tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66699755235600177202024-02-02T00:36:15.051-05:00It's All About LoveThis blog site is my sharing space of "love ideas, feelings and thoughts" for those of you that recognize that we are all on a Journey Towards a Love Supreme. This site was created with you in mind! For no matter where you are on the love spectrum (in-love, out-of-love, tired of love, hurt by love, disappointed by love, disillusioned by love, a love freak, a love cynic, a lover of love, etc.) you are still on the journey.
Life is ALL ABOUT LOVE! Live with purpose, Laugh often and Love hard!LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-51493233991675074482015-03-17T20:59:00.001-04:002015-03-17T20:59:44.568-04:00Selma to Montgomery March Tribute by LaTosha Brown<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mNyOC5NO6ng" width="480"></iframe>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-85482146904227240642015-02-28T17:38:00.003-05:002015-02-28T17:38:40.104-05:00Selma Is More Than A Place; Selma Is A People!<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">For the past few weeks, I have been working my tail off the last week for a project with my job to take a funder delegation down to Selma for the 50th Anniversary of Selma to Montgomery March. I have been so excited about the event but the closer that I get to March 6-8th the more my feelings are changing form joy to fear. Over the past few months, my feelings for my city have gone from being deeply disappointed by the countless stories of murders of peopl</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">e that I know, unexpected deaths, rising unemployment and a growing sense of hopelessness; however with the release of the film Selma I have experienced feelings of pride, love and supreme elation over both the new beautiful film Selma and growing interest in this small rural community. </span></div>
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As the Selma Bridge Crossing Jubilee gets closer I am filled with both EXCITEMENT and CONCERN. My excitement is rooted in the belief that people from all over the world will head to Selma next weekend to commemorate the amazing work of the civil rights movement. However, my CONCERN is that when everyone leaves and the celebrities are gone, the cameras are gone, and the President is gone...will America still care? Will we care enough for the people of Selma and the Blackbelt that we will be willing to work with them to create vehicles that bring in investment, attract jobs, strengthen local businesses and support leaders that are working to increase the quality of life for Selma's citizens? How many national organizers will plan "strategy meetings" in Selma without organizing and/or even including voices from the region? How many events will be so VIP focused and cost prohibited that many of the people of Selma will not be able to afford or attend? How many people will capitalize on the freedom movement of Selma but have worked against change at every turn? How many of us will come see the President, buy our t-shirts, eat our smoked turkey legs, and then head east of Highway 80 back to our homes...and think no more about the people of Selma. </div>
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So much of my life has been spent in this little town. I can't tell you how many countless conversations I have had with my friends on "how can we help our community." Many of us really tried to keep the legacy alive and worked tirelessly for years on quality of life issues. I ran for public office, created businesses, organized election turnouts, protested injustice, built relationships, loved, danged, played, and worked with hundreds of youth because I so badly wanted to make a difference. In many ways I think we made a difference; however I struggle everyday feeling like I simply gave up. Did I move to Atlanta start a new lifeand career because I felt frustrated? Perhaps I left Selma because it was the site of me feeling like I failed at so many of my high hopes and dreams. But what I know for sure is that Selma taught me perseverance. </div>
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Selma is the place where I learned about creating lasting friendships, hanging out a the Brown Y as a teen, eating barbecue sandwiches at Lannies, organizing for social justice, working with brilliant young minds, raising my children, and opening my first businesses. Selma is the place that I felt the BIGGEST HOPE that change can actually happen but ironically its also the place that I felt the BIGGEST sense of HOPELESSNESS. Selma Lord Selma! Thinking about Selma sometimes gives me headaches BUT it is my LOVE for the PEOPLE of Selma of why I can't let it go. Selma is more than a place; Selma is a People. A people that I love. </div>
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Not sure of why I am writing this other than I feel very FULL emotionally. I so want to see remarkable change in this community. I want to see bold and innovative leadership. I want to see happy people leading a purposeful life. I want to see investment that translates hope in<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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to economic opportunity. I want to see the children of Selma receive a quality education and feel safe. I want to see churches do more than talk about Jesus but do the work of the Messiah. I want to see beautiful black men feel proud and productive. I want seniors to have excellent care and experience true Golden years. The thought of this brings me to tears as I write this.</div>
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I am in my feelings today because I soooo want to stand in LOVE but fear is lurking behind. The FEAR that people will celebrate next weekend but the lives of Selma's citizens won't be changed. The fear that tons of resources will be placed in this community for "the commemoration moment" but not a dime will be left behind to support the long-term growth of the community. the fear that when the cameras leave Selma will go back to business as usual. The fear that the people of Selma will wait for someone to come save the city when we have the power to be self-determined. </div>
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My current struggle of LOVE & FEAR are real for me today. Therefore, I will just PRAY for this moment. I will pray that God grants some of us an extra dose of courage to work for real social change in the blackbelt. I pray that God will touch every person that walks across that bridge to recommit themselves to help bring justice and equality to all of God's people. I pray that leaders in Selma will have the humility to know when to ask for help, the openness to receive the help and the integrity to get out the way and let others lead. I pray that those that TALK about change will turn their words into ACTION. I pray that God grants us all peace and understanding so as we go forward that TRUE social change really takes place in that community. I pray that God shows me and the many others like me..how I can best be of service. Amen </div>
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</span><i class="_4-k1 img sp_x2Btx44FsW7 sx_31b3fa" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yD/r/xgwo-eWAV_-.png); background-position: -629px -377px; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; height: 16px; line-height: 18px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute; text-align: justify;">heart emoticon</u></i></span>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-81421747942210055492014-10-06T17:21:00.000-04:002014-10-06T17:21:16.686-04:00Remembering Marcus<br />
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<i>There is an African Proverb that says “You are not truly dead until there is no one left who remembers you.”</i><br />
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For the past few days I have been silently grieving and missing my baby brother Marcus who died 11 years ago. I have tried my hardest to avoid and/or dodge the feelings of grief by attending live music shows, eating out with friends and even watching hours of black classic (and black exploitation) films. I have done just about everything I could do to forget the pain of my loss. But in the process I have also forgotten that I must honor his memory and our love.<br />
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His death was unexpected and was very tragic. He died at our family home Thanksgiving Day 2003. This is my grandparents wedding anniversary and through the years it has been the MOST IMPORTANT holiday in my family. Ironically, the day that had been the most cherished day in my family tradition is now the day that holds the most painful memory in my life. It's the day my brother committed suicide.<br />
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Many people never knew I had a brother because I never talk about him anymore. It's not because Marcus wasn't an extremely interesting person but because the memory of him brings back a pain that feels much too heavy to bear. So in many ways I have cut off the memory of him so that I can cut off and minimize the pain. For years I have tried to file the memory of him in the back of my mind and only allow myself to access those memories once a year...on his birthday.<br />
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BUT TODAY I DECIDED TO REMEMBER AND FEEL WHAT I FEEL. I MISS HIM!<br />
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One of my Facebook friends recently and unexpectedly loss her husband so she always writes posts about her deceased husband. I know that his loss is very painful for her but I have noticed that the painful posts are gradually transforming into new posts with her recanting beautiful memories about their life together. I know that the pain is still there but I can see the presence of grace, peace, and healing through her words and posts. She is teaching me how to grieve but also how to heal. I realize that most of the people that I know who talk about their past love ones seem to have a more balanced relationship with loss and are able to share beautiful memories about their deceased love ones. Therefore, I have decided to open my heart and talk more about the people that I love who have now transitioned from this life. Love never dies.<br />
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Yes, I have decided that I am going to talk and share more funny stories about my brother Marcus. I'm going to start sharing joyful memories about my brother... like the time he brought a young girlfriend to visit me and totally forgot her name. I can see him right now standing in the den with this young woman trying to impress her but totally drawing a blank on her name. He simply looked at me to get him out of the awkward moment and he then looked back at the young woman flashing a great big grin with those beautiful deep dimples. Somehow his smile, charm and a quick embrace made the young woman immediately forgive him forgetting her name. <br />
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One of my most cherish memories is how much he loved and talked about his little girl, Rachel. Marcus was crazy about his only child Rachel and called her a Daddy's girl. He always talked about how he wanted to do more for her because he wanted her to be happy. She was his heart and his 'spitting image'! My brother loved our family and he really loved me. I know without a shadow of doubt that my brother thought the world of me. He thought that I could do anything. I was Super Sister to the rescue. He confided in me and always said that he was proud of me. My brother loved me unconditionally.<br />
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My brother will not be forgotten because I will not allow the world to forget him. I am going to walk through the fullness of both the painful and joyful memories and share with the world the stories about MY BELOVED BROTHER.<br />
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Marcus Christopher I REMEMBER YOU! </div>
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LOVE ALWAYS, YOUR SISTER TOSHA</div>
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LOVE NEVER FAILS!</div>
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<i>(Photo of Marcus and his daughter Rachel)</i></div>
LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-33090361491671552182013-12-20T13:35:00.001-05:002013-12-20T13:35:20.892-05:00Why We Must Stand Together | Moral Monday Service of Redemption<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/8QQd3K3tZUI" width="480"></iframe>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-72577382936901414842013-12-12T19:20:00.001-05:002013-12-12T19:26:33.085-05:00I LOVE MY OWN VOICE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">B</span>eing that I have been a singer all of my life you would think that this is an obvious statement but quite the contrary. It has taken me almost 40 years to finally settled in a place of personal peace and unconditional self acceptance that I have actually fallen in LOVE my own voice! </div>
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I've always thought that I had a nice voice and that I could sing. I grew up really really liking my voice. I liked that I could almost imitate anyone alto or soprano as a child. I liked that I could always harmonize with the tunes on the radio. And I liked the fact that I could even show-off with a couple of runs down the scale as well. I really LIKED my voice. </div>
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Then there were times as a teenage that I realized that I had a little power and some "umph" behind my voice. I would belt out a Mother's Finest tune, sing-a-long with Chaka Khan, croon with Marvin Gaye and imitate Atlantic Starr. During those moments I felt joy because I knew that I could hold my own with these singers that I really admired. I really LIKED the fact that my voice could imitate theirs. But I didn't LOVE my OWN VOICE. </div>
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Even as an adult, I performed with a girls group and band that I loved dearly. While I thought we were the baddest girls group on the left of the Alabama River I always felt that in some way I needed to hold back because my voice was...okay. I won awards, state medals, radio contests and even a contract and still I felt in the back of my mind that my voice was okay but maybe not "good enough." </div>
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I really LIKED my VOICE but I didn't LOVE my VOICE.</div>
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Then after a seven year hiatus from performing, I found myself unexpectedly singing backup for an established artist and once again faced with the reality that I really liked my VOICE but I didn't LOVE IT!<br />
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Then all of a sudden my world was changed with a simple music video (that I hated quite frankly). The video named I Know I've Been Changed received more than 1.1 million views within 2 weeks. No promotion or marketing. It just went viral on it's own. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YF8hZMnnGS1MjtuqqQMV733-lj10fZKx1rMLj5q745nceeLh2Pv05KBAZGTIxUX3wY9lRzn42WjpgqDOavOLWpCr0j4aMZgjac-mD-2q8SqCvjFdMxEInb2eJCGeGFx5Zi_KfnSpoXg/s1600/LaTosha+Singing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YF8hZMnnGS1MjtuqqQMV733-lj10fZKx1rMLj5q745nceeLh2Pv05KBAZGTIxUX3wY9lRzn42WjpgqDOavOLWpCr0j4aMZgjac-mD-2q8SqCvjFdMxEInb2eJCGeGFx5Zi_KfnSpoXg/s200/LaTosha+Singing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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I was so confused by the success of this video that I was forced to read the video comments to try to understand what did people see in the video that I didn't. I read comment after comment and kept seeing the words "spirit" "authentic" "chills" and "beautiful." I NOW became even more baffled! WHAT?!! Beautiful!? I had on a cheap shirt and tights. I thought to myself, "There was nothing beautiful about the video."<br />
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My hair was a hot mess after being forced to cut off my beautiful thick hair weeks earlier because of a bad salon experience. I was emotionally devastated because of a failed relationship. I was very resistant to singing back-up in the first place and even initially tried to convince the artist that he should hire a "professional singer." HOW COULD THIS BE?! I wanted to sound like Whitney, look like Janet Jackson, be fine like Toni Braxton, tear the house down like Chaka and be loved like Diana Ross! THIS VIDEO DIDN'T REFLECT WHAT I WANTED MY VIDEO TO BE!</div>
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When I looked at the video.... all I saw and heard was me and my short comings! Why didn't I do one<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-73c0HrusIEJFVzmuzRCrQ9fTQLq3E2V7tQWUvtB0JrGdmly-_6UmeVz74Emb5DS3fVEKME45w6fmi1WTnCEo5efNHF0nA_9SPMU-B4dkE-f-4qUb7hvCT8Ecp-rT3IPY70uxHWaxV8/s1600/Howlin+Wolf+%2528It%2527s+Easy%2529+Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-73c0HrusIEJFVzmuzRCrQ9fTQLq3E2V7tQWUvtB0JrGdmly-_6UmeVz74Emb5DS3fVEKME45w6fmi1WTnCEo5efNHF0nA_9SPMU-B4dkE-f-4qUb7hvCT8Ecp-rT3IPY70uxHWaxV8/s320/Howlin+Wolf+%2528It%2527s+Easy%2529+Cropped.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
of those Mahalia Jackson runs down the scale? Why didn't I dress up in pretty outfits and in pink like a Whitney Houston video? Why didn't I look at the camera and flirt with my eyes like Mariah Carey? </div>
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There I sat staring at a video that received had over 1.1 million views and was crying and embarrassed because I didn't feel deserving of the support. Couldn't people see that I wasn't dressed up, hear that I hadn't practiced the song and know that I wasn't my best? Couldn't they see me????</div>
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Then I realized that they did see me. They saw me and they LIKED what they saw. Plus, most actually said they LOVED my voice. So now I was faced with the question of WHY didn't I like what I saw and why didn't I LOVE my own voice. I thought my voice just wasn't good enough. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvO1DNWMJJ3j27yKUZr1_zYoK_laqHVVN4_IAofWoxuh5qI60bGXcfeBlv3q9mKFpx0zCis4PaGBuo7FhE-8uysYbB-PwzCIVlecCoSR5H8QGNY63K7hYjnP8B3w95IeaBqdafl3wGf0/s1600/Tosha+Sings+Stage+Double.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvO1DNWMJJ3j27yKUZr1_zYoK_laqHVVN4_IAofWoxuh5qI60bGXcfeBlv3q9mKFpx0zCis4PaGBuo7FhE-8uysYbB-PwzCIVlecCoSR5H8QGNY63K7hYjnP8B3w95IeaBqdafl3wGf0/s320/Tosha+Sings+Stage+Double.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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In the past year, I have learned so many life lessons about love, family and life through this music journey. Ironically, it was my music and my own voice that has brought about my healing. I actually stopped comparing my circumstances to others. I stopped comparing my voice, style and tone to others. I stopped comparing my life to others. I started living my own experience, writing my own songs and just listening to my own voice and then it happened. I fell in LOVE with my OWN VOICE.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cEYnHx0aRxP-9CM5wj_0TOM0FLz1AaDsgqKarsAafv_lfHbDxwNg38CeWTYw0-5dv34E06UtlPK1dnxrcvxC2M5uYmNPUWVrL4RStu7Bw0u9XwL2TLbYKAK_E-Lk-WRkJVa2E0kjubc/s1600/LaTosha+and+Microphone+SoundResorts.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cEYnHx0aRxP-9CM5wj_0TOM0FLz1AaDsgqKarsAafv_lfHbDxwNg38CeWTYw0-5dv34E06UtlPK1dnxrcvxC2M5uYmNPUWVrL4RStu7Bw0u9XwL2TLbYKAK_E-Lk-WRkJVa2E0kjubc/s400/LaTosha+and+Microphone+SoundResorts.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Now I appreciate and LOVE my OWN VOICE so much that I am BRAVE enough, BOLD enough and SECURE enough to share it with the world. </div>
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<span style="color: #0000ee; text-align: justify; text-decoration: underline;">Check out my upcoming EP coming in 2014 called Shades of Pink. It's been a long time coming but I LOVE MY VOICE!!!!!!!!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sjFcle68YobwStmmPft7JeiKT2QkbSLh4jgoAt1PHEo4cSWuwuIe42HcID4xT8gILRb-dBiRM07qGxohHEJzUgvYVVyzF8n17YMlNFCchLbkKhvFRuaucFFlfyzCgTGJja_ydRFhKFQ/s1600/Album+Cover.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sjFcle68YobwStmmPft7JeiKT2QkbSLh4jgoAt1PHEo4cSWuwuIe42HcID4xT8gILRb-dBiRM07qGxohHEJzUgvYVVyzF8n17YMlNFCchLbkKhvFRuaucFFlfyzCgTGJja_ydRFhKFQ/s320/Album+Cover.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-45853573863205288152013-11-22T19:59:00.001-05:002013-11-22T19:59:08.296-05:00Check out LaTosha Brown's song "So High"<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/D88AHXQ5kCE" width="480"></iframe><br />
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Take a Moment to Celebrate Black Love!!!!<br />
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Twitter: @MsLaToshaBrown<br />
Facebook: www.facebook.com/latoshalovebrown<br />
