hear

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i suppose god heard my prayers.
i listened to the pastor and i prayed for my husband.
i was sixteen years old.

i suppose the one i prayed for heard in my voice how much i missed him,
despite me saying with firm conviction
that i didn’t want to do this anymore.

i suppose my cousin heard my sincerity.
i really didn’t visit only because i couldn’t afford it.
at the same time i didn’t want to ask for favours.
we are all struggling together.

but did my father hear me say i love him?
did i hear him when he showed it to me?

did the church hear the words of g-d?
or did they mask their confusion for fear of eternal death?

has god ever heard anyone pray?
does he hear anything at all?

do we hear bombs, gunshots and reports of storms
and cry to the sky to be saved?

i suppose that church brother i ran into this week
didn’t hear what i heard when i read the bible.
i suppose i didn’t care to listen to him tell me i should go back to church.
he never heard when i said there are things in the bible that don’t add up.
i never heard when he said that the bible cannot be wrong.
and when i got home, with his card still in my pocket,
i never heard that feeling as i tossed it in the trash.

via Daily Prompt: Heard

Paradox

I am bursting at the seams
With dreams and pain,
With anger, frustration and
Gratefulness.
I think of heaven with disdain
And awe.
I pray to God
And I renounce him.
I make plans for my future
While seeing nothing there.
I walk away from my past,
Backwards.
I sing on top of hills and mountain tops;
The ones I created from my hurt.
I am dying and being born again,
Rising up
From out of my abyss.

From April

From April of last year. The opening words were said by the woman leading the singing at church on a particular Sabbath. I didn’t like what she said.

“We don’t deserve to live!…”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I said out loud. I stood unwillingly, with no intention of singing that hymn again. I hated when they did that. I folded my arms and kept my mouth closed and looked off to the side. Like I needed to be reminded. Like I didn’t know that already. As if there was any way I could forget that.

A miserable wretched sinner, yes I know. I was born evil and have no good in me and deserve a horrid death. And if I don’t deny myself and live completely for Jesus, I surely will die that horrid death. Never mind what I think. Never mind that I was dropped into the middle of a war that has absolutely nothing to do with me. But I have to make a decision anyway. I have to pick a side. Does that even make sense? You mean to tell me I was made so I could die? Love me or die. How on earth can you command someone to love you? And what if I just can’t find it in me to love you wholeheartedly and believe every word say? You kill me? Or leave me to die? Thanks a lot. That surely is unconditional love.

I was thinking this on my way to pick up my brother from daycare. I almost cried. I was thinking this before I went to bed last night. I shook my head and tossed the thought away. I’d been thinking this a lot lately. I’m being forced to do something I want nothing to do with.

On Being A Soldier

The other day a coworker of mine called me a soldier. He said that I work like one, that I always want to follow the rules, but that things don’t always work that way. I understood him. I knew what he meant. I know I’m like that. That’s how I was raised. Obey your elders. Use things for what they were made for. Come back from school the way I sent you there. 

I’ve been thinking about what my coworker said and the fact that he chose to compare my work ethic to that of a soldier. I recall that word being used to describe me before, but it had an entirely different connotation. Before, I was a soldier because I was a child of God. I was a soldier that was constantly battling with the enemy. I was a soldier that was being challenged and tested in order to be made stronger.

I was a soldier who was dying.

***

I find myself talking to God lately. I’m surprised by it. This morning, as I was about to eat a plate of food, I gave thanks for it, and I included the name of Jesus. I was surprised by that too. I shook the thought out of my head and started eating on my way to my laptop where my drama episode was waiting on Viki.

That’s how it happens. I say thanks for things, because I am thankful, and then I pause at the fact that I’m talking to Him, and then I wonder why I’m receiving these things, why He’s giving them to me. Before I left work last night, at my new job at a supermarket, a coworker, on her way out, gave me two coupons for items that were already on sale in the store. I was able to purchase those items for 20% of their usual cost. That sent me over the moon. It was whip cream on top of the sales that I had accidentally encountered two days before. Their timing was perfect. The same way the timing was perfect when I found an apartment, and when I got this new job. I was in disbelief, yet very grateful at the same time. On my way home, in answer to the question of why God was doing these things for me, why He was taking care of me in this way, a voice in my head said that it was because He had seen my suffering. I let that thought go in the wind that was blowing and quickened my pace to the train station. I was still thankful though.

