ms. goody two-shoes [part one]

I’m not about to fight for something that God doesn’t want me to have. 

That’s the thing about this journey. You learn fairly quickly what God wants and wants not. Fear ain’t one of them. 

I had this moment. Running to do Scripture work because the Creator and I haven’t been on one accord. I heard Her the day before: fear is your idol. “You worship fear.” Nothing but death and destruction at the end of this path if you continue to follow fear’s lead. It’s what keeps you in slavery, in bondage. Trapped tight to the things that keep you up at night. You know those things. They whisper sweet nothings full of misery, sadness and unfollowed dreams. You dream of many things, Ciara, but the nightmares are what strike lighting at your feet. You move fast under duress. Call it a trauma response. 

“They refused to listen to and failed to remember the miracles you performed among them. They became stiff-necked and in their rebellion appointed a leader in order to return to their slavery. But you are a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love. Therefore you did not desert them.” (Nehemiah 9:17 NIV)

Last Friday reminded me of who I used to be. I was this girl who roamed the streets as if nothing – or no one – was there to catch her. I realized then and do now that naivete coursed through my veins when I was young and clearly didn’t know any better. Once I learned a few things about life? The know-nothing-at-all turned into I-don’t-want-experience-any-of-it all. That leaves you with the desire to experience nothingness because the fear of the “something” drives you away. 

It wasn’t the “something” that drove me away this time. It was the “anything”. Not all things are good for you and good to you. You hear from a baritone dripped in their own form of honesty that you make them uncomfortable because you’re not “sure” of what you are. Truth be? You always knew. So much that you could call it from the beginning that who you are doesn’t align with who they need to be with. But who you are is good so they can’t stay away even when you give them all chances to do so – and the grace to see it early and end their impending doom. 

I’m done being nice. Because being nice means thinking about myself last. It means suffering in silence so someone else’s comfort can live in plain sight. Thinking about myself last means putting fear first. I can’t afford to do that anymore.