Questions, Answers, and Brave Prayers.
evenings among the flowers.
“What kind of a father would I be to teach a child that the world is what gives them their value?”
- God.
Today’s read will be shorter than the last, because I cannot afford to allow the depth of what I’ve been called to share to be lost within an excessive amount of details. It is my prayer that all who come across it may allow this glimpse of my story to be a tool to inform their own self-reflection, as 2023 comes to a close.
So without further ado, let me preface this entry by saying that I personally align with the belief that for everything, there is an answer. Whether or not we receive one or are ready to is a different story. Whether or not the answer is hard to reconcile with or to conceptualize within our current understanding is another one.
The trend in which this idea is especially highlighted can be found within the realms of trial and tribulation. Like many humans, I’d become well acquainted with my own share of grief, and – like many – I’d always hated when she’d come around, with her head held below her shoulders. I regarded her as inconvenience and weakness all in one, and in my experience, used to be a frequent, unwelcome visitor.
Now in hindsight, I wonder how different some things could have been if I let her in when she first knocked on my door, cold and hungry. If together over tea and a warm bowl of rice, she and I could have discussed how she could inform true wellness, recovery, healthy boundaries, gratitude, self-love, community care, and most importantly, a deeper relationship with God. Maybe if after dealing with all of the emotions and pain that she came with, I would have seen grief in all of her strength upon taking time to look past her sullen face, as she told the truth of the most pressing matters concerning myself and all whom I’m connected with at large.
The catalyst for these contemplations began with two truth tellers. I’ve had the privilege this past Fall season to see one of my favorite creatives and speakers on tour, John Onwuchekwa, who has had many profound things to say about that:
Grief isn’t limited to the loss of a person, but also the loss or significant shift of a dream, a relationship, or who you may have been in the former.
Grief isn’t everything, it’s “a” thing, and joy is allowed at the table as well.
Tragedy doesn’t ruin a person, hopelessness does.
Communities and loved ones who are willing to sit together and give language to these things are vital.
Shortly after I began to chew on these musings, not so coincidentally, my (incredible) writing coach gave me one of the most profound prompts that I have ever read, let alone responded to as an assignment:
“Write out your story from the perspective of your Creator. Where was He at different points in your life? What was He doing? Was He speaking to you?”
While I've had many changes worthy of celebration this year, I have also experienced my fair share of tearful and sleepless evenings. Although very well-loved, there were times where I found myself feeling alone and misunderstood by those who did not have the capacity (and shouldn’t be expected to) to give me the same clarity that God ever could.
In my childhood but especially in my adulthood, I began to observe a pattern in hindsight where year after year, at least one powerful event would occur (often an emotionally jarring one) for better or worse, that would serve as a catalyst for significant change. Although I’ve learned plenty, and as a result am able to empathize and hold space deeply with those I come into contact with because of such changes, and although beautiful art and meaningful relationships have (and I now believe will continue to) become the fruit, I was still left feeling vulnerable, and anxious for what lied ahead in the future, and worse, felt like the challenges were the result of being punished or abandoned by The Lord. There used to be days where I was so grieved, that I had even come close to legitimately abandoning my faith altogether.
Eager to explore the writing prompt for my own healing, I prayed on it to specifically provide answers from above, and yielded to the Holy Spirit to guide the words I’d write. The result was shocking, something I could have never written on my own, and is still working in my life today.
I sought The Lord, He heard, and He answered prophetically:
“I’ve set my gaze upon a little girl, now a woman searching for a better country. One who man had thought they denied the right to know love, one with the most peculiar trait to let it in, but not trust it. One who thinks that My allowance equates to hating her, and in turn, she learned to hate Me for that. But even I know that all that is buried in that is fear, misunderstanding, weariness and brokenness. But alas, this sickness will not end in death, but for the Son of Man and the Father to be glorified. In her life, she has learned that the things that grieve her, in all her sensitivity, are the very things that grieve Me.
“SEEK MY FACE!” I’d plead with her through the heartbreak. “HOW COULD I TRUST YOU WHEN YOU ALLOWED ALL OF THIS TO HAPPEN TO ME?!?! WHAT AM I DOING WRONG? I never even asked to be here!” she’d retort, with fiery eyes and a tear-soaked face.
So grace it was. Grace it has to be.
The truth is, that she was created for love, yet programmed with lies: to think she wasn’t beautiful, not good enough, not easy to love, that Christianity was the white man’s religion.
She thought that the losses were because of something she did. She thought that a lot of them were because of the enemy, when many of them were from….Me. So I chiseled and I chipped away everything she was not. And yet, one thing that has never fallen away even during the times she thought it did, was her incredibly kind heart.
What kind of a father would I be to teach a child that the world is what gives them their value? Or teach them that their god is in a mere human, validation, or an institution? Why am I delaying her healing? The truth is….I’m just getting started, yet I’ve been in it from the beginning.
The blessing happens when Maya (that’s my daughter’s name) finally realizes that nothing in this world can be, or do anything on its own for her without My hand. So she won’t lose sight. This is not a punishment. This is for true grounding. For the preparation of a teacher when a wise age reveals itself. She doesn’t know my character yet, but she does, it will all make sense—that she was before she was anything. Gifted before she became a poet. Loveable before that man acknowledged it. Daughter of the One Who Owns All things before she ever touches money. Intelligent before she stepped in a classroom. Free the moment she accepted salvation, not based on a fleeting emotion, or removal of a health issue. There is no “formula”. There is no “doing it right”. There is no “extreme fast” that will make me be what I am to her. She just needs to simply be my daughter. Because if I grant her a thing based on performance, all I will do is hurt her more. And I would never. That’s not the real Me. So much will be added unto her if only she realizes that.
Naturally. Effortlessly.
Everyone says that she looks like her earthly father, but I say, I will make her look more like Me. Maya is mine, and I am hers. And there’s nothing she can do about that.
I never allowed it.”
……What is that brave prayer that you’ve been meaning to pray?
Sincerely,
Angelique.