This poem celebrates love as the source of both feeling and creativity—the rhythm at the center of the heart, where emotions reverberate like music.
—what can I say … LIFE! you’re a giver you’re a taker you tear-down you build-up you bring smiles you bring tears
—what is it about you … LIFE? you keep me guessing wondering what lies around your curves beyond your corners up your hills down your vales
—what makes you … LIFE: your beautiful mysteries your spiraling unpredictability your anxious uncertainties your known past your unknown future your unending surprises
Beforeword: The lesson of Juneteenth: hope may lay the foundation, but love is what opens the door to freedom and keeps it open.
Image Credit: Globe & Mail
As I watched the official opening of the Barack Obama Presidential Center from here in Nairobi, I found myself connecting threads. I was struck by how Juneteenth, Obama’s Kenyan ancestry, and June’s theme of love converged in one moment.
Story of freedom and hope
Juneteenth tells the story of freedom that arrived late. And is a reminder that hope can travel a long road before reaching its destination. And it is that hope that shaped Obama’s presidential journey and is now the bedrock of his Presidential Center.
The opening of this Center is on the surface the dedication of a building. But more than that it is a house built from hope—a hope nurtured by generations who believed that freedom could be broader, justice more accessible, and opportunity not reserved for only the few.
Yet hope alone does not build houses. Love also does.
Story of love
Love is woven through this story. Listening to Michelle love on her husband, retelling his myriad accomplishments with admiration and pride. The love of family that shapes character long before the world takes notice. The love of country manifested in selfless service. The love that believes a nation can become more faithful to its ideals than it was yesterday.
Juneteenth itself is a testament to that kind of love. It celebrates those who continued to believe in freedom even when freedom had not yet reached them. Those who held fast to dignity when circumstances denied it. Those who imagined a future larger than their present reality.
Stories rarely belong to one place
As a Jamaican-Canadian who’s lived in various countries and now living in Kenya, I am aware that stories rarely belong to one place. They cross oceans. They carry names, dreams, and unfinished aspirations.
The Presidential Center is one such story that stretches from the village of Nyang’oma Kogelo off the shores of Lake Victoria, Kenya to the South Side of Chicago. From a Kenyan father to an American President, from possibility to legacy.
The first American President of African ancestry meant the rules were different, the expectations were higher. It’s what led Ta-Nehesi Coates to say: “For eight years he walked on ice and never fell.” An imagery used to describe the extraordinary scrutiny and constraints that accompanied Obama’s presidency as the first Black president of the United States.
He had to strike the balance of carefulness and calm in navigating political, racial, and cultural expectations with an almost impossible degree of precision. And as Michelle highlighted, he did so guided by an unshakable moral compass. And what we saw at the opening of the Center is testament to not only President Obama successfully getting through two terms of service—eight years—but that he came through to the other side true to himself as a Black man, a faithful husband and a dependable father.
Standing here in Kenya, where part of that presidential story began, I am reminded that the hope that fuels the Obama’s is never built alone. Nor was it the work of one man alone. It was carried by those who crossed oceans before him, those who marched before him, and those who loved him enough to believe that history could bend toward a wider freedom.
And just as how it is installed on the wall within the Center, this hope is constructed—intention by intention, through sacrifice, courage, partnership, and love—and to be installed in each of us.
HOPE permanently etched on the wall inside the Presidential Center
I titled this reflection the “The House That Hope Built” drawing from Billy Brown’s song of the same title. The song questions whether hope is real while the Presidential Center shows what hope actually builds when it’s rooted in love, lineage, and legacy. A flip of the script, as it were.
To be clear: “This is the people’s house” is declared inside the Center
The Center is a library, a museum, and the people’s house.
It is the ongoing work and enduring partnership between Barack and Michelle Obama—two people who choose to widen the circle of freedom for those who come after them.
And perhaps that is the lesson of Juneteenth: hope may lay the foundation, but love is what opens the door to freedom and keeps it open.
Have you ever wanted to express a deep feeling and standard English words just weren’t enough?
Take njabulo — from isiZulu and also used in isiXhosa — it names a joy so full it spills over. The kind that rises from deep inside and radiates outward, touching everyone in its path.
Or, have you had those moments when language needed stretching?
In Jamaica, we play with the English language to say more, to create words that carry weight. For instance, apprecilove—instead of appreciate—to express a level of gratitude rooted in care, affection, and presence, not mere politeness.
I start here because this piece is an expression of njabulo and of apprecilove — written for the friends who held me while I came home to support hurricane relief in Jamaica. (You can read that piece here.)
I came for three weeks to volunteer in communities affected by the hurricane. I was able to do that freely because friends stepped in without hesitation. When I said, “mi need a place fi cotch” (I need somewhere to stay), the response was immediate: “Yeah man, come.”
They opened their homes. Offered beds. Shared meals. Made space for rest between long days. One friend gave me a base — a place to store suitcases packed with supplies as I moved from parish to parish. Another offered her Airbnb so I could pause, breathe, and reset. In that small window of reprieve I had a few days to walk on sand soft as clouds under my feet and swim in water as clear as glass—Jamaica still knows how to restore!
Photo taken by me
Their generosity removed every practical barrier and let me focus on supporting. But more than that, it deepened our bonds. In the middle of relief efforts, shared tables and quiet conversations became part of the healing too. Their care didn’t just sustain, it strengthened our connection and affirmed the JamaiCAN-do spirit in the most personal way.
In apprecilove Open doors, steady friendships Thanks that run deep still
When next you plan to visit Jamaica and Ocho Rios (in beautiful St Ann Parish) is on your itinerary, check out this sweet spot—click HERE—the Airbnb with a most stunning view and easy access to beaches that feels like a glimpse of heaven.
Photos taken by me while enjoying this stunning view at the Airbnb
In my article Holding Change & Loss I promised to return with more writing and on-the-ground updates from being in Jamaica.
You’ll recall, on October 28, 2025, Hurricane Melissa — a catastrophic Category 5 hurricane with sustained winds around 185 mph (295 km/h) — made historic landfall near Jamaica’s southwest coast. At the time, every major news outlet carried images and stories of devastation; now the world has moved on, but the work of recovery is just beginning and sustained attention, accountability, and action are essential.
With that in mind, I made it to Jamaica. I wanted to be here sooner, but the reality is this: the country will be in recovery for a long time. So arriving now still feels right — not too late.
If you’ve read my other posts about Jamaica, you know how heightened the anticipation of returning home always is for me. I’m always on the lookout for that first stretch of green and coastline which always settles something in me. This time I started filming earlier than usual — not just the landing, but the first sight of land itself.
When the wheels touched down, the usual clapping broke out — the applause of gratitude. Then the flight attendant invited a louder one. We obliged. It felt earned. My lips spoke the sentiments of my heart: “Me reach home!”
But this trip wasn’t just about returning home. It was about the work on the ground, and seeing what’s real beyond the headlines.
In Kingston it’s possible to feel like all is well. That illusion didn’t last long. On the drives west the story changed. There were more than 170 communities severely impacted in the 6 parishes that felt the brunt of the storm. I went to three of them: St. Elizabeth, Trelawny and Hanover.
From a distance, you’d miss the damage.
But, the reminders came fast. Downed light poles. Roofless houses, churches, schools, hospitals, infirmaries. Roads riddled with potholes that are now more like craters. The storm’s imprint cuts clearly through the green — twisted sheets of zincs wrapped around tress so tightly as if that was their natural home and trees precariously leaned to one side, an indication of the effects of sustained winds — all a physical reminder of what western Jamaica endured.
As hills and mountains passed by, what was most evident is that nature was already healing itself.
People tell me that the fresh greenery masks the havoc that stripped trees of bark and leaves and left slopes bare and brown.
What stood out just as much was the response.
People are already helping themselves and each other. Schools shifted to tents. Makeshift repairs are everywhere — zincs repurposed, tarpaulin stretched taut across roofs so that the landscape is dotted with blue. I said it out loud, and the CEO of the foundation I’m volunteering with agreed: she said soon after the hurricane, people were snatching zincs from wherever the wind had blown them to use to protect their homes.
In talking with people, amid the horror of having lived through Hurricane Melissa, what consistently emerged were stories of neighbors rallying around one another. In one case, someone gave a building to a shopkeeper who lost her entire business so she could start again. No waiting. No dramatics. Just movement. That’s the JamaiCAN spirit in action.
Hanover took us further into the hinterland. The drive was painstakingly slow. The hurricane had worsened the roads so severely and one shorter route was still submerged, appearing more like a dam from our view above. Our driver navigated potholes like a minefield as we followed a minivan bobbing and weaving its way through, carrying the more than 200 care packages we were to distribute to families as well as supplies for several small enterprises.
The needs are wide — from safe roofing materials and school supplies to infrastructure support, equipment for small businesses, and psychosocial care.
I chose to focus on schools and female-headed small enterprises, supporting both education and livelihoods while investing in people’s capacity and dignity. Based on advocacy efforts I was able to assist schools with books and, in one case, a tent mobilized through UNICEF that now serves as a gathering space after the school’s roof was completely ripped off. With electricity still not restored, the solar-powered lanterns and power banks were well received.
I was grateful to also be able to speak with people, offering a listening ear and psychological support. One that stood out was a single mother of three children in school who lost her home and everything in it. The only structure still standing is her small shop. Her shop served as a community meeting point—aptly called the “Hilltop Chill Spot”.
In fact, while World Central Kitchen was operating in the area, her shop served as the site where more than 250 meals were prepared and distributed each day. Now that WCK has moved on, the shop has the potential to continue as a community support hub with the right backing. Being part of the shift that allowed her — and another female shop owner — to look forward rather than backward was a privilege. Watching a flicker of hope brighten as practical support came into view is why getting here mattered. Seeing it firsthand matters.
But this isn’t just about Jamaica.
Hurricane Melissa joins a litany of climate-intensified storms that hit Small Island Developing States like ours with disproportionate force. These nations contribute the least to global emissions, yet face more frequent and severe hurricanes, rising seas, and shifting weather patterns that threaten agriculture, infrastructure, culture, and heritage—from livelihoods to historic sites and community roots. SIDS like Jamaica are on the front lines of this global challenge.
Cultural loss, heritage destruction, and community displacement are climate impacts that demand global responsibility. This isn’t a local issue — it’s an issue of climate justice.
Recovery will be long-term, and preparedness alone isn’t enough.
Infrastructural change is needed to build back not just what was lost, but what’s stronger, more resilient, and more equitable. This means supporting micro- and small enterprises — including those owned by women — to rebuild better and more sustainably. It also includes reskilling people in modern farming technologies, AI-driven resilience tools, construction practices that anticipate future climate realities, and ensuring meaningful community engagement at all stages.
Moving around the country, seeing firsthand and speaking with fellow Jamaicans, the national pledge kept coming back to mind and it stopped being just words. The pledge begins with the words “Before God and all mankind,” followed by lines expressing dedication of heart, mind, and body to the service of fellow citizens. Specifically:
Raised on this pledge, Jamaicans embody it. I saw it in action — a people committed to helping one another, rebuilding together.
