It's Father's Day. For me, a day to reflect, on probably more than I am ever ready for during this time of year. Summer has become bitter sweet to me. May through July have harbored some very intense and damaging memories for me (mostly caused by the men in my life). Today I woke up and part of me refused to allow this day to happen. I didn't want to recognize what others had and what I have been missing all my life. Like the true technology addict that I am, I pushed random buttons (or places on my touch screen) until my phone surrendered and stopped screaming at me to crawl out from my horizontal position in my king sized bed and deal with what life had in store for me today. Reality was waiting for me as soon as my phone recognized my thumb print (doesn't that sound so "Mission Impossible"?). Reality was waiting for me as soon as I reached above my head and pulled the light switch to allow a false light blind and trick me into the day. Reality was waiting for me as soon as I welcomed social media to grace my eyes.
I scrolled habitually as I watched strangers and friends wish their fathers, father figures, husbands, boyfriends, brothers, uncles, cousins, and play cousins a happy father's day. I felt a tingle of bitterness creep into my gut. That all too familiar feeling of angst where I wanted to turn the light back off, throw the black cover over my head and shut out the world. After all; who cares about how I feel anyway? I welcomed the self pity, for about 30 seconds. Then I remembered: "I'm Dianna suckas."
At church today I watched as two young ladies stood at the altar holding onto that same feeling I had for 30 seconds this morning. I saw it exude from their backs like steam off hot water. I heard God tell me to stand with them. You know what I said, "God. For real bro. I'm not ready for that. I can't encourage others like that." So I stood at my seat and listened to my first Lady tell her story. I heard God whisper to me again, "You better go up there and stand with them." My response? "God. My heart is broken right now. How do you expect me to help heal others right now? You better stop with all that." (Yeah, I talk back to God. It seems I still question Him openly, but the thing is He STILL loves me). Finally I gave in, awkwardly I acrobatically squeezed passed three ladies to get out of my row and sauntered in between two hurting young girls, with my broken heart and steel arms I reached out and put my arms around them both. With out even thinking twice I began to thank God. For nothing in particular and everything non-particular at once. I stood, strong and stable as they cried and listened as they silently cried out for their heavenly Father's love. The only love that continues to heal my heart.
I walked away from that altar. Changed. Evolved. Stronger. Yes, me. Even stronger. Because the truth is, it's not just my father who has broken my heart. I've attempted to love men with that fearless and passionate love and it wasn't returned. I allowed the men in my life make me feel worthless while I broke myself to make them feel invincible. This time I walked away with a heart that may still ache, but will no longer be sacrificed. I walked away with my vision in movement. God revealed to me years ago what my purpose is, I've fought it because I was busy trying to make others happy. I was busy handing my heart over to those who would squeeze the life out of it. Then I would hand it back to God like, "Uh, fix this bro." The wonderful thing about it is that He would, without hesitation.
I couldn't wait to get home today and share what this day of reality has created for me. I've been bypassed by many people in my life. They've chosen to excommunicate me and ignore me, unaware of what they were cutting off. Unaware of WHO they were letting go. The amazing thing is that regardless of who allows me to stay in their lives, I am STILL Dianna.
My name is Dianna: "Divine. Mythological ancient Roman divinity Diana
was noted for beauty and swiftness; often depicted as a huntress." Yeah,
that's right. A huntress.
When God made me, He installed extra layers of armor because
He knew I was going to go through wars CONSTANTLY. He also knew I could
handle it. He knew I was going to be stronger than the men who hurt me.
He knew I would need rust proof armor because I would cry more than
others. He knew I would need to look a certain way because other young
women would need to see a woman who was a soldier, but could still keep
herself together. He knew I would fight with my words. He knew I would
love with a passion that made me fearless and at times stupidly
fearless. He knew I would try to hide from Him. And over everything, He
knew I would win.
He knew, "You're Dianna. Now get up sucka." (God and I have a weird relationship like that).
I wish I could beat you to a computer sometime because I'm constantly in your shadow. Our lives parallel on so many levels, even I, sometime am unclear as to the true meaning of it all.
ReplyDeleteI too, stood in support with another brotha who obviously never or missed the opportunity to heal properly from a life scattered with incomplete lessons in the "how to be a man" course. His tears were enough for the two of us and just touching his arm followed by an embrace that sealed our unplanned connection was all the answer God had but more than I could ask for.
But Ms Dianna please please please keep being real. You say things so many others think then analyze how and why they shouldn't say. I'm learning to be more vocal with less concern and more consideration (There is a difference I can elaborate on later if interested). People are too sensitive, but I support you 100% in your stand.
Continue inspiring. .. hell, even if for no one but me. #imselfishlikedat