Website: www.latoshabrown.comLaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-83694756637209877152013-10-14T00:17:00.001-04:002013-10-14T00:17:46.724-04:00Write IT Down! It Works<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlacxhJMJfm6Y2rR0wULKqRvb9EDw9kEcDOLa5JnoCs__XTG1pvS1rSyEBIB8vbyr4j_TmIVA0mh5VmSEANRcs7Ash_T9xemmZLXm9mgYRsRWNX5RZw8sNK2rqnPL-U-sItLC7jWSnK_c/s1600/Lets-write-something-writing-4545938-1024-768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlacxhJMJfm6Y2rR0wULKqRvb9EDw9kEcDOLa5JnoCs__XTG1pvS1rSyEBIB8vbyr4j_TmIVA0mh5VmSEANRcs7Ash_T9xemmZLXm9mgYRsRWNX5RZw8sNK2rqnPL-U-sItLC7jWSnK_c/s200/Lets-write-something-writing-4545938-1024-768.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">H</span>ave you written your desires down and committed them to paper? Do you have a dream that has only been explored in your mind? Have you ever created a prayer list, vision board, or some type of visual representation of something that you desire to manifest in your life? </i></div>
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I can tell you from first hand experience that there is something very powerful about writing down your vision and believing that God will help you manifest your dreams. There is tremendous value in writing down your vision beyond it being simply a physical reminder on paper. Writing down your desires on paper forces you to commit to the pursuit of that desire and/or simply be open to receive. </div>
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Some years ago, I attended a poetry reading at the Shrine of the Black Madonna in Atlanta featuring lyricist and singer Jill Scott.<br />
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As I entered the building I unexpectedly heard a voice in my spirit say, <i>"What are you asking of God? You have not because you ask not. Write your vision and your desires down?</i>" I immediately headed to my seat, took out a writing pad and began to write down a list of desires that I wanted God to grant to me over my lifetime.</div>
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Through this process I condensed my desire to ten desires and/or experiences that I wanted to manifest in my life. Number five (5) on my list was the following statement:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>"I want to travel to the Holy Land (Israel) and be baptized in the waters in which Jesus stood." </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Two days after the writing down my ten requests I woke up early that Friday morning and</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> had an insatiable urge to contact one of my mentors from Alabama. I sat at the edge of my bed and called his office with no particular agenda in mind other than check on him and see how he was doing. His assistant informed me that he was out of the office that morning but said that I was on her list to call but she couldn't didn't have my number. She went on to tell me that she had been instructed by Dr. Steele to reach out to me and see if I wanted to join him and a delegation of religious leaders on a trip to Israel. Of course my answer was a resounding "YES." She told me that my timing had been "perfect" because this was the final day for submitting the confirmed list of participants to the international partner. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoyF3B_ugT_-0IQUzAr9OvpGtlbch27Vycy7Rj3hRLNroUYAz9qO_xzhwa7AafpRxX2Z7f4V8nay4n1Ofk9-Ry8z0RX8-Wn0u0upM-bU6XvzUyhLlAyjKyAtbDNa-rE_cX3qp81EgKKc/s1600/Baptism+in+Jordan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoyF3B_ugT_-0IQUzAr9OvpGtlbch27Vycy7Rj3hRLNroUYAz9qO_xzhwa7AafpRxX2Z7f4V8nay4n1Ofk9-Ry8z0RX8-Wn0u0upM-bU6XvzUyhLlAyjKyAtbDNa-rE_cX3qp81EgKKc/s320/Baptism+in+Jordan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Twenty-one days later I participated on an all expense paid 10 day trip to the Holy Land. Moreover, on day five of the trip the delegation were unexpectedly offered the opportunity to go to the Jordan River to be baptized. So not only did I go on a FREE trip to Israel but I had the opportunity to get BAPTIZED in the Jordan River.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Since that experience I am more mindful of writing down my vision and the desires of my heart. This weekend as I looked through some of my papers I found this certificate of baptism. I am not sure of the exact significance of writing down your vision but I know that in this particular case God granted me the opportunity for this SPECIFIC request in less than 72 hours. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">And the LORD answered me: “Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so he may run who reads it. ~ </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; text-align: center;">Habakkuk </b></div>
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LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-71788715784158029182013-04-27T14:54:00.000-04:002013-04-27T14:54:10.963-04:00I Surrender ALL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93Yzluq4YUwQDiTtSL2hZtHs81tWh6rf_9Sx_47ZfZ-HGtWrrhs2NBtbXBTlGDlshj9jD0c_19udclgbXA5NqsbM5kcdB1sNvQNQ9LwwhA_JkDp8ZiLx_2m-7lAlrltTt-nVxYM8BC3M/s1600/Paul+Goodnight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93Yzluq4YUwQDiTtSL2hZtHs81tWh6rf_9Sx_47ZfZ-HGtWrrhs2NBtbXBTlGDlshj9jD0c_19udclgbXA5NqsbM5kcdB1sNvQNQ9LwwhA_JkDp8ZiLx_2m-7lAlrltTt-nVxYM8BC3M/s320/Paul+Goodnight.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
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<span class="line line-s" id="line_13" style="border: 0px; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Sweet, sweet surrender, live, live without care</i></b></span></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_14" style="border: 0px; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Like a fish in the water, like a bird in the air</i></b></span></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_15" style="border: 0px; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Sweet, sweet surrender, live, live without care</i></b></span></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_16" style="border: 0px; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Like a fish in the water, like a bird in the air</i></b></span></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_16" style="border: 0px; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b><i> ~ Lyrics and Song by John Denver</i></b></span></span><span style="border: 0px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">F</span>or years, I have been trying to understand what it really means to surrender. Over the years, my family and friends have continued to tell me that I need to learn how to surrender. But it has never really made ANY sense to me nor taken any root in my mind or spirit. To be quite honest, I really thought "surrendering" meant giving up. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">I could even visualize a "surrender scene" in my head as an image of me....<i> courageously riding on a beauutiful charcoal grey horse, dressed in a pristine pearl colored flowing dress, galloping through the beautiful hills of an Arabian desert with a cohort of armored clad warrior women behind me headed to battle.... then all of the sudden someone rides up from the distant on a muscular black stallion telling me that I need to surrender.</i> </span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">....I'd imagine myself thinking, "</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px;"><i>What?! </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><i>I've got my gear on, my beautiful stallion, the warrior sisters behind me, and I'm ready for battle. What do you mean I should just SURRENDER</i>?!......... </span></b></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">Each time I would find myself in the midst of a struggle with a relationship, family member, work, my child or my own personal issues I would hear that all TOO familiar phrase--YOU NEED TO SURRENDER. Even in recent years, as I began to actively pursue my journey as a singer, artist and writer I have had to come face-to-face with the idea of surrendering.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"><i>....then here comes along a sister singer named Liv Warfield. I finally GOT IT!!!!!</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">It was actually through watching her performance that I saw what people have been saying to me for years....if you just let go, don't worry about perceptions, withhold self-judgement, flow in your gift and LET GOD lead the process you will be LIBERATED! Thank you God! I FINALLY GOT IT!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">You see what I noticed and felt in my spirit from Liv's performance was that she was NO LONGER enslaved, mentally imprisoned and/or bound by the perceptions of other people including her fans. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">This sister got on stage and just shared her authentic gift(s) without a sense any feeling the pressure to be perfect, the pretense of just entertaining people or the goal of meeting other folks expectations. I saw pure liberation to operate in her authentic gift(s) and my soul was MOVED. I actually started praising God under my breath as I heard her sing. That's what liberation sounds like.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">Ironically, this sister was quite entertaining and a fabulous singer; she mesmerized the crowd by NOT trying to entertain them. Instead she captured the attention of the audience through her <b><i>display of courage</i></b> to fully be present in the moment, simply BE who God made her to be and use her gift without restraint. Up until the end of the show (<i>she stayed in flow even after the show had ened and they cut off the mics and the sound system</i>) Liv encouraged the band to keep going and created an authentic music experience and opportunity for us to witness the liberation that comes when we surrender our gift(s) to GOD! </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 15px;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><u><b>This is what I have learned in a pink nutshell:</b></u></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"><i>1.) Music is a SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE and not for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY! </i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">2.) Humility is </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px;">NOT about your relationship with man BUT </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px;"><u><b>your relationship with</b></u> <u><b>God</b></u>.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"><i>3.) Surrendering is not constraining but it actually leads to true LIBERATION by trusting God with ALL of the affairs in your life--including the use of your gift(s).</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"><i>4.) Always remember the gift is for God's GLORY and never peoples' acceptance.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"><b><i>LORD, I surrender ALL! </i></b></span></span></div>
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LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-51822850870786673412013-04-05T05:32:00.000-04:002013-04-05T05:32:54.629-04:00I'm In Love!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Y</span>ES, it's true I'm in love and so happy to share my testimony. It's been a long time coming but I'm finally here! After several failed relationships, years of waiting on "the one", many nights of both prayers and tears, and countless hours of self-reflection and pep talks with my girlfriends I have finally found the love that I was looking for. You would think that after seeing Ntozake Shange's play "<i>For Colored Girls that Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf"</i> I would have gotten the message much sooner about the difficulty in finding your true love but unfortunately I didn't get it. Ntozake summed it up perfectly with one powerful line in her play, "<i><b>I found God in myself and I loved her fiercely</b></i>." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't get me wrong I truly DESIRE the love of a man in my life and look forward to the day that God allows me to meet my soul mate and future husband. I have desired to be in a committed relationship for years but I had to get the same life lesson Lauryn Hill writes about in one of her song's...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>"Father you saved me and showed me that life</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Was much more than being some foolish man's wife."</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did not realize that the love I was looking for in a marriage was different from the love that I needed to develop as a woman. I thought the love I longed for inside could be provided by someone on the outside. The truth is that no man alive could fill that void. It was on;y through my understanding of God's love that I became liberated enough to love myself deeper and created an abundance of love for me to share with another. I needed to quench my thirst with something beyond the confines of this physical world. I needed to tap into the unlimited supply of unconditional and unmerited love by Jesus Christ. I finally understood the true nature of LOVE. I knew what the bible taught about love but I just didn't realize it was to be applied to self as well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i><span class="text 1Cor-13-4" id="en-NIV-28670"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: small; vertical-align: top;"> </sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">Love is patient,<sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28670A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup> love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.<sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28670B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span class="text 1Cor-13-5" id="en-NIV-28671">It does not </span></span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="text 1Cor-13-5"><b><i> dishonor others, it is not self-seeking,<sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28671C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></sup> it is not easily angered,<sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28671D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)"></sup> it keeps no record of wrongs.</i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i><span class="text 1Cor-13-6" id="en-NIV-28672"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;"> </sup>Love does not delight in evil<sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28672F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)"></sup> but rejoices with the truth.</span><span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NIV-28673"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;"> </sup>It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, </span></i></b><b><i><span class="text 1Cor-13-7">always perseveres. </span>Love never fails. ~ 1 Corinth 13:4-8</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ironically, I had not anticipated that through the pain of <i>rejection</i> I would be FORCED to work on <i>self-acceptance</i>. I had not fathomed the idea that the perceived curse of "loneliness" was the very emotion that FORCED me to deal with past pain and unresolved emotions. I certainly could not mentally process that the shattering of my ego would reveal the true state of my self-esteem. It was actually my brokenness that FORCED me to gather all of the shattered pieces of my spirit and create a beautiful mosaic of self-love, self-mastery, self-acceptance and radical forgiveness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Y'ALL I FINALLY GOT IT</b>!!!!! I have been waiting on ME to show up! I've spent so much time waiting to love or be loved by the "right man" that I totally resisted and resented the fact that God allowed me to experience singleness as a blessing to master self-love. God has not been denying me any love but He been showering me and teaching me how to love Him, myself and others without limitations, conditions or judgments. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The irony is that I thought self-love was the LAST area I needed help mastering. As far as I remember, I've always had a very confident air about myself and a huge dose of self-esteem. Well..to be perfectly honest what I have realized is that I only mastered the ability to support an ego t<i>hat could shut down the bully in the school yard and bold enough to be competitive with my peers.</i> However, often at night when I was left alone with my thoughts and no one was around I knew I didn't measure up to the image that I wanted "everybody" to believe about me. For many years, after my ego would drift off to sleep I would lay wide awake feeling like a fraud, inadequate, and unable to measure up to the image that my external self displayed to the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then life taught me.......</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As my grandma would say, "<i>Baby just keep on living and Life will teach you everything you need to know</i>." I didn't know what the heck she was talking about but I GOT IT NOW! Life has been my greatest teacher! I think they call that wisdom. (smile) And yes sometimes I still experience feelings of loneliness but I now recognize that I am never ever alone. Being able to distinguish the difference between the two has changed my life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My love journey has been an interesting one and it still goes on! My love affair with others and myself has gone through it's share of ups and downs, twists and turns, and many trials and tribulations. However, I have finally arrived at the point in my journey that "my love" is not about someone else, selfishness or how-my-ego feels but it is firmly rooted in God's unconditional love. Like with any relationship, self- love is an ever evolving and deepening process...my journey continues. Now even on my loneliest and most challenging days I can tap into a greater LOVE with a simple reminder and declaration, "<b><i>God LOVES Me and so do I</i></b>"! (<i>and now I truly know what it means</i>)</span><br />
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<br />LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-46189341474198534662012-12-18T20:04:00.000-05:002012-12-18T23:31:54.875-05:00Who Is Public Prayer Really For?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">P</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">rayer is a powerful thing. I am a Christian woman and I totally BELIEVE in the power of prayer. Matter of fact, during the past year my belief and practice in prayer have been increased; so much so that I joined a prayer group called My Girlfriend's Business. I along with the women of My Girlfriend's Business wake up each morning to pray collectively for our families, communities, and ourselves between 5:00-6:00am. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As much as I love and believe in prayer, I am extremely challenged and perplexed by the declarations by my other Christian brothers and sisters that claim the absence of "a state sanctioned prayer" is why the schools are failing. Really? I want to maintain a balanced perspective around this issue because I know that there are many people that sincerely believe this is the reason, however I do not understand the premise. Do</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> we really think schools are failing because state sanctioned prayer has been taken out of schools?</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Is that an emotional response or a spiritual one?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I agree we are </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">certainly</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> in a time in our history that we need MORE love, MORE faith and MORE prayer. However, I don't fully understand the we need prayer in schools debate? Who is PUBLIC prayer really for in the first place? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">On Monday, former Governor and GOP Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee stated "we shouldn't be surprised at the recent school shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School" in Newtown, Connecticut. He asserted that somehow this heinous act was tied to the lack of religious expression in public school. <i>So let me get this right</i>?! Is brother Huckabee suggesting that innocent children were killed because the principal didn't read a pre-scripted state sanctioned prayer over the intercom? </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">As Christians, is <i>state sanctioned prayer</i> the real issue that our schools are facing? Praying for our children and schools is always an option with or without being sanctioned by the state. We can't confuse the issue of having a school sanctioned prayer with our ability to pray for our children and schools because these are two different issues. Do we think that there is something <b>more holy</b> or <b>more potent</b> in a state sanctioned prayer? Do we think God will hear us better if the state says it's okay? Do we really want the state dictating our prayers? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">The scriptures clearly states in Matt 5:45 that pain is shared by all and that God allows it "to rain on both the just and unjust". There are many things that will and have happened that we won't understand; however we can't select the easiest explanation to understand that which can not be understood. Evil is sometimes beyond our understanding. Evil is simply evil. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">As Christians, we are still required to be responsible Christians and base our opinions on God's word. In many ways, I believe we accept the most common political position on issues that we hear in the mainstream media because it doesn't require us to push ourselves to a different level of our faith. Perhaps the real challenge for us as Christians is to go deeper, pray harder and add works with our faith. I think we are far too complacent, far too easy to pass blame and far too </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">judgmental</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> in our role as Christians.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Have we forgotten the true intention and purpose of prayer? Have we forgotten that God is <b><u><i>omniscient</i></u></b> and can always hear what's in a man's heart? Plus, there is no biblical requirement (<i>that I am aware of</i>) that prayer must be spoken publicly in order to be valid. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I actually have the </span><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>audacity</i></b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> to </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">believe</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> that prayer is POWERFUL ENOUGH that it </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">transcends</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> time, place and space. I </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">often</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">pray for people I've never met, for people in countries that I have never </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">visited</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"> and for families located thousands of miles away. I don't believe I have to be in India, the operating room, the school yard or even the White House for my prayers to be heard. I don't believe the Holy Spirit is limited by my presence in a place(or the lack thereof) The beauty of God is that I believe He is EVERYWHERE! </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">It is not my intention to offend anyone with this blog nor diminish the value of prayer. I would like to continue a dialogue with my </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Christian</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> brothers and sisters to really examine this notion that the schools are dangerous and failing because "they took prayer out." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Perhaps prayer isn't what left the public school system but maybe we left the schools. If we were there working to make things better wouldn't prayer be there in some form? Perhaps it is our abuse of how we use and misuse our faith that has partly led to the moral demise of our communities? Is the prayer debate a scapegoat for our responsibility to take care of others?Does public prayer make us feel more righteous or obedient? Do we think that God will hear us better if people hear us pray aloud too? </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Ironically, there are many references in the bible where Jesus actually </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">withdrew</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> from the public and went in private places to commune and pray to God. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><b>(WDJD) WHAT DID JESUS DO?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="line-height: 18px;">Let's see what Jesus taught us about public prayer....</span><span style="line-height: 18px;">.</span></i></span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></b><br />
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Matthew 5:6</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">"And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Matthew 6:1</b> </span><br /><span style="line-height: 18px;">"Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Matthew 23:5</b></span><br /><span style="line-height: 18px;">"Everything they do is done for men to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long;</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Obviously, public prayer was not a requirement for Jesus. Then why is it a requirement for us?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: start;">So my question is</span><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: start;"> <span style="font-size: large;">"Who is <u>public prayer</u> really for...????</span></b></div>
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LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-37945037154344937732012-12-04T08:15:00.001-05:002012-12-04T08:15:10.528-05:00MY BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cEcfkx-qxzu1ShsIfx6UZo73VjTjNFATcnRrUwMaVJzw49uJ5eKAl9DScQiiFG-B-aMzJqP6SFrjaywPTdG7X6Mj0FqRVbBdqcvzXYfYZh_v2uJmhqmRdYwalznAV8D9F1fiBKjw_ks/s1600/Singer.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cEcfkx-qxzu1ShsIfx6UZo73VjTjNFATcnRrUwMaVJzw49uJ5eKAl9DScQiiFG-B-aMzJqP6SFrjaywPTdG7X6Mj0FqRVbBdqcvzXYfYZh_v2uJmhqmRdYwalznAV8D9F1fiBKjw_ks/s320/Singer.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
My Mom says that I was born to sing. She says that even as a little baby I absolutely LOVED to sing. I can clearly remember my first paid gig on a Greyhound bus headed to New York City during the Christmas season. I say it was a paid gig but actually it amounted to me being a little 6 year old, standing in the aisles, singing Christmas songs on bus while collecting quarters, half sandwichs, candy and smiles as payment.<br />
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I have been a singer all of my life, all throughout my high school years, college career, and young adulthood but in recent years I moved away from my craft. After Hurricane Katrina I completely lost my desire to sing and/or perform. It was as if the storm took away my voice in the midst of the destruction of so many lives in the gulf coast region. <br />
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After a seven year hiatus from singing I found myself thrust back into the art of performing. I realized just how powerful music is in telling a story and delivering a message. I was reminded of how much music was a part of who I am.<br />
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This year I gave myself a long awaited birthday gift--a recorded LOVE SONG! For years it has been my desire to record my own music and share the message of love with the world. Well on November 10, 2012 (<b><i>my birthday</i></b>) I fulfilled a long awaited dream by recording and sharing my first recorded "love song" with the world. The song is called So High! <br />
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Please listen to the YouTube video and share with your friends! <br />
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LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-89211434069708175592012-10-30T09:24:00.000-04:002012-10-30T09:24:25.245-04:00"What Does A Free Woman Look Like?"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">R</span>ecently I read a post placed on Facebook by my prayer partner a girlfriend named Lisa. She is such an amazing woman of God that has overcome so many personal challenges and always has a smile or encouraging word to offer. Like many of us she is a mother, a professional, a minister, a daughter and a friend that always makes herself available to help others. However, I am proud to announce that she is NOW doing something for herself and has made her own liberation the priority in her life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Below I have decided to repost her facebook message in her own words because I think that her personal TRUTH has the power to bring true liberation. I hope that her testimony blesses you like it did me this morning. Freedom is not a state of being; it really is a choice! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." John 8:36</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><b><u>Facebook Message from my friend Lisa Yvette Jones</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 18.88888931274414px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You know, for the first time in my adult life, I am free! I free of worry, free of doubt, free of children, I am free of stage 3 Cervical Cancer some 3+ years and forever, I'm divorced, I am 106 pounds lighter today than I was last year this time, my child, my blessed young man of valor, is in the university of his and God's choosing...I happen to love Drexel University as well, he is pursuing the academic discipline of choice, my career is booming, I traveled overseas for the first time in my life this year and have truly been bitten, on to China next September, my faith is even stronger, my joy is full and perpetual, my books are in the making, thank God...</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 18.88888931274414px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> I am still in the making and I am embracing every moment of it...His making, the legacy of my mother, The late and Great Sister Queenie Victoria Thompson, lives on in me...her strength, her boldness, her determination, and yes... Her beauty lives on in me. This weekend, I decided to free my self of the weave and embrace the new crown of glory the Lord has blessed me with, I added a bit of me (the color)... Yes, in the words of girlfriend Toy Banks...dare to be "BOLD, CONFIDENT, and BEAUTIFUL!" </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 18.88888931274414px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>So, hello world and look out, because you never know when this woman of freedom will step foot on your land in this great big world God has created. FB family, in this moment of transparency, it's time to really do me! How do you like me now!</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18.88888931274414px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>What Does Freedom Look Like?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18.88888931274414px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>TOTAL SELF-ACCEPTANCE & SELF-LOVE!!</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18.88888931274414px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Praise God for my friend, Lisa Yvette Jones, who has been healed, elevated, uplifted, transformed, fulfilled, redeemed, motivated, educated, inspired, refined, embraced, prepared, chosen, honored, rewarded, and restored!</i></span></span></div>
LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-60852111796101586872012-10-29T16:15:00.000-04:002012-11-29T09:18:52.432-05:00She Loved Him- A Short Story<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrKkdTlRG4eBA9zihRJh_atO4JdHwNPePq5wtJ6X3SSUkqXBtI5QpLRHTu4HqBl20PiANCqnW35gqR216gvrT-a_ESppE7zTvdWbK45LLIWa33iFo3wkLHiK7h7OpO7E8tCdwJPCviPg/s1600/Black+Love.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrKkdTlRG4eBA9zihRJh_atO4JdHwNPePq5wtJ6X3SSUkqXBtI5QpLRHTu4HqBl20PiANCqnW35gqR216gvrT-a_ESppE7zTvdWbK45LLIWa33iFo3wkLHiK7h7OpO7E8tCdwJPCviPg/s320/Black+Love.jpeg" width="245" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">S</span>he loved him</b> -- magnanimously. </i> But it was too much. Like
a cancer, this love spread throughout her entire body and permeated every limb,
every organ, and every cell. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It seemed like her unbridled love for this man was
a part of her cellular make-up; perhaps it was encoded in her DNA. She felt like her love for him was the oxygen
in her blood that fed her cells and flowed freely through her veins; racing
towards her heart. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Unfortunately, it was this same love
that ran him away. She didn’t fully understand it’s power at the time so she
gave it to him unceasingly and without restraint; never realizing that the
power of the gift was just too much for him to handle. In fact, the truth is it became too much for them both.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI8ishFK-rWyucUgugJ9Rmfv4_jD6iMKAGSx_eakFWUX5W5nIWpzZRcqWk5l8ks4sfritNbyvA9SMnouLVKW96l4FZ7VOwhx47NDDybZs1mV_bCAuqUfThK3mRdRkBp7EYt0FheCIzsA/s1600/heart-on-fire-screensaver.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI8ishFK-rWyucUgugJ9Rmfv4_jD6iMKAGSx_eakFWUX5W5nIWpzZRcqWk5l8ks4sfritNbyvA9SMnouLVKW96l4FZ7VOwhx47NDDybZs1mV_bCAuqUfThK3mRdRkBp7EYt0FheCIzsA/s200/heart-on-fire-screensaver.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This love was like a wild fire that
needed to be monitored and contained and not to be left alone unattended. She welcomed it’s consuming power, however he knew that he had to get out before the love flames
spread to the dry areas of his broken spirit. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He wasn’t quite ready for the flames to mix with the dry residue of his
anger, pain and fears. He needed to hold on to
the residue because it seemed to remind him of the dark spaces in life. Ironically, it was the familiarity of the
dark spaces that made him feel comfortable and safe.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPPgwPr8bfDcd-VNZzNEJhR2Wf58B3Fk2vA90k-jgEdUYV1MqkG7SjhWbRhyphenhyphenAaR9Vlmi3ZnwVlAWPsUaRna2OuLYuU7HlnZwV4GsB-dffBeB6vcc7EPQwtx3sOZvLm7s0bIEvA2LbH9o/s1600/HOT+black+man.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPPgwPr8bfDcd-VNZzNEJhR2Wf58B3Fk2vA90k-jgEdUYV1MqkG7SjhWbRhyphenhyphenAaR9Vlmi3ZnwVlAWPsUaRna2OuLYuU7HlnZwV4GsB-dffBeB6vcc7EPQwtx3sOZvLm7s0bIEvA2LbH9o/s200/HOT+black+man.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Her love had become too intense and he
had <i>no desire</i> to be over taken by it’s heat. This man had already had his share
of heartbreak and burn wounds caused by love and failed relationships. Therefore, he cornered a part of his heart,
installed special fireproof walls and tried his best to protect himself from
her flames. There was no way that he would be smitten by love again. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRs4Cn40uBzO_DhXkml_tD3st_gxywHvKzuGd6dI0ikX8mqP2wSgDH98G12zCNuV3Rd0fgdh8jQscBaKKN-g6HHkAHEDZ6J5fr5ftgWX3ld3o2Rmd6VLurVMst0E3FdRTXHsMHwV6aRV8/s1600/Black+Couple+silhouette.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRs4Cn40uBzO_DhXkml_tD3st_gxywHvKzuGd6dI0ikX8mqP2wSgDH98G12zCNuV3Rd0fgdh8jQscBaKKN-g6HHkAHEDZ6J5fr5ftgWX3ld3o2Rmd6VLurVMst0E3FdRTXHsMHwV6aRV8/s200/Black+Couple+silhouette.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On the other hand, she deeply desired
to feel the warmth and comfort their love provided; she loved the light it
created in the dark and lonely moments and she loved the intensity
of their passion. Ironically, the more heat they generated together the greater
her desire was to surrender to its’ flames. She appreciated the intensity of love. She longed for it; he feared it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZogfEeVfiXtwzBKwe0pPHtkxxGAtkbVDiMgVY3yMSmK2w2fJOew4Hr3Kfe-_DoitzDS9ER7lgD1jJ2xIOBEeCiIbp4cWzx02GzHiuVdvuWhUZHO_KP3Rp-HFahDvoGFM0-S9arJSILE/s1600/black-man-+back-silhouette.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZogfEeVfiXtwzBKwe0pPHtkxxGAtkbVDiMgVY3yMSmK2w2fJOew4Hr3Kfe-_DoitzDS9ER7lgD1jJ2xIOBEeCiIbp4cWzx02GzHiuVdvuWhUZHO_KP3Rp-HFahDvoGFM0-S9arJSILE/s200/black-man-+back-silhouette.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After the third attempt their love fire finally reached its’ peek and
she gladly took off all of her clothes, oiled down her body for the experience
and jumped nakedly into the core center of the flames. However, for some unstated reason he changed his mind right before the jump, made a 180 degree turn and
left her at the scene alone once more--without even a conversation. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7dDgroGvi2AWY0owiUox6MAs2VbhJkzJT7E4nlPxEoNDjnsiPwLvEJxxAQeEZmue4_2qIskXoVqs1lolX0H0DmOv07Q6JHPoM54veieH9BcdufqqQVzdAIGa1UP9XIEL9ehU2KetVJt0/s1600/Black+Woman+Naked.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7dDgroGvi2AWY0owiUox6MAs2VbhJkzJT7E4nlPxEoNDjnsiPwLvEJxxAQeEZmue4_2qIskXoVqs1lolX0H0DmOv07Q6JHPoM54veieH9BcdufqqQVzdAIGa1UP9XIEL9ehU2KetVJt0/s200/Black+Woman+Naked.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She was terribly embarrassed as
she stood there for the <i>third time</i> being rejected by the same man during the same
time of year as the other two previous times. Why had she believed him again? When would
she let it go and move on? Unfortunately, she now found herself completely naked, with third degree burns
on her heart, a singed spirit that reeked the smell of fear, and in more
emotional pain than any flame should ever inflict on one soul. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To make matters worst, when he left
her for the <i>third time</i> he took back all of his love and
unintentionally carried a little bit of hers away as well. Had she not learned her lesson from the two
prior attempts at love with and for this man? Did she think that love made her
invincible—a Superwoman of sorts—or even fireproof?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCB8nkl26jFGqZn1-T4LcgKGoGmaIvjmt4Mkmgya6fgpT3k_zbBFbN6vYSKFPf7GLU9WxyEE9lye6L5C9OTqc8Dd43c-C3Cn7djkiue7YT1VI7MHe8JFHLapfDzb9VGtTUKL7kuBTnitg/s1600/set+me+free.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCB8nkl26jFGqZn1-T4LcgKGoGmaIvjmt4Mkmgya6fgpT3k_zbBFbN6vYSKFPf7GLU9WxyEE9lye6L5C9OTqc8Dd43c-C3Cn7djkiue7YT1VI7MHe8JFHLapfDzb9VGtTUKL7kuBTnitg/s1600/set+me+free.jpeg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Although she was overcome by the embarrassment of her third folly she
decided to completely surrender to the power of love's fire she felt shut up in her
bones. Ironically, she discovered that being consumed by love wasn’t as bad as
she originally thought; although there were </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">consequences</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> that didn't always feel good. Through the process she actually discovered that the
burning away of one’s fleshly desires the soul and spirit could actually be
released. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesulXkc5mdu30vIVRzvN0r0ICA-_RGW9ffVz7GQAsnSCWNAXE4pi5Q8q7ltVvDaJQzkkIK5oA71dAlZ6Iw2RSQlUlSL_MME_pAY6dSNwXXhh14aWNi0tHPRdlcWXTMhnEMyzBt08GvxE/s1600/blackwonderwoman.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesulXkc5mdu30vIVRzvN0r0ICA-_RGW9ffVz7GQAsnSCWNAXE4pi5Q8q7ltVvDaJQzkkIK5oA71dAlZ6Iw2RSQlUlSL_MME_pAY6dSNwXXhh14aWNi0tHPRdlcWXTMhnEMyzBt08GvxE/s200/blackwonderwoman.jpeg" width="154" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She accepted that this process of
love was perhaps designed by a higher force and higher power for the purpose of
consuming the dry and barren emotional areas in her life in preparation for new life. She often jokingly referred to these areas as the <i>Valley of the
Dry Bones</i>. In fact, she discovered that she was a genuine superhero that was
only being trained, molded and shaped by this love fire that caused her seven
years of excruciating pain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Ironically, out of the residue of her pain and broken spirit she
actually began her transcendence to a higher love. This new love gave her
permission to follow her dreams, embrace her gifts and most importantly, honor herself. She could now rise up from the ashes of her extinguished past love
fire and soar to higher heights. She
welcomed the journey. </span>She had become the Phoenix. <span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsiA3W_eHhHvkX1paJxPlY7TnZXRj0yOKrIBWImxBacf7dbYQiz6xm1arLhuEJQxhUDBy6O9OwDu-P55roTCsfrfw3m0A2VaIiTaUIbVwR-kr1SSTkockVrAp7K_pT0hLFXQHMIQzhrY/s1600/Phoenix+rising.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsiA3W_eHhHvkX1paJxPlY7TnZXRj0yOKrIBWImxBacf7dbYQiz6xm1arLhuEJQxhUDBy6O9OwDu-P55roTCsfrfw3m0A2VaIiTaUIbVwR-kr1SSTkockVrAp7K_pT0hLFXQHMIQzhrY/s200/Phoenix+rising.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Cambria;">*Photo CREDITS: The Phoenix above was created by artist Nela. You can find her work at </span><a href="http://neladunato.com/illustration/phoenix/" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left; text-decoration: initial; text-indent: 0in;" target="_blank">http://neladunato.com/illustration/phoenix/</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"> </span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">*Photo CREDITS: </span></i><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">The opening feature photo was created by an artist named John Holyfield @ </span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #009933; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 13.63636302947998px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">www.</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #009933; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 13.63636302947998px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">holyfields</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #009933; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 13.63636302947998px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">tudio.com/</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-70064237612408637972012-03-25T18:18:00.000-04:002012-03-25T18:18:44.791-04:00Pushing Past Fear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iEA3I72hgoee5QEPdOTFb8NYqELGZ66S-Y-Ccf29O7KukIFILM9iFMdfub0Np7V6P8B6ZBp2I06Znw9V-SMFjnu_slNyNneB8QeyLX00PPx8t-OvuMo6xHBEOaTA9IkbkPaWitPh_Cs/s1600/My+bathroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iEA3I72hgoee5QEPdOTFb8NYqELGZ66S-Y-Ccf29O7KukIFILM9iFMdfub0Np7V6P8B6ZBp2I06Znw9V-SMFjnu_slNyNneB8QeyLX00PPx8t-OvuMo6xHBEOaTA9IkbkPaWitPh_Cs/s320/My+bathroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">I</span> WAS AFRAID!</u></b></i> Fear gripped me by the throat, set root in my heart and would not let me go. A few weeks ago my home was burglarized and severely ransacked on all three levels. <br />