This article is not to imply that Jamaica isn’t carrying damage, but to show that it also carries resolve.
Jamaicans are resilient, yes, but resilience should not be mistaken for self-sufficiency. They are already rebuilding, but doing so with the same materials and methods risks repeating destruction. Resilience should be met with resources, systems, and sustained commitment — supporting communities, schools, churches and micro- and small enterprises, especially those led by women, to rebuild stronger and more sustainably. Small shops are often run by women and are the heartbeat of their communities: they provide income, social support, and gathering spaces, and their recovery is central to restoring both livelihoods and local life.
I’m here. I listened. I watched. I learned.
Being here allowed me to hold space for what was lost, to learn from what’s being rebuilt, and to bear witness to a country that refuses to yield — a people whose strength is matched only by their resolve to rise again.
If you’re able to support Jamaica’s recovery, the government has set up a site to coordinate all support coming to our beautiful island. We are grateful for all the countries, organizations, individuals, charities etc. that have come to our aid. We’re eternally grateful.
There is a quiet, stubborn force that runs through the blood of Jamaicans.
It shows up in how we speak, move, and survive. It lives right there in the word JamaiCAN — a declaration, not a suggestion: we are a people wired for CAN.
1988, four Jamaican men — Dudley Stokes, Devon Harris, Michael White, and Freddy Powell — took on the Winter Olympics in Calgary, Canada. Temperatures hovered around 14 °F (–10 °C), far colder than their tropical bodies were built for. Their bobsleigh crashed. They did not medal. But they stood. They walked off that ice and in true JamaiCAN spirit, they finished.
That story became the 1993 film “Cool Runnings”. Its theme song, Jimmy Cliff’s cover of “I Can See Clearly Now”, became the anthem of saying “yes” when the world expected “no”.
Decades later, on November 25, 2025, one day after Jimmy Cliff’s passing (may his soul Rest In Peace), the Jamaican 4-man bobsleigh team — Shane Pitter, Junior Harris, Andrae Dacres, and Tyquendo Tracey — made history!! They captured gold at an international bobsleigh competition in Whistler, Canada — Jamaica’s first.
I wonder if, as they hurtled down that icy track, they thought of home — battered and bruised from Hurricane Melissa?
I wonder if they vowed — not by kissing an egg like depicted in “Cool Runnings” — but on the lives of every Jamaican that this would be the year, this must be the time?
Whatever drove them, they delivered a victory when our country most needed a boost.
More than skill, dedication and precision was that indomitable yes we CAN spirit that took men from a tropical warm island onto an ice-cold track. And it is that same yes we CAN spirit that will rebuild Jamaica—one house, one school, one road at a time and keep hope alive.
Jimmy Cliff’s song, now part of our history, remains with us to remind us:
I can see clearly now the rain is gone. It’s gonna be a bright sunshiny day.
This is who we are. This is what we do. We CAN rise again! We are JamaiCAN!
SUPPORT JAMAICA REBUILD
If you’re able to support Jamaica’s recovery, the government has set up a site to coordinate all support coming to our beautiful island. We are grateful for all the countries, organizations, individuals, charities etc. that have come to our aid. We’re eternally grateful.
October 28, 2025, Melissa roll een— category 5 a true Goliath, full a noise an’ might breeze a tear dun tree sea a climb ova hill she come wid a hundred-eighty-five mile a hour win’ pressure low like she mean fi mash up everyting
But she never know bout Jah-mek-yah dat Ja-mai-ca is more dan a place pan a map it’s a pulse, a community, a people weh she couldn’t stop an when she roar she wake up all a wi worldwide from Bronx to London tide
She never know wi bigga dan har storm— dat when wi unite, wi turn grief inna form an’ show di worl’ weh it really mean to be JamaiCAN
Wi aguh pick up di piece dem— bit by bit, brick by brick fram yard to lane, from mountain to sea Melissa wake up all a we an’ we aguh move togedda like one family
From di likkle one dem a sweep di yard to di elder a patch roof wid nail an’ hamma every han’ pon deck every heart a beat— yeh man, wi still deh yah
Di breeze try fi ben’ wi di rain nuh try fi drown wi but wi—wi aguh build back betta from storm an’ rain wi aguh sing again louda dan di soun’ a pain but resilience nuh mean we fi walk alone so sah even di mightiest tree need support jus’ like we
So yeh, wi proud— but pride cyan pour concrete Yeh, wi strong— but strent still need sleep fe keep Even tallawah need a han’ fi lif’ when troubles come heavy an’ penetrate deep
Wi likkle—but wi tallawah Wi batta—but wi beautiful still Wi shaken—but wi nuh bruk Wi hurt—but wi a guh ‘eal
Fram Black River to deep inna St. James Parish wi aguh rise again like mawnin’ sun pan Blue Mountain hill, we cherish wi not jus’ survivin’, but wi revivin’— wid one heart, one love, one will
So when di worl’ look pon wi mek we tell dem clear an’ true fram de diaspora to de yawd crew T’ough we batta an’ bruise We are JamaiCAN— so we CAN rise again Stronga. Betta. Jamaica!💚🖤💛
Afterword: Why I Write in Patois
I was intentional in using patois to write this tribute poem because some pain refuses translation. The pain of watching the land that shaped you being whipped out of shape by forces beyond human control can’t live comfortably in borrowed language. It has to be spoken in the tongue that raised you, the voice that knows your cadence, your memory, your silence.
Patois understands my inner being. It carries the weight, the humor, the ache, the defiance. It translates not just what happened, but how it felt. It connects me to every other Jamaican—whether in the diaspora or at home—as we collectively felt the trauma inflicted on our homeland and our people. When I speak in patois, I am not performing culture — I am returning home. To my people. To my roots. To the land that made me.
Some grief is only fluent in the language of home.
SUPPORT JAMAICA REBUILD
If you’re able to support Jamaica’s recovery, the government has set up a site to coordinate all support coming to our beautiful island. We are grateful for all the countries, organizations, individuals, charities etc. that have come to our aid. We’re eternally grateful.
🇯🇲 Now the storm has passed, leaving behind a trail of devastation unlike anything Jamaica has seen in decades.
🇯🇲 Over the past three days, I’ve ridden waves of emotion watching the destruction of my homeland unfold in real time.
🇯🇲 There’s something about Jamaica—something magnetic—that makes even those not born there feel an unexplainable pull to it, a sense of home. Many have reached out to check in, and that solidarity has meant a great deal.
🇯🇲 What we’re experiencing is a collective trauma—felt both on the island and across the diaspora. Yet amid the heartbreak, what stands out most is the indomitable spirit of Jamaicans: people with machetes and chainsaws clearing fallen trees so aid can reach cut-off communities; others pushing ambulances through mud where roads no longer exist, determined that care be delivered.
🇯🇲 As I witness these acts of courage and compassion, I hear the first part of our National Pledge echoing:
🇯🇲 That is Jamaica—tallawah*, unbreakable, with grit and grace in equal measure. We are moving through grief and loss, we are doing so together, yet even the strongest hearts need lifting. Strength without support is not sustainable. And, the burden of recovery cannot rest solely on the shoulders of those who are suffering.
🇯🇲 For those asking how to help—every possible humanitarian need exists right now. Follow your heart in giving, but give responsibly. Make sure your support flows through credible channels that truly reach those most in need (the government of Jamaica established a site to ensure coordination of support: https://supportjamaica.gov.jm).
🇯🇲 Through it all, we will rise and rebuild—Jamaica strong.
🇯🇲 To my fellow Jamaicans and friends of Jamaica—may we keep showing up for each other, wherever we are in the world.
Credit: Jamaica Observer
*Tallawah is a Jamaican Patois word that means strong, fearless, or strong-willed, and it’s often used to describe someone who is not to be underestimated. It captures a sense of resilience and power, especially when used in the proverb “Wi likkle but wi tallawah”, which means “We are small, but we are strong.”
SUPPORT JAMAICA REBUILD
If you’re able to support Jamaica’s recovery, the government has set up a site to coordinate all support coming to our beautiful island. We are grateful for all the countries, organizations, individuals, charities etc. that have come to our aid. We’re eternally grateful.
Beforeword: I came across this young poet—Cherry Paul Ede’s—powerful rendition of Fragile Dogubo’s poem: “Gucci Cross” which I first posted in 2022. Reposting it now with the lyrics:
“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but Jesus was not crucified on a Gucci cross. He didn’t have on a crown of Versace thorns or Nike shoes on his feet when the nails pierced through. There was nothing bougie about Calvary. That old raggedy wooden cross wasn’t even befitting to hold the carpenter’s son, but there our God hung, held on by His love for us, by His love for all.
It wasn’t the red carpet affair for your favorite celebs. Matter of fact, the only paparazzi was an angry mob as a crowd of witnesses. Once upon a time, I thought the crucifixion was like the Grammys, an award show only for a self-righteous view. But the Bible didn’t mention an ovation – only wrongful accusation, hate speech and boos from fools. The King of Glory came through.
Jesus “felt every nail, felt every whiplash, every rib crack. It was for you that He embraced the pain.
Jesus was placed in the tomb, but then He showed up on the third day like, ‘I’m good, and you are, too’ — one with the Father, my blood makes you brand new. So what other proof do you need that God loves you?
So when the serpent comes to the ring – hissing, whispering deceitful accusations speaking in passive tongues. This is clapback season. Declare: fully my sins are forgiven.
I do not know who needs to hear this, but Jesus was not crucified on the Gucci cross. It doesn’t matter your age, gender, race or net worth – only that you have been made holy.”
I’m grateful for the old rugged cross and the blood that saves!
I’ll be running a series this week reflecting on ancient prayers recorded in the Bible and applying them to the cares of life today.
The Bible is filled with prayers—some whispered in desperation, some shouted in joy, others spoken in quiet trust. They were born in ancient times, but they beat a timeless heart.
I’ll begin each post with the original prayer, pause to reflect on its meaning, before sharing my own prayer in spoken word poetry.
It’s an invitation to slow down, listen, and let these ancient words shape our modern prayers.
So join me in this week where we’ll reflect, pray, and then release it all into God’s hands:
Sitting here thinking how amazing it is that there is a community that follows and responds to what I write.
It was the early part of the COVID pandemic. Y’all remember that?! Seems so long ago now. The world had gone still—streets emptied, doors closed, and I joined many others in working from home. But inside, my spirit stirred.
With everything stripped back to essentials, I turned inward and found an urge to share—words, thoughts, reflections. All I had was a menu of words—too many to keep locked inside—and with social distancing strictly enforced, there was nowhere to express them out loud.
So I laid a virtual table, set it with truth, care and sincerity and set out to curate a diverse menu of expressed options. Each post was a plate, each sentence a spoonful of something honest. I knew no one in this new digital landscape. But I prepared it anyway. I didn’t know if anyone would come.
