“Lean in,” I heard. It was a simple, quiet statement. I knew what it meant instantly and it scared me. It meant:

\ Stretching a little farther in embracing (even the idea of) joy and hope for the future.

\ Releasing more fear that the bottom might drop out. Again.
\ Trusting that the worst is behind and the best is yet unfolding.

Lean in. Drink deep…

...I still either have to brace myself or forget and get spin-cycled through the day/week/whatever.

Is that you?

I’m praying for you - for us - today so you know you’re not alone. You’re not forgotten. You are loved.

So what’s the last thing you heard? Do you remember? Have you finally stopped long enough yet during this quarantine to ask?

Suddenly, I saw myself making my way thru LAX - prophetic, forward-moving, life-giving paintings in my right hand and Jermaine’s urn under my left arm - and heard:

‘NO EXTRA BAGGAGE’

boom loudly and clearly in my spirit. I knew what it meant instantly…

My routines were safe. They kept me secure in my mind even as they kept me fastened to my bronze-version life. I’d asked for this. I didn’t know it at the time of my asking. It didn’t sound like that at all. It sounded like groaning. Deep, unsatisfied, guttural groaning. And it wouldn’t stop. 

I hate lies now. Like…A LOT. The worst lies, I find, are the ones that I don’t even know I’m telling. Those are the ones that have their root in the deep, dark and murky recesses of my insecurities, past rejections, and the total conviction that if I can’t see them, no one else can either. Until I unceremoniously find out they can.

It’s January 21st – three weeks into the New Year – and as good a time as I can think of to do a quick check-up on the laser focus with which many of us charged into 2019. Distractions abound as if seemingly on assignment to keep you from keeping your foot on the gas but, if you’re like me, you won’t be lured. There’s a prize ahead and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to grab it with both hands!

I realized then that I had continued to hold onto one residual thought; one remnant feeling that was very effective at preventing me from moving forward with any sense of urgency. That residual remnant was this: that there was something to ‘go back’ to.