<br />
My sacred spaces were invaded and vandalized from top to bottom. I felt violated and vulnerable because all of my personal belongings had been rummaged through by absolute strangers. It felt as if my safety or comfort had been forever compromised. <br />
<br />
Ironically, I accidentally caught the thieves in my home during the process of the robbery. Upon returning from my Wednesday night bible study I saw one of the robbers tearing up my personal office as I drove into my garage. This image in itself gave me an unsettling and vulnerable feeling in my spirit.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3vXzx_ysIolGcAXsbZsWp7KIR5C5rBNBNM7UFi8NPoKGMCVFWUpYl0pSR_B8KleFGKkugpdYO0rB5P3Sd8cr2ZHQSvf2Vgmz_MRC7cQHkrRSilwf1GoDCaYf5WeFYkgMQVImTobNues/s1600/restless+sleep+syndrome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3vXzx_ysIolGcAXsbZsWp7KIR5C5rBNBNM7UFi8NPoKGMCVFWUpYl0pSR_B8KleFGKkugpdYO0rB5P3Sd8cr2ZHQSvf2Vgmz_MRC7cQHkrRSilwf1GoDCaYf5WeFYkgMQVImTobNues/s200/restless+sleep+syndrome.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Many times in my life I have felt fear, however this incident seemed to shake me at the core of my being. Unfortunately, this fear continued to linger for days and seemed to grow larger and larger each passing moment. For more than a week, I hardly slept and found myself night after night tossing and turning. I even began getting up throughout the night to investigate any small noises or any random sound in or around my home. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2IIyEwX9iKJM2fPZEadRF0MIGm7aHlnuylr1VpBKeI0oURxxlGNysBSrFcbcYChI1RELwWf7bWrNJe2SIBvqSim_XafE3VlQeyCrDw3LNhpYVQzWPSbkQ_fzK1FLOo-ohdkNzjG3ZZU/s1600/Silhouette_of_a_woman_rubbing_lower_back_in_pain-SPL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2IIyEwX9iKJM2fPZEadRF0MIGm7aHlnuylr1VpBKeI0oURxxlGNysBSrFcbcYChI1RELwWf7bWrNJe2SIBvqSim_XafE3VlQeyCrDw3LNhpYVQzWPSbkQ_fzK1FLOo-ohdkNzjG3ZZU/s200/Silhouette_of_a_woman_rubbing_lower_back_in_pain-SPL.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don't think that I realized how much the fear impacted my health until one morning I woke up with the entire right side of my body (<i>from head to toe</i>) in pain and stiff as a board. I was hurting so bad that I scheduled an appointment with my chiropractor for an emergency visit.<br />
<br />
After examining my posture and spine, my chiropractor asked me what had I been doing differently that cause my back to get so out of alignment and my muscles so inflammed. I explained to him I had actually changed my sleep position in the bed so that I could 1.) hear if any intruder entered my home and 2) grab a weapon located near my bed to assail an intruder within a moment's notice. Suddenly, I was always on guard.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz94EHXM3ANxlJeGKKa49pPmSmsMZ3e8gZ98aGoUVzllD-gNRVqXAhsJj6cYCsLN7KqMgpwofIGTVyZnEYQEI-HXhf5VZ0SPRt89Jc9v8DMKHYZqC0nq2KywFbgVxvwJlXfW9qQWfDcA8/s1600/fear-record.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz94EHXM3ANxlJeGKKa49pPmSmsMZ3e8gZ98aGoUVzllD-gNRVqXAhsJj6cYCsLN7KqMgpwofIGTVyZnEYQEI-HXhf5VZ0SPRt89Jc9v8DMKHYZqC0nq2KywFbgVxvwJlXfW9qQWfDcA8/s200/fear-record.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: blue;">Fear had interrupted my life...</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: blue;">Fear had stolen my security....</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: blue;">Fear had disrupted my peace...</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: blue;">Fear had disturbed my sleep...</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: blue;">Fear had me constantly on guard and unable to wind down either awake or during rest.... </span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: blue;">And now FEAR was starting to impact my health and quality of life! </span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, by the end of the week the "fear" had grown so big that I along with my roommate left my house to sleep on the couch of a friend. I actually RAN AWAY from my own home. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Cl4ObiILBvm4EbaIFU0q60UJB4VPyVJ1NZMrPNA0Kamzm2CBQKXdZ8_xsc5B0U-jMZofnpcP9AutmOhX5eZ3MEek-6qVfsxFbYy8KnfDld-OJmlJuFEBc5IA9EhAh2FdLGWGhz-0-SE/s1600/RUNNING+AWAY+in+fear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Cl4ObiILBvm4EbaIFU0q60UJB4VPyVJ1NZMrPNA0Kamzm2CBQKXdZ8_xsc5B0U-jMZofnpcP9AutmOhX5eZ3MEek-6qVfsxFbYy8KnfDld-OJmlJuFEBc5IA9EhAh2FdLGWGhz-0-SE/s320/RUNNING+AWAY+in+fear.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I am a single head of household and most of my close friends are married with courageous men helping to protect their homes; therefore I felt at a major disadvantage and extremely vulnerable. After the robbery my nerves were constantly on edge.<br />
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On one particular night my laptop computer was out of its' usual place and I became so fearful that I almost ran out of my house. However, I called a girlfriend and she sent her husband and boys over to walk through my home and property. Because of the growing "fear" my life had become a living hell!<br />
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For days I cried out to God, <span style="color: magenta;">"<i>Lord, I just can't do this alone. How am I suppose to protect my home and family from strange men all by myself? Lord, will you not send me my husband, a partner or some help?"</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRxCVCD6LlOYkYSQ38eu-3nZVfxlw1MTB6r0qFIlgYBF_KIcXdBQ5MNRen4Eg7jzLqIgrs3GWSJ6CnIN2mdJKYvO1azW1UOtUdycF9OPl9IqpRDHczcq8vYMQpGBmiS3zEvH5PaFA0Ww/s1600/BURGLAR-Vero-Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRxCVCD6LlOYkYSQ38eu-3nZVfxlw1MTB6r0qFIlgYBF_KIcXdBQ5MNRen4Eg7jzLqIgrs3GWSJ6CnIN2mdJKYvO1azW1UOtUdycF9OPl9IqpRDHczcq8vYMQpGBmiS3zEvH5PaFA0Ww/s200/BURGLAR-Vero-Beach.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In an effort to re-establish some feeling of security, I decided to move back home once my security system was completely restored. However, on the scheduled repair date the home security company called me to cancel and pushed the repair date back 4 WHOLE days. <i><span style="color: magenta;">What was I to do now? Did I have to stay on someone's else's couch and/or get a room for the next 4 days? How could I feel safe? Didn't I need a man in the house? Lord, now what???</span></i></div><i><br />
</i><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I was about to head towards a local hotel to check-in and work through this dilemma when I heard a voice in my spirit. The voice gently asked me, "<i>What are you afraid of</i>?" I knew exactly what I was afraid of but before I could answer or respond I heard the question poised a second time,"<i>What are you afraid of</i>?" This time I knew that a surface answer would not be sufficient. I had to go deeper and really think about what I was afraid of and why I was afraid. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7OwpzaErkniFTXbWDBx2kf_ly8jm5-92AXb5-YL8evepbNeKj0K3MXtQHAsM6R6dKkkPuxVO9uP7LtgMD8rPoEGRu8FQM7FNQm_sE1fsIkkDh2hujCYRWovns4UDsHSLpWC-7Y1YRDk/s1600/woman-praying-425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7OwpzaErkniFTXbWDBx2kf_ly8jm5-92AXb5-YL8evepbNeKj0K3MXtQHAsM6R6dKkkPuxVO9uP7LtgMD8rPoEGRu8FQM7FNQm_sE1fsIkkDh2hujCYRWovns4UDsHSLpWC-7Y1YRDk/s200/woman-praying-425.jpg" width="139" /></a></div>Just as God would have it I immediately reflected in my mind of His word and a saying of Jesus Christ found in Matthew 6:25-27~ <i><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="woj" style="background-color: white;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">“Therefore I tell you, <u><b>do not worry about your life</b></u>, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><b> </b></span><span class="woj" style="background-color: white;">Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><b> </b></span><span class="woj" style="background-color: white;">Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?</span></span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Amazingly, the fear that had tortured me since the robbery left at that precise moment just as quickly as it had arrived. Just the reflection and meditation on those (5) five words spoken by Christ, <span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="woj" style="background-color: white;"><u style="color: red; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Do not worry about your life..</u><span style="color: red;">" </span></span></span>changed my entire spirit and safety outlook. <b>Fear was forced to flee!</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KJ3AL7LsHBeEXfhGKiQze5v45c_hYV02_kv0rmsTGFG6TxJLpKJcSVx19nOB6cqlebHdojZxkzIdVQv-lRmYjEMx-SyxyQTQg5uM8LyN_WjF1nSWn5rI-eX4rDEY02r2AjjmgKD79Ig/s1600/Jesus+walks+with+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KJ3AL7LsHBeEXfhGKiQze5v45c_hYV02_kv0rmsTGFG6TxJLpKJcSVx19nOB6cqlebHdojZxkzIdVQv-lRmYjEMx-SyxyQTQg5uM8LyN_WjF1nSWn5rI-eX4rDEY02r2AjjmgKD79Ig/s200/Jesus+walks+with+me.jpg" width="158" /></a></div>The more I reflected and repeated God's word over and over again the more powerful and authoritative I felt. I then turned my car around and headed straight for my home.<br />
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Up until that point I thought I would never feel safe in my home again unless I was protected by either 1.) a man, 2.) a gun and/or 3.) some fancy security system. However, at that very special moment while riding in my car God taught me that He alone is perfectly capable of protecting me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><u><b><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I Have Learned 5 special"Characteristics of Fear"</span></b></u></i></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: blue;">1.) </span></b><span style="color: blue;"><b><i><u>Fear is like an imaginary monster.</u></i></b> </span>It will take up shop and residence in your mind and continue to grow and grow and grow as long as you feed it a healthy meal of doubt, negative thoughts, and the illusion of being separated from God's love.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: blue;">2.) <u><i>Fear is like an unhealthy or poisonous meal</i>.</u></span></b> Fear will actually make you physically sick if you digest or absorb it in your mind, body and spirit. Fear is unhealthy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: blue;">3.) <u><i>Fear overtime will become a personality or constant companion</i>.</u></span></b> However, if you speak God's word aloud to the fear and command it to leave...it MUST obey!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>4.) <u><i>Fear is like a bully</i>.</u></b></span> That is why running from fear does not solve the problem. You have to put up your dukes, face <b><u><i>fear</i></u></b> head-on and claim your peace with authority. You must be willing to fight through the thoughts. Half the battle is showing up for the fight; your Daddy will do the rest.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>5.) <u><i>Fear is like a illusionary magic trick</i>.</u></b></span> I once saw on a bumper sticker that Fear is <span style="color: blue;"><b><i>False Evidence Appearing Real</i></b>.</span> This is so true. <b><i><u>Fear</u></i></b> can NEVER trump the love of GOD! For there is nothing separates us from the love of God.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>G</b>od teaches us in His word that we are to fear NO ONE but God. I think I finally came to understand that there is <u>no man</u> that is courageous enough, <u>no weapon</u> strong enough or <u>no circumstance</u> great enough that can protect me more than my Father GOD!<br />
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<i>NOW Psalm 27 has a radically new meaning for me</i><span style="color: red;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="chapter-2" style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="text Ps-27-1" style="position: relative;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>he <span class="small-caps" style="font-size: 16px; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i style="font-size: 16px;">is</i> my light and my salvation;</span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span class="text Ps-27-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Whom shall I fear?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span class="text Ps-27-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative; text-align: -webkit-auto;">The <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i>is</i> the strength of my life;</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Of whom shall I be afraid?</span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i>...</i></span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuOilw9OTcGTq7k8iUwsb9tXlxGLAvJ26WLYVFCOi1IERXponRGbBB808tAT8_1e6bkSsdbt-EHV3mU7ItoCD8jQvz7PoV2OQ4MrNpK7Zm5KhJbRDIyaXnJfzJcLEYVrtq0gOPe7RhUM/s1600/no+fear+in+love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuOilw9OTcGTq7k8iUwsb9tXlxGLAvJ26WLYVFCOi1IERXponRGbBB808tAT8_1e6bkSsdbt-EHV3mU7ItoCD8jQvz7PoV2OQ4MrNpK7Zm5KhJbRDIyaXnJfzJcLEYVrtq0gOPe7RhUM/s320/no+fear+in+love.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-16536877131974688252012-02-20T23:34:00.000-05:002012-02-20T23:34:16.830-05:00Missing Queen B: Why I Love Bridget Woods<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-DNs2C5Pb0bx8UdZ7HU7-VMvzHlh5gNcSXqjQkqXSTaVZArDPQSXya7L9UDEdo7GbcZUYBryKCqHLl9KU5iWfbNVeX1YCS-xNdGy_uSYeCUe2sOYbjXP8mygCJtsHnUwCJLPr2xvntM/s1600/Bridgett+Woods+Piano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-DNs2C5Pb0bx8UdZ7HU7-VMvzHlh5gNcSXqjQkqXSTaVZArDPQSXya7L9UDEdo7GbcZUYBryKCqHLl9KU5iWfbNVeX1YCS-xNdGy_uSYeCUe2sOYbjXP8mygCJtsHnUwCJLPr2xvntM/s200/Bridgett+Woods+Piano.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>here are some souls that come to the earth only for a short time but take on the form of an angel that enriches the lives of others... Bridget Woods was one of those special people. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you are from Selma, Alabama and ever rode down Range (Marie Foster) street in the past 20 years, I am quite sure that you should have at least on one occasion gotten a glimpse of this beautiful young woman sitting on her front porch on the corner of Philpot Avenue and Marie Foster. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I always thought of Bridget as the neighborhood watcher or the "Queen of Range Street." Although it was years ago, it feels like only yesterday that I remember seeing this pretty little chubby girl with two long ponytails sitting on the porch eating ice cream while swinging her feet and simultaneously watching all the happenings on the block. This was Bridgett.......She never missed a beat.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Years later when Bridget became a teenager, I was blessed to work closely with her and she quickly became one of my special "babies" in a youth group called SHIPP Ahoy ~ an acronym for <b><i>Sisters High in Pride and Potential</i></b>. And Bridget she was just that.... ALWAYS high in self-love, pride and potential.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sadly, last week in the wee hours of the night as she rested in her bed she became a victim to senseless violence in the form of a drive-by shooting. This beautiful and cheerful angel of a young woman left this earth much too soon. There have been hundreds of lives touched by her bright smile, wise advice, infectious laughter, witty jokes and kind heart. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are no words that can explain how I feel about the loss of Bridget. I am not sure if I have even wrapped my mind around what has happened to someone so kind and giving. It is impossible for me to capture and write all I feel or think about "my baby" in this blog. She called herself "Ms. Queen B" and that is exactly who she was~~ a queen in every sense of the word. Below are just a few thoughts that I wanted to share that remind me of Bridget. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>A Devoted Mother </u></b> <span style="color: red;">(<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i>Proverbs 31:2 </i></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i>(a) "Her children rise up and call her blessed;")</i></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoRdVRToMHA26m0geCugTmI92DPRSDrjIPq0Xy4PLWzz24_Tc07ghx6SXm_wDD4OrPI9osHNTTqmulhZ6nkxw1wUKSMzH_9BzPumHRg19-J0OjQlBuTBH3Za2IiayszvmmK4iS81OUgI/s1600/Bridget+and+Baby+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoRdVRToMHA26m0geCugTmI92DPRSDrjIPq0Xy4PLWzz24_Tc07ghx6SXm_wDD4OrPI9osHNTTqmulhZ6nkxw1wUKSMzH_9BzPumHRg19-J0OjQlBuTBH3Za2IiayszvmmK4iS81OUgI/s200/Bridget+and+Baby+II.jpg" width="167" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There were so many things that I admired about Bridget, however what I admired most was her commitment and devotion as a mother. Although Bridget wasn't the biological mother of her daughter I can attest that she loved that child since she was a little baby. Even as a 19-20 year old woman, Bridgett had enough insight, compassion and love in her heart to volunteer to raise and care for the baby of a young mother that battled with personal problems. Bridget nurtured, cared and loved her God-given daughter for 11 glorious years. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bridget ALWAYS bragged and talked about "<i>her baby girl Keria</i>." Bridget was much more than a biological mother... she was Shekeria's appointed and anointed mother by God. She took her role as Keria's mother seriously and with much pride. I absolutely adored their relationship. They had a special mother-daughter connection and adoration for each other. They were both a tremendous blessing to each other. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-Wqm68HCGIlzYgeDw15zphnnurHnXWGz2n6yxDp2r05s76D7YJcq-ICNFb3WdyJ3Dj6myAwldRfaKP3RlFV96BsNsQX6xOvi7oBG05tt9bIiMb9oZTLjORzn7C91GZamH9cTKbxCvh8/s1600/Bridget+and+Laughs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-Wqm68HCGIlzYgeDw15zphnnurHnXWGz2n6yxDp2r05s76D7YJcq-ICNFb3WdyJ3Dj6myAwldRfaKP3RlFV96BsNsQX6xOvi7oBG05tt9bIiMb9oZTLjORzn7C91GZamH9cTKbxCvh8/s200/Bridget+and+Laughs.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">A Natural Comedian</u><b> </b><span style="color: red;">(</span><i><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Proverbs 17:22 </span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.)</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">She made us laugh and even "<i>cracked us up</i>" with her funny jokes, quick witted responses and sometimes even hilarious snide remarks. Armed with the gift of gab, she could respond to any smart remark or unsolicited joke in 2 seconds flat with witty and descriptive words. Bridget could take on the best jokers and turn their own joke around on them with the quickness. When I first met Bridget I thought she was shy in the crew but I quickly realized that in fact she was the life, laughter and love of the party. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjVoltVwHdnEyuCn9pZO2ULDbqi7viAu8076qszh3kihLFGzmck6i1utUTk91bAR-7zyda2e1IaOkfP8e2np1y-MXBh5BXhxtWv35Hacdm4EyMT53BDX7HqUZkHHYX7foyhpog1EyYBM/s1600/Bridget+Hair+in+Red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjVoltVwHdnEyuCn9pZO2ULDbqi7viAu8076qszh3kihLFGzmck6i1utUTk91bAR-7zyda2e1IaOkfP8e2np1y-MXBh5BXhxtWv35Hacdm4EyMT53BDX7HqUZkHHYX7foyhpog1EyYBM/s200/Bridget+Hair+in+Red.jpg" width="166" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Queen "B"had style</u> </b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>"Hair did, nails did, errything did!"</i> Queen B was the epitome of a hair diva. Out of all of the years that I have known Ms. Bridget I can't recall a <i>single time</i> that Bridget's hair wasn't fresh and stylish. <i>'Narry a hair was EVER out of place!</i> Pin-ups, pin curls, crinkle ponytails, etc.....I can tell you this ~ Bridget could have been a Bonner Brothers' model for the national hair shows in Atlanta. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Whether it's in the morning, evening or night.....Ms. Bridgett Woods always had that hair <b><i>did</i></b> (<i>Yes, I meant to say DID!</i>) It was always fried, dyed and ALWAYS flipped or pinned up to the side. (smile)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheb_hHnNQiD4inRiIVW-r3dwZ2Oa3GokaDsoibUjafiSVDezG2ulRtqwKoDFZp6L-ai2ASI_W8zWKzQTMuqHiaLlfpGPOX9P75fBB8Y_4cd9FJdcFcqoo5vys1maAQHEOrGaf-AbDAeho/s1600/Bridget+and+Family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheb_hHnNQiD4inRiIVW-r3dwZ2Oa3GokaDsoibUjafiSVDezG2ulRtqwKoDFZp6L-ai2ASI_W8zWKzQTMuqHiaLlfpGPOX9P75fBB8Y_4cd9FJdcFcqoo5vys1maAQHEOrGaf-AbDAeho/s200/Bridget+and+Family.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><u>A Friend and Protector</u> </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: red;">(</span></span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: red;">Romans 12:10 </span></span><span style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: red;">Love one another with brotherly affection. Out do one another in showing honor.)</span> </span></span></i>Bridget touched so many people in her circle of family and friends through her love and friendship. When I lived in Selma, Bridget and I worked together at the Youth Opportunity Center. She ALWAYS had my back. She was dependable, trust-worthy and always loyal.<br />