And then, slowly, you arrived—readers I’d never met, drawn not by name or face, but by the invitation of something true. You sat, you dined, you stayed. Strangers became companions through comment threads and quiet visits. I had offered my words. You received them. I am grateful.
To be read, a gift. To be known through one’s own words is to be affirmed.
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There was no map, only the certainty that what God placed in me was not random. I didn’t always know how to offer it—sometimes I held back, unsure if it was enough, unsure if I was enough. But the gift has a way of speaking even when we are silent. It opens paths that credentials cannot. It creates space in crowded rooms and summons unexpected invitations. I have learned that when you steward the gift with faithfulness and gratitude, not ambition, it will go ahead of you like a forerunner—making introductions, preparing tables, unlocking destiny.
So, now I show up with what I’ve been given—wholeheartedly. The gift does the rest. And, the gift is about to do it again because as the wisest man said:“A man’s gift makes room for him and brings him before great men.” — Proverbs 18:16 (NKJV)
Not by privilege Doors opened I knew not how The gift leads the way
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There are the 5 love languages, then there’s Jamaican food—the 6th love language!
I’ve been to Ocho Rios many times, but somehow, I had missed this gastronomic gem—and trust me, you don’t want to make the same mistake.
Whether you’re planning your next trip to Jamaica or you’re lucky enough to live on this island paradise, Miss T’s Kitchen deserves a spot at the top of your must-visit list.
With one long-time and one new-found friend, we drove in from Montego Bay, winding our way along Jamaica’s north coast. The road was mostly single-lane, curving through lush greenery and glimpses of the Caribbean Sea.
Ocho Rios is probably best known for Dunn’s River Falls, one of the wonders of Jamaica and one of the very few travertine waterfalls in the world that empties directly into the sea.
Ocho Rios is a vibrant town in St. Ann Parish, often called the “Garden Parish” of Jamaica. Now I know that it’s not only home to iconic attractions, but also this hidden culinary treasure—Miss T’s.
Tucked into a tropical courtyard just off the bustling streets of Ocho Rios, Miss T’s Kitchen welcomes you in a warm gastronomic embrace.
The restaurant’s eclectic, vibrant interior is a joyful explosion of color, culture, and character—mismatched chairs, painted tables, and murals that each tell a story of island life. Even the toilets—Miss Jane and Mas Joe—were brought into the artistic cultural expression complete with a dutchie for the face basin!
Miss T’s Kitchen is where love is the main ingredient.
The most endearing theme woven throughout the space is love. Love for food. Love for heritage. Love for community. Love in every nook and cranny of its decor—from the handwritten quotes on the wall to the lush plants hugging each corner, Miss T’s feels less like a restaurant and more like a home.
And then there’s the food!
There are meals you eat, and then there are meals you experience.
Let’s talk about the oxtail.
It was presented (not just served) in a miniature dutch pot (dutchie), tucked into a traditional coal stove, instantly transporting me back to the days when my mom cooked over one just like it. Instantly the meal turned into a nostalgic nod to home, to heritage, and the soulful simplicity of island life.
This dish alone is worth the journey—tender, slow-cooked, and seasoned with a depth of flavor that speaks to generations of culinary wisdom. It was testimony to the award hanging on the wall.
But Miss T’s doesn’t stop at oxtail. Every dish we ordered—whether, curry goat or salmon—was comfort food on a whole new level.
Locally sourced ingredients, and locally made dinnerware, and a focus on authentic preparation made the experience vibrant celebration of Jamaican flavors, art and culture. Each plate was garnished with a piece of leaf from the banana tree a nod to its versatility and intricate role in Jamaican cuisine. Even the drinks and desserts carry that same thoughtful, soulful touch. Of course I bypassed the long list of drinks offers for coconut water straight from the shell.
The best meals are shared, and I was lucky to enjoy this one with friends—one of whom was also celebrating his birthday.
Dinner at Miss T’s Kitchen was more than a stop on my itinerary—it was a reminder.
A reminder that the journey matters.
That simple spaces can hold profound beauty.
That when love is the foundation—whether in food, friendship, or life—it always leaves a lasting impression.
So if you ever find yourself on Jamaica’s north coast, make the drive to Ocho Rios. Follow the scent of seasoning, the sound of laughter, and the feeling of home. At Miss T’s, you’ll find them all in one place.
It’s that time again—when I quench my wanderlust with my annual birthMONTH explorations. And this year, I chose to celebrate with a soulful return to the island of rhythm, roots, and radiance—Jamaica—a.k.a. Jah-mek-yah!
First, a hidden gem nestled in the cool hills of Gordon Town, in St. Andrew Parish—Pretty Close.
If you’re looking for a slice of authentic Jamaican magic—off the beaten path but full of soul—then welcome to the @prettyclose1876 experience.
With my sister and a dear friend, we made our way from Kingston, navigating the winding roads to Gordon Town—the birthplace of the legendary Miss Lou. It would take an entire post to do her justice, but suffice it to say she is the matriarch of Jamaican folklore, the cultural icon who lovingly gave voice and dignity to patois, Jamaica’s local language, and shared it with the world.
In the heart of the town square stands a statue in her honor, which is not only a powerful reminder of her legacy but used as a landmark in the directions given to find this hidden gem.
Directions are shared via WhatsApp—part of the rustic feel of this evolving Jamaican tourism product.
So this is the blue face truck!
This isn’t just a place to eat. It’s a full-on experience that feeds your body, your spirit, and your sense of adventure.
Imagine this: seated on tree trunks in the middle of a gently flowing river, your feet dipped in the cool water, a plate of steaming, home-cooked Jamaican food in front of you. That’s exactly how the day started—surrounded by nature, eating meals prepared right there by the river.
We started with a savory soup, sipped fresh coconut water—cooled in the river, laughed freely, and allowed the rhythm of the water and the food to set the pace.
Then came a short, scenic hike to Orchid Falls, a tucked-away treasure that felt like stepping into a postcard.
After getting drenched by this cascading beauty and snapping a few pics, we headed back down the river and along it’s banks for round two: more laughter, more food, and more of that soul-deep feeling of contentment.
The real star of the show? Omar, the chef behind the flavors, who cooks like your favorite auntie or grandma—with love, depth, and serious skill.
The cooking is done over an open wood fire, just like my grandma used to do back in the day. The pots are skillfully balanced on stones atop the wood fire. You can see the smoke wafting gently from the makeshift kitchen beside the river, carrying the earthy aroma of something special in the works. The smell of ital cooking is distinct—no salt, no butter—just the pure, unprocessed goodness of Mother Nature where the flavor is drawn from the land, the wood fire, and the love poured in.
Every bite was a reminder of why Jamaican cuisine is world-renowned: bold, fresh, and absolutely unforgettable. Served in calabash bowls in keeping with the natural experience—it was good to the last bite.
Roasted breadfruitRice and peas The menu: fried fish, fried plantain, roasted breadfruit, rice and peas, ital stew
What I loved most is that it’s pretty close to / not far from Papine, a bustling metropolis, but it feels like a world away from the hustle and bustle of Kingston.
Pretty Close is a peaceful escape, rich with local charm and natural beauty.
If you ever find yourself in Jamaica, do yourself a favor and add Pretty Close to your itinerary. This spot is a must-visit. Period.
Before-word: This is a paraphrase of a psalm penned by my best-Bible-friend, David (King of ancient Israel), as recorded in Psalms 139.
Dear God, investigate my life; get all the facts firsthand. I’m an open book to You; even from a distance, You know what I’m thinking. You know when I leave and when I get back; I’m never out of Your sight. You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence. I look behind me and You’re there, then up ahead and You’re there, too— Your reassuring presence, coming and going. This is too much, too wonderful— I can’t take it all in! Is there anyplace I can go to avoid Your Spirit? to be out of Your sight? If I climb to the sky, You’re there! If I go underground, You’re there! If I flew on morning’s wings to the far western horizon, You’d find me in a minute— You’re already there waiting! Then I said to myself, “Oh, He even sees me in the dark! At night I’m immersed in the light!” It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to You; night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to You. Oh yes, You shaped me first inside, then out; You formed me in my mother’s womb. I thank You, High God—You’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration—what a creation! Like an open book, You watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before You. The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day. Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful! God, I’ll never comprehend them! I couldn’t even begin to count them— any more than I could count the sand of the sea. Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with You! Investigate my life, O God, find out everything about me; Cross-examine and test me, get a clear picture of what I’m about; See for yourself whether I’ve done anything wrong— then guide me on the road to eternal life.
I am honored and grateful to be featured by Spillwords in their “Spotlight on Writers” segment.
It’s a privilege to share my work and passion with readers, and I truly appreciate the platform Dagmara and the editorial team have provided for voices like mine to be heard!
Please drop by Spillwords to read the full interview to get a bit more insight into what motivates and inspires my writing.
And while you’re there, would appreciate your leaving a “like” and/or comment.
THANKS 🙏🏽😉🙏🏽
2024 All Rights Reserved Designed with Canva Images by Pexels
Hello Everyone! I haven’t had the time to post over the past few days or to engage with your posts as I’d like to. I had a lot to say but not a lot of time to spare to say it, so bringing back this piece to quickly say: “Time Won” yet AGAIN!
What a week! What a work week
There was no time for the solace I seek Not even a wee bit of time with friends to speak
Deadlines on deadlines piled up to a peak Each day the prospects of blogging grew bleak
It’s like time was playing hide and go sneak I lost every round, it was on a winning streak
Crept up from behind, smacked me dead on the cheek
I won! I won! Like time did speak
You’re the loser again this week
2022 All rights reserved [republished 2024] Photo by Pexels
If I closed my eyes, then opened them and life had passed by I hope my joys exceeded the sorrows My laughs superseded the tears My successes outshined the failures I hope I’d lived a life so full, there’d be no cause for regrets
I loved God with all my heart Followed in His prescribed path I pursued my dreams Got up when I fell And tried and tried again
I won some and I lost some Settled for nothing but the best I was good to my fellowmen I gave fully of myself I was loved and I loved
If I closed my eyes, then opened them and life had passed by I hope I’d lived a life so full, there’d be no cause for regrets
2024 All rights reserved
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I am worthy of my own time, my own attention, my own love. I honor my spiritual, mental, emotional, physical needs. I show up for myself 100% committed. Period!
In the quiet sanctuary of reflection I find solace In the depths of my being I come to know I’m worthy
Each heartbeat a testament To the value of my existence I am worthy of my own time Amidst the chaos of life’s clamor
My essence whispers softly Echoes of self-compassion reverberate I honor my spiritual, mental, emotional, physical needs Crafting a symphony of self-care
In the labyrinth of my mind I navigate, seeking balance With each step, I affirm: I show up for myself, 100% committed
I start from the point of knowing In the sacred embrace of divinity’s grace I am a child of God Born from the essence of infinite love
… and there I was going about my grocery shopping business, when all along the fruits and veg aisle are poinsettias of all sizes. What’s a girl to do when Christmas is her favorite time of year to decorate?! Well she grabs a couple of these little beauties to start warming up to full-on Christmas decorating.
