Prayer

My Lord, Almighty God, Creator of all things….

I bow before you today as a woman…stripped of all vanity, humbled by your grace....asking you to look down upon me and hear my prayer.

Lord I ask that you bless me completely and that you will never let your light cease to shine on me.

Lord I ask that where my mind and thoughts have failed to reflect your light, that you will remove my sins away from thy sight…

Where my lips have sinned against man, I ask that you listen not to the thoughtless utterances of your apprentice.

Lord, where my heart has been shadowed by unforgiveness, I ask that you will touch me and make it pure.

Where my hands have offended thee, reaching for forbidden fruits, I ask that you take my hand and lead me…

Where my feet have taken me down a path you have not ordained, reflect not upon the errors of my judgment.

Lord, your majesty has been told from sea to sea, you are God alone without whom we would surely perish…Guide my mind and soul Lord as I learn you ways…..help me to always incline my ear to your Spirit and not resist, to remember the lessons taught, to be thankful for your daily gifts.

Your mercy endureth forever, Lord, and I ask that as I falter on my journey you will never leave my side…help me to open myself to be used by you, as you will.

Help me to be kind to all.

Still my flesh and the venom which rises in me too readily....Give me clarity and discernment Lord, so that I can live your plan for my life.

All this and more I place before you as my wants, knowing you will not fail to supply all my needs. In Jesus’ name I pray Amen and Amen.

Openly Private Considerations

Outside in my chair, looking into a dark blue sky adorned in the majesty of droplets of heavens glow and an ivory crescent moon, I relaxed in God’s glory, creation. I won’t lie, my thoughts spun like a top turning the last two weeks or so over and over in my mind, thinking too much about a few not too good men and a bredren.

The night was cool with a soft breeze cupping my face and thighs……it was an excellent setting for thoughts to be provoked.…aaaahhh, its been a while since I’ve felt the lazy enhanced synapse instigated by herbal refreshment.…..

Issue #1

Two Friday’s ago I called in a hug which I had really wanted from Wednesday of that week. It was 9 ish p.m. and I was on my way to house sit for a friend ….my body builder was on the way. Twas a wonderful night and my ultra sensual self escaped from its cage….but nothing would happen, of that I was sure ( I didn’t want it to). As I stepped in for my hug and secured my thigh between his….I whispered goodnight and felt that knee jerk squeeze around my waist as my hot breath danced across his ear…another aaahhh moment.

After a drink, some chat about news and football, the odd reference to my thighs in shorts and my own less than holy thoughts when he emancipated his chest from it cotton confinement to feel the night’s cool……the curve of those pecs, shoulders like a rock and that strong sculpted back…..I asked for a pose to show off his lats and couldn’t help myself as I traced the outline of each with my tongue on my way down to his hips….. to lick the line from the top of his ass to the nape of his neck….he smelled great too, Axe is actually a sexy product.

So it went, me teasing him and him tentatively returning the favour. The ground rules were set, no sex, and we enjoyed the night nibbling and tugging at nipples, dragging our tongues across each other’s flesh, kissing…I never took time out before to realize that he was a hell of a kisser. Exploring non-penetration satisfaction, we were not disappointed…in the end.

I pulled the sheet over my head, ready for sleep, he opted to stay up for the Would Cup playoff fest that was scheduled for the night and morning. Stirring at 2:00 a.m. I thought fleetingly about heading to my own borrowed bed, but then I felt his arm encircle my waist, and heard the even breathing of a resting giant….he looked so innocent and sweet...so I curled up and decided to capitalize on his vulnerability. We slept well and were out early the next morning to get fruits, for me,a burger and coffee for him…..it was nice, I had all but forgotten what really being with someone in the morning felt like….I was at peace in that moment.

Issue #2

Boogie is a car man. So when the edict regarding the E10 gas was handed down by the government, and inspite of me I put it in and could’nt get my baby to get up and go when I pressed the accelerator, I sent him an e-mail to ask what the heck. …we chatted online about the virtues of E10 and possible solutions to the loss of power most people experience with its use, good dialogue all round I thought.

Over the four days which followed he rambled in my mind a few more times than I would want to admit…I missed him….I missed making love to him, I missed being in his arms and his kisses on my forehead.

Being blue over the rebellion of my heart against the dictates of my brain, I was hurt when we almost crashed into each other on Sunday. He was pulling onto the main road to the Mini stadium and it was my right of way….thankfully my bumper and his fender did not meet and he proceeded to wave me through as if I were just another female driver, looking to do harm…no hi, no smile, no how yuh do? This notwithstanding, I thought after the match he would pass by to properly hail the I….but not even that…nutten…It hurts when you find you’re no longer in someone’s heart…Mi did vex bout dat.

Issue #3

First love called to inform that his Divorce was now final and that we should stay in touch???????