<br />
Those of us that were blessed to know and become friends with Bridget knew that she was an angel. She was very protective and loyal to her family and friends. She loved everyone unconditionally and always made herself available to give sound advice, cheer someone up or to encourage those she loved. She will be missed but NEVER forgotten. We will cherish and celebrate our memories. Thanks Bridget for just being YOU!!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXusvChj6ktrdJ5JRpBYBss0Bx3n8OQ-vRtCefA_n2B9VzVtR_BZWX3EirsOSClcZcoimVppS45ZSE4WEUxLWuWrGLTDHXbwpBPQK2gj7mODhqIdwfBV83WyvxyJDOE31wNhJLr9ULwW0/s1600/Bridget+Stripe+Dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXusvChj6ktrdJ5JRpBYBss0Bx3n8OQ-vRtCefA_n2B9VzVtR_BZWX3EirsOSClcZcoimVppS45ZSE4WEUxLWuWrGLTDHXbwpBPQK2gj7mODhqIdwfBV83WyvxyJDOE31wNhJLr9ULwW0/s200/Bridget+Stripe+Dress.jpg" width="115" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Life is But Stopping Place</b></span></u></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>72</o:Words> <o:Characters>413</o:Characters> <o:Company>Gulf Coast Fund</o:Company> <o:Lines>3</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>484</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>14.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Life is but a stopping place,</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">A pause in what's to be,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">A resting place along the road,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">to sweet eternity.</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">We all have different journeys,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Different paths along the way,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">We all were meant to learn some things,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">but never meant to stay...</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Our destination is a place,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Far greater than we know.</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">For some the journey's quicker,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">For some the journey's slow.</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">And when the journey finally ends,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">We'll claim a great reward,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">And find an everlasting peace,</span></div></span> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Together with the lord</span></div></span> <i style="color: #333333; font-size: 9pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 1pt; border-image: initial; border-left-color: windowtext; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 1pt; border-right-color: windowtext; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 1pt; border-top-color: windowtext; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 1pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in;">–Author unknown</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VaeJC8G35cSbzaqZujd96UNx69YD7CQ0Gk5EeMZMhthrd2eCK5TsG0h1opzVET0ckrFpXiiEAjB5Dl2AX1LJg6Ik3hU6s-uGWnQhW23IUrUvWmVvJmZQcjAiEbr0yX1QNSsszcCLEXw/s1600/We+MIss+You.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VaeJC8G35cSbzaqZujd96UNx69YD7CQ0Gk5EeMZMhthrd2eCK5TsG0h1opzVET0ckrFpXiiEAjB5Dl2AX1LJg6Ik3hU6s-uGWnQhW23IUrUvWmVvJmZQcjAiEbr0yX1QNSsszcCLEXw/s1600/We+MIss+You.jpeg" /></a></div></i></span>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-32415465204838679722011-10-31T22:30:00.000-04:002011-10-31T22:30:22.576-04:00It's Fall!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPngt1AKxqmQoUKH0WyOwr2dQaHvCDviGBP1RegMSftGVylsvUq89GUMM8ZkM4SoKO_bukO-WTUM_p_a5oi0F6VReflRBzFrXhiI-D45I8Ymlhf2gOUfaFnO1x0izQuZ7iwcaSeZGi-zE/s1600/autumn_leaves_scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPngt1AKxqmQoUKH0WyOwr2dQaHvCDviGBP1RegMSftGVylsvUq89GUMM8ZkM4SoKO_bukO-WTUM_p_a5oi0F6VReflRBzFrXhiI-D45I8Ymlhf2gOUfaFnO1x0izQuZ7iwcaSeZGi-zE/s320/autumn_leaves_scene.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Greetings Friends,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happy Fall Season! It's been a long time since I posted a blog. I pray that you're enjoying this beautiful Fall Season. The past few months have been full of many transitions for me so I haven't taken the time to write a lot. I just want to let each of you to know that I am getting back into my creative writing groove and will be in full force within the the next few weeks. I have sooooo many lessons and MUCH to share. Stay tuned!! Holla at you later!!! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIrBJQEL8-38e6EEaA6M7l6vLU_8ISSe83d5pXjA75hke98jC-RQ5HAdxHX0QUCzXXXWyV7USUK6U-snUBo9z4Dx3WL8xqLLbERR2JwDka42JhDMaXPdzCRVKZJiJWseticF_7v9_K9E/s1600/LOVE+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIrBJQEL8-38e6EEaA6M7l6vLU_8ISSe83d5pXjA75hke98jC-RQ5HAdxHX0QUCzXXXWyV7USUK6U-snUBo9z4Dx3WL8xqLLbERR2JwDka42JhDMaXPdzCRVKZJiJWseticF_7v9_K9E/s320/LOVE+pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-8500195563201108862011-09-05T13:15:00.000-04:002011-09-05T13:15:38.841-04:00How Do You Treat American Workers?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclBLAVOCaIcF9DeD_4TkZBduABBehqNcr2hEhwlwJPy_GXZymPq5598JLH5Hro5ED-AWapC91Yklur2ZmZ9f8U4Uq4CLRKvbc-53YbC0PGQab0wZJL4-NnRPffwntEYArEi-wPAugVUU/s1600/Black+Workers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclBLAVOCaIcF9DeD_4TkZBduABBehqNcr2hEhwlwJPy_GXZymPq5598JLH5Hro5ED-AWapC91Yklur2ZmZ9f8U4Uq4CLRKvbc-53YbC0PGQab0wZJL4-NnRPffwntEYArEi-wPAugVUU/s200/Black+Workers.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>"Labor Day was made a national holiday in 1894 by President Grover Cleveland. After a number of deaths in 1894, workers went on strike in support of this holiday. The holiday pays tribute to the achievements of American workers. Today, Labor Day is used as the official last weekend of summer."</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For many of us, Labor Day marks the last official weekend of the summer and gives us a piad holiday off of work. However, the foundation of this holiday was laid by American workers that were tired of working in oppressive, unsafe and unfair working conditions. S</span>ince the Industrial Revolution American workers have been exploited, abused and misused for the sake of making a profit. As a worker in America, I am very grateful to those that laid the foundation.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpc3wL0DGkdYumiEYm7DC1fP4vyCF-WkQ2A-3X5Te7spcw-Avm6-QA8dkhXa5CUDaYQueRKWVwdcnwN0EFBWrM3OY44HMjjrW7dp2QqpSoeHmOjtpCWC-JM3Y3Pac_AFqaeMB2FPRtHik/s1600/Greedy-man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpc3wL0DGkdYumiEYm7DC1fP4vyCF-WkQ2A-3X5Te7spcw-Avm6-QA8dkhXa5CUDaYQueRKWVwdcnwN0EFBWrM3OY44HMjjrW7dp2QqpSoeHmOjtpCWC-JM3Y3Pac_AFqaeMB2FPRtHik/s200/Greedy-man.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Over the years the "Corporate Citizen" has gained far more legal rights in America than everyday working people. Any student of history knows that there has been a long history of struggle between American workers and the large corporate interests. If this is news to you please see the movie by Michael Moore called <i>The Corporation</i>. You can visit the website at http://www.thecorporation.com.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today as I was reflecting on how laborers and workers are valued and treated in my own community I had a few thoughts that made me go "Hmmmm......" Ironically, I have concluded that the ACTUAL problem in valuing American workers is perhaps not rooted in a "grand corporate conspiracy" but perhaps it an outgrowth of Americans' inability to value each other and/or human rights. Overall, I think labor injustices are simply reflective of our overall devaluing and marginalizing of the human beings and the human spirit in our culture. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1KZae4b8e3gNBhisdvOi_XOA5LIsr4EIXRld3GwSkUPyZOaaIud6Dihq5XmKANlWzGF2ugEErrryttK46dBmxk63usMVhbs51muDD3XZhwh8S0Z_0Ni7epn1bB6rZdn9OaYL-i-n0dY/s1600/black_maids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1KZae4b8e3gNBhisdvOi_XOA5LIsr4EIXRld3GwSkUPyZOaaIud6Dihq5XmKANlWzGF2ugEErrryttK46dBmxk63usMVhbs51muDD3XZhwh8S0Z_0Ni7epn1bB6rZdn9OaYL-i-n0dY/s200/black_maids.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b><u>What's the real value of a worker?</u></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Not too long ago I went to dinner with a co-worker that was outright rude to our server. When the server got a portion of the order wrong it became a reflection of his intellect-- My coworker commented,"<i>He's so stupid.</i>" When he got the manager to come out to correct the issue it became a battle of power-- My co-worker then said,"<i>He knew I wasn't to be played with?"</i> Even when the dude tried to make amends by bringing a free desert the only thing my coworker could state was, "<i>Why did he assume that I wanted THIS particular desert</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">?" </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>H</b>ow many times HAVE YOU completely disregarded a workers' ability and/or gave them the opportunity to correct a mistake before yelling, "<i>I want to see your manager right now</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_gtGb-OJMhomSWxrBzlrNmMKhpXcwczItY16Q80mQunipUHxeYCMi1sIfYZCJwga1w57bapV6_8ITXrF9b3TfT1lOXT9wu_4VciIiw9JnT7Sx6NizVOM7HTuV2u3Ba_z9BeDV4yvIQk/s1600/I+AM+A+MAN+PAINTING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_gtGb-OJMhomSWxrBzlrNmMKhpXcwczItY16Q80mQunipUHxeYCMi1sIfYZCJwga1w57bapV6_8ITXrF9b3TfT1lOXT9wu_4VciIiw9JnT7Sx6NizVOM7HTuV2u3Ba_z9BeDV4yvIQk/s200/I+AM+A+MAN+PAINTING.jpg" width="118" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>H</b>ow many times HAVE YOU been served and taken care by hotel staff, restaurant workers, sanitation workers, cab drivers, checkout clerk, etc. and never felt the need to acknowledge their presence, nor say "hello" or "thank you" or even leave a tip in appreciation of their service?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>H</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ow many times HAVE YOU gotten angry with the drive-thru window worker for getting your order wrong when you KNOW you changed your mind AND your order at least 5 times? Heck....wouldn't you be confused too?! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>LIFE LESSON: It's easy for us to hold people accountable for what WE think they should be doing. How about.....BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE!</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b><br />
</b></u></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b>Do Social Justice Organizations and Activists practice what they preach?</b></u></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXugPo4nOPDDC88Q0wytLpsxZxKy5hC3DD8dvkU5P6-e1TvvYc_rzsBS4IyCezIt8PWvqV0lr7jIR58pC-mUybbDHCIraQv_NDlyFcVWlAbA0Cv6Pjp5kHDGVTjr93W9OUsJ95Uj8y0A/s1600/Labor+Protest+Marches.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXugPo4nOPDDC88Q0wytLpsxZxKy5hC3DD8dvkU5P6-e1TvvYc_rzsBS4IyCezIt8PWvqV0lr7jIR58pC-mUybbDHCIraQv_NDlyFcVWlAbA0Cv6Pjp5kHDGVTjr93W9OUsJ95Uj8y0A/s200/Labor+Protest+Marches.png" width="200" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A few years ago I participated in a demonstration in support of "mandatory health care access" at a state capitol. As I stood there chanting and raising my protest sign I was approached by a Republican law maker. He walked up to me and calmly said, "<i>Why are you out here protesting? I bet your organization doesn't even provide health insurance for you</i>." </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Times; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Times; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My initial thought was to "<i>cuss him out</i>" but the truth of what he said actually hit me like a ton of bricks. The fact was I worked for a medium sized organization and neither I nor my child had health coverage. My job didn't offer it for my family nor could I afford it with my salary as an organizer. However, the leadership of the organization that I worked for actually HAD health coverage for themselves. </span></span></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>LIFE LESSON: It is sometimes easy for us to point the finger at "corporate America" but many social justice activists and organizations have not adopted the very principals they are <u>suppose</u></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> to be standing for. In short...SOCIAL JUSTICE IS NOT A <u>POSITION</u> IT IS A PRACTICE & PRINCIPAL FOR ALL.</i></span></b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSMNRIzpi-K88xmS33TeVg-MNSygHSeULIKFpp6dTsV7umdr2wxB4mfV25a1LCf1tihWDEWDuMAYrM1W_e_cM2jTPJ1c2mtSnuQMc_T72DEjwkB1kZCJWntvtv18rv9L8Zbm-imrBKj0/s1600/Herman+Cain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSMNRIzpi-K88xmS33TeVg-MNSygHSeULIKFpp6dTsV7umdr2wxB4mfV25a1LCf1tihWDEWDuMAYrM1W_e_cM2jTPJ1c2mtSnuQMc_T72DEjwkB1kZCJWntvtv18rv9L8Zbm-imrBKj0/s200/Herman+Cain.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><u><b>Is the ONLY requirement for a black community-owned business "designation" is that the owners are Black? </b></u></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This topic is so intense and deep to my heart that I feel it righteously deserves its own blogpost! But for the sake of this writing, I will try to make my point short and sweet. I know some of y'all ain't gonna like what I am about to say but this is what I truly feel....</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After Hurricane Katrina, I started organizing resources to send to the impacted communities in the gulf coast. The <b><u>only</u></b> businesses that told me flat out "NO" were black professional businesses. However, the local Mom and Pop stores would offer and provide whatever little resources they had to the effort. Individuals and churches in the community also offered support in droves. I am NOT saying that black professional businesses did not provide help in the Katrina efforts. There were many, many black businesses that helped the efforts. But what I AM saying is that the only time I ran up against this "<i>poor people need to pull themselves up by the bootstraps" attitude</i> it came from black middle class professionals. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>LIFE LESSON: Don't forget from whence the road you came by...YOU MAY NEED HELP ONEDAY TO PREVENT GOING THAT SAME WAY AGAIN! </b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpGceCsBNVyxmpfwxpVSov_GU5dz1RyTmf09vjEEmxF3YX_npjBSafMGoManUorHVUy4DI5R6tcJYOoxqqsUp9cmrHE-J0AXw9b9yrQy5aT0_Lbm-zhlg1d-5Jozicx5Ole9Ejy5OqcM/s1600/Labor+Camps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpGceCsBNVyxmpfwxpVSov_GU5dz1RyTmf09vjEEmxF3YX_npjBSafMGoManUorHVUy4DI5R6tcJYOoxqqsUp9cmrHE-J0AXw9b9yrQy5aT0_Lbm-zhlg1d-5Jozicx5Ole9Ejy5OqcM/s320/Labor+Camps.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Peace and Blessings,</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>LaTosha</i></span></div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-17612761091683460542011-09-01T20:43:00.000-04:002011-09-01T20:43:35.082-04:00Loving Your Enemies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJyB8UCqxMne1DcXGw0TGm_1umqV4i5VP-io2MHNUuBmsUyFuQiGHGkadog1_mhgBOhlMnRRSgUzq9d9yDU82Xpm8iF2LmiQI-JmAMcOesfL1jQfN8ms0wQSdSL_2qyerhUMhJAAAmWw/s1600/Love+Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJyB8UCqxMne1DcXGw0TGm_1umqV4i5VP-io2MHNUuBmsUyFuQiGHGkadog1_mhgBOhlMnRRSgUzq9d9yDU82Xpm8iF2LmiQI-JmAMcOesfL1jQfN8ms0wQSdSL_2qyerhUMhJAAAmWw/s200/Love+Banner.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>Matthew 5:43-44</b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 10px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="woj">“You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy.</span> <span class="woj">But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you!</span></i></span></span></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">R</span>ecently I posted a bible verse on my FaceBook page that instructs Christians to love our enemies and pray for those that despitefully use us. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">In a matter of seconds of posting this verse, I received several "I likes" and personal comments from my FB friends about this particular expectation of a Christian.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyCV9Vz-c82H6F-qr_hCD2lzZhqRWmVWz7MVKAom6Laac-ayPsjx7veMxNRRzleluDT7XAigvjXPWZMi5MYCNIUL0vGxGrZzBlJEHAUEdnwUgwEgoKyCnJlSooRduvM1gXd4hGfLjoJs/s1600/Black+Woman+Praying+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyCV9Vz-c82H6F-qr_hCD2lzZhqRWmVWz7MVKAom6Laac-ayPsjx7veMxNRRzleluDT7XAigvjXPWZMi5MYCNIUL0vGxGrZzBlJEHAUEdnwUgwEgoKyCnJlSooRduvM1gXd4hGfLjoJs/s200/Black+Woman+Praying+2.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
I was particularly struck by a comment written by one of my good friends. He essentially stated that "loving his enemies" was not something that he could do. Matter of fact he went on to state that what he really wished and wanted for his enemies could not be stated in a public space like FB.(smile)<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I appreciated my friend's honesty and frankness. At some point we all have felt like my friend in our lives. I think it's a normal human reaction to be angry when we are faced with circumstances created by people in our lives that betray, lie, misuse and/or abuse us.<br />
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However, this particular verse is one of my favorites in the bible. For me, the beauty of this bible verse is that it forces each of us to tap into our higher selves. Loving someone that has tried to "<i>do you in</i>" requires one to access love on a higher level! It takes FAR more spiritual muscle and strength to love someone that has done something hurtful to you. I mean-- you have to reach WAAAAYYY down in your spirit to pull on the power of love! WHEW!!<br />