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Step into the heartwarming world of my Jamaican childhood, where Sundays meant simple joys, sumptuous feasts, and the sweet allure of “Fudgie” and his magical ice cream.
As a child growing up in my beautiful homeland, Jamaica, one of the cherished highlights of my week was indulging in the sweet delight of ice cream on Sundays.
In those bygone days, life was uncomplicated, and our Sunday rituals were set in stone. The day would kick off with my mother’s early-morning culinary expedition, as fragrant spices swirled on the gentle morning breezes, teasing our senses with the promise of a delightful feast ahead.
After a hearty breakfast, it was time to tackle the obligatory household chores — everything from tidying up the house, sweeping the yard, and laboriously hand-washing laundry. However, one task I dreaded above all was when my mother had to wash my hair. My thick, coiled locks had a knack for coiling even tighter when wet, and the process of combing through them left me grimacing all the way through. But when mommy was through, my hair was neatly plaited and ready for the school week ahead.
Once all the chores were behind us and I had been bathed and dressed in my “Sunday clothes,” it was time to gather around the table for what we Jamaicans refer to as “Sunday dinner.”
“Sunday dinner” was no ordinary meal; it was the pinnacle of the week in every Jamaican household.
The traditional spread included a principal meat (typically chicken as the crowd favorite); a carbohydrate staple (rice and peas being an absolute must); a salad comprising crisp cabbage and grated carrots, adorned with cucumber and tomato wedges, drizzled with black pepper; a refreshing beverage (often freshly squeezed from carrots, soursop, or beets); and, last but certainly not least, dessert.
And oh, the dessert!
While savoring the flavors of our sumptuous meal, my ears were tuned to a singular sound and an unmistakable voice – the distant chime of the “ice cream man’s” motorbike horn. This unique sound carried for miles across our tranquil town, giving us just enough time to secure the coins from our parents and gather at our designated meeting spot.
Then came the voice, a melodic, resounding and repeated call: “Fudge! Ice cream! Nutty-buddy!”
This was the unmistakable voice of the “ice cream man,” affectionately known as “Fudgie,” pedaling his bike, vocally advertising the frozen treasures nestled within the insulated box on the back of his two-wheeler.
Fudge was essentially ice cream on a stick, while nutty-buddy was a delightful ice cream cone adorned with a generous sprinkling of nuts, and ice cream, usually grape nut, piled atop the iconic beacon cone.
By this point, my friends had also gathered their coins, dashing over from their homes across the neighborhood, all of us adorned in our Sunday clothes – the girls with meticulously plaited hair and the boys making sure they were equally well-groomed. We would encircle Fudgie, simultaneously clamoring for our chosen treats.
To this day, ice cream holds a special place in my heart as my all-time favorite dessert. Why? Because it transports me back to an era when life was uncomplicated, Sundays were enchanting, and I’m eternally nostalgic for the home that lives on vividly in my heart, just as it was when I was a child growing up in Jamaica.
Roosters in their morning race Proclaim the break of day Competing to be the loudest In their crowing display
Birdies join this joyful chorus Chirping to a serene ballet Nature’s melody makers In morning’s light they sway
The wind, a gentle maestro Enters with a soothing cool embrace Filling the room with freshness Embraced in a gentle swirling grace
Grey clouds hold the sun at bay Only for just a moment long But it soon emerged, bright As night gives way to day’s song
“It’s DAWN”, all of nature sings The world awakens in a magical array With nature’s symphony and sunbeams Morning ushers in a brand new day
Afterword: I wrote this piece a few years ago. I was working/living in Northern Nigeria at the time and there was immense unrest and upheaval. Amidst all of that, the joys of nature were all the more appreciated. What a blessing to open your eyes from a night’s rest, to know you’re alive and be able to bask in the joy of nature’s wake up call. Finding GRATITUDE in each moment of LIFE!
Thoughts meandering through my mind take rest in ink’s solace
At home in this space interactions caroled
A shared bond bloggers make
Ideas alight, free to freely roam
Whether with affirming words, “star-likes”, or emojis
In this realm of thoughts, bloggers connect
Minds unite in digital symphony of affections
A virtual haven where thoughts with thoughts collide
Words, our common thread, escape to create
Art. Interactions on interactions boom!
It’s been eons since WP gave me any updates then this “boom” message dropped in my inbox. So honoring this moment with a THANK YOU poem to all who stop by here.
This blog is a place for the thoughts meandering through my mind to find a place to rest outside my head.
If 1 or 2 or 300 others interact with my written thoughts—great!! If 0 that is also great ‘cause my thoughts have found a landing space and that is my ultimate goal.
The interactions are a bonus and I love ❤️ love and appreciate when fellow bloggers drop in on my blog and say a word or 2 or 300 😊 or like or emoji their way through.
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Three years ago I was in the throes of making plans to celebrate my birth over the full month of April, like I’ve traditionally done for birthdays past. However, on 11 March 2020 after the corona-19 virus infected people in 114 countries, WHO declared a global pandemic and soon thereafter countries were locked down. And so were my birthday/birthMONTH plans.
Gratefully, I survived being infected with the first strain of the virus (before we had vaccines). This year, 3 years later when the world is closely getting back to the old-normal, I wanted to commemorate life and to celebrate my birthday in a way that connected me to the root/route of my beginning—Africa.
And so was birthed a 3-girls, 3-weeks, 3-country trip for 3 years’ birthday/MONTH commemoration. I returned to two of my favorite African countries—South Africa and Botswana—and visited Tanzania for the first time. Thanks to a plane that literally stopped working, I also spent a night in Malawi.
The little plane that could NOT!! We stopped on one of the many legs and everything in the plane also stopped—no lights, no air, NOTHING. This happened on two of its stops only then did the airline ground the plane. I prayed so hard. A 3-hour trip turned into just over 24 hours!!!!! Adventure!!!!!
The trip included: reunion with friends not seen for over 10 years (in all 4 countries); viewing Africa’s wildlife up close; vineyard tours including the first 100%/fully black-owned winery; sandbanks and pristine white-sand beaches; food and spice markets; rich cultural heritage (history, religion, fashion and more); sailing in dhows; magnificent sunsets; and all along the way, gastronomic delights.
The absolutely “bestEST” part of my trip was reuniting with and being with my friends. Good friends are truly more and better than pocket money. #grateful
Some highlight photos—ENJOY:
With winemaker of 1st black-owned winery, Klein Goederust —Frsanschhoek, South AfricaJetty to Robben Island —Cape Town, South AfricaMesmerizing sunsets—Knysna, South AfricaAfrica’s wild life —Johannesburg, South AfricaWhen a church actively takes part in social justice. The walls of this church still have holes from gunshots fired at students during a march against apartheid who took refuge under its pews —SOWETO, Johannesburg, South AfricaGotta experience the night life! —Rosebank, Johannesburg, South AfricaSerbian Orthodox Church, an architectural delight —Gaborone, BotswanaMokolodi Game Reserve —Gaborone, BotswanaWhat’s a Safari tour if your truck tire doesn’t pick up a puncture?! More adventures in the wild!! BotswanaRemember Pumbaa (Lion King) … warthogs —Gaborone, BotswanaTea and a mystery anyone? Have you read the books or watched the series shot in Gaborone, BotswanaGreat tasting food (boonoonoonoos, as we say in Jamaica) was everywhereDinner at Emerson on Hurumzi is a royal dining experience complete with hands watched in rose water and the view of the sunset is to die for —Stone Town, Zanzibar, TanzaniaViewing Tanzanite, the stone found ONLY in Tanzania is a must—Dar Es Salaam, TanzaniaStreet food … now that’s a must! —Zanzibar, TanzaniaHistoric Dhow Palace Hotel, it’s like sleeping in history —Zanzibar, TanzaniaDhow, SafariBlu tour, white sand beaches, warm crystal clear water —Nakupenda, Zanzibar, Tanzania In the boundless sky, thousands of feet above a continent rich in history, culture, allure, mystery; where travel mishaps are built into the adventure; and, the sun sets are to “die for”!!! My Africa respite was an absolute delight and just what the doctor ordered!!!! Another birthMONTH celebrated. #grateful
2023 All Rights Reserved
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Living this thing called life is interspersed with periods of “stay”.
In this post I’d like to share my reflection on being in a period of stay—when everything that all my senses encounter shouts: “leave”, “run”, “cower”, BUT that still small voice keeps insisting on “stay”.
There is stay that is relevant to one’s positioning in relation to others or a situation. This stay may be to remain in the same place. Or it may be to wait, to pause, to stop or to hang around.
There is stay that pertains to the inability to remain hidden. That is a mode of stay that is premised on continuing to be—to persist, to carry on, to go on being. In essence this stay is to be at rest in your being or in the situation.
There is also stay that is about being accommodated such as to stop over or to visit with the knowledge that it’s but a sojourn—it’s a temporary stay.
And then there is stay in nautical terms.
I recently sailed on a dhow (see photo above). In watching the sailors raise the sail, I wanted to better understand what was entailed. As they explained the support that stays provide to the fully-deployed sail, I had an aha moment:
Doing life in many ways is like a sailing boat and it’s dependency on the stay.
Stay in nautical terms is about directing the movement of a boat’s mast in relation to the direction of the wind.
Stay in the midst of living life, is also about directing the movement of one’s life in relation to the direction of the issues at hand which is often a tumultuous place to be.
We go through questioning, wonderings, and doubts. There’s the interplay of what-ifs and uncertainty that fuels this fear of making the wrong decisions.
It is in these moments of chaotic noise that we must listen differently.
In noisiness, if someone wishes to speak directly to you, she/he will likely whisper as oppose to shouting above the noise.
Whispering is a different way of communicating for both the speaker and the listener. The speaker must soften her/his voice, using as it were their inside voice. While the listener must silence all else—to quiet the inside noise—and listen intently and intentionally to hear.
Whispering also takes on a different posture. When someone intends to share something intimately with you, they lean into you, moving their mouth close to your ears.
In reflecting on being in this period of stay, and acknowledging that this time is being accompanied by confused noise, what I needed most was to listen differently for the voice of God.
Listening differently is moving my ears closer to the mouth of God.
This of course is all about the posture of my heart. That is, a leaning into God—talking to Him, asking for discernment to hear and to accurately understand what He’s saying, and for a willingness in my heart to follow. That heart posture is one of intimacy and it’s one of surrender.
The need for discernment is to determine the type of stay in order to know if it’s a stay to “stay in” or a “stay to miss”. Do I remain in the same place? Wait, pause, stop or hang around? Am I to be at rest in my being or in this current situation? Or is it that I’m merely in a period of sojourn?
A posture of surrender helps to determine where my stay is mounted. Is my stay in a person or a situation or circumstance?
In the case of boats, stays need a strong mounting point to handle the immense forces they endure.