When the devil set fi yuh, him set, but victory is mine, of that I’m sure, so for now I’m chilling.

Thoughts

When I was a child I wanted to grow up to be a broadcaster....or more specifically, the lady who read the news. There was something about Leonie Forbes, Erica Allen and Fay Ellington that screamed out to me to emulate.....as I progressed through High School by the grace of God, juggling the roles of teenager, mother, big and little sister, home manager and sometimes wife (more in the Marxist sense..nutten gross) I thought more about owning my own business where I wouldn't be answerable to anyone but me and could slip away for a beach run every so often without it being a problem........I would sign many documents, shout a bit, have sordid love affairs and drive a fast car (thunder bird I think).

Throughout the ups and downs of my youth one thing remained fixed in my mind no matter what I thought I would "grow up to be"....the fact that I would designate a day each week to take my mother shopping and have lunch and just shoot the breeze.

When I got my job out of UWI I felt sure that I would fulfil this promise, albeit in a different kinda way since she was in Florida mostly...I was convinced I could find a mechanism despite the no visa obstacle......I'll never forget the pride in her voice when I told her I'd gotten the job and where, I'll never forget that she continued to send my likkle much even though I was now working....there are many things about her I won't forget....

Later that same year when she finally let on that she was really, really sick and wanted to come home, I started thinking of a two bedroom flat for me and her, I started thinking that this was my opportunity to take care of her...I was sad but happy to be able to do for her what she had always done for me even from a distance......Nine years ago today, after speaking on the phone the day before about my plans to fly up and bring her home, she died from a heart attack caused by a blood clot from the ovarian cancer which had engulfed her body......Nine years have passed since I've heard my name on her lips, 9 yrs has passed since my world crashed and my heart broke never to be repaired.....

Twas an in between hectic day, but always in the back of my mind was the significance of today's date...Now, with the work lull taking effect I can't help but remember that I never got a chance to repay her.... to take her to lunch or shopping...I never got a chance to shower her with gifts just for being my Mom...I never got the chance to watch her watch me grow older and wiser....She was a star in my heart and I give thanks for the time I did have, but can't help wincing at the thought that one more year will again go by and my heart will break anew each time.

Loss

Last week I learnt a valuable lesson, how to forgive someone I didn't even know, and how to pray for God's richest blessings to fall upon their lives.

On Thursday I got home late, and its funny I spent a wonderful evening chatting away with a bredren, eating Cheetos and drinking water. When I got through the door I noticed that my dresser drawers were open.....being older however and knowing the loss of memory that occurs at this age, I wondered whether I had been the one who'd left them open...unlikely, but still I wondered. As I removed my earrings and chain, a routine action for me as soon as I get in teh door, I was alarmed at the empty clanking sound they made against the ceramic jewelry chest...huh???? Looking down to see the lone pieces swim around in the container I got cross, angry and scared....I was robbed.

I played the morning over in my mind including the decision not to wear a particular piece cause it didn't fit my outfit...I thought long and hard but I couldn't recall not securing the place before I left.....darn....as I reasoned away the reality of the robbery with the fact that the radio, HDTV birthday gift I'd given myself and the $9000 which was hidden under the innards of the Bath and Body Works gift set on the dresser were still there, something deep down still yelled...I've been robbed....But how? There was no sign of forced entry.

I accepted my reality relatively quickly and began to thank the Lord that it wasn't worse....that I had been spared, that they weren't still in the house:0) I opened my mind to the thought that material things did not matter in this life and that the Lord gives and takes away.

I had a restless night but I slept and awoke to a bright beautiful day.....as I dressed for work however I couldn't help but lament the loss of one piece in particular, a gold chain my mother had given me for finishing my degree at UWI...one of the last things she gave me before she died.....tears came to my eyes.

Losing something precious in sentiment like that was hard, and in the days that followed I prayed for peace. On Saturday I called out for God to bless the person(s) who'd done it. I prayed that they be increased beyond their wildest imaginings. I thanked God for giving me the opportunity to give to them in that way, cause if that was what it took to feed my brother for a coupla days, then so be it.

Sometimes when life happens we let anger take over and miss the lesson....I could've chosen to carry my rage with me like a banner, but instead I felt it better to ask for divine help in dealing with the matter....I'm glad I did, and though from time to time my heart breaks when I think about that necklace, I am strengthened by God's grace and I let it go.

Give thanks continually for it could always be worse.

A Mystery

Why would God create humans to serve him but allow them to turn their heads away?

Why would God make us in his image forever clamouring for his affection but still bestow on us the treasure of free will?

Why would my Lord allow the Devil to tempt us knowing that we are powerless at times to withstand the test of our faith, even though at times we are rooted and grounded in the word?