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A couple of years ago, after experiencing a personal betrayal it was revealed to me that "<i>loving your enemies</i>" is really an opportunity for us to grow spiritually and experience unconditional love. This particular aspect of love blesses the individual through the process and sends healing energy to those that have hurt us deeply. </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimin6Q8kwkhBlemZ11SXb0f01emNyQR_d8OY9cq5ZiikP0S5p-95FKUwB_DBkoikRW9JfMYsVudGiAuwZWnX27-XwgEGrkMWOkVKCtvPzTL0wVVlNQN5eqGhSZxhnIwm8CtpSxdoI9HM/s1600/love-self-healing-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimin6Q8kwkhBlemZ11SXb0f01emNyQR_d8OY9cq5ZiikP0S5p-95FKUwB_DBkoikRW9JfMYsVudGiAuwZWnX27-XwgEGrkMWOkVKCtvPzTL0wVVlNQN5eqGhSZxhnIwm8CtpSxdoI9HM/s200/love-self-healing-.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Praying for those that "<i>despitefully use you</i>" also forces each of us to move outside the "ego" and tap into the part of our human spirit that is filled with compassion, love and forgiveness. Ultimately, I feel that the Christian charge to"<i>love your enemies"</i> is also a reminder that we are <u>all humans</u> that "fall short of the glory of God" but redemption and forgiveness is always accessible, available and possible through Jesus Christ.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's easy to love someone we like.... but it takes TRUE spiritual grounding to sincerely love someone that we feel has wronged us. I think "<i>loving your enemies</i>" is the essential foundational belief that framed the civil rights movement in this country. Unfortunately, I have seen this "loving your enemies" be exploited and misrepresented--but I'll deal with that in another blog! </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKeE6SLhNKjTXs-rtAoanba6Elhyphenhyphen7Y2DqPtsIjPPT1jmY6wxInQ_LKBwpeIBM64WWBAi0encA0_h1aVL0P1sjtmE8D5a30IyBnLkJ09eYGQmJAVfXb7uCc2wLBLQKnV8kb9kjTwGRSMQ/s1600/Helping+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKeE6SLhNKjTXs-rtAoanba6Elhyphenhyphen7Y2DqPtsIjPPT1jmY6wxInQ_LKBwpeIBM64WWBAi0encA0_h1aVL0P1sjtmE8D5a30IyBnLkJ09eYGQmJAVfXb7uCc2wLBLQKnV8kb9kjTwGRSMQ/s200/Helping+hands.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I really think the core lessons of the civil rights movement were lost in the historical translation and playback of events. The movement wasn't about "<i>black folks liking white folks</i>" or vice versa. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">This was a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><i>"love movement"</i></span> that was grounded in accountability, forgiveness, and redemption! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">L</span>ove <b>isn't</b> about our personal likes and dislikes of other people or disappointments with others--but ultimately we are spiritually charged by God to love every human being <b>unconditionally</b>!</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What would the world look like if we ALL loved each other unconditionally??????? </span>Each day God is molding me and teaching me that it's truly...</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b> "ALL About Love"</b></span></div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-26613912227979447752011-07-18T18:14:00.000-04:002011-07-18T18:14:03.594-04:00Standing In Awe of God<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpPI6UZKDmlTppkMoyijWZm-A9rU7fvXLwIiyjgDpbmRa4CQDhmWt8k3PuViWT6MRal6hXEljkHtxPKRcRJ6y5rwoVTRRU7X6pihC955W1CwLzjPTQogi3AI_o3tMAX91cF5dK5jg2dg/s1600/LaTosha+Photo+Awe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpPI6UZKDmlTppkMoyijWZm-A9rU7fvXLwIiyjgDpbmRa4CQDhmWt8k3PuViWT6MRal6hXEljkHtxPKRcRJ6y5rwoVTRRU7X6pihC955W1CwLzjPTQogi3AI_o3tMAX91cF5dK5jg2dg/s320/LaTosha+Photo+Awe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>he past two weeks have been such a whirlwind for me. I am so in awe about how God can change your life in the blink of an eye. Of course, with all the blessings that I have received throughout my life I should be use to the miraculous powers of God..but I am always in <b>AWE</b>!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>2011</b> has been such an intensely emotional year for me. I have finally accepted that I can be a very intensely emotional person. (<i>Well I am a scorpio</i>) I have always rejected this fact about myself but I am finally convinced that there is a lot of truth in it--at least as it relates to me. Sometimes in the same day I have felt loved, hurt, protected, betrayed, deceived, encouraged, attacked, embraced, misunderstood, supported, etc. On those days, I usually get caught up in a cycle of responding to my emotions. This can be an extremely draining and tiring process.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">On last Tuesday, I had one of my most emotional days this year. The first part of the morning I was feeling very good about a recent accomplishment and then out-of-the-blue I received a very troubling email from a co-worker that made me feel hurt and betrayed. Throughout the day I experienced a series of calls that made my emotions bounce up and down. This continued throughout the evening and later that same night around 1:00 a.m. I experienced feelings of sadness about a personal desire that did not manifest. Yet three minutes later at 1:03 a.m. my emotions shifted again as I got some very exciting and promising<b> </b>news.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnbB3dUyNuhpiHC3MiQ5MF2V-2ZbBrXAexEFQZPepWgFaq9Np2FCRNg2V-2L_WlxBictJ0KUu-Up5yWdWnu3kgVrCATYMCcNs18Uqfk1v3gkFh1zxO1Wx7wQf3WVUVmr4Gy4wQjtNxVU/s1600/emotion-fb.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnbB3dUyNuhpiHC3MiQ5MF2V-2ZbBrXAexEFQZPepWgFaq9Np2FCRNg2V-2L_WlxBictJ0KUu-Up5yWdWnu3kgVrCATYMCcNs18Uqfk1v3gkFh1zxO1Wx7wQf3WVUVmr4Gy4wQjtNxVU/s200/emotion-fb.gif" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now as I reflect on that particular day, I realize that I can no longer allow my emotions to take me on a rollar coaster ride nor control of my life. I truly believe that the purpose of our emotions is to help heighten our awareness through our feelings but instead I have found myself trying to cater to the emotions.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I also realize that the best approach to life is to feel the experience, learn from it and keep moving forward. Sometimes we choose to stay in a particular emotional state so that we can try to manipulate God's will in our lives. For example, we will hold on to hurt and anger so God can "punish" those people that we feel have done us wrong. We will also hold on to special memories from our past relationships although God has given us clear signs to let it go. We will even work to sabotage our own progress so we won't have to be accountable to God for operating in our power with the gifts He has given us.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The AWESOME thing about God is that He is not controlled by our emotional state. God will give us grace and favor even when we are in our darkest moments. God can give us our greatest personal challenge even when we feel we are on top of the world. God will even bring us unspeakable joy in the midst of a painful and difficult circumstance. My point is that God's AWESOMENESS is greater than our emotions. Our emotions should not be running things...for it is God that is in control. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEx1hGrYVROnm705yTNZJyGX6RqvFIkWdXRPixV0eOCU-B_W_xKaFWefJSpPuuLImBe_L8WmggGcKr0RhZiye2kMJ9A2kY_W9_M-KARRnzwWYLLmM21kOgrxoevWOKBsHbCbscV918n08/s1600/white-house-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEx1hGrYVROnm705yTNZJyGX6RqvFIkWdXRPixV0eOCU-B_W_xKaFWefJSpPuuLImBe_L8WmggGcKr0RhZiye2kMJ9A2kY_W9_M-KARRnzwWYLLmM21kOgrxoevWOKBsHbCbscV918n08/s200/white-house-logo.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, I will close now because I preparing for a trip to DC to receive an award at the White House! This is a blessing for me and I am extremely excited and honored by this opportunity. However, I am more grateful to God for teaching me how to put all of the things of this world in perspective. He is teaching me everyday that my value is not how others see me but is an inherent gift in being a child of God. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Most importantly, God is teaching me how to love myself as He loves me---<b><i>unconditionally</i></b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I will tell you this...if God never does another thing for me... He has done enough already to be worthy of my praise!! All praises to the Most High!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3y3n24XEqufvrBI0gH97GCpoGXstjkX-v1ccvm6HO7Q-1WLO9OXEm1ODzYiW2Uu3VFuQl44_3yl36dZxJrxnVGTguxTujhC0WQBKU1bL86ErbhCDQFnPnHgNMm9phT7rAxMxeKJwvNo4/s1600/love-heart__004097_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3y3n24XEqufvrBI0gH97GCpoGXstjkX-v1ccvm6HO7Q-1WLO9OXEm1ODzYiW2Uu3VFuQl44_3yl36dZxJrxnVGTguxTujhC0WQBKU1bL86ErbhCDQFnPnHgNMm9phT7rAxMxeKJwvNo4/s200/love-heart__004097_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Stay Tuned and Be Blessed!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">LaTosha</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-44962844863806824542011-06-28T01:33:00.000-04:002011-06-28T01:33:00.657-04:00Am I A Christian???<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8WEfGt9sDtwb2VR0YTSTTpD0YKAEQFOm4PUumkTNAyuV-OTfSUsnV4rSp-gXUt9uCYG9d-9S-9BUgGrM3SHLANhK4WG8uJbJVqBUiXdpac-44zbnQJ1du6iStcSMoF2qsaXycd5tNA3o/s1600/Jesus+walks+with+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8WEfGt9sDtwb2VR0YTSTTpD0YKAEQFOm4PUumkTNAyuV-OTfSUsnV4rSp-gXUt9uCYG9d-9S-9BUgGrM3SHLANhK4WG8uJbJVqBUiXdpac-44zbnQJ1du6iStcSMoF2qsaXycd5tNA3o/s320/Jesus+walks+with+me.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">T</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">he other day I was talking to an ex-boyfriend that was talking about his former relationship with another woman and his description of her was "She is a Christian lady." This already difficult conversation (<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">since this is someone that I still have feelings for</span></i>) and statement hurt me to the core because it seem to imply that the new woman was something that I was not. I thought to myself, "Did he not think I was a Christian lady too? Am I not a good Christian? More importantly, is God pleased with me?" </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4-hwW9LsKsEpuggqQYYg2cTimeTCfgT2On8nsJA3jjBy8N5ZHAReFxQ8x43Xh3J7QHtx4NmLBYwyCxaMoHn3h4krKBjxhq-4MUXMzr_5nKRSJ7M_veRjXAU-yAlKhynNDO2aWUc6t2U/s1600/woman-praying-silhoutte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4-hwW9LsKsEpuggqQYYg2cTimeTCfgT2On8nsJA3jjBy8N5ZHAReFxQ8x43Xh3J7QHtx4NmLBYwyCxaMoHn3h4krKBjxhq-4MUXMzr_5nKRSJ7M_veRjXAU-yAlKhynNDO2aWUc6t2U/s200/woman-praying-silhoutte.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Although the statement bruised my "spiritual" ego it also caused me to reflect on what it means to be Christian. It also made me think about how do I demonstrate my walk with Christ in my personal and professional life. Years ago I thought being a Christian meant being religious. When I first gave my life to Christ I was on constant "hallelujah" auto-play with everyone I met. I consistently talked only about the scriptures, preached to everyone I knew, submerged myself in the studying of the word and listened only to gospel music. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One of the most important revelations during this period of discovery was that I realized that being Christian meant more than the outward appearance. It was more about being a true follower of Christ's teachings. This is why I absolutely love the ministry of Jesus Christ! Unlike the Sadducees and Pharisees (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i>the religious scholars that were caught up in rituals and the law</i></span>) Jesus taught his followers to develop a deeper and personal relationship with the God. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW14V2-Kj8Zm92gaZBXJwq_P9kXU1WmZ7KMVdHmoSsPEu7NxIz00se49qARcSpmDvdkSPogXvxZ6dhddh0tqGPV1mnS0n1TiTTlnils078UWPZTr7NoBQ_ZGwO2jAsvZ_lL7BBjgswqI/s1600/pharisees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW14V2-Kj8Zm92gaZBXJwq_P9kXU1WmZ7KMVdHmoSsPEu7NxIz00se49qARcSpmDvdkSPogXvxZ6dhddh0tqGPV1mnS0n1TiTTlnils078UWPZTr7NoBQ_ZGwO2jAsvZ_lL7BBjgswqI/s200/pharisees.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jesus was constantly challenged by religious leaders during his walk on the earth. Many leaders of the law accused Jesus of blasphemy and called him a fake, heretic, liar, and even a demon ruler! Jesus even had to defend himself to the religious teachers in Matthew 5:17. He stated,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span class="woj"><i>“<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Don’t misunderstand why I have come. I did not come to abolish the law of Moses or the writings of the prophets. No, I came to fulfill it.</span>"</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">I certainly desire to strengthen my faith and walk in Christ and so I am constantly pressing to become a better believer. Perhaps I needed to hear that statement so that I could rededicate myself and refocus on strengthening my faith. Perhaps I needed to be motivated to seek the scriptures for new revelation and direction. </span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"> Perhaps I needed to hear that statement to remind me of what I do not want to become. Because </span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">I know one thing for sure...</span><b>I dont want to be religious; I want to be like Christ</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">.</span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">We are all spiritual beings having a human experience. As the bible says, "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We all fall short of the glory of God</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">" but the wonderful thing is that He gives us a daily opportunity to receive a fresh anointing. I will continue to stand on the scriptures as my guide and below I have listed some of my favorite verses. I pray that God continues to give me the strength, revelation, discipline and courage to follow the true teachings of Jesus Christ. I hope these scriptures bless you like they have blessed me.</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XxAUpdaTERS_gGeQAROfm2EXXS-HRxV9yoZ-PUTtACj_b4ihJ_rGJBisUubrR6f42G1WfWxWZxjASwMSOl6OBTN5VhnCIf4AYorH9cCNN5wWu59yLfU_-EJ7G6aNNp1sHqrfM0Amghc/s1600/Jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XxAUpdaTERS_gGeQAROfm2EXXS-HRxV9yoZ-PUTtACj_b4ihJ_rGJBisUubrR6f42G1WfWxWZxjASwMSOl6OBTN5VhnCIf4AYorH9cCNN5wWu59yLfU_-EJ7G6aNNp1sHqrfM0Amghc/s320/Jesus.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>John 10:27</b></span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> <sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-26509" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">27</sup>My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me:</span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">John 13:34-35</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-26661" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">34</sup> A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-26662" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">35</sup> By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.”</span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-style: normal;"><b>Luke 16:14-15</b></span></i></span></i></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span></i></div><div style="display: inline !important;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-25635" style="line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></sup><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">14</sup>And the Pharisees also, who were covetous, heard all these things: and they derided him.</span></i></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span></i></span></div><div style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-25636" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">15</sup>And he said unto them, Ye are they which justify yourselves before men; but God knoweth your hearts: for that which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God.</i></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-style: normal;"><b><br />
</b></span></i></span></span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-style: normal;"><b>Luke 4:18</b></span></i></span></span></i></div><div style="font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: xx-small;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: normal;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-25078" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">18</sup> <i>“ The Spirit of the LORD</i> <i>is</i> <i>upon Me,</i><br />
<i> Because He has anointed Me</i><br />
<i>To preach the gospel to</i> <i>the</i> <i>poor;</i><br />
<i>He has sent Me</i> <i>to heal the brokenhearted,</i><sup class="footnote" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: 0.5em; vertical-align: text-top;" value="[<a href="#fen-NKJV-25078a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]">[<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%204:18&version=NKJV#fen-NKJV-25078a" style="text-decoration: none;" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</sup><br />
<i>To proclaim liberty to</i> <i>the</i> <i>captives</i><br />
<i>And recovery of sight to</i> <i>the</i> <i>blind,</i><br />
<i>To</i> <i>set at liberty those who are</i> <i>oppressed;</i></span></b></span></span></i></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small; font-style: normal;">Peace, Love and Blessings!</span></i></span></div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-49607105591125980412011-06-26T01:04:00.000-04:002011-06-26T01:04:43.186-04:00Lessons Learned from Black Men<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXpb5BO8Rjijfejm9VAD_ymoG_hiJSArY9EEkFGq_gVfVPaZnQGc7yFofbykTb1Jr6K7I5KU9EGei3skVXGt22FuLRG4tNdegCbA8z5hHzu5fsAljfEtQEPj6azPZu0y6ECobnejQPiA/s1600/Black+men+Praying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXpb5BO8Rjijfejm9VAD_ymoG_hiJSArY9EEkFGq_gVfVPaZnQGc7yFofbykTb1Jr6K7I5KU9EGei3skVXGt22FuLRG4tNdegCbA8z5hHzu5fsAljfEtQEPj6azPZu0y6ECobnejQPiA/s320/Black+men+Praying.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Last week on Father's Day it was my intention to post a blog dedicated to black men. On this particular holiday I am always very reflective about the role of the many great father's around the world, particularly in my community. For years this has been a bittersweet day for me. Bitter in the sense that my own father was never active in my life; but also sweet because so many other fathers blessed and seeded into my life. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I get older and wiser I realize that sometimes things don't happen as we think they should. However, God ultimately gives us <b><u>everything</u></b> we need in order to develop, grow and prosper. Throughout my life God has placed good men in my path as a part of my journey. I have learned a lot about manhood by watching the men in my family, my male friends, my former boyfriends and personal mentors.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Below I would like to share a few lessons that I have learned from two black men in my family that greatly impacted and shaped my life.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UYiQF4EvdELzyGDZRIQUW_sSOwp4SCHLRZc21ekfY3CW5BsStlC7ve_N8H8cAP7juoCU_YUin1GgOVFaZML4a_J77YfY3PlC_deaxXsaOePzhTP8FkOscaqQAuSS1ClB-wJpStRT1ZU/s1600/Granddaddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UYiQF4EvdELzyGDZRIQUW_sSOwp4SCHLRZc21ekfY3CW5BsStlC7ve_N8H8cAP7juoCU_YUin1GgOVFaZML4a_J77YfY3PlC_deaxXsaOePzhTP8FkOscaqQAuSS1ClB-wJpStRT1ZU/s200/Granddaddy.jpg" width="190" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>ALL Things Are Possible</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I loved my granddaddy and thought he would live forever. He died in 2008 at the age of 104. What I remember most about my granddaddy, Joseph Gamble Sr., is that he was a very smart, wise, quiet and humble man. He rarely talked so when he said something you knew that you needed to listen. Only his immediate family knew his other skills and hobbies as a folk artist, avid reader and political commentator. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i>(Interesting Fact: My granddaddy was the ONLY Democrat that I ever knew that liked President George W. Bush) </i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My grandfather was the son of a white farmer and black woman in the early 1900's in Alabama. He loved his family and would always tell me stories about his childhood "up the country". He especially liked to tell stories about his extremely colorful and resilient father. My grandfather said that his Dad loved his boys and gave each son their own business (<i>i.e. a "whiskey still"</i>) on their respective 18th birthdays. Most of granddaddy's favorite stories were centered around the adventures with his brothers while making whiskey and "running" moonshine. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-4X0pWf_gnkBE_qYT00Ro-2fsDlIyWN-4gh3yjvdLFnC620zXX7N4LohVZM_OrgQtIPdhhREzrBoCbn5GwK97OWeU-Kpr-tMZyYErjibGckdbWkWuRSJsYH6TOPaTIRbLQeGgwAFJxM/s1600/Moonshine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-4X0pWf_gnkBE_qYT00Ro-2fsDlIyWN-4gh3yjvdLFnC620zXX7N4LohVZM_OrgQtIPdhhREzrBoCbn5GwK97OWeU-Kpr-tMZyYErjibGckdbWkWuRSJsYH6TOPaTIRbLQeGgwAFJxM/s200/Moonshine.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>What I found interesting about my granddaddy is that even though he was the least formerly educated and (least) traveled member of my family he was the MOST open minded. My grandfather dropped out of school in the third grade and only traveled outside the state of Alabama 2-3 times during his entire lifetime. Yet it was my grandfather that was always the most excited to hear about my travel adventures to Cuba, Africa and Europe. (<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">He was very excited when I went to Cuba because he was secretly fascinated with Fidel Castro and the "communist".</span></i>)<br />
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One of the other things that fascinated me most about by granddaddy was his unwavering belief in supernatural events. He often shared stories about unexplainable events like finding unexpected money to pay a bill in the exact amount needed, witnessing strange incidents occurring in nature and having chance encounters with people that were possibly angels. He loved watching the news and would often read books on dianetics, spiritual writings and Christian science. <br />