So do I.
My mounting point in a stay period is God!
Why?
Because God is not only in the stay, but most importantly He is of the stay.
God creates blessing opportunities through the moments of stay in our lives.
If we are cognizant to tune into Him, we will hear His “gentle whisper” —what the Bible calls a “still small voice”— we will hear it through the din and turmoil into the silence we create.
Not only does God desire that our stay is mounted in Him but that it remains in Him regardless of storms and fires or peace and calm.
In the same way a boat in stay is steered to head directly into and through the boisterous wind in order to bring the vessel on the opposite side of the wind, so must our lives be steered.
One thing that stood out in learning about nautical stays is this — no mater what material a boat’s mast is made from, if it is unstayed it will quickly fail under sail.
For us—on our own—our lives, like mast, cannot withstand the pressures of the storm. But if God is the mainstay of our lives, then we will not collapse under the pressure and uncertainty of life’s stays.
With God as a life Captain, a life in stay will be steered through the moments of turmoil and brought to the opposite side where the noise is silenced and His leading can be heard.
I also learned that stays are mounted to the very front and the rearmost parts of a boat. So is God to be mounted in our lives to stabilize and guide in both the forward and aft directions. And when that is the case, that’s when God puts His mouth up to your ears for the whisper of direction. And whetheryou turn to the right or to the left:
… your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, This is the way, walk in it…
Because stay periods are an inevitable part of doing life, you may now be in stay, coming out of stay or will be going into stay.
So, the sum of my reflection is this:
Like mast without stay will collapse under the stress of a sail that is fully-deployed, so will a life without its mainstay in God in the noisiness and tumult of the stay.
Relying on God’s guidance is tantamount to the ability of a boat’s stay to transfer the force of the wind and distribute its power over a wider area and onto materials that can handle it.
And rest assured, God can handle the “it” in the periods of our stay.
Welcome the stay.
Listen past the noise. God is speaking. It may be a whisper.
Check your heart posture. Is your heart leaning into God to hear; and, is it willing to follow?
Shabbat Shalom.
2023 All Rights Reserved
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On this the anniversary of my birth I pronounce this affirmation: I’m not too much, I’m enough!
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It’s early Sunday morning. “Hell” and “Death” are pacing back and forth, restlessly monitoring the tomb that previously belonged to Joseph of Arimathea, but now entombs the body of Jesus Christ. Nervously, they had watched for signs throughout Friday night—nothing happened. Then the Sabbath drew on and … nothing. As the Sabbath wore on, their confidence grew, for still nothing happened. All throughout Saturday night they watched and listened … nothing happened. Saturday was silent. But, early Sunday morning, just at the dawning of the day, a sound was heard. It was only audible to someone on the watch—“someone” like Hell and “someone” like Death.
What is that I hear? Death, I thought you said you had Him?
Well, of course I have Him, I even have the key!
Don’t you mean “our key”, the key of hell and death?
Listen! It’s faint now, but with each beat it’s steadily rising I’m absolutely sure, I can hear it now, His heartbeat is returning Whatever we do, He must not leave that tomb For if He does, forever our fate will be doomed
That can’t be, I was there last Friday eve I waited ‘til He hung His head surrendering to me I didn’t leave His side till the guarantee that He was mine I saw His Father’s confirmation in the earth and in the sky
I thought He would have fought me, like so many others before But, it’s as if He took His life and laid it at my door I wanted Him to struggle against my stranglehold on Him But, He acted more like a victor, accepting the ultimate penalty for humanity’s sin
Oh yes, it was magnificent that moment when I heard his farewell cry: Father … my Father … Your only Son You will deny?” Finally, after waiting and plotting this sweet life-wrenching revenge Lifeless—suspended between heaven and my hell—hung the One who was my challenge
Be silent Death! No more time to reminisce This man … the Christ … He is our nemesis! No time to think of what could be or what we didn’t do His life is returning, heartbeats reverberating from the tomb
Hurry your “evilness”, back to the tomb of the Nazarene! He must not resurrect for He will take away our key Together we rule this earth, this is our domain Who is this man to think we’d allow Him to live again?
As if on cue, Gabriel—heaven’s Archangel—stands before Hell and Death, garbed in the majesty of heaven. Staring them squarely in the eyes and with the adoration of the heavenly hosts embodied within him, exclaimed as like a song:
Who is this man?! He is the only Son of God, begotten from the world’s foundation He is the Rock of Ages on which will be your eternal destruction He is the Conquering Lion, Jesus Christ, humanity’s redemption He is the Good Shepherd, in Him there is no consternation He is the First the Last, the Last the First, in Him there is continuation He is the Beginning and the End, the Way and the Resurrection He is Elohim. Shalom. Jireh. Rapha. Raah. He is El-Shaddai. Adonai. Nissi. Rohi. Jah.
And with a voice penetrating the hollow of the tomb, Gabriel shouts the Father’s command:
Jesus! Arise! Stand up! Come forth! Your Father calls You home!
But Hell was not ready to concede. He positioned himself before the tomb and beckoned Death to join him.
This cannot be, only I have the key The key to hell and death and I will not concede to thee Death, bind Him closer, hold Him, don’t you dare let Him leave He, and all humanity, must surrender and worship the god in me
While Hell and Death held on to the last shreds of their short-lived victory, Jesus adhered to His Father’s call—He unwrapped the shroud and stepped out the tomb as the Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah. And in a voice clear, majestic and triumphant proclaimed:
Oh Death, where is your sting, and Hell your victory? Did you really think My Father would allow you to conquer Me? Now recognize I am He—He who has the master key Through my life, you’re both condemned for all eternity
Did you not hear, when it was declared—I am the Way, the Life? My life I gave to save the world from sin’s dreadful strife? Did you not hear when Gabriel proclaimed My Father called me home? I’m heaven-bound to rule with Him, at the right hand of His throne
And looking down through the portals of time to you and I, Jesus exclaimed:
Dear children of mine, don’t despair even in the darkest night At the break of dawn I’ll come again, take you on a cosmic flight For I am He who was dead and now I’m alive forevermore Hell and Death will be devoured in the fire I have in store
So, Death where is your sting and Hell your victory? I’m on my way to Heaven and I AM the MASTER KEY!
2023 All rights reserved
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The place, Mount Moriah The time, the darkest of night The request was made The decision has been taken Separated, alone, he wrestled At dawn the journey began One heartbreaking step before the other Only begotten son in tow Three days he trods a beaten path up the mountain
The place, Mount Moriah The time, the darkest of night In the sheepfold, huddled together Except for one lamb Separated, alone, he wandered At dawn the journey began One unsure-footed step before the other Blindly he trods an unknown path, through thickets, up the mountain
Part II
The stones of the altar have been stacked The sticks and brambles have been laid The stony place of sacrifice cushioned, made ready to receive The sacrificial instrument has been sharpened The binding cords have been secured The fire stones have been selected The sacrifice has surrendered, submitted, bounded, mounted The knife raised in shaking hands in space suspended …
The thickets have grown thicker Sticks and brambles blurred his path Directed by a force unknown He stumbled forward up the backside of Moriah mountain To a place where the stones of an altar have been stacked Where a sacrifice has surrendered, submitted, bounded, mounted Where the sacrificial instrument raised in shaking hands, in space suspended Caught in the thicket, he’s suspended …
In that moment of dual suspension A voice thundered: “Touch not your only begotten son Look over yonder, there, see A sacrificial lamb caught in the thicket for thee”
Part III
The place, Mount Golgatha The time, the darkest of days The decision has been taken Separated, forsaken, alone He wrestled At dawn the journey began One back-breaking step before the other Sacrificial instrument in tow Dutifully he stumbled forward up Calvary’s mountain Where a cross has been stacked Where the sacrificial tools have been sharpened Where the sacrifice has surrendered, submitted, bounded, mounted To be nailed-up upon a cross, in space, He too, suspended …
When the voice of heaven thundered: “It is finished” And a terrified voice confessed: “Truly He was the only begotten Son of God” To be placed in a grave, three days enshroud
Part IV
Two only begotten sons But only One begotten Son of God
Two went up the mountain But only One went up Calvary’s Mountain
Two lambs But only One Lamb slain from the world’s foundation
Jesus—the Son of God, the Sacrificial Lamb
After-word: This epic poem is a parallelism of the Abrahamic and the Messianic sacrifice experiences. Abraham’s would-be sacrifice of Isaac was a foreshadow of the crucifixion of Christ. The sacrifice of Christ was a symbolism of high sabbaths (John 19:31)as the complete story of salvation—that is, the work of Christ beginning with His death on the cross as the Passover Lamb and to end at His second coming.
2023 All Rights Reserved
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Let everything Let everything that has Let everything that has breath
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
Life Life can play hard sometimes Sucker punches of sickness, hurt Pain that cannot be covered with bandaid or fixed with poetry And just when you think you’re in the game of better plays Life knocks the wind out of you leaving you gasping Making your lungs appreciate the taste of air And it’s precisely on those days when you should
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
So Come along with me on a high climb Up the limbs of life’s “poetree” Sit high upon its lofty branches See above the strife See life See life the way the Creator intended
For He could have painted our home black and white and we’d have never known A shack for a home would have been just fine Instead He gave us a mansion—a globe—wrapped in splendor
With just the bat of His eyelashes, nature jumped in place He suspended the sky like a curtain, secured stars in their sockets, ignited the sun like a fire-ball and told the ocean you can only come this far
Did He have to give the flowers fragrance and the mountains lofty peaks? Was He required to put stripes on the zebra, hump on the camel or make the parrots speak?
No But He did it So my heart stops My jaw drops in awe And my soul erupts like a volcano Lava of praise cascades from within Release Flow Let go, and
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
True There aren’t enough words I can recite to heal all the pain you feel But welcome the rain of surrender, it will wash away every pain, every hurt, if you let it Then bask—bask in the sunshine of God’s favor Sing aloud His praise Raise high His beautiful name
And The next time a sunrise steals your breath or a meadow of flowers leaves you speechless Remain that way Say nothing Listen as He whispers: “Do you like it? I did it just for you”
So Come along with me on a high climb Up the limbs of life’s “poetree” In gratitude let the depth of your soul rings the refrain
And Let everything Let everything that has Let everything that has breath
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
Afterword: My church commissioned a “thankful” piece for thanksgiving service and this was what I wrote and recited. It’s a miracle that we BREATHE!
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For your needs left unmet in a world of wealth immeasurable
For all the times you were abused, your rights taken or violated
For the times when you’ve been let-down, and treated as undeserving
For all the years that’s passed your dreams unfulfilled along the way
For all the times you tried and tried, repeat, repeat but failed
For all the unrecoverable time of days and years bygone
For all the times your voice was silenced, screamed but no one heard you
For all the times like a ‘thing’ set aside,obsolete, no longer needed
You—the left-behind, the marginalized, the abused and oft forgotten
For all those times, keep up your fight, there’re others in your corner
This poem was first published July 5, 2021 under the title “Fight”. Republished today to mark International Day of Peace. The 2022 Theme: End racism. Build peace.