Why would a loving God allow us to fail at trying to be good knowing that our conscience is innately skewed to skepticism about his forgiveness of our sin, why would God place in us a rigid inability to forgive ourselves, knowing that this lack more often than not leads to even further sin?

Why would he give me so much for me to destroy with the weakness of my flesh?

Why would he keep trying with me when I continue to fail?

Reflection

In another 7 hrs and 13 mins I will no longer be the age I am and I'm left to ponder (as I often do) the value added by the year.

For the first time in my life I am happy to see the time tick away cause I have gained this year a better, more meaningful relationship with the Almighty. No longer will I review my list of new year resolutions and have to circle this item as "undone". More importantly, this yera has taught me to say no to the trappings of this world an dthat its not as hard as I'd thought (nuh get mi wrong...it ruff.....but with divine help its easier I think).

33 yrs old and I'm just learning the value of hope, trust and faith in the Creator....I'm a slow learner but I'm confident I will get there in God's time.

Welcome 34 and the abundance promised.

Joy and Pain

Family is a blessing....when one can stand in a room and see three generations of family..its a blessing of the highest order. I spent Sunday evening watching my God-daughter play with her cousins and friends as we celebrated one more year of her contribution to this world. Seeing siblings and couples relax in the cool night air and friends labrish about their children's latest achievements brought warmth to my spirit and though it twas not my blood family, I felt blessed to be a part of teh mix.

From Grandma, to my best friends mom, who had always been one of my heroes and a true representative of that fighting J'can woman, who raised 6 kids without much support from their father, a woman who one would be remiss not to say well done to. I was happy to just lyme away the night watching the light shine brightly in every child's eye, untarnished by the harsh realities of life....in listening to their shrieks or giggles as they tried to eat the snow cone faster than it could melt..failing ultimately, I was reminded of a better time, a time where your trust was unwavering and the only cares you had was waking up in the morning...Youth, oh how sweet.

My only regret, as I saw little Jordan join in the fun, was that we were one less, and I reminisced as my friend's brother treated the crowd to a head top dance, living up to the good vibes we had gotten accustomed to seeing from him and Ratty at these family gatherings...We were one less, and I think it hit home to everyone as there was silence from most of the adults as Demarco's"Fallen soldier" began to play in the background.

Live, love and enjoy life fully, we only get one go round.

Everything in life is a Process

Friday night I encountered temptation I couldn’t overcome….but I lasted ‘til Saturday. Saturday was ‘roughfa’ though…my commitment to breaking my flesh cold turkey came to a head 4 months since my decision to not fornicate and the further acceptance of the fact the masturbation too is sinful pon a moral level as well as in a direct sorta way through it opening of the mind to lust (nuff people nuh agree wid this but a suh mi feel).

As I battled my thoughts and aching body with prayer and the odd scripture I had somewhat memorized, I felt control of self slip further and further over to the darkside. From dusk ‘til dawn to the silence of almost twilight, I toiled…I tried…… And no doubt it was presumptuous sin when I gave in, for fear of my absolute implosion, to the yearning and did the ‘lesser evil’ of self help. Twas not enough, so a second and third round was aimed at adequately removing the monkey from my back…twas still not enough. Sin begets more sin.

Frustration, anger, sadness, weakness kicked in and I found myself reasoning with the Spirit to spare my sanity for I was not strong enough….the recommendations he made fell on deaf ears and I made a call. Ordinarily once I’m home, I like to stay in, worse when you sometimes hear the stories of people who left their homes in the night and were struck down….death has not yet lost its sting for me….But I showered and left nonetheless, driven by the promise of release.

I mustered sufficient restraint initially, chatting over conch stew and football, being careful not to let the gentleman go back on his word to look but not touch. I was doing well too, until I caught sight of his wide smile, smokers lips, half open eyes, hair trailing down his stomach to his groin……he was sexy. With focus on the subject drifting farther and farther from my mind I decided to test his control…my jeans and top were removed with surprising ease, as I watched his smile turn to lust before he covered my lips in a kiss… I had missed kissing him.

Things escalated as they often do with too many hormones in one room, and his hands on my now damp skin were teasing sweet moans from the recesses of my throat. Aroused and whimpering I asked him to break his bond…he refused for my greater good, my commitment which he was more committed to seeing me keep than me, in the moment. I’m pretty versed in some of the safeguards from the Lord but the Devil was with me that night, and though I recognized I insisted. Anger rose and we joked seriously about the implications of my continued stay, that fact that I could genuinely call him a whimp who would let sumpn hot and ready slip through his hands.

Vexation and frustration made us part ways temporarily as he stepped outside for a smoke and I flipped through porn channels for stimuli to quench my thirst. When he returned to the room and commenced surfing the net, my ire grew greater and thoughts of leaving played in my mind…but that would have been too easy. The battle continued and somewhere in there I asked for forgiveness for going this extra mile in sin (causing another to sin) but by that time I was twig about to snap….he gave in.