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I think the most important lesson that my grandfather taught me was to look beyond what I could see in the natural world and be open to experience the vast possibilities in the universe. My grandaddy taught me to widen my horizons in thought. He taught me that God has no boundaries.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSJlcgkGvm-VkJj2dvaPp9AsIBBVw5_43hCxdnhYoqM05bbGnIC00PB3P2leO3wQqXbNNJ3V8AmMeBfaDeo74JvbxLVAVWxFY-fv_IcgeYOjIBlwNG0ts87MiuVfvFSyn7YYlp6jYGMM/s1600/My+Brother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSJlcgkGvm-VkJj2dvaPp9AsIBBVw5_43hCxdnhYoqM05bbGnIC00PB3P2leO3wQqXbNNJ3V8AmMeBfaDeo74JvbxLVAVWxFY-fv_IcgeYOjIBlwNG0ts87MiuVfvFSyn7YYlp6jYGMM/s400/My+Brother.jpg" width="153" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Never Take Love for Granted</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I sincerely believe that God gives every human being a guardian angel on earth that loves you unconditionally. My brother, Marcus Christopher Brown, was that angel for me. He believed that his big Sister Tosha, could do anything, knew everything and someday would "be somebody". </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about my deceased brother. He was my younger brother and only sibling on my mother's side. Unfortunately, he committed suicide on Thanksgiving Day in 2003. It was a very sad and unexpected blow for my family. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My biggest regret and life lesson learned from my brother is the importance of not taking love for granted. As my mother's oldest child, I never imagined that my brother would die before me. (And e<i>specially in his early thirties)</i> I thought that I would have my little brother around to boss during my entire lifespan.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In hindsight, I now realize that I took his unconditional love and belief in me for granted. It was only after his death that I realized how much pain Marcus was going through and that he needed help from his family. Unfortunately, I was personally too wrapped up in my own life to even recognize the depth of brother's pain. This is something I sincerely regret.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-v9ZoqRXyjZBBSY2hgX6l3nNUKchkPQiF3oWMaWsaLKOQNH7VecclSo8QGGJCEdIodq26DktC0rizsD7N-LEaABJvlqnsRQQt0-KWjwF-wvWFpvuMLYVD65C737zf5eF6Wg7W48ME1g/s1600/Big+sister+and+little+brother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-v9ZoqRXyjZBBSY2hgX6l3nNUKchkPQiF3oWMaWsaLKOQNH7VecclSo8QGGJCEdIodq26DktC0rizsD7N-LEaABJvlqnsRQQt0-KWjwF-wvWFpvuMLYVD65C737zf5eF6Wg7W48ME1g/s200/Big+sister+and+little+brother.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For months, the reality of my brother's death caused me to struggle with tremendous feelings of guilt and remorse. However, one particular day as I was thinking about all the things that I should have or could have done better to save my brother's life I heard a voice in my spirit. The message was very simple, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">"<i>Do you think that you could have saved him but I couldn't? Don't you know that life and death are in MY hands not yours.</i>"</span> It was at that very moment that I released the guilt and reflected on the larger lesson that Marcus taught me.......never take love and/or those whom you love for granted. </div><b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0lC4Tx5wdVTdq4HGoGb8_Mbpy5Ay6WkL7oa8ln3UnZpCrFldClqqNHXzeiBpQ-1iJEdmyHz3xMA4fTpdio-PyoF1LHfNmYJl_aH5YU1URWVLlVWGjV8u5f9_-Udjn5R43uw8WqbjNQzc/s1600/black+man+profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0lC4Tx5wdVTdq4HGoGb8_Mbpy5Ay6WkL7oa8ln3UnZpCrFldClqqNHXzeiBpQ-1iJEdmyHz3xMA4fTpdio-PyoF1LHfNmYJl_aH5YU1URWVLlVWGjV8u5f9_-Udjn5R43uw8WqbjNQzc/s200/black+man+profile.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">B</span></b>lack men have taught me so much about life and love. The men in my family are only a small fraction of men that have positively impacted my life. I have learned from my friends, ex-lovers, leaders and coworkers. Much of the breadth and depth of my life experiences have been a direct result of my relationship with the brothers that I loved or the ones that loved me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today I encourage you to take the time to reflect and be thankful for all of the men that God has placed in your life. The brothers have certainly added the texture to the fabric of my life. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thank you black men!</div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-50472722705557141602011-06-12T16:16:00.001-04:002011-06-12T16:21:08.054-04:00Standing in Your Power<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmde-ClHBPzto5rDc0P31HZE7wpTY8DRKOLQeU1P1Ok3IL_Bjl3lhuH5tJ5L0NnB6p6BPXK4HPch0_Cdnt5tqGQW8MJjWhnzCYyzEddbADCwpu3t534oNomJiM2K93TCGlHhHZw_T_Vo/s1600/Yoga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmde-ClHBPzto5rDc0P31HZE7wpTY8DRKOLQeU1P1Ok3IL_Bjl3lhuH5tJ5L0NnB6p6BPXK4HPch0_Cdnt5tqGQW8MJjWhnzCYyzEddbADCwpu3t534oNomJiM2K93TCGlHhHZw_T_Vo/s320/Yoga.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">H</span></b>ave you ever felt totally powerless? If so, then you know that it is an awful and debilitating feeling. One of my biggest personal challenges has been my desire to constantly want to please people. I absolutely love to serve people and make them feel happy and loved. But sometimes it is at the expense of standing in my power. <br />
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I truly believe that serving others is a calling and gift from God However, many times I have allowed this gift to be exploited and used out of context by my unbalanced desire to be accepted by other people. Recently a friend told me that I could reduce the stress in my life by no longer allowing others to exploit by gift by standing in my own power. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lately I have been thinking a lot about what exactly does it mean to stand in my own power. I realize that many of my relationship challenges, personal failures and feelings of betrayal have resulted in me allowing external pressures to erode my internal sense of power. It is important for all of us to completely embrace who we are as powerful beings. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Although I am not a big self-help book fan I must admit that I have read scores of self-help articles, inspirational readings and motivational books on the subject. I truly desire to understand the concept more fully. This evening I decided to mentally "freestyle" and list some of my thoughts about the concept. Perhaps this blog post will serve as an personal exercise to help facilitate my growth in embracing the fullness of who I am. Prayerfully it will also be a blessing to you as well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbAbDztntImvjSyvZxRzNFKLfuIrZ4KvraRBT90lgzOKjcYB8TbW3GwgVU38z-L-VoU4UXzMMTu81EZ4nmmOi1L-WBLqm5AdrA59BFBz88bkILgw1BPIWUk14udcQLaDG6VbTX_hPmJ0/s1600/Greater+Is+He.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbAbDztntImvjSyvZxRzNFKLfuIrZ4KvraRBT90lgzOKjcYB8TbW3GwgVU38z-L-VoU4UXzMMTu81EZ4nmmOi1L-WBLqm5AdrA59BFBz88bkILgw1BPIWUk14udcQLaDG6VbTX_hPmJ0/s200/Greater+Is+He.jpg" width="171" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>Reflection #1:</b> <i>Greater is He within me; than he that is in the world. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is a powerful bible verse that teaches us that our internal power within is actually greater than any external power or pressure in the world. If we really stood on this belief there is no way that we would ever feel a sense of powerlessness. I recognize that my weak moments are rooted in the fact that I haven't fully accepted that God is not an outside separate entity but in fact His Sprit lives within me. God is a part of my being.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Reflection #2</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">: <i>People pleasing behavior never satisfies the people that you are trying to please.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I know that is a tongue twister but many of you know exactly what I mean. Through my many life experiences and wisdom I have finally discovered that it is absolutely impossible to please everybody. It is particularly useless to focus your energies on people that only seek to take from you and/or exploit your "people pleasing" nature. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6p5zZQik0ECdFj2XTfJViN0TfRajRW2yMVv1ePCgcywhFpY875w8Ms2C9oLHRsgqg5W-uI2pjWU9_EysGGWoh9QP-43nYkS_1nveViXFEPacUb-aiwD9LqU0qzZ_S6vg7DqBkyXWHI20/s1600/manipulator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6p5zZQik0ECdFj2XTfJViN0TfRajRW2yMVv1ePCgcywhFpY875w8Ms2C9oLHRsgqg5W-uI2pjWU9_EysGGWoh9QP-43nYkS_1nveViXFEPacUb-aiwD9LqU0qzZ_S6vg7DqBkyXWHI20/s200/manipulator.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>People that constantly demand proof, actions, and personal favors recognize your gift but desire to control and/or exploit it for their own benefit. As we learn to stand in our power we have to recognize that we must be good stewards over the gifts that God has given us. As the scriptures say, "Don't throw your pearls to swine."<br />
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All people deserve our prayer and reasonable help but NO ONE deserves to be given our power. God bestows his favor to whom ever He chooses. Those that value your power will also value your use and protection of that power.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6sKDmYr5MZmBr0rliez9HjBaUY9MptoaWXX7qyYIGtDzP8xIY46tdwRePjUA9XbWD5RPO-_l8Sf-hSubwcdIg1QutC_aFKsDhR0kTnqCbfu9uWtUlMQNSEPs1UcMVs0loThSGVlB7QWU/s1600/embrace+power.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6sKDmYr5MZmBr0rliez9HjBaUY9MptoaWXX7qyYIGtDzP8xIY46tdwRePjUA9XbWD5RPO-_l8Sf-hSubwcdIg1QutC_aFKsDhR0kTnqCbfu9uWtUlMQNSEPs1UcMVs0loThSGVlB7QWU/s200/embrace+power.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i><b>Reflection#3</b>: Self forgiveness is this best path towards self acceptance.</i></span><br />
I am oftentimes my worst and harshest critic. Over the years I have internalized that being self critical will automatically lead to self improvement. NOT TRUE! While I think it is important for one to be reflective it is counter productive to become self-critical to the point of self doubt. <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i><b>Reflection #4</b>: Fully embrace your power for your gifts shall make room for you.</i></span><br />
This statement is also rooted in a scripture. It is so true! Most of my most powerful moments have resulted in me operating in my gifts without fear and/or reservation. Of course, your haters will take notice but I am convinced that the more you fly with the eagles the less you will be concerned about the actions of chickens.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i><b>Reflection #5</b>: Chickens peck, turkeys strut, birds fly..... but eagles soar. </i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcrmWFoQZOtDOLzSQVazRuyo_NlqIFpFgJlKnxeDTYKlnOn4gKCQCVqW-kidWayNN8ZudixzRcnGAF1xIbPb6aes9fuNjL4T4OAsXWDNcgnhWEN-omymOiSb35G7Q97jqRkedhBTwaJs/s1600/chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcrmWFoQZOtDOLzSQVazRuyo_NlqIFpFgJlKnxeDTYKlnOn4gKCQCVqW-kidWayNN8ZudixzRcnGAF1xIbPb6aes9fuNjL4T4OAsXWDNcgnhWEN-omymOiSb35G7Q97jqRkedhBTwaJs/s200/chickens.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>A long time ago a best friend of mine told me about her bird analogy as it relates to people. She told me to look at the actions of a common birds (chickens) and how their actions differs from the eagles. She pointed out to me that chickens 1. hang out in groups, 2. have wings but don't fly, and 3. will eat whatever is placed before them. While on the other hand, 1. eagles operate independently, 2. fly higher than any other known bird, 3. they build their nest up high and 4. highly selective about what they eat, who they mate with and where they build their nests.<br />
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She said, "<i>Tosha we are eagles. You must seek out the company and support of other eagles.</i>" She also went on to say, "If eagles stay on the ground too long and hang out with the chickens there is a possibility they will take on the behavior of chickens. Not only will the eagle no longer soar...but it may forget how to fly."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_bF4r7I1e7NgGIfPJPxwhXGf30X5EPTMjbAz7ov1h04_llfXyEgT44ufE8n_XSuU3yQR6SLMgZDxD90Oufq0hr1TbHr1NAB0jKbyxUmBDKuWx79YyXZU8p9gCNLVAMt1FCHYeateurw/s1600/soaring+eagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_bF4r7I1e7NgGIfPJPxwhXGf30X5EPTMjbAz7ov1h04_llfXyEgT44ufE8n_XSuU3yQR6SLMgZDxD90Oufq0hr1TbHr1NAB0jKbyxUmBDKuWx79YyXZU8p9gCNLVAMt1FCHYeateurw/s320/soaring+eagle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Please feel free to share your thoughts about STANDING in YOUR POWER!</b></div> </div></div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-62598032158561594102011-05-24T03:56:00.000-04:002011-05-24T03:56:43.064-04:00God Made Grandmothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQPHvYe56wgS5lXdF2dHfoxt5MAYtgGiK8XEFBsiw10O1VCwrbEK4EnCZilZY2mwCscFXCfXOXYGE8jHBHTB7jTjcKQjhl6Ze7cEGS_vUSkzotLFYaZ1kmaJYWJgGnxXxgMkcWsRGEWc/s1600/My+Grandparents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQPHvYe56wgS5lXdF2dHfoxt5MAYtgGiK8XEFBsiw10O1VCwrbEK4EnCZilZY2mwCscFXCfXOXYGE8jHBHTB7jTjcKQjhl6Ze7cEGS_vUSkzotLFYaZ1kmaJYWJgGnxXxgMkcWsRGEWc/s320/My+Grandparents.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">(This is a photo of my grandparents for their 50th Anniversary.They were married for 76 years.</span></i>)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nellie Gamble is my grandmother's name but I called her Mama. A few days ago I was thinking about how much my grandmother loved me, taught me and influenced my life. The amazing thing is that I realized that I don't talk about her enough or allow myself to think about her because it still hurts me to know that she is now gone. However, lately as I go through another life transition I have been reflecting alot on her life, spiritual teachings and our special love bond.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My grandmother was my protector, my hero, my first teacher and my spiritual mentor. I literally thought my grandmother was a SAINT! She always wanted to be a teacher so she taught all of her children and even taught me how to read at the age of three. She thought that being a "school teacher" was the ultimate honorable job. She always talked about how becoming a teacher was her dream but she abandoned it to get married at the age of 15. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">She was encouraged by "her grandmother" to marry a 20 year old local landowner and farmer. He was one of the infamous Gamble boys that was the son of a local white landowner that openly loved his black wife and took good care of their 13 children. (<i>NOTE: This was in the late 1800's in central Alabama so this was very rare</i>) </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My grandmother said that her grandmother felt that it would be best if she got married because she was poor and raised as an orphan. The family felt as my grandmother became a young woman she needed a husband to provide her with the life she deserved. Therefore, my grandmother dropped out of high school in the 11th grade and became a wife. Yet even more than 50 years later she talked everyday about how she wished she had finished school and become a school teacher. She said that in some ways she was glad that she made the decision because she always followed the advice of her grandmother. My grandmother said that her grandma was the BEST in the world but I disagree...SHE was the BEST. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Tonight I decided to briefly reflect on some of my best memories and core lessons learned from my grandmother on my blog. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b>Love is a Piece of Cake</b></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMiyuOjYPdlU0bA4x2KRBVryv6d0bi6ErHAUBqaEKfJhqYHOdCj22pRgcY_2vuLjUYIbV2VzkHeD9pF3Y-yerwPjO5rC41hr8dEJfAkNQPqhK66RYrgcJkDrYNZWXfPCBvfk1cZnAE8jE/s1600/German+Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMiyuOjYPdlU0bA4x2KRBVryv6d0bi6ErHAUBqaEKfJhqYHOdCj22pRgcY_2vuLjUYIbV2VzkHeD9pF3Y-yerwPjO5rC41hr8dEJfAkNQPqhK66RYrgcJkDrYNZWXfPCBvfk1cZnAE8jE/s200/German+Cake.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the third of every month-<i>after my grandmother got her social security check</i>- she would dress me up, put on her best dress and we would take the public bus downtown. She would shop and pay bills but one of the highlights of our downtown adventure happened to be our cake ritual. After all the business had been completed, we would go to Woolworth Department store. She would always proudly take me to sit at the dining counter and order me a piece of German chocolate cake and glass of milk. My grandmother had severe diabetes (<i>what she called sugar</i>) so she never would order any cake for herself but I always knew it was her favorite. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">She would always place her "pocketbook" in her lap, place my order and patiently watch me eat. She would never talk while I was eating but seemed to enjoy the process. She was so proud to be able to buy me a piece cake and glass of milk. She absolutely enjoyed seeing me finish my treat...<b>and it was always good</b>! The ritual always seemed like it was our little secret. It was the one thing that we always did together that no one else knew. I now realize how precious those moments were in my life. There was so much love exchanged in those quiet moments with my grandmother at the Woolworth counter eating a piece of German chocolate cake. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk8HU89i3Pbol1hbjBNs6wP8kVDE0r8yfyoOStk-lnFwRY_OxcDHFgubVyue1sKTDMKdnG_9sU7iU2P_Gm387L3W9rZQ0mlWhEm6ekwdt0_mPzbotv52d13heAex-ohgyqCJAKwFCYqJ4/s1600/i_love_my_BFF.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="98" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk8HU89i3Pbol1hbjBNs6wP8kVDE0r8yfyoOStk-lnFwRY_OxcDHFgubVyue1sKTDMKdnG_9sU7iU2P_Gm387L3W9rZQ0mlWhEm6ekwdt0_mPzbotv52d13heAex-ohgyqCJAKwFCYqJ4/s200/i_love_my_BFF.gif" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>BFF</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I promise you that Jesus was my grandmother's best friend! She talked to him about everything---I mean EVERYTHING. She would declare his name aloud when she got good news, bad news, no news or if she wanted some news. My grandmother was so openly tight with Jesus that my brother and I would be afraid that Jesus would "<b>tell on us</b>" to her when we did something mischievous. I remember thinking as a small child, "<i>I know Jesus must get tired of her because she talks to him, sings to him and calls on him all day long</i>!" Her favorite song was "What a Friend We Have In Jesus." She absolutely BELIEVED and LIVED the words of this song. For this woman Jesus was her BFF (Best Friend Forever)!!!!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b>"If God Lets Me Live That Long And Nothing Happens"</b></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpN1D_8-2ydiflhJ4p5qWVosJjnn8TmiMpd2Vm79ImDnLSMrE_M7AKYbo6DJxATfhlyp-nr9yxpI6j7ZwRGaUqecmv8FgICrpMbu82rw3sEVyU_PDWy694YBImcf7YvpcDbc1xrps5__s/s1600/God%2527s+Sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpN1D_8-2ydiflhJ4p5qWVosJjnn8TmiMpd2Vm79ImDnLSMrE_M7AKYbo6DJxATfhlyp-nr9yxpI6j7ZwRGaUqecmv8FgICrpMbu82rw3sEVyU_PDWy694YBImcf7YvpcDbc1xrps5__s/s200/God%2527s+Sunrise.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My grandmother would declare this ENTIRE statement listed above before she made any commitment to attend an event or activity. She would say the entire phrase before saying "Yes, I'll be there." This was such a part of her daily mantra that she had developed a cadence with the phrase. She said it was almost like it was part of a song. What I learned from her through this declaration was that she always acknowledged that God was in complete control of her time on this earth. He blessed her with 91 years of life. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthWrE5dIDbcZ5TTFVcHhrCe0sTYfQfFBJ8KUjpaSAb3Z-UoEHF0sUZwxDTXyVVsRTwrYgfoF1OSwx1LqThkN1zOAnESTmlvHdyaRVF_vnR0zwOxJLNz_r-kMRstg8NVa9mZtl4Qu1vGI/s1600/question+mark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthWrE5dIDbcZ5TTFVcHhrCe0sTYfQfFBJ8KUjpaSAb3Z-UoEHF0sUZwxDTXyVVsRTwrYgfoF1OSwx1LqThkN1zOAnESTmlvHdyaRVF_vnR0zwOxJLNz_r-kMRstg8NVa9mZtl4Qu1vGI/s200/question+mark.jpg" width="190" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>"Somebody Bring Me My Gun"</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I never saw this infamous gun that my grandmother would always refer to, however if anybody strange or uninvited came on our porch or to our home while my grandfather was away she would loudly request that my brother or I would bring her gun. Of course, we would look at each other confused and think, "What gun does Mama have? Where is it?" Before we could ask the question she would give us "that look" and we knew to sit down and shut up. Due to her health and weight my grandmother had limited mobility. This was her way of warning a possible intruder that she would do anything to protect her grandchildren. It worked because this declaration would ward off any stranger that would come to our home announced. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have tons and tons of more stories and memories to share. Perhaps I will share them in future blogs. For right now I will savor the four memories and phrases that I listed above. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think there is always one person in each of our lives that God has placed on our individual paths to give us unconditional love. My grandmother was that person for me. She loved me fiercely, patiently and consistently. She taught me that true love never fails.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is a lot that I don't know but the one thing that I know for sure is that <b>God Certainly Made Grandmothers! I miss you Mama!</b></div><br />
<br />
LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-51043951660362777082011-05-21T23:31:00.002-04:002011-05-21T23:40:23.222-04:00A 40 Year Love Journey: The Healing Story of a Little Brown Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjN2XZG5NAFzYBYDdtpbUDFc_6hR2p0pFmYMmgVoPhKif-sTyVL7OTtwB3QyRX1bMED1VnppEov1kvI2aKymf6T8Tr8qj0xarCkWv9kIsqrL476Uhrow30OZBpcFwCpwhAuKN4qo7O_g/s1600/Little+Girl+Afro+Puff.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjN2XZG5NAFzYBYDdtpbUDFc_6hR2p0pFmYMmgVoPhKif-sTyVL7OTtwB3QyRX1bMED1VnppEov1kvI2aKymf6T8Tr8qj0xarCkWv9kIsqrL476Uhrow30OZBpcFwCpwhAuKN4qo7O_g/s200/Little+Girl+Afro+Puff.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><br />