After-word: Each year the International Day of Peace is observed around the world on 21 September. The UN General Assembly has declared this as a day devoted to strengthening the ideals of peace, through observing 24 hours of non-violence and cease-fire.
Shabbat Shalom everyone. Last week started a “Dear God” post—“how do I know”. I think the first step to knowing is being in a frame of mind to listen and to hear and that comes from a state of gratitude. Today is another “Dear God” post and it’s a simple prayer of gratitude.
First, a throwback to the welcome post of this blog where I shared why this site is called “createdbydeesign”. I genuinely believe that EVERY creative insight and EVERY word I’ve strung together to form EVERY art that I have ever written or formed, have been offsprings of God’s creativity.
God is the source of all creativity and all art. And it’s from His creation and creative wonders that I draw inspiration.
I mean, it can’t get more obvious than ART being smack dab in the middle of eARTh.
God could have made earth black and white and we’d have never known. That would be truly bland. Can you imagine earth without art, that would just be “eh”.
Who but a genius artist could think of, design, then create extraordinary flowers that look exactly like animals, aliens, humans, fairies and other strange creatures.
Naked Man OrchidSwaddled BabiesHappy AlienIce Cream TulipMonkey Face OrchidLaughing Bumblebee OrchidDuck OrchidFlame LilyMoth OrchidDancing GirlsBallerina OrchidNature is indeed created-by-design!
Dear God.
Thank You for channeling in us a bit of Your poetic-artistic creativity. Thank You for the art unfolded in majestic mountains, breathtaking meadows, massive oceans, boundless skies and splendiferous birds, flowers and faunas. I am grateful.
Amen
Shabbat Shalom. May you find peace, rest and bliss in the creative wonders of nature that lead you to a state of gratitude.
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I was helping my nephew with his assignment, when I saw a pensive expression that was far too intense to be just about his school work.“What’s up with that look?” I asked.
With deep sincerity he responded with his own question: “Why are you helping me?”
And he wasn’t satisfied with “… because you’re my nephew” or “… because I love you”.
No. He was searching for a deeper motivation. A motivation deeper than love?!
I hadn’t thought about the why. I just knew that I wanted to contribute to him being able to complete the assignment which I know would make him happy. But, when he forced me to give him a more deeply ruminative answer my contemplation led me to this realization—I was first and foremost grateful for the opportunity to help him succeed.
This is what I learned from being challenged by my nephew:
Not only can gratitude inspire happiness, it can also inspire the intention to contribute to the happiness of someone else.
Happy hump day!!! Let’s get over and into the rest of the week in gratitude.
In my native dialect (patois) we say: “wha a fe yuh, cahn be un-fe yuh” (literally—what is for you, can’t be not for you).
Today I affirm to trust the Most High and to wait on His leading.
I will:
Let closed doors stay closed (like toxic relationships).
Find the blessings in the closures.
Live fearlessly knowing when one door closes it leaves open the path to the right door.
Be preparedto seize opportunities when the right doors open.
What the Most High intends to bless me with, I will receive it because not only does He shut doors, He opens doors too! And what He opens no one can shut, what He shuts no one can open.
I will focus on what and who’s allowed to come into my live and be thankful for what they bring to me.
I will pause to notice and appreciate the things that often get taken for granted like a place to call home, food and water, family and friends, a job.
When the Most High God created us, He gave us a most powerful and beautiful gift—choice!
The power and beauty of choice is that it’s predicated on there being more than one option or possibility; and, the path taken will over time make me ME.
I affirm today to live by the knowledge that when based on my hopes and not my fears, my choices will create room for me. Room for exploration, growth, learning and overall self-development.
Photo provided by Pexels
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To have the ME that isn’t defined by the hurts or losses of my past, means I must let go off of “stuff” mentally and emotionally. I know letting go doesn’t mean “getting rid of”, but “letting it be”.
Truth is,I can’t receive the now when I hold on to the old.
Letting go is the first step to being prepared for the NEXT God has in store.
RESOLUTE—to be admirably purposeful, determined, unwavering
It takes courage to be YOUnique—your unique authentic self—to be resolute in who you are at the core, to “do you” when everything else and everyone else around you screams at you to fit in a mold/in the status quo/in what is expected.
When situations and people don’t align with who you are or where you’re going, STAND—be firm—in your truth and live accordingly. What will follow is the peace and freedom that comes from living and loving your unique you.
Today, my birthday, I affirm to stand in my truth!
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I’d really appreciate if you’d head on over to Spillwords (by clicking on the poem title above) and show me/my art some love with a like and also share your comments. This is my first piece on Spillwords so hurry, head on over and let me feel your love there as well. Thanks.
In creative solidarity 🙏🏽 Dee 🎉
Many thanks to Dagmara K., Director of Development, Editing Department and the entire team at Spillwords for selecting this piece!
With one word—persevere—US Supreme Court Nominee Ketanji Brown Jackson preached a sermon and let lose a rallying call.
In that one moment her daughter looks on in admiration and confirmation that her mom is not only the epitome of perseverance but that she has her mom to emulate as she too will need to persevere.
On the other hand is her husband, and he is in tears. He’s listened and watched his wife being battered and grilled relentlessly. Despite having more judicial experience than 43 of the last 58 the US justices who took the bench, some members of the Congress could not forgo racist throes, ludicrous questioning and misogynoir.
Many many moments of the confirmation hearing stood out for me. But, when asked what she’d say to young people, her response: “I would tell them persevere”, really resonated with me!
And she’s demonstrated perseverance throughout her studies, her career, her life, and surely drew on it during her Supreme Court Nomination Hearing.
At this mid-week point of the week, let’s join the rallying call to PERSEVERE!!!!
Eleanor Roosevelt kept this poem in her pocket during WWII:
Dear Lord: Lest I continue my complacent way, help me to remember somehow out there a man [or woman] died for me today. As long as there be war I then must ask and answer: am I worth dying for?
This plaque with the poem stands at the Pearl Harbour National Memorial marking the day the then US President marked as historical infamy and a day the Ukrainian President recently invoked. War has raised it’s maddening cruel life-snatching head again.
Imagine a gender equal world. A world free of bias, stereotypes and discrimination. A world that’s diverse, equitable, just and inclusive. A world where difference is valued and celebrated.
Together we can forge women’s equality. Collectively we can all #BreakTheBias.
Shabbat Shalom. And now, after last week’s break, we are back to the 6th of the 7 redemptive names of God—Jehovah Raah.
This name of God is derived from what may be one of the best- and most-known lines in the Bible—the Lord is my Shepherd—penned by David in the 23rd Psalm.
Raah comes from the Hebraic word , Rô’eh which is translated “shepherd”. The translation can be extended to mean “friend” or “companion” from the word, “rea”. This is indicative of the intimacy God desires between Himself and His people.
In reading this Psalm I experienced a aha moment when I came face-to-face with the realization that whatever I believe God is, then I must believe in myself relative to the extent of that attribute. For instance, if I say He is my “Shepherd”; then, I must be assured that I am His “sheep” and to live in that assurance.
I was curious as to why David wrote this Psalm. The obvious reason is that David tended sheep so it makes good sense for him to use the analogy of sheep and shepherd. However, in researching the characteristics of a sheep, I saw clearly why this inspired David’s 23rd Psalm and also why God likened humanity to sheep (Isaiah 53:6).
In all that I learned about sheep, the most intriguing finding was this—a sheep can get stuck on its back. The term for this is “cast”. When this happens the sheep cannot right itself and could starve to death or become easy prey if not righted again. It’s no wonder sheep are so dependent on the shepherd.
Have you ever been “cast” down, in a rut or at a loss at wit’s-end crossroads and there is nothing you can do to right yourself?
I have. And, it was in one of these moments when God invited me to act on my faith in believing He is my Shepherd and as such to live in the assurance that I am His “sheep”.
It is in seeing myself as a “cast sheep” and being confident in the assurance that God is my “Shepherd”, and that He has the ability to right me that “A Sheep’s Look at the Shepherd’s Psalm” was conceptualized.
See you next week as we conclude this series, “What In God’s Name” with a look at the 7th redemptive names of God—Jehovah Shammah—the God who is There/Here.
In light of what is taking place in Ukraine and its heart-rending and life-altering impact, I’ll pause the “What In God’s Name” series today to instead offer a prayer for peace.
However, before the prayer I’d like to go back to a giant statue that was put up by the United Nations at its NY headquarters in November (2021). Though it has since been removed, the statue was mounted as a symbol of international peace and security.
In many ways that statue resembled an end-time “beast” described by the Bible in the books of Daniel and Revelation. And the naming of the statue—“peace and security”—is also eerily close to a biblical reference only that in using the phrase the Bible issued a caution:
While people are saying, “Peace and safety”, destruction will come on them suddenly ….
Today the world is teetering on the brink of war with the invasion of one sovereign country by another.
I’m not at all a doomsday alarmist. However, when world events align to biblical prophecies, I believe we should pay closer attention. It’s not a time to be scared or hysterical. Rather, as Jesus puts it—lift up your heads, look up, for your redemption is at hand (Luke 21:28).
So I invite you to join me in this prayer for peace and for those being directly impacted by the invasion.
And together we say: AMEN (so be it)!
Shabbat Shalom. May the God of Peace—Jehovah Shalom—bring peace to our hearts, our homes, our communities, our world.
Join me next week when I’ll pick up the series looking at the 6th of the 7 redemptive names of God—Jehovah Raah—our Shepherd.
So, in talking about Jehovah Nissi today I wanna focus on something that’s plaguing our world—suicide—it’s a pandemic within a pandemic, really. The times are as the Bible described:
But the Bible doesn’t leave it there, thank God, it encourages us to “…stand, look up, lift up your heads [to God our Banner/Refuge]; for your redemption draweth nigh.” (Luke 21:28)
I think of the very first time God revealed Himself as our banner/refuge—the children of Israel were up against a formidable, well-seasoned warrior tribe, the Amalekites. It was to be their first-ever battle. In fact, the Amalekites terrorized the Israelites for centuries—that first battle was the beginning of the war.
This first battle plan was simple, but foolproof and a guaranteed win—their leader Moses was to stand up on a hill and lift up the rod of God. The people could see the banner raised. When it was lowered, the Amalekites got the upper hand. But when it was raised, the children of Israel pushed the enemy back and regained the upper hand. So Aaron and Hur, who were with Moses on the hill, helped to keep his hand up and the rod of God aloft for the duration of the fight.
This was a clear indication that:
The battle was theirs to fight, but the war was God’s to win.
In every battle we need supporters—the lifter-up of our hands, and our heads.
The children of Israel’s role was: Show up. Raise the banner. Keep the banner raised. Look up. Defend yourselves.
Following this battle plan God won and Israel prevailed over their enemies. When it was over, Moses showed that he recognized the Lord as the source of their victory and so: “Moses built an altar and called its name, The-Lord-Is-My-Banner” (Exodus 17:15).