In the morning I woke to see him on a mattress on the floor, and wondered whether that was his remedy for not repeating the error. A sweet thought of changing my position to hang my hand over the bed’s edge to rest it on his chest fleetingly rambled through my mind….but instead, I felt scorned (maybe from my own guilt but definitely scorned) and given my continued emotional ineptness, again anger rose. As I washed up and was about to get dressed to leave before he woke….his voice interrupted the still of the morning and I saw red. My clothes were replaced almost as quickly as I’d taken them off and his explanation was less than logical….to me…guilt is a bitch.

With the crisp morning air against my face I turned the radio off and listened to the companion angry roar of the engine as I made my way home. Kudos to him for not letting my rudeness prevent him from calling to see if I was in…I couldn’t go to church later that day.
One of the things that carried me through the 4 months break was the tactic of reading a verse or two or ten, in times of insistent temptation….it occurred to me while I was in my struggle, but somehow never took root….My question then is “Will I ever really be changed…am I beyond redemption?”

Birthday Wish..ish :0)

There are days when the flesh and mind are weak and thoughts of times past, comfort sought and found in unholy arms, play on rapid repeat in every tissue of your body. I miss being in love; having sex; having great sex; seduction; unwinding to slow sensual jams; exhaling.

I pray that the Lord will kill my flesh and break my desire (until he sends that good husband my way). I hope for better cause with God there is always better…..my logical mind believes this, knows this to be true, trusts that it will be done…..my infirmed flesh however, longs to be caressed…

If only I could shut my conscience down for a weekend (preferably my upcoming birthday weekend which I would love to spend in a hotel without any cares in the world), and in that time benefit from the best love making of my life, where intimacy runs rampant, juices flow from just a touch and satisfaction is unquestionable. Not sure if I mean this, but very sure that I am frustrated beyond the breaking point.

This and That

Last week was a learning experience...In bible study class I was reminded of why I didn't quite appreciate Church Folk; funeral was Saturday and that took a lot out of me; and I missed enjoying the rainy Sunday morning under the covers.

Church people are sometimes hypocrites and this was borne out on Wednesday as I listened to the speaker mock and the congregation laugh at the beliefs of Rastafarians and Muslims. While I don't claim to be an authority on the bible nor do I think my relationship with the most high is greater than any of my brethren, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disgust as they laughed....I don't recall Jesus laughing at anyone even the gentiles....I don't recall him preaching that we should chastise our brothers for their alternate views but instead to seek with all our hearts to educate them, I remember reading how he asked the Samarian woman for water, something that no Jew would ever do, I remember him putting the solders ear back on after one of his disciples chopped it off....needless to say I was not pleased with my peoples......

The funeral was preceded by a set up at which we made the best of our time reflecting on Ratty's life and using his example to prescribe changes we would make in our own lives recognising that time is too short for a lot of foolishness that we allow to intervene in our happiness (like a 9-5 job, or not spending enough time with our children) it was a long night. At the church on the Hill we paid our last respects to the man that was, and I was fine until a slide show of who he was as a father and policeman started playing, and then I lost it somewhat as I watched clip after clip of him and his kids, his bredrens made happy by hat magnificent smile. All was getting back to well as I listened to the JCF Choir (who were pretty darn good), then his sons took the stage and I admired the eloquence of the nine year old as he bid good morning to the clergy and " all other protocols observed" to the rest of us. Sadness began to rise once more as I thought about the fact that he would now grow without the care and direction of the father...and I was doing really well until he reminisced about going to the beach with his Dad, questioning God for taking the "best Father in the world" and the fact that he would have to be the light for his little brother to keep the memories of his father alive in both their hearts...I lost it then.....I was not pleased. After paying my respects to his wife a few of us got together at my girlfriend's house and we lymed and drank our sorrows away.

Sunday morning I awoke groggy but committed to going to Church since I had asked the Praise Team to do a particular song for me that day. They Did and it was worth my missing out on spending the rainy morning wrapped in my sheets watching time drift slowly by....it was a day of rest and reflection as well....RIP Ratty, your smile lit the hearts of many.

Devaluation

In a previous time in my life I spent way too many hours working...I was in Office by 7:30 most mornings and out by 6:30 or 7:00 p.m. on good days. My friends would chastise me for giving my heart and soul to a government job....but I, because it is my work ethic, gave my all for the greater good of self and Nation.

Today the reality of my situation walked up and slapped me in the face. My eyes are now open. I now know that it matters not the sweat you put in when no one's looking, they still will judge you by the 5 Sick days and 2 Departmental days you've taken for the year. Your commitment is measured by the fact that for the past three months you've recognised that woman was not meant to work 10hrs a day and you try to leave work at 5:30 p.m., your few (very few) long lunches define your entire year and insult is levied when you submit your vacation leave form and your integrity is questioned relative to the number of sick and departmental days your used up because "it seems" you were absent from the job for more days than that.

