I was trying to think of a message for my #2 positive message of this day, when I stumbled upon this: each of us is beautiful, just the way we are and God intended us to be. Society wants us to believe there is something wrong with us, we should be thinner, taller, handsome, knocked out dead gorgeous, dressed up for the ages and on and on and on. But don’t believe it. It is all you, what comes from within. Not the outer layer of you. When you go to your grave, people won’t remember what kind of suit you were wearing, if it was a Jordan or Nike, how great your eyes looked in that teal eye shadow or how perfect that outfit hugged your curves or how those 5 inch heels shaped your calves (and ruined your feet), nail color. They will remember the essence of you – how you lived your life, how you made them feel, the things you did for others, and who you were inside. Remove the facade and let it be. Know that you are perfect and beautiful, just as you were born and intended to be.
Our lives are filled with colorful pockets of hours.
Hours of joy. Hours of mourning. Hours of glory. Hours of bounding. Hours of sorrow. Hours of learning. Hours of envy. Hours of greatness. Hours of imperfections. Hours of growth. Hours of enlightenment. Hours of prosperity. Hours of condemnation. Hours of disgust. Hours of pain. Hours…
Hours of suffering.
Yes, suffering. A current of little dots permeating our lives like school of fish bundle up in a can. Fictional groceries camouflaged in a shopping bag. A left turn signal in the middle of an highway. An imaginary whopper of make-believe junction of impulsivity that makes bed, uninvited.
Suffering is the glue that keeps on sticking without the adhesive. The red mat on the corner of our living rooms. It is never in vain but rewarding and it comes with its calling card.
Hours of glory!
The little bird on the corner urged me to run away to a far away land where the sand doesn’t know the beach and the beach doesn’t know the warm water, create a new cocoon of a make believe world of butterflies where I alone can kiss the ground the Lord has built.
I briefly contemplated the trip but He firmly raised His opposition, standoffishly rejecting the idea, saying loud and clear, the map had been traced, the red carpet laid out, to drive elsewhere.
I kept thinking, if I were to run away anywhere, I would still find maggots scattered like pumpkin seeds, old beat up Cadillacs with scrapped tags, fruit flies with colorful tenderloins of many promises. So, came party time, the flowers were in the patio, the keys on the table and the door opened.
I chose to Walk. Live. Breathe. decadently whispering like the most gorgeous bird striking a pose on her way down south instead. The world never tells you the story, the book does!
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