</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black; font-weight: normal;"><u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The Little Brown Girl</span></b></u></span></u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She's only 7 years old. However, she has technically lived on this earth for more than 40 years, given birth to a child, experienced years of life lessons, inspired hundreds of people, raised millions of dollars, traveled the world and accomplished many professional and personal feats. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><u><br />
</u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps you have seen her before...she is that little brown girl standing on the corner holding three balloons (<i>two yellow and one white</i>) in her left hand while simultaneously twisting her pink satin hair ribbons with her right hand. She is the little girl with the bright smile, tiny gold hoop earrings and two afro puff ponytails placed on opposite sides of her head. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzGqLXjGUUQuMDnixW4Ay-18HFSRIzb9DaUoyRZP0VcSY2I-MRgQ1cNo0W4vlTiRlaCb7oaYp10Y9o_kjkjsG6S2gpvVur8vcfELDrLJBz6Jx59BP_gNO8ZsHrMikAIGuq1SLOdknTvo/s1600/Princess.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzGqLXjGUUQuMDnixW4Ay-18HFSRIzb9DaUoyRZP0VcSY2I-MRgQ1cNo0W4vlTiRlaCb7oaYp10Y9o_kjkjsG6S2gpvVur8vcfELDrLJBz6Jx59BP_gNO8ZsHrMikAIGuq1SLOdknTvo/s200/Princess.png" width="131" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She always wears a beautiful pink summer cotton dress adorned with white lace trimming. (<i>This is her favorite dress because her grandmother-- <b>the one person that loved her unconditionally</b>-- bought it for her from Naman's department store in downtown Mobile more than 35 years ago </i><i>just for being a good girl at school</i><i>.)</i> She also proudly dons her favorite shiny white patent leather shoes (<i>with a few scuff marks</i>) and fancy dress socks trimmed in white lace and embroidered with tiny pink flowers. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">The Family</span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The little girl's family loved her dearly. Her mother called her <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><i>Sweet Chocolate</i> <i>Chip</i></span>, her grandmother called her <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><i>Ma</i></span> and her aunts and uncles always called her <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><i>Baby Girl</i></span>. However, she secretly always wanted to be called <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><i>Princess</i></span>--but only by her Daddy if they would ever meet again. She vaguely remembered meeting her Daddy once but that was such a long, long time ago. She often wondered would he remember meeting her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">The Wait</span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She's a patient little girl that consistently stands in that same spot on the same corner, in that same pretty pink dress, with those same balloons for more than 38 years waiting for her Daddy to pick her up. She always believed in her heart that he would come back and take her for ice cream. Therefore, she filled up all of her time with activities and got through her days by working, leading projects, singing, and talking with her friends. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">She never told her friends that she was waiting on Daddy. Her friends only believed she was loved by her family. Everybody thought she was a smart and happy little brown girl. For the most part, she considered herself <i>almost</i> happy except she knew that everything would only become perfect when Daddy came back.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The"Brokenness"</span></b></u></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As an innocent little girl she knew the sweetness of being loved unconditionally; however she also knew the bitter taste of being <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><i>rejected</i></b></span>. For years she never knew what to call those strange sensations in the pit of her stomach that came each time she felt "unloved and unwanted". However, she could vividly remember the very first time she felt those strange emotions--it happened at her "other" grandmother's house in Mississippi after seeing a picture of her absent father standing next to her sister (<i>that was only 2 years older</i>) sitting at her grandmother's table while flashing big radiant smiles. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKifLUHrVblEi274LKydWSUd6ekBlQZmaClf9m0vX2hKpp-kDYuTAfbfUHNgO4bs0bDzUibV9eVpOMMbaGxUPDN4nY7o3wXGTCl-_-bnfg1DZic6OLigxVz8TtsGXyPhv04ipf81xzZ8/s1600/shattered-heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKifLUHrVblEi274LKydWSUd6ekBlQZmaClf9m0vX2hKpp-kDYuTAfbfUHNgO4bs0bDzUibV9eVpOMMbaGxUPDN4nY7o3wXGTCl-_-bnfg1DZic6OLigxVz8TtsGXyPhv04ipf81xzZ8/s200/shattered-heart.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The Messages</span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">During this visit to Mississippi the little brown girl carefully studied the family photo and couldn't understand why she wasn't in the picture. As she looked through the photos with her grandmother she remained quiet and painted her face with a great big smile. She never told grandmother how she felt seeing the picture of the happy father-daughter pair that didn't include her. Privately her active mind created strange messages such as, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">"<i>What's wrong with me? How come he loves her but not me? Why am I not good enough? Can I prove to him</i><i> I am a good girl? </i><i> How can I make him love me?</i>" </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQ7Yovc1i5Kqgu_RXXBRcN-TKHBEs3rSO0lah9VWD8xikRhR5lRkdNRj-j_eI_ztSbS-ojGj_y1TOVn7zLvpcmMNXOmkEnGrMjZm-rWjou1ctYVnJAfe8f3k3BLIcLHwbq-1a3pOOss8/s1600/Twins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQ7Yovc1i5Kqgu_RXXBRcN-TKHBEs3rSO0lah9VWD8xikRhR5lRkdNRj-j_eI_ztSbS-ojGj_y1TOVn7zLvpcmMNXOmkEnGrMjZm-rWjou1ctYVnJAfe8f3k3BLIcLHwbq-1a3pOOss8/s200/Twins.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The Twins</span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was much later in life that the little brown girl realized that those strange messages were actually twin emotions and their specific names were <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><i>Rejection</i></b></span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><i>Abandonment</i></b></span>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The little brown girl didn't particularly like the company of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><i>Rejection</i></b></span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><i>Abandonment</i></b></span> so she hid those twin emotions and buried them deep, deep down in her heart. She even tried to erase those emotions and feelings from her memory. She almost succeeded until the day her heart was broken wide opened and shattered into a million pieces by that tall boy from down the road. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjmZKcJSj9T_ZCkLW1nk4IB1bGu65IYHRM_9YOwNEzZCdB94f9YurXnKFqssp_y4ma9PFz38KiCNlkSTbR5PfROjGu5RlfP7lxDne0jTPyWZJs0nYQa11w2KNLFwxdkTzq9doQzaQMJs/s1600/little+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjmZKcJSj9T_ZCkLW1nk4IB1bGu65IYHRM_9YOwNEzZCdB94f9YurXnKFqssp_y4ma9PFz38KiCNlkSTbR5PfROjGu5RlfP7lxDne0jTPyWZJs0nYQa11w2KNLFwxdkTzq9doQzaQMJs/s200/little+kids.jpg" width="195" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The Playmates</span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The little brown girl really loved that tall boy from down the road and thought he would be her playmate for life. They danced, they laughed together, they sang their favorite songs, they dreamt together and they even played house for many months. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Although the tall brown boy had also lived on earth for more than 38 years, was divorced and had fathered two children-- in reality he was still that 8 year old little kid inside. Ironically, he too didn't have a relationship with his Daddy either and in fact he didn't even know his real father. But the tall boy said that this didn't bother him because he was big and strong. He never talked about it. But she knew he cared.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKITE4PL9xm8mWiooWQWBEuoNzaq47IuhTMEBdeqQyPyWh2ih6mbX9O4GYtqwq6OQZ2tT_eKXJ7p8E2Z01agLpt9SuxznD4-dN9MarbqusrWao2iGwsPL0Fl-g6jmD5sRx8bv6LEH7fI/s1600/Princess+playing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKITE4PL9xm8mWiooWQWBEuoNzaq47IuhTMEBdeqQyPyWh2ih6mbX9O4GYtqwq6OQZ2tT_eKXJ7p8E2Z01agLpt9SuxznD4-dN9MarbqusrWao2iGwsPL0Fl-g6jmD5sRx8bv6LEH7fI/s200/Princess+playing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The tall boy constantly told the little girl that she was special and that he deeply loved her.... but sometimes he made her feel like she didn't really matter. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">One day for some unknown reason the tall boy just picked up his toys, left the sand box and moved away. There was no reason given, no explanation, and no real discussion. He just left the little girl in the sand box to play all by herself. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br />
</span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The Intruding Thoughts</span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"></span></u></b>As soon as the tall boy moved away the little girl's twin emotions of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>Rejection</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"> and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>Abandonment</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"> came back, tapped the little girl on her shoulder and demanded their rightful place in her heart and mind. She was now in a state of shock with a shattered ego, fractured feelings, and a broken heart. The little girl no longer had the strength to hide, wrestle and/or lock those strong emotions and feelings away. Her resistance was low.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBFZCY8Hf71ISvrRx7ENyEof4gCy7pw5AIJWKmbxyi1HukoJMb1AxJUCgyb9iHJJhub2YkNLXq6elfl6fmJzZRmNHXCHneS8L1Xo64hweH9c7L6a_YHh34903DMPrpTRRY_qePER3vk8/s1600/subconscious-mind.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBFZCY8Hf71ISvrRx7ENyEof4gCy7pw5AIJWKmbxyi1HukoJMb1AxJUCgyb9iHJJhub2YkNLXq6elfl6fmJzZRmNHXCHneS8L1Xo64hweH9c7L6a_YHh34903DMPrpTRRY_qePER3vk8/s200/subconscious-mind.png" width="184" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;">Therefore, those twin emotions anchored themselves in the center of the little girl's mind and slowly took over her daily thoughts. Each day the intruding thoughts became stronger and stronger. Before long her thoughts led to many restless nights and tear filled days.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><u><b>The Resurfacing Messages </b></u></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span>The little girl finally accepted that the tall boy was never coming back but now she heard those old messages louder than ever in her head. They were the same exact messages she felt when she thought about Daddy. In every quiet moment she could hear those familiar messages, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">"<i>What's wrong with me? How come he loves her but not me? Why am I not good enough? Can I prove to him</i><i> I am a good girl?</i><i> How can I make him love me?</i>" </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><br />
</u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Seeking a ComfortingWord</span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"></span></u></b>The little brown girl was so tired of hearing those messages. She needed immediate comfort and relief from the pain. She began to reflect on the things her grandmother taught her that would help her feel better. She remembered that her grandmother--<b><i>the one that loved her unconditionally--</i></b>had always said that "God's word" could bring her comfort in the time of need. Therefore, the little girl picked up her bible and began to seek for the "word" that would bring her comfort. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS1XPIuIdzb_vj0MRHXveRv4GMIEsn-iDNqBvi1ISIBDPjOC1CcZhUUmoeOsI3oBzgG5jF5nUUMZ3a32AdEjJArHAl1CGJqiz7o7r5MzaGKAWCyifcG_1mcpzo2maqvC4LUwgjXzud_Q/s1600/bible+picture.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS1XPIuIdzb_vj0MRHXveRv4GMIEsn-iDNqBvi1ISIBDPjOC1CcZhUUmoeOsI3oBzgG5jF5nUUMZ3a32AdEjJArHAl1CGJqiz7o7r5MzaGKAWCyifcG_1mcpzo2maqvC4LUwgjXzud_Q/s200/bible+picture.gif" width="173" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">One morning she sat down in her quiet corner and read Roman's 12:2 that stated, <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may determine what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect."</span></b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"></span></b></span></i><b><i>To be continued......</i></b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Stay Tuned for Part II: "Let the Healing Begin"</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><b><u><br />
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</div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669975523560017720.post-18187017197351965762011-05-13T20:35:00.000-04:002011-05-13T20:35:35.036-04:00A Mama's Most Memorable Moments<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px;"></span><br />
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.22em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" src="http://images3.fabulously40.com/uploadedimage/20366/thumbx250/mother-and-son.jpeg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; cursor: move; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /></div><div style="color: #333333; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">t just hit me that my only child will be graduating from high school in less than two weeks. The day has finally come where t</span>here will be no more parent/teacher conferences, no more boring PTA meetings, no more hours of Black History programs and Easter speeches, no more homework patrol, no more late night nursing-a-sick-child back to health, no more curfew control, no more room cleaning raids, no more restrictions, and no more whippings.</div></div><div style="color: #333333; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;">However, I realize that I am going to miss every single moment of raising a child! My baby boy is actually grown up! This past Mother’s Day I was sitting in the park thinking about my most memorable moments as a mother. Here are a few a my favorite memories below:</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlL-rHqJLmuDwWxFbDNXlMOOVw7ayoB42epZp8OqxtwZQUXJ3ANLglg5ar8Bs9Zqrh50U5oaMLvL0ELePhd8vsmzuzKx6ptPPZVDKSYGdfS962mbhAydrJ_RWMb2PhaIvnk19sdO4CTE/s1600/Swarm+of+Flies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlL-rHqJLmuDwWxFbDNXlMOOVw7ayoB42epZp8OqxtwZQUXJ3ANLglg5ar8Bs9Zqrh50U5oaMLvL0ELePhd8vsmzuzKx6ptPPZVDKSYGdfS962mbhAydrJ_RWMb2PhaIvnk19sdO4CTE/s200/Swarm+of+Flies.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><strong style="font-weight: bold;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"Trauma of the Flies"</span></u></strong><br />
<div style="color: #333333; text-align: justify;">My son and I traveled to Africa when he was 5 years old. After visiting the country for about two weeks our delegation wrapped up our program and prepared to return home. As a going away gift, our host family organized a huge crab boil cook-out in the village. However, during the cookout my son and I noticed that there was an abundance of flies everywhere around the crab pots. The flies landed on the pots, on the crabs, on peoples faces, and on the serving plates. Flies were EVERYWHERE!!!! </div><div style="color: #333333; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; text-align: justify;">My son (<i>who hates bugs</i>) sat quietly at the table while our freshly boiled crabs were being served and handed to us on plates. After about 10 minutes of observation my son couldn’t take it anymore. He yelled out and startled the crowd; this caused everyone in our vicinity to stop and look in our direction. My son then shouted out at the top of his lungs. <b><i>“Mommy, Mommy what is wrong with THESE people??? THE FLIES, THE FLIES are EVERYWHERE? Can’t they see THEM? I just can’t take it anymore. I don’t want any party. I want to go home NOW where we don’t EAT flies!</i></b>” This was one of my most embarrassing moments...but VERY funny!</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0fUaLsYozqURaISvk25kH2G3DQ4lxTB_3QchzMKOgAvrznXuXXA8mPoUubwyCQVnUtr6Tvd0NB6xkoJ8Np0FjasHG-A7uwnV8r_XSGqOOXmuJn5TvrI2IgOZANWEpdT8069NcTI9CODI/s1600/breast+feeding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0fUaLsYozqURaISvk25kH2G3DQ4lxTB_3QchzMKOgAvrznXuXXA8mPoUubwyCQVnUtr6Tvd0NB6xkoJ8Np0FjasHG-A7uwnV8r_XSGqOOXmuJn5TvrI2IgOZANWEpdT8069NcTI9CODI/s200/breast+feeding.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><strong style="font-weight: bold;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"The Exposed Breast Mystery"</span></u></strong><br />
<div style="color: #333333; text-align: justify;">I breastfed my baby until he was 15 months. At 15 months I began to ween him so I only breastfed him once each evening right before bed. I had completely stopped breastfeeding him throughout the night although he still slept in the bed with me. I soon noticed that I would wake up in the morning and always find my right breast outside of my gown. During this time I was very surprised about the change in his eating pattern in the mornings. I realized that he wasn’t hungry as usual after he woke up. Ironically, I woke up one night and caught the little rascal! I now realized that he was stealing a midnight nursing while I was dead asleep. I was too OUTDONE! I started sleeping in t-shirts and pajamas from that day forward.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_b6AoSdpnV4LftuTPsNgd3YRoAVnDj2M5p3USKBA38lND3SJhzfcNTU7-StXbQpHCHn-oJ2YWusX3Yrq6RmzOaPDl6i8DifhdfbwC99dAnNZW-ppce_eoSw5pVU3LOU5GER0PpOrQRpU/s1600/missing+child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_b6AoSdpnV4LftuTPsNgd3YRoAVnDj2M5p3USKBA38lND3SJhzfcNTU7-StXbQpHCHn-oJ2YWusX3Yrq6RmzOaPDl6i8DifhdfbwC99dAnNZW-ppce_eoSw5pVU3LOU5GER0PpOrQRpU/s200/missing+child.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong style="font-weight: bold;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"The Weekend Excursion"</span></u></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">Like most teens, my son went through a rebellious stage around the age of 14. On Thanksgiving a few years ago, I put my son on a greyhound bus to visit his Dad in Alabama. Later that evening I discovered that he never arrived. The next 48 hours were the worst hours of my life!! I felt like I was in hell. I was convinced that someone had stolen my precious teenage son and hurt him because he had never been out-of-place up until that point. After viewing hours and hours of video at the Greyhound bus station, reporting an Amber Alert, and activating a personal search team of my friends for my son...he casually calls me 98 hours later to ask, “Ma I was wondering can I come by the house to get a change of clothes? I thought to myself.......WHAT???!!! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="color: #333333; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmaJYDuinLjFaoIonVKoL_kVamSqbWXLHw500uJTJ1xo7Q7xV1vTW32qQG37zmKGkni6M5jUYXKX7KEFXR9JiNvH4GOBmRP1XYW6j99QMhYvlP2exZIg3rLZRxzAds1k8IXmlEEGBwGc/s1600/black+kids+hangout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmaJYDuinLjFaoIonVKoL_kVamSqbWXLHw500uJTJ1xo7Q7xV1vTW32qQG37zmKGkni6M5jUYXKX7KEFXR9JiNvH4GOBmRP1XYW6j99QMhYvlP2exZIg3rLZRxzAds1k8IXmlEEGBwGc/s200/black+kids+hangout.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, needless to say he came back but he was on lock down for a long time. Almost a year later when I could finally talk about the ordeal without wanting to choke him I asked, “Son, why did run away and worry your family?” He looked shocked and calmly replied, ” What are you talking about Ma? I never ran away. You and my Dad just overreacted. I was only on an Atlanta excursion with a few of my friends.” This is one of my most fearful and yet the most relieved moments with my son!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As you can see, I have had plenty of adventures with my son. There are too many to recount on this blog. And....YES I am very glad that I have almost completed this phase of motherhood. However, I am looking forward to many, many more great years of creating great memories and adventure together! </div></div><div style="color: #333333; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M9K3_lJVYw9XEiYK0H5yXTBikhpCzWMPT-ce9DFx6tXbYo3KmCwH5oWKZj1Bct2OGRiUVtmyBMIjkRCA4jBGHTJ26qq9Uy5C1vorHVau3LZDObEFwP6OYIMvZOTf9a1qgK2p1EhfSwI/s1600/mother_son.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M9K3_lJVYw9XEiYK0H5yXTBikhpCzWMPT-ce9DFx6tXbYo3KmCwH5oWKZj1Bct2OGRiUVtmyBMIjkRCA4jBGHTJ26qq9Uy5C1vorHVau3LZDObEFwP6OYIMvZOTf9a1qgK2p1EhfSwI/s320/mother_son.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>LaTosha Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08325786356744323865noreply@blogger.com5