Its been a while since I've been ANGRY...today I am struggling with two emotions, anger and hurt, cause my accuser should have known better....should have know that you come in at times sick, because you know there are only 3 persons in the very busy Office..that person for whom you've taken your fair share of hits despite your junior Officer designation, tehy should have known better.

As I sit here this evening, still working to meet today's deadlines to ease teh pressure come Monday, I am forced to re-evaluate my situation, to pray for that one business idea that will guarantee my security for life, that idea for a book that will be a best seller....for any straw I can clutch at to uproot myself from this unforgiving Unit...I've had ENOUGH.

Maybe papa Bruce have the right idea to redundant some a wi cause if my contribution can be belittled in this way, imagine those among us who represent the typical "government worker".

Prayer seems far from my heart in this storm, prayer seems very far from my heart, but I will try.

Love is Lovely

First thing first...let me apologize to the West Indies cricket team for turning on the tele, seeing they were 85runs for 1 wicket and deciding to kick up my heels with a glass of coconut water and watch...clinging to that thread of hope that Saturday would have been the day that our "makeshift" (this was how a BBC reporter described them) cricket team would prove their worth to the world. ......It wasn't.

My humble apologies lads and supporters for any bad mojo I might have brought.

Secondly, I wanted to stop by here to bless up everyone and wish for you all a lovely day and week.

"What's gotten into her"? You may be thinking...and the answer is simple...today I am filled with the glory of God.

I sat in church yesterday having awakened to a beautiful morning, where birds sang loudly and the breeze rustled through the leaves of the almond tree out back, a morning where my body felt 90% better and my mind was at rest, a day when my older brother surprised me with his actions...proving that there is indeed a God and he does answer prayers...a day when I felt God's spirit in church as I worshipped and gave thanks (to me he appears always in the form of a light breeze...I know it sounds crazy but it is what I believe it is). So the love in me is overflowing today and I wanted to share it with all my peeps...Bless up.

Gonna hit Tagged and Facebook and maybe even Myspace now.

Never Question the Big Man

Tired...Drained...Weak....overall diagnosis...Unwell but recovering. My questioning of God was rewarded with illness and a trip to the hospital for emergency treatment Sunday night...endometriosis and lack of faith are a near lethal combination. I survived though, by the grace of God....and coconut water to lower my blood pressure.

I'm giving thanks today cause it could always be worse. Thanks to a pleasant..ish Dr and really nice nurses at Andrews Memorial Hospital - I was wheeled in and managed to walk out (upright) two hours later...My sistren cheered me on and was like a little 'ill-health Gnome' as I writhed in pain, waiting for the combination of "good drugs" to kick in....she was funny and I give thanks for people with a sense of humour....Thanks too to the policemen we met at the gas station buying coffee and Magnum Tonic Wine, as I treated myself to a little sweet...not a laughing matter, I found the energy to chastise the lot...Thanks to cable TV which was my refuge as I tiptoed in and out of sleep for two days and caught a few good programmes....Thanks for 24hour days, any longer and I would be writing a different kinda blog (one of these days I will learn how to rest)....Thanks to coconut water which really works wonders for relieving the blood vessel bursting pressure behind the eyes and up the nape of the neck...Thanks for sick days.....Thanks for life.

"In everything give thanks for it is God's will in Christ concerning you"....Thessalonian 1 5 vs 18

Melancholy

Sometimes the circumstances of life overwhelm, discourage, and ravage your spirit sufficient to let you border on questioning the Big Man.....As I walked into my Office this morning the friendly groundsman on whom I can always rely for a smile, gave me a bright good morning and a note that "life goes on"...how true it is too.

Yesterday I got bad news about my best friend's adopted brother...he died. 37 yrs old, leaving wife, son (18mths) and other son (9 yrs old).....a heavy drinker and all round good time guy, no saint by any stretch of the imagination, a non-smoker, diagnosed with lung cancer three months prior. When I heard of his illness I bowed my head and lifted my voice, hands and soul in prayer for him to survive cancer, to not be stripped of the joy of watching his children grow and transform into men, the way I watched him. I prayed that the Lord would show me through him the strength of my mustard seed faith, I prayed hard and long.

Technically, it wasn't the cancer that got him in the end but a chest infection brought on by the macho facade of the Jamaican male which convinced him that though having undergone surgery less than 6 weeks ago to remove the affected lung, and bolstered no doubt by the Drs determination that he didn't even need radiation treatment, he could chance a run to the car in light rain with it not penetrating his superman shroud. He was wrong. Now two boys are left to remember their father through pictures in a family album.