Nissi comes from the Hebrew word “nês” which means banner. So, Jehovah Nissi—the Lord is My Banner
Today, the war continues.
Listen, the truth of the matter is this: life comes with battles because the enemy of God is in an all-out war with Him and the fight is over us—God’s children. The devil’s plan is to annihilate us, but God ain’t having it! So, it’s war on!!!!!
In this war we must choose whose banner we’re under. God’s banner is an illustration of His protection, His redemption and His salvation. God’s banner identifies those who choose to belong to Him.
The Bible assures us:
“We will rejoice in your salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners!” (Psalm 20:5).
“You have raised a banner to . . . save us and help us with your right hand, that those you love may be delivered” (Psalm 60:4-5).
The battle plan is the same and it’s still foolproof and a guaranteed win—look to Jehovah Nissi, our banner/refuge.
As the war intensifies, many many hearts are failing of fear. But God doesn’t leave us defenseless.
💥💥If you feel like you or someone you know is in immediate danger, please call 911 (or your country’s local emergency line) or go to an emergency room to get immediate help.💥💥
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Some times it feels unreal, but we’ve actually been hunkered down for almost two years. Can you believe it?!
Just about every aspect of our lives have been constrained and in some instances crippled by an infectious agent that is so small it requires a microscope to visualize it. Yet, here we are on the cusp of 2022 and this virus is still threateningly looming over us so much so the year hardly feels new.
The message in the cartoon below is fitting to get us started: “What will the new year bring us? 365 opportunities!”
I think this year, in particular, we will need to be very intentional about finding those opportunities.
Governments and private sector organizations, they’re seeking those opportunities to advance recovery efforts. We hear terms like “build back better” and “new normal”. On the personal level—be it physically, mentally, psychologically or socially—we too have had to find new ways of being and living.
God also had something to say about seeking new opportunities and new ways of being under difficult circumstances. Because, of course, nothing takes Him by surprise. So, over 2000 years ago He gave the prophet Isaiah a “new thing”—in other words a “new normal”—message for His children that is most fitting for this time.
He starts off with:
Behold [in other words, it’s as if God was saying come, see something especially remarkable and impressive], I am doing a new thing; NOW it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
What are the “new things” God is doing under this pandemic? What opportunities will God open up as pathways in the wilderness-like circumstances we will face as we traverse 2022? Will we have the insight into His will to be able to perceive it, and the will power to take ahold of those opportunities as they spring forth?
As I pondered these questions for myself, I reflected on the children of ancient Israel as they were journeying from the land of their bondage to the freedom land God promised them. They too were filled with trepidation about what the land holds.
In the same way God consoled ancient Israel, He also encourages us today. To them He spoke about the “land”, to us He’s speaking about the “year”.
The land/year you go to possess, it is a land/year of hills and valleys [meaning it won’t be smooth] and it drinks water of the rain of heavens [meaning it will be bountiful]. … The eyes of the Lord your God are always on it from the BEGINNING OF THE YEAR to the very END OF THE YEAR”.
God, in His wisdom, does not show us all that lies ahead, but He assures us that He has His eyes and hands on it all.
As we enter this new year, let us follow more courageously, more daringly, more faithfully His lead. And, as you do so I pray this blessing will be yours:
May there always be work for your hands to do;
May your purse always hold a coin or two;
May the sun always shine on your windowpane;
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;
May the hand of a friend always be near you;
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
~ Irish blessing
Shabbat Shalom
May you find peace in knowing our God has His eyes on where you will traverse from today, the beginning of the year, to the very end of the year.
And so my friends,
The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make His face shine on you and be gracious to you;
The LORD turn His face toward you and give you peace [for the 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes, and 31536000 seconds of this new year].
Reflecting on photos from my favorite park mixed with quotes from folks who spoke the sentiments of my heart before I did …
“Autumn leaves shower like gold, like rainbows, as the winds of change begin to blow.”– Dan Millman
“There is something so special in the early leaves drifting from the trees–as if we are all to be allowed a chance to peel, to refresh, to start again.”– Ruth Ahmed
“Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.”—Lauren Destefano
“I hope I can be the autumn leaf, who looked at the sky and lived. And when it was time to leave, gracefully it knew life was a gift.” – Dodinsky
“Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.”– Hal Borland
“Fall for Jesus, He never leaves.”—Author Unknown
“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.”—Stanley Horowitz
In the moments when you’re still, you’ll win Quiet the noise—the distractions—within That’s when the listening of your heart begins
Listen to your heart, it’s calling to you Listen to your heart, it’s telling you what to do Listen to your heart, it’s giving you the better view
Other voices are loud Silence every sound It’s the virtue best bestowed
Listen to your heart, it’s your spiritual guide Listen to your heart, take your intellect on the ride Listen to your heart, it’s the place where God resides
For today’s Shabbat Shalom post the focus will be the wholeness in worship. And I’ll explain it using an ancient story told in the Bible in the book of St. Luke, the 17th chapter.
One day Jesus was passing through a town and came across ten men who were suffering from a debilitating flesh eating disease—leprosy—they were standing afar off. [Yes, social distancing is not a new disease control measure.]
“Hey Jesus”, they shouted across the divide, “please, heal us”!!
Their combined voices coupled with their common desperation to be heard amplified their call-out. Moved with compassion and being mindful of the public health restrictions, Jesus didn’t bid them draw near for a touch. Instead, in a voice equally amplified by His desperate desire to restore, Jesus shouted back:
“Go show yourselves to the Priest”!!
Odd response, wouldn’t you say?!
Yet, in faith, the 10 men proceeded on the path to the Temple.
[in my imagination this is how the rest of the story unfolded…] A minute or so into their walk, one man glanced over at another and could literally see the melanin returning to his skin. Right before his eyes white blotches were returning to caramel-like skin tone, and sores and lesions were disappearing replaced by new flawless skin. He reached up and touched his own nose that was starting to be deformed and it was restored. Soon there was a buzz of excitement and exuberant chatter of jubilation amongst the 10 men as each served as the mirror for the other. Soon all 10 were fully cleansed.
Seeing that their skin and bodies were cleansed, what started out as a walk turned into a slow trot and then a full-on sprint as they dashed off in varying directions, likely to their homes.
All except one.
Yes, his walk also turned to a trot and then a full-on sprint but not toward his home, he raced instead toward Jesus. Breathless, he catches up to Jesus in the town and throws himself at Jesus’ feet in gratitude for the healing of his physical body.
And here is where this ancient story takes a profound turn that is very relevant to us in this modern day. Ten men had leprosy. Ten men were cleansed or healed. But only one was made whole.
There’s a difference between being healed and being made whole.
The man expressed gratitude for his physical healing in spiritual terms—the Bible says, he glorified or worshipped God. While the other nine men ran to their physical homes, this one man ran to his spiritual home.
As spiritual matters can only be spiritually discerned 1Corinthians 2:14, Jesus saw beyond the man’s physical expression of gratitude to his spiritual expression of worship. In response, this is what Jesus declared:
The man was already healed—his physical body was transformed, he saw it with his eyes. So when Jesus responded to his act of worship by declaring him whole, He couldn’t have been referring to the physical healing.
There is a deep need in all of us that if left unmet leaves us feeling incomplete on the inside. It’s a longing, a yearning for something we can’t explain but it drives us to seek its fulfillment. We all have that nagging feeling that there must be something more to life than this—this day-to-day existence. Some people seek to fulfill it in service to others, some in the accumulation of “stuff”, and others unable to find fulfillment seek to dull the desire with drugs, alcohol or other self-harming behaviors.
This lingering restlessness has also been the muse of poets and singers. After all the money and fame and the thrills that came with a superstar lifestyle, the Irish rock group U2 sang: “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” David, the poet, the ultimate logophile, expressed it this way: I have a “soul thirst” so intense my soul pants like a deer panting for water. Psalm 42:1-3
But what David came to recognize and was able to record, that U2 did not, was that the deep desire in his soul could be met by only the One who created that desire—God! God created a desire for Himself in us.
This is what this healed leper was feeling [For the sake of a better reference than “leper”, I’m gonna name him Repel i.e. leper in reverse, ‘cause sometimes you gotta reverse and repel what was sent to derail you.] Repel got what he thought was his greatest desire—to be healed—but deep within him he still felt incomplete. He hadn’t found what he was looking for. However, what distinguished his response from the other nine? Gratitude. And not just gratitude, but how he chose to express it.
No doubt the other nine men were grateful, but the expression of their gratitude was directed to the source of their desire—likely a wife or a child or maybe a couple of them made it to the Priest.
For Repel, he recalled that he had tried all those before and they left him empty. He stopped mid-run, U-turned and made a beeline back to Jesus.
Again David explains this masterfully. He puts it this way—deep calls unto deep. Psalm 42:7 Our deep need, this restless longing, inherently calls unto the deep of the Creator’s fullness. And, vice-a-versa, the deep of the Creator’s fullness calls unto the deep of our need. Between our need and God’s all-sufficiency there is a great divide—experienced in us as this restless yearning.
This is what Repel came to understand, and it reversed his steps and changed his life course.
Let’s go back to Jesus’ declaration as Repel knelt pouring out his gratitude in worship: “your faith has made you whole”.
In the English language, the life-changing significance in that one word—whole—is lost. However, in the Greek language the profundity is awe-inspiring.
The word Jesus used to make this pronouncement of wholeness is defined in Young’s Literal Translation of the Bible as “saved” as it’s derived from the Greek word sōzō, translated “saved, healed, delivered“.
Ten lepers healed, physically. One leper made whole—because he, Repel, repelled the usual forces that he previously thought could fulfill his need, to receive the only One who could and had made him whole. And so, he was saved from sin, healed from within, and delivered from restlessness.
In the act of expressing gratitude Repel worshipped and in that process was made whole—saved/healed/delivered.
The message rings true from ancient times to now: until we come to terms and accept that the restlessness in us can only be fulfilled in the all-sufficiency of God, we will continue to give our desires to people and things that will leave us unfulfilled.
We were created to worship. But we were also created with the ability to choose. We choose who or what we worship.
What is worship? I’d say, in its stripped down definition, worship is a heart attitude that is expressed as love, gratitude and praise toward God, and a devotion of time in service toward what will advance God’s kingdom.
Shabbat Shalom. May you find gratitude in worship to and of God and enjoy the wholeness-living—saved from sin, healed from within, and delivered from restlessness. Be like Repel.
The joys of the season are all cleverly brought together in this beautiful decor design. No trick and nothing spooky here, just the beauty of nature exemplified.
When the Most High God created us, He gave us a most powerful and beautiful gift—choice!
The power and beauty of choice is that it’s predicated on there being more than one option or possibility; and, the path taken will over time make you, you. In other words: you make choices, choices make you.
We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.
Khalil Gibran
If based on hope and not fear, choices will create room for exploration, growth, learning and overall self-development.
I went apple picking for the first time! It rained but that didn’t stop me from climbing trees to fill my bag with the choicest of apples. Topped it off with freshly-made apple cider and delish apple donuts. Yummy 😋
There were pumpkins of all sizes and shapes, some painted with adoring smiley faces. There were gourds of all sizes and shapes, there was even a ‘flock’ of swan gourds.
Presenting MsFoxglove, fashionably adorned in a lavender-polka-dotted-glove-like ensemble taking the 1st place award for the “most delicate” in the garden.
Don’t let go Flashing lights, billboards aglow Watching life beneath him flow People cluelessly dithering to and fro What’s dangling above, they do not know Grisly thoughts, they’re starting slow Feelings of trepidation, quickly grow Gotta turn it around, change it somehow Breathe—calm erratic heart, pulsing slow Regaining composure, decidedly avow Maintaining grip, even so Don’t let go
Life is a fight. A good fight. We go through the extremes—the ascent of ups and the declivity of downs. Though we don’t choose what we go through in life, we can choose how we go through it and who we go through it with.
One thing fighters have is a corner—fighters get support—they don’t fight alone.
We are not meant to be alone.
So, who are you going through life with?
You need others to help you, and you need to help others.
Who is in your corner?
Your “corner” is your support system. And your support system is built on relationships.
Yes it’s a risk. Relationships are messy. They’re complicated. You could get hurt. But, you can minimize the risk by building a support system that is solid.
What does a solid support system look like? It’s one that is:
Based on the right or a common structure. What brought you together (sorority, same age kids)? Are you likeminded? Do you have common values and principles?
Formed before your crisis.
Built on honesty. Can you be vulnerable and not feel judged? Can you be you?
Centered on TRUST. Distinguish between who’s in your circle versus who’s in your corner. Can and will they keep you accountable?
Built around fellowship. How can one know how to support you or celebrate you if you don’t share? Bring your life into the light. However, be selective. With the right people you’ll find fellowship.
Your support system is a beautiful gift. Cherish it.
After-word: Sitting outside, hard at work on the computer when an orange glow danced across the screen. I looked up to see the sky evoking this beautiful orange that cascaded all around me. An experience to capture and freeze in a photo moment to share with you. Good night e-friends!
Doing something a little different this week. No poetry. No prose. Instead I’ll be posting a series of snappy one-liners that are as good as a mouthful like:
Life’s too short not to live a new day in a different way.
As NY is under another wave of the Covid-19 pandemic, I’m nostalgic for the good ol’ days. You know, those days:
When you sneezed in public and folks around sweetly whispered “bless you”, not shoot you a disparaging gaze that shouts: “how dare you!”
When you stood in close proximity without terrifyingly pondering: “is he vaccinated? Is she?” Get me outta here!!
When you greeted with bare hugs or handshakes, not from waving at each other 6-feet apart.
When you wore a mask 🎭 to be draped in decadence and mystery, not to hide from a submicroscopic infectious agent that offsets immune systems, and spike temperature, and fog brains, and labor breath, and take life.
When you walked into restaurants and greeters asked: “Do you have a reservation”, not “May I see your vaccination card”.
When “do you wanna go to the movies” meant see you at the theater, not see you in the next room screening Netflix (though I don’t really mind this).
When going to work meant going to the office in a building paid for by employers, not the makeshift office in your kitchen paid for by you!
When blowing out birthday cake candles didn’t send your mind into a subconscious tailspin flashing-neon-yellow warning: ⚠️ MICROSCOPIC AEROSOL PARTICLES BEING EXHALED ⚠️
Who would have thought that in being nostalgic for the good ol’ days, the good ol’ days would be 2019?!
One of the positive things about movements being restricted by this pandemic is that it freed up time and so I picked up new hobbies. In addition to blogging (you may like “Why I Created This Blog”), I also started gardening over the past 2-3 months and it’s been pure JOY!
So before I lose them all, I froze the remaining ‘blooms of my labor’ in photo memories which I’d like to share with you.
Space 1: The rhododendrons now have the company of a range of other perennials like fox gloves, roses, daisies & tickseeds. Space 2: For this space I had to take out a couple evergreens, broke my heart to do it; but, that gave the room needed to add color, texture & dimension to the space.
Today’s photo reflection is a mix of photos accompanied by quotes from others who are equally captivated and inspired by nature as I am and said things I’d say myself but they got to it first so now I get to quote them😉😉.
David Hobsongot it right when he said— “I grow plants for many reasons: to please my eye or to please my soul, to challenge the elements or to challenge my patience, for novelty or for nostalgia, but mostly for the joy in seeing them grow.”Phyllis Theroux— “I think this is what hooks one to gardening: it is the closest one can come to being present at creation.”George Bernard Shawyou nailed it— “The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for Him there.”“God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures.” —Francis BaconGertrude Jekyll got it right when she said— “A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust.”“Life begins the day you start a garden.” —Chinese proverb [my life has just begun 🥳]Alfred Austin, the only thing I’d add is “sweat on your brow”— “The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just the body, but the soul.”Rudyard Kipling, it’s tue— “Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade.” —Gardens are made by heart-work!❤️Many evenings I just sit still in the garden, and you’re right Ruth Stout— “Working in the garden gives me something beyond the enjoyment of the senses. It gives me a profound feeling of inner peace.”Stoufer I absolutely agree, a garden must be like heaven on earth— “When heaven falls to earth it becomes a garden.”“Gardening is the art that uses flowers and plants as paint, and the soil and sky as canvas.” —Elizabeth Murray“The home gardener is part scientist, part artist, part philosopher, part plow [woman]. [She] modifies the climate around [her] home.”
—Thank you John Whiting! You totally get it!! A garden has powers to shift the atmosphere.
Before I understood the true meaning and the blessings of the Sabbath, it was more like an arduous religious ritual observance. And as an adolescent, I recall at the end of just about every Sabbath I came down with a terrible migraine headache.
Research on the anthropology and psychology of religion have confirmed the psychological impact and mental health implications of ritual observance.
Sabbath is not about rituals or a litany of restrictive dos and don’ts. Sabbath was intended to help people, not burden them.
The Bible says it best: Sabbath was made for man and not the other way around (Mark 2:27). Meaning the sabbath was made for our good, and not our hurt. For the good of our souls (spiritual, mental, psychological renewal); for the good of our bodies (physical rest and restoration); for the good of our communities (connecting families, friends, society); and for the good of our world (socially, culturally, environmentally).
The world is US. Therefore, what we do at the individual level has a ripple effect. I believe God’s intent behind the Sabbath was to heal the world/us and keep it/us healthy.
Imagine if each week there’s the opportunity to recenter ourselves; to reconnect with family and friends; to truly REST; to have dedicated-unrushed worship time to commune with the Divine God; and, to truly understand and appreciate the connection between Sabbath-keeping and nature. Well, that is what Sabbath is! And it is accessible to each of us.
This kind of transformation at the personal level over time would have a profound healing effect on the world.
Scientific and empirical research prove that when we set aside the ritualistic approach to Sabbath, we open ourselves up to holistic health benefits that can contribute to our well-being as individuals.
The benefits include longevity (up to 10 years added to lifespan); few deadly diseases; more healthy years of life; better mental health; and, better physical health.
However, Sabbath was never intended to be about me, the individual, but about US, the community. The celebration of sabbath should synchronize us with others—me>> family>> friends>> community>> society>> earth—for a ripple effect of transformation.
Shabbat Shalom. May you find the spiritual, psychological, social, physical, cultural, and environmental health benefits of Sabbath for yourself and your community at large.
It’s almost 6 months to the day today, I was feeling the sickest I’ve ever felt and an ER doctor confirmed what I dreaded—I had contracted the novel corona virus. I shared that experience in “I Survived Covid-19: Gratefully Surrendered”
I recall the days when I found it difficult to breathe, and the days I had to exercise my lungs with an incentive breathing exerciser.
A couple weeks ago I ran up hills and climbed steep paths with the vigor that defied months of extreme post-Covid fatigue.
And for this I AM GRATEFUL!
While I remain grateful, I’m most aware that there are millions who didn’t survive the virus, and millions of others left behind to mourn their passing, to mourn the loss, to mourn the finality of death.
Never taking life for granted, but living in gratitude and with empathy!
It’s the wee hours of the morning and sleep has evaded me. My thoughts are somewhat lucid and I want to write. In search of motivation to direct my thoughts, I went to Fandango’s One Word Challenge and the word today is “lucid”.
We’ve all heard and may practice the old adage “fake it till you make it”.
But what if we fake it till HE makes it!?
I mean: not to fake being something or someone we’re not, but to put on what we already are when we feel least like it knowing that as we are growing in Christ we are being renewed after His image.
What might this look like?
To love on a loved one even when you don’t like them in that moment?
To forgive, to apologize, to take the first step in healing a broken relationship?
Or when you’re feeling unloved or unwanted to know that you’re priceless, that you are loved and this “season” will pass?
The possible life experiences where we can practice this are endless and worth a try till we get the outcome we desire, don’t you think??
I guess I only needed to get this thought out there in the “bloggasphere” for now sleep has returned to suspend my consciousness.
Today the blog reached another milestone—100 follows! Yippee 🥳
THANKS to each of you. I appreciate you so much—you’re part of the motivation for my writing.
From Mauritius to Macedonia, from Ghana to Sudan my words have traversed the globe connecting with people in places I’ve never been: how incredible is this?! THANK YOU!
I also want to send a special shoutout to two fellow bloggers: (1) a piquant cup of words who tipped the blog following over into triple digits; and (2) Ashok Wahi (@Musings of A Wanderer blog) who moved the blog from zero likes/follows with the first post “like” and blog “follow”.
And thank you WordPress. When my soul cries out for release and words are my only solace, I turn to you and I write!
. . . if you’re not yet following, you may click here to 👉subscribe and you may 👉follow the blog for more.
Before-word: On this historical day in US political history, I’m trying my hand at the Haiku (5-7-5 syllable, 3 lines form)in tribute to Kamala Harris. Haiku are usually written about nature, the seasons, a beautiful moment in nature, an emotional experience while in nature, or change. A haiku should share a special moment of awareness with the reader.
This morning I woke up to the most beautiful orange hue filling every corner of my room, cascading in from the window above my bed.
I got super excited because I knew the sun was on full-on display, and today’s DAWNing was gonna be majestic!!! I was right!
So I grabbed my trusty phone camera and like a kid bouncing up and down the bed eventually captured a good shot.
From the bathroom window—which gave a better view—as far as my eyes could see, all across the horizon, the rising sun splashed her shimmering yellowish-orange colors across the sky.
In that moment I was reminded of the beauty of new beginnings and all the potential that lies in new beginnings.
I believe SUNRISE is
a reminder of the Creator of the universe of how beautiful BEGINNINGS can be
A collection of writing by Dominic Riccitello — intimate conversations, personal essays, and poetic reflections on relationships, loss, and self-discovery.
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