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    "Yet each man kills the thing he loves
    By each let this be heard
    Some do it with a bitter look
    Some with a flattering word
    The coward does it with a kiss
    The brave man with a sword” 
    |Oscar Wilde|
    **
    *

    It’s light out. The sun has ascended to its peak, the occasional call of birds to each other interrupts the grave silence. The humidity of the air dulls the noise of the tweets though, weighing down the vibration of sound from travelling. 
    He’s seated with his legs folded under him, sweating profusely. His sweat is trickling down his face onto the hair of the head he is holding. There are sounds of anguish coming from his mouth, but no tears. He’s making sorrowful sounds, but the water in his eyes has long since dried. He leans in to the body, bending himself unnaturally, resting his forehead on hers. 
    She’s dead and he killed her. And all he can do is dry-heave bitterly while his sweat falls on her face like an incessant faucet drip. Some of it slides down her nose and reaches the edge of her mouth, slowly chipping away at the blood now congealing. 

    He exhales a deep sigh, one that seems to peel off from the floors of his bowels every frustration and regret concerning the circumstances leading to this avoidable and tragic moment. He gets up, lifts her body and carries it into his home. He gets a knife and cuts her up into many pieces. With these pieces he bags them and sends them to every woman he has ever loved. Each bag is accompanied with a piece of paper, with a note of sorts, scribbled and smudged with the blood of the one whom he allegedly loved.  In it he makes a threat, a warning and a heartless proclamation…
    **
    ~SOULTEA~

    “Such a thing has never been seen or done, not since the day the Israelites came up out of Egypt. Just imagine! We must do something! So speak up!”Judges 19:29

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    Take this mountain weight
    Take these ocean tears
      Hold me through the trial
    Come like hope again
    ---Even When It Hurts---
     |Hillsong United|

    These lofty ideals that you hold…it’s not that they are impossible. It’s that they require work. It’s not that they are beyond your reach. It’s that they require a process. And the process is arduous, long. It requires you to focus on today; not years from now, and certainly not on what could have been. Different decisions would have brought different outcomes, yes; but there’d still be a process there too.
    I know it’s hard. I know it feels incredibly unfair. I know you wish for a different hand. I know you pray, Why me?  You strive to remain focused, guarding your mind from the serpentine spirit that whispers, “What if.” I know you had different hopes, but when people say “trust God” it’s in this moment that it means something. It means more when you can’t finesse yourself out of it. When you’ve submitted yourself to him but you would rather go a different way. When you can’t understand, and everything in you wants to pull away.
    It hurts, I know. And it’s a different kind of hurt, one you can’t touch or explain. It’s deeply imbedded; you feel it beyond your physical body, but shallow enough to almost touch it. You feel it in your throat, shooting through your arms, legs; it creates a whirlwind of anxiety in your stomach and proliferates that sensation to the rest of your body.
     You want this, but not like this.  But trust God. Even if it’s less than what you wanted, expected, prayed for; trust Him. If it comes as a thousand broken pieces, and you expected it whole, trust that he has given you the ability to mend. And also watch him mend; do not take on what is not yours. 
    Even as it delays and you can’t endure one more hour. Trust God for one more day. One more day to believe. Hannah endured 20 years…20 years of heartbreak, but still trusting. Heart ache, but still trusting. Humiliation but still trusting. The contempt and ridicule of her adversary, but still trusted. 
    I know that you are not Hannah. And that you don’t have 20 years to give this. When a heart is deeply laden with sorrow, lamenting that which it has lost, or perceived to be have lost, who can comfort it? Hope deferred makes the heart sick; yes, your heart is failing and you are sliding into despondency. And you are fearful that this is as good as it gets. 
    But trust God. Even as it hurts like hell, trust Him. Even as disappointment props a chair and sits smirking at you, trust Him. You are growing through this. Let the machinations of life, His direction and prayer guide you through this tumultuous period. Don’t give up on yourself. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you have the capacity to withstand this tumult.  You can handle it.
    I know you don’t want it, but it’s entrusted in your hands to conquer and to overcome. You are a conqueror and an overcomer. 
    It doesn’t make sense, but trust God.
    It has never made sense, but trust God. 
    It may never make sense, but trust God.
    *
    It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed ..therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging |Deut31:8/Psalm 46:1-3|.
    *
    *SoulTea*


                                                                                                                                                                                                                         pic via @worldtoafrica
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    You say that you are in love.
    What does love look like?


    Like everything that I lost come back to me.
    Like everything I ever wanted finding me.
    Like everything I was hiding from confronting me.
    Like everything I prayed for manifesting.

    Like everything I rebuked fighting me.
    Like everything I asked for blessing me.

    Like a thousand mirrors reflecting back at me. 
    Like a thousand suns bursting through every pore of my skin.
    Like a soldier armed, deep in the trenches.
    Like a victory parade after months in battle.
    Like everything and nothing I expected.
    . 

    **
    Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.  James Baldwin. 
        *SoulTea*


    Pic from @worldtoafrica


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    I beg you, please; don’t make me wait too long. I can barely summon the strength to hang on. Most days feel as though I am hanging over a cliff, clinging to rope, a 20,000 ft deep gorge waiting to swallow me whole. I often tell myself not to look down, continue to look up, to wait because help is on the way. But I couldn’t help myself. I looked down, and saw the horrifying drop; the sounds of water rushing and converging with the steep boulders below producing a robust vibration taunting me: You are alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.  I can’t deny the panic that overwhelmed me. My heart has been in my throat ever since. ‘Don’t be despondent,’ I tell myself. ‘It’s not going to be like this forever.’ But when you give an inch to panic, it is like a restless wildfire that consumes everything in its path. I feel it warring to reach the deep places of my spirit, even as it wars mercilessly against my mind. 

    I beg you not to make me wait too long. I don’t know how long I can hang on. You said that you would not tarry, that you would rescue me when I called. You promised that you knew what you were doing. Most days hope feels sluggish in my hand, slimy and slippery. Often it drops to the floor, and I can barely pick it up again. But I am a prisoner of hope. Even when it falls to the ground, I dive head first to pick it up again, because although it hurts, I believe that this isn’t all that there is in my life. My reprieve will come and it won’t be late. 

    It’s hard though you see? But there’s hope in the midst of the sound of mockery. It flickers in every incoming minute, in every passing hour, in anticipation of tomorrow. There is hope for better days, better situations. There is promise of a double portion for all my troubles. I don’t know how it will find me. But even as the sounds of panic pummel the walls of my mind; even as everything within me trembles, this mustard seed of faith gives me hope. I chose this path. And here I am. And so, I implore you, with all that I am, all that is within me: Do not make me wait too long.
    **
    ~~SoulTea~~

    pic by @osengwa (instagram)
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    Help me to see the purpose in my suffering. 
    Open up my eyes that I may see what lesson I have missed
    What truth can I glean from this?
    Where have I erred? 
    As you work all things together for my good,
    open up my eyes of understanding, that I may behold the truth and walk in your divine wisdom.
    That this anger may fall away, that peace can take its place. 
    That laughter may reign once more.
    * *
    SoulTea

    "Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behaviour. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you" |Ephesians 4:31-32|
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    Chenai.
    28.
    The Lord has given me His words of wisdom....morning by morning He wakens me and opens my understanding to His will. Isaiah 50:4


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