I must admit my faith was shaken and I even possible was cross to think that I trusted God to deliver him from cancer and this was result. I was broken and I prayed and asked why? Was my prayer found wanting in some way, was I not specific enough? WHY? Then a friend whispered to me that"...God answers prayers according to his will."...so I have concluded that he did answer my prayer and delivered the yout from the clutches of cancer but there was other business between them that I could not have foreseen and rebuked.

Life Goes on, according to the will of God, we are powerless in the game......RIP "Ratty" beloved father, husband, brother, bredren.

I am happy today is Friday, and that tomorrow will close this week's chapter of death.....RIP Trevor Rhone as well...I remember badly acting out a scene from Old Story time for literature class in 4th form...A true representative of the spirit of Jamaica is no more.

I wish for all who read this a blessing today and forever more...life is too fleeting for us to take lightly, give your lives to the Lord before its too late and love and live fully for you know not his plan for your life.

Kinks in my Armour

One thing I like about my new life is the ability to spot the Devil's antics from a mile away...yesterday I was feeling lonely, unloved really, and I prayed to God to show me that I was loved. By midday I checked my e-mail to find an epistle from Boogie reminiscing about me and him....how we would have spent the rainy day Sunday...you know, the good stuff.

I was actually pretty cool with the e-mail and responded with like comments but was sure to point out that everything and everyone is in our lives for a reason and a season, ours had passed. The lessons from it though I think I will always remember but, there is no doubt in my mind that my deep feelings for him have passed.

The day before I received a call from my body builder and he was very clear on what he wanted from me and how.....He brings a smile to my face though cause I know he respects my choice anyway and wouldn't jeopardize our friendship by forcing his will on me, afterall, I did tell him not to focus too much energy on me because of my commitment to the Cross. So I am fresh out of options for Hugs cause he has been upfront with me that it would not stop there :( Its a pity, I could use a good one, topped off with a kiss on the forehead...what can I say, Boogie spoiled me with that stuff so from time to time instead of physical intimacy, that's all I need.

I won't pray today for the hug though, the Devil may overhear and devise my downfall and at this point I cannot afford to be moved.....mi haffi gwaan hold mi Order.

A Father's Gifts

“The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul...”

I’ve always been a praying woman and I’m thankful that my upbringing was grounded in God, albeit against my will at times….Yes, unfortunately it seems my attendance at Church growing up was done under such duress that I was not receptive to much more than the foundation principles of Christianity...they are what I clung to in the past, and are still the rock on which my faith is built today.

By now you all know I find beauty in simplicity, so “Our Father” is still the prayer I say most nights and Psalm 1, 23 and 121 are the passages which resonate most with me…simplicity.

Two days ago I saw a drawing of a hand protruding through the clouds with a rose for a lone girl sitting on the seashore…..it was an aahh inspiring experience and I hoped that day that God would give me a rose……and he did....When I got home I picked the last Julie mango on the tree…twas sweet caaan done, and I gave thanks and smiled most of the rest of the evening.

Last evening I thanked the Lord for two more gifts…one on the side of health, as I’ve been awaiting the results of tests for the past coupla weeks….the Lord kept my mind occupied and my blood pressure reasonably stable throughout the period and I promised Him I'd stay chaste if he delivered good results. On "D-Test Results Day", He gave me a song in my heart and on my lips and enough work to consume my every minute before my appointment….this was good......the results weren’t great but they weren’t the worst and the knowledge was quite liberating…so I lifted up my hands in thanks.

On a leisurely drive to my father’s house said evening I reflected on the Grace given me and I was at peace. When I pulled up to the gate I saw that the painting which I’d wanted to complete for a few weeks now was finally done….It made my heart swell to be so blessed..so I sent up praises again to my shield and protector, the one who gives me rest.

The concept is simple…be faithful to Him and he will be faithful to you and bless you abundantly.

Trust

A buddy on Tagged sent me a beautiful embed yesterday and it took my breath away. T'was a simple picture of a man sleeping on his tummy and his woman sleeping on his back...bodies perfectly formed together in trust...her trust that he will support her completely, and his trust in her to let him do so.

The image unravelled me somewhat as I wondered whether I would ever be capable of reposing such trust in anyone but myself....she seemed so at rest. Currently my journey with Christ in my vessel has been rocky, fraught with obstacles both man made and of evil principalities....my road has been rough and unassisted by my innate flaw to guard my control over self and surroundings selfishly.....Giving In...it seems such a simple thing, but still I procrastinate.

Ordinarily I don't wonder about the Lord's abilities but sometimes I reflect on whether he knows what he has gotten himself into with me...will I really make it? When thoughts like that enter my head I think about the fact that he has never left my side, even when I was more than unholy....I think about the numerous times he touched my heart and I said no, I think about how gracious he had been to keep on trying despite my sins,....So when I am overcome with thoughts of not making it, I think about the lesson of the stone that the builder refused, and how same became the corner stone...and I am comforted.

