A bed defiled...

A Bed Defiled---Whats your sleep number?

A girls room is her sanctuary. A place where she goes to exchange her costume for some sweats and a t- shirt. A place where she unwinds and regroups. A place where she notices the changes taking place to her body. A place where she thinks, writes, cries, laughs and stores her greatest secrets.

She is seven years old being raised by a single mother struggling with drugs and alcohol. She is continually told to go to her room as it is implied that she is in the way and needed to stay out of grown folks business. She learns to go to school and return to her room to avoid inconveniencing mom and her company. In her room she plays house with her dolls, has tea parties alone, learns to sing/dance/and act. For years she is bullied and made fun of by the other kids due to her inability to fit in. She returns to her room, climb in her bed and weep. She sleeps with her depression, abandonment, and resentment---her Bed is Defiled.

She is now 15 and has covered her walls with magazine clippings of the hottest rappers and actors. She understands the need for a bra and her monthly cycle she dreads. She is always in the mirror combing her hair and experimenting with make-up.  She is popular at school as she rocks the latest fashion from her part time job at the mall. After school she goes to her room to finish her homework and write in her diary. She hides her razor blade under her mattress to slit her wrists when the issues of life overtake her. In the middle of the night moms new boyfriend creeps into her room and rambles under her covers as if he has lost something there.---her Bed is Defiled

I am now grown she says as she invites him to her room. She works so hard during the day trying to maintain her basic needs and just wants to unwind.  She prepares herself for this night of passion but in return he gives her sex and leaves her passionless. She lays in her bed wondering when, why, how, and where will her time come. She is confused as she lays there and allows her memory to haunt her. She has experienced some physical abuse….returning to her room. She has many let downs and disappointments…returning to her room. When life has had its way with her….she returns to her room.---her Bed is Defiled.

As you read this I am sure your bed(s) can tell stories that are not worth repeating. Whether you are in a plush beautyrest, a cot in a prison, a customized pillow top, a twin bed you share with your daughter in a womens battered shelter, a hospital bed, or a sealy posturepedic, I declare that together we CHOSE our sleep number!  I want us to begin to take back our sanctuaries and declare them as our safe havens/safe places. The symbolism of our beds has to become a state of mind. What we set our thoughts on become our reality. I know what it feels like when life naturally does not give you your just due. At 7 her sanctuary should have been filled with bedtime stories and prayers.  At 15 her sanctuary should have been filled with curiosity, affirmation, and love. As an adult her sanctuary should be filled with peace of mind, dreams of a better tomorrow, a place where she calls the shots and makes the reservations.

As your soul aches and begins to send signals to your body to shut down as you drown in despair…don’t take it to bed.

As you lay in bed waiting on death to come and get you…don’t dose off.

You don’t have to be old to be tired! Some of us are brand new off the lot but the mileage under the hood impacts our ability to drive….dont replay that nightmare.

The moment we get over the mountain of stuff we’ve been through is when we qualify ourselves for new experiences…seek healing through support, spiritual guidance, clinical intervention and the like. You are the queen of your sanctuary and its time to reclaim your thrown!

I challenge you to take a day… take those sheets off that bed, wash them, iron them, replace them (if you have the means to purchase a new set…do that!)  and declare this is my sanctuary of peace and tranquility, love and acceptance, beauty and splendor , healing and restoration, dreams and visions,  newness and freshness. As these declarations are being made know there is someone standing with you, praying with you, believing with you! We shall not be swallowed up in the bed of our experiences, hurts and pains but today we shall CHOSE our sleep number!!!

Until next time ladies,

Meet me here, draw from here, quench your soul thirst here at Wednesdays WELLness

----Signed, Miss Ebony

Giving Birth...

I have never given birth to a baby, but i just gave birth to a book. On this Saturday, I sit in the house cleaning, working out, and admiring my natural hair. Although I was able to stay busy, my spirit was unsettled and I began to feel a heaviness that in the past resulted in a defeating bout of depression and suicide, but this time was different. My church is currently on a 21 day fast and this is day 12, with each day the sensitivity of my spirit increases and my emotions force me to enter into prayer. Today I entered into prayer and i was laying on a hospital bed crying, moaning, groaning, and praying in the spirit. My mind began to take me down memory lane of some painful experiences that I endured in the past and with each memory flash I prayed and cried harder holding my stomach, crawling into a fetal position wondering if this would result in a trip to the ER proclaiming I had yet again gone crazy. This time was not like the others cause as i cried out, I cried for her and with her...I cried in amazement of how far she had come. I cried because she was able to carry full term with threats of infertility and death yet she and the baby were still here. She was still alive and her story survived...the both of them together.

Before the foundation of the earth it was spoken that she would be born and would give birth to her story. With each trimester of life her story became too heavy, it began to steal the nutrients needed for her to survive. There were moments when she drifted away but the story she was carrying would not let her die. This confused her as she felt the very thing trying to take her life would be the very thing that gave her life. This my dear is what you call a miracle says the Lord....ahh, ha she says. 

Yes this time was different because as I laid on the hospital table crying, moaning, groaning, and praying in the spirit and the Spirit of the Lord was present. He stood at my bedside coaching me through breathing, comforting me and reminding me that those times before would be no more and that He was doing a new thing. He then left my bedside to prepare the tools needed for the birthing process. As He stood at the foot of the bed He gestured for me to push and I did. I pushed, I cried, I remembered my pain, I remember His promises, I remembered the times when I thought it was the end, I remembered it ALL. When the pushing was over He grabbed that in which I gave birth to and placed it securely on the metal rolling table He had prepared. He returned to the foot of the bed as I continued to cry looking over at what I had given birth to. Tears rolling down my face soaking the pillow while my moans lessened but did not cease. My moans then increased and I began to push again and what came out He said was 'afterbirth'. This was the final stage of the birthing process that needed to take place to complete the process before my body began to heal. This my dear marks the end of labor and delivery, He says. He then begins to clean up the mess made and proceeds to leave the room when I stop Him. I say: where are you going with my baby? He says, I am taking the baby to clean her off, watch over her, and keep her safe until you rest, heal, and are ready to go home. I will return her to you when the time is right, He says. I say: ok. I think: I have the best doctor in the world.

January 12, 2013 @app. 5:30pm

so funny...i had you on my vision board :).