***

This morning on my way to work I wondered whether or not I should text my best friend and tell her about these things. She’s also on a not-so-straight religious journey and I wondered what she would think. Last night before I went to sleep I wondered if I should tell my boyfriend. He has his own set of beliefs, though they’re not unique to him, and I wondered what he would think. I don’t know what I think. Not yet.

I don’t intend to go back to church because of this. I don’t want to go in search of another religion either. I do know that I have never believed in God being nonexistent, so it’s okay to acknowledge and talk to Him. I don’t want to be a soldier though, of any kind. I don’t want to be tested, to be put through fire, to be molded, to be broken, any of that. I don’t want to be rigid and unmovable. I don’t want to fight.

My List of Worries

I’m going to publish a list for the first time and that is because this particular list is very important. It’s all the things that have me worried right now. I’m not sure how long this list will be because I’m usually worried about several things without even knowing it.

  • My current relationship

It’s my first real one and it’s long distance and I’m worried that I might be settling and also that I might mess it up and that my dad won’t like him even though I really do. I mean my mom and sisters already know him and I’ve met his mom, and sister, and one of his brothers, and I think two cousins, and one other relative, but he hasn’t met my dad and that has me worried a little. Also it’s long distance. Enough said.

  • The whole God/religion thing

Well, as you know, I’m not really into my religion anymore and I don’t really plan on going back. The thing is, even at my age, I’m very impressionable and small things make a big impact on me. The other day I somehow stumbled upon this group on Facebook that was all about astronomy and zodiac signs and Egyptian gods and goddesses and black people being kings and queens and these people really freaked me out. So did these twins I follow on Instagram who claim to be followers of Rastafari but who were doing a yoga thing and talking about mythical and Egyptian gods and I just couldn’t for the life of me understand how Rastafari and ancient Egyptian theology went together. And then there’s Jesus…I’m going to stop here now.

  • Race

I’m Black and from the Caribbean and currently residing in America. There’s a lot going on here concerning Black people and White people and the history between those races – a history I’m not familiar with and that I’m not sure I want to become familiar with but that I think is my responsibility to know about. I was wondering today if God brought me here to learn about American Black history and do something big here for Black people – very unlikely I know, but you never know, maybe I might surprise myself and do something on a large scale without intending to. Basically I’m just scared right now and a bit confused and I’m feeling small and like I should know more than I do so that I can do something, but I’m scared of finding out what there is to know because then I might have to do something and I really can’t have my conscience riding me any more than it already is. And how do I, as a Black, Caribbean person, relate to people of other racial, ethnic, and geographical backgrounds who have no idea at all what the people of my race go through? How do I talk about it with them? Should I talk about it with them? I don’t, because I don’t know how. I don’t know how they’ll take it. I don’t think they’ll understand. I think it will just be really uncomfortable and so when I want to talk about these things I have to wait until I’m in the company of Black people, and only Black people, which is also not very comfortable. Again, I’ll stop now.

  • Learning

I want to stay in school – no not really, but I want more than one masters degree. I want to learn and do a lot of things and it really helps if I receive formal education in those things. The thing is I don’t have a great storage room somewhere filled with money that can finance all of this and I don’t particularly like the idea of being buried in loans after I finish all this learning that I want to do… So that’s that. I might not do it because, okay it’s highly likely that I won’t do this because of the lack of finances, which will also inhibit my trip to Europe, and Korea.

Okay the list was not as long as I thought it would be, but it’s a pretty comprehensive list which has very much to do with the very low moods I’ve been experiencing lately. Added to this is the always present I should exercise more and eat healthier thing, take better care of my hair and skin, read more bla bla bla.

So how’s your night going?

God and Home

I’m going through the 108 drafts I have. I’ve deleted about three so far, some I’ve left as they are. This one I don’t know why I didn’t publish. I wrote it while I was in Jamaica in October after my mother died. It really looks fine. I don’t know why I didn’t publish it.

Let’s get writing shall we?

Firstly I stink. I’m sitting with my legs folded and I need a shower. I thought I wouldn’t be needing one for a while since I didn’t shower early yesterday.

Secondly, I’m home, except I don’t really think so anymore because my mother is not here. I found myself saying that I want to go home a few times recently and I realised that I don’t usually refer to America as home. I started to correct myself, but then I thought maybe I have to call it home now. I thought of Jamaica as home because my mother  was here, and she had always been my home. Always. But now she isn’t anymore. She isn’t anything anymore, just a part of my mind. She’s a memory.

I’m listening to music that is perfect right now. Perfect for my mood, perfect for what I’m writing. Perfect in its sound.

My father should be coming today. He didn’t tell me when, which is strange. Is he not coming today? Is he coming tomorrow? Wouldn’t he have told me what time he was to get here? Damn. K bought a dress for me that doesn’t have sleeves. I didn’t ask daddy to bring anything for me. I’m going to have to buy something. I didn’t want to do that. I can just buy a cheap pair of shoes right? But he’s definitely coming today since B called. He must have spoken to him.

Today is mommy’s wake. Stupid word. She isn’t going to wake up. It’s Friday today. Her wake is going to be on the Sabbath. God probably doesn’t like that. He has many reasons to kill me. Whatever.

I think I love M. Really. He probably loves me more, but I do think I love him. How can I not? Not that I have a lot of others to compare him to, but I think he’s the one. The one? I don’t know, but I don’t want it to be anyone else. I don’t want to spend time getting to know someone else and letting someone else get to know me.

I can smell that dumb blouse M was telling me about. Damn it stinks.

I really wish people would stop asking me how my mother died though. I don’t like repeating it. I’m tired.

T told me about God last night. I thought that was really strange coming from her. She is tattooed, smokes weed, and swears. I don’t think she goes to church either. But she was telling me about nothing being too big or small for God and saying that we can’t do it by ourselves. I didn’t get it. I didn’t think God could be inside a person like that. But He is. She said He made me perfect. M said He isn’t wicked. But I can have an opinion right?

Whatever I think He’s still God.

Recent Thoughts

I was going, rather let me saying I was thinking about going to church today. I didn’t prepare anything, but I set an alarm to wake me up. I was going to go to a church other than my own. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long while but I still haven’t. The alarm went off this morning. I think I snoozed it first. When it went off again I turned it off and went back to sleep. I didn’t go to church today.

I’ve been feeling like going to church for a while now. It’s like a little nudge telling me to go, or to read the Bible. And I accept the nudge and think Okay I’ll do it, but then I don’t. And I know it’s God, or my church family would tell me it’s God, that is speaking to me, and I wonder at how powerful the mind can be.

I still can’t work on the Sabbath. I got my work schedule for the semester and had to ask for it to be changed because the sun is going to start setting earlier when it gets down to November, and I can’t be working when the sun goes down on a Friday. Why not? I’ve not been going to church, I’ve not been reading the Bible, though I have been talking to God somewhat, I’ve not really been praying. Why can’t I work on Sabbaths? Why can’t I go out on the Sabbath? Why can’t I do my homework on the Sabbath? I haven’t been keeping the Sabbath for such a long time now, but there are still some things that I cannot do. Though my faith (not sure if I ever really had any) has wavered, my conscience is still as strong as before. In my walk away from God, I feel like I can’t go too far ahead in case I make it so that I can never go back.

Yesterday in the bus on my way home from work I was thinking how very firm I was when I had just found my religion. I stuck to the truth I knew. I had good reasons for all the things I did. Well I have reasons for what I’m doing now. Shouldn’t I stand on those? I didn’t just get up and walk out of church for nothing, and I didn’t just leave because of one thing I didn’t like either. Things had been accumulating for a good period of time. I had wanted to leave for over a year before I actually did.

But now I’m wondering if the things that caused me to leave aren’t too small. But obviously not since I left because of them. Or am I too fickle? I mean there are things that I do still believe are true? But that’s my problem though. There are only some things that I can believe in and stand on as true. I can’t accept everything. If I can’t accept everything then I can’t live my life based on it. I can’t place my life on something that isn’t foolproof. That’s it. It’s not whole. It’s not 100% solid. That’s why I left. It didn’t all come together and make sense. And I was not content to sit with my church brethren and ignore all the things that were wrong, while trying to teach other people to do the same.