Now when I am engulfed by doubt I thank him for where he took me to in order to raise me up and where he will lead me if I just trust him to direct my every path even when the controlling I in Me blocks my resting in his safety....he will not give up on me so its the least I can do to keep on trying to keep his commandments.

Big Up All Di Bredren Dem

I watched a big silver moon raise up in the sky last night....a Smirnoff Apple Vodka and tonic water drink in my hand and a beautifully crisp, cool night...and I reflected on my earlier conversation who I now accept as a bredren.

Being easy with someone is a blessing...we spoke about 'politricks', expecting the worst at all times to avoid disappointment in life, women's sensitivity when they catch their man ogling another woman's ass, we spoke about the main bits and pieces of our lives 3 weeks prior and the virtues of free weights muscle building as against the weaker muscle toned by machines...a concept I'm beginning to agree with.

We talked on and on about the miseducation of the J'can youths by the dancehall Kings whose messages we feel should convey "guh tek yuh book suh yuh nuh haffi pack bag inna di supermarket and get vex wid people like a dem mek yuh idle out yuh future pan di streets"...we were particularly hard on Vybz Kartel cause he's actually a lot more astute than people would think.....we spoke about everything and nothing and it was quite liberating to be this comfortable with a dude I'm not fucking, anymore.

Of course initially the odd reference to our hot bodies passionately connecting and connecting entered the conversation with pointed reminders of how sexy I am and how hard his body is...But I suppressed the images of his naked torso and strong arms while crossing my legs to quell the rising fire there and was successful in remaining focused on friendship....which is too a blessing.

So I tip my hat, I curtsey to a bredren who was there when I needed him to be just that...give thanks.

Praises to the Great I Am

A clear blue, cloud streaked sky greeted me this morning as I dashed off to work....how pleasant it was to sit in the car park and send up praises to a God whom I wish I could be as faithful to as he is to me. The knowledge that through all things in life God will be there with you, never to leave your side, always to seek one sheep which has strayed from the flock, always to keep his promises unto you as he did Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, never changing...T'is empowering.

How can I let Him down....He's so good to me.

Lust

Its been a while since I’ve placed a man's hand in my lap and aimlessly traced the outline of his fingers and palm…lovingly, tantalizingly. Its been awhile since I’ve taken his cheeks between my hands and looked deeply…almost lovingly into his lust glazed eyes. Its been a while since I’ve hovered my lips within tasting distance of his lips and felt the heat of his ragged breath or just….wait for a kiss. Its been a while since I’ve felt that quickening of my heart upon sight of his big bare chest, or the tingling in my groin as he delivers a firm first kiss….Today, with rain threatening outside, sleep willing me to return to bed and a fire in the pit of my stomach that I cannot extinguish, I am again, down on my knees.

My prayer however is not to stay my two feet that I don’t run off to a willing soul, but that I could help myself to minimal relief….masturbation was a dear friend to me, and now I cannot muster forgiveness of me if I partake…cause its reeeally been a while.

I miss pinning him to a wall spreading his thighs with mine and grinding my hips into his growing excitement…I miss feeling his firm hands grasp my waist, holding me in place…I miss a man responding to my antics. I miss watching the look on his face as I guide his hands under my panties to my wet, hard clit…begging him to…squeeze. I miss my mini faucet-like response. It has been a looong time….since I’ve felt his rushed hands strip me naked, fumble to put on a condom and spread my thighs to deliver 8 hard inches of hot, thick pulsing flesh….its been such a long time since a man has nibbled at my nipples, rubbed his dick between my breasts, kissed my lips with the remnant juices from my ……

Its been a while.

Its been a while since a man has demonstrated his power over me…its been a while since I’ve been made to submit, to moan oh shit when his dick touches the womb unexpectedly… to look forward to more and more….its been a while since I’ve had to place a hand between our bodies to ease the force of his thrusting…its been a while since I ‘ve benefited from the further force that action elicits (really, really miss this)…its been a while since I felt that growing crescendo which prompts lude, cum provoking nothings to escape my mouth…God its been a while since I’ve really been fucked.

I’ve heard it said that no sin is greater than another, but deep down I don’t believe, cause murder, adultery, fornication and white lies, cannot be weighed similarly…..the habit of lying one can dispense with in a heartbeat, fornication and adultery knock constantly on your door however, and takes a lot more than heartbeats to dispel…and murder, to me, is the mother of all sins, for it is hard for me to believe that the Father and the Son would treat lightly with this sin which destroys a being for whom their love flows eternally….all sins cannot tip the scale therefore with the same recompense…….as you can see, the Lord has a lot more work to do in me…but I shall overcome....eventually.

Who I am - Jamaican

The Blood which flows through my veins is that of a fighter….the blueprint of what’s at the heart of a people…and though I’ve not blazed a trail of meaningful accomplishments to trail behind my name, the mettle that resides in Bolt, Powell, Walker and Frazer, also lies latent in me and indeed all Jamaicans.

Through my veins flows, rich thick history and pride, and it matters not where or how you began in this life but that you worked against the odds to claw your way out of the mire of poverty to achieve greatness.….The blood that flowed through Marley, Marcus, Nanny, Edith Allwood-Anderson also flows through me and veins are pulsing with fight…fight for what is right, fight for survival, fight, fight , fight rushes uncontrollably to my brain, through my limbs, into my heart and I am filled with hope, that though our present seems darker than ever before, my spirit has hope that were will make a bright future….. because despite externalities, we have the fight and God nah guh mek him people suffa fi much longa.

Yes, the same blood that keeps alive dreams in every ghetto youth, every barely making it single parent, every scholar, agitator, creative soul…it flows through me and I will rise and shine and greet the day with confidence that Jah neva fail and my country will soon be lifted from the ashes into the stratosphere of prosperity and be the number one place to live and raise families.

BLESS UP JAMAICA

Leaning on the Rock of Ages

Pedestrian designed concrete tiles paved the way over a bridge which connected the two sides of the expansive pool, and a coconut tree saluted path to a white sand beach. Aaah…..A narrow track, with lush green grass (don’t ask me how in this drought) on either side, signaled your separation, finally, from the hustle and bustle of the general vacationing population.

Though early in the morning, I was not alone :( I found my spot, saw a lizard scamper into the coconut tree nearby, and changed my location, no need to tempt fate. I settled in to send up praises to the Most High, surrounded by the natural beauty of his creation. I’ve always loved the early morning time, you get to hear and actually feel nature....its good.

As I thanked and blessed, praying too for wisdom and understanding of the bits and bytes of a new subject area I’ve been running from trying to ‘get’ in totality, the comforting breeze whistled around my head, and I appreciated my Father's response with my eyes closed, mind fixed on Him and body and soul at peace. Oh how sweet it was to be in the presence of his Glory.

The skyline was breath-taking… a hint of ash blue sky caressed the waters edge…. straggling clouds were stretching lazily to join together and find real form...twas enough to soften the hardest of hearts, and I was thankful that the Lord had touched the powers that be to start the Retreat session a little later that day.. .. a carefully negotiated victory having ended the previous day’s session at 2:00 a.m.

I didn’t care too much about how I got the time, I was just elated that I did, cause I had at my disposal a clear two hours before resumption and could wade in the water, read a couple verses and tiptoe back to my room before the breakfast crowd really got into swing and colleagues could catch sight of my sarong and bikini clad sexiness:)

On my back in the deep blue, I floated and prayed for the Lord’s mercy and grace and continued protection from the devil's Mignon's which seemed to accost me from all sides….during the work session, thoughts of a certain Player under my thighs and bound by my web of pleasure occupied my mind intermittently. The fact that he had his hands full with the other females in the room (twas like watching a kid in a candy store, unable to choose which sweet to try to take), was a blessing in disguise cause I couldn’t really manage another 7 years of bad luck from coveting again a gold banded being….Then, no sooner had I reined myself in and under control, my trips to the restroom and at times just to get a breather from the heated tempers which flared over issues thought more important in the national interest…I was met with beautifully buffed, ripped dream bodies…6 ft and up, mellow sexy languages pouring fluently from their mouths, inspiring thoughts of whether their moans and groans were also done in a foreign language….the scene was too intoxicating for a recovering addict such as my self. I was on the brink several times, even at Lunch and Dinner when the beautiful beings were clad in wife beaters and flip flops, or cool cotton shirts….I was downright at risk.

Noting my loosening grip on self, I turned to the one weapon proven to work in these circumstances, the Bible. I read passage after passage and begged for forgiveness and strength to keep me through the duration of the Retreat without my fate or chastity belt falling. It Worked:0)

Appreciation

Though I love the contrast of dark chocolate skin against my cocoa brown, there's something about some Brownings that really get me hot.

The built dark skinned male represents that primitive interpretation of a man. Him standing 6ft 2", naked, his rigid big dick in his hand, the works of art his curving biceps are, bald headed, lips invitingly thick, pink tongue, a goat-T beard...raw sexual magnetism.....damn he's sweet. Combine all that with confidence in self and his abilities and he's quite a treat.

Every so often though, my eyes and the erectile tissue of my nipples are stimulated by the sight of a honey gold Browning.....every so often I take a moment to admire his....perks. Cherry lips, smooth quