY any others) that were mixed like me didn't mean that I wasn't capable of doing amazing things.
I love my Grandma so much. She was one of the few people who really accepted me and thought I was beautiful. And I wasn't beautiful just because I was her Grand-daughter, but because of my heritage too. My Grandma is one of those rare people who is so incredibly accepting of everyone. And I mean, EVERYONE. I have so many aunts, uncles, cousins, and grand-parents because once she lets you in, you're family. I'm the only kid I know that has 11 grandparents. Anyways, I'm getting carried away.
Grandma Terry began teaching me at a very young age about Black Heritage. And she didn't do it by showing me rap videos or things that many of us now associate with Black culture. She told me all about the wonderful things that Black people had accomplished over the past two-hundred years. From Harriet Tubman and Fredrick Douglas to Madame CJ Walker and Thurgood Marshall. She taught me that Martin Luther King, Jr. was not just a man with a dream, but a man who had hope and worked to make that dream a reality.
All growing up, I felt like I had to prove myself in order to be recognized as a black person. I had wear my hair a certain way, wear certain clothes and talk a certain way. I look back and feel ashamed at who I thought a black person needed to be.
Some years ago, my Aunt Angie passed away and though I didn't know her for very long, I cherish the examples she set. She exemplified a brilliant and beautiful black woman. A woman who holds integrity and knows her divine nature. My Aunt Angie rejoiced in being a daughter of God. My memory of her shines bright as woman who loved who she was, where she came from, and what she accomplished as a wife and mother.
My hope for the upcoming generations, and even many of the people of mine, is that they KNOW who they are, regardless of ethnicity. That they appreciate the sacrifices made for them and the hardships that their ancestors endured. But most of all, that they don't take for granted the foundation that was built for them. That they take advantage of all that has been provided for them and do something great. Do something that lets those that came before us would be proud of. Because all that they did, they didn't do it for themselves. They did it for us.
I'm so grateful for the women in my life that nurtured and guided me. And taught me these incredibly valuable lessons even when I was too hard-headed to listen.
I am a Black woman and I could never be ashamed of that.
I learned a long time ago who I am and where I came from. For as long I can remember, My Grandma Terry told me that I was different but that I was just like everyone else. Different in the sense that I had two wonderful cultures that make me...me. And the same as everyone else because at the time, even though there weren't very many others (and I mean, HARDLY any others) that were mixed like me didn't mean that I wasn't capable of doing amazing things.
I love my Grandma so much. She was one of the few people who really accepted me and thought I was beautiful. And I wasn't beautiful just because I was her Grand-daughter, but because of my heritage too. My Grandma is one of those rare people who is so incredibly accepting of everyone. And I mean, EVERYONE. I have so many aunts, uncles, cousins, and grand-parents because once she lets you in, you're family. I'm the only kid I know that has 11 grandparents. Anyways, I'm getting carried away.
Grandma Terry began teaching me at a very young age about Black Heritage. And she didn't do it by showing me rap videos or things that many of us now associate with Black culture. She told me all about the wonderful things that Black people had accomplished over the past two-hundred years. From Harriet Tubman and Fredrick Douglas to Madame CJ Walker and Thurgood Marshall. She taught me that Martin Luther King, Jr. was not just a man with a dream, but a man who had hope and worked to make that dream a reality.
All growing up, I felt like I had to prove myself in order to be recognized as a black person. I had wear my hair a certain way, wear certain clothes and talk a certain way. I look back and feel ashamed at who I thought a black person needed to be.
Some years ago, my Aunt Angie passed away and though I didn't know her for very long, I cherish the examples she set. She exemplified a brilliant and beautiful black woman. A woman who holds integrity and knows her divine nature. My Aunt Angie rejoiced in being a daughter of God. My memory of her shines bright as woman who loved who she was, where she came from, and what she accomplished as a wife and mother.
My hope for the upcoming generations, and even many of the people of mine, is that they KNOW who they are, regardless of ethnicity. That they appreciate the sacrifices made for them and the hardships that their ancestors endured. But most of all, that they don't take for granted the foundation that was built for them. That they take advantage of all that has been provided for them and do something great. Do something that lets those that came before us would be proud of. Because all that they did, they didn't do it for themselves. They did it for us.
I'm so grateful for the women in my life that nurtured and guided me. And taught me these incredibly valuable lessons even when I was too hard-headed to listen.
I am a Black woman and I could never be ashamed of that.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Beauty Isn't A Gift, It's A Complex
No And She Whispered posters were actually harmed during the filming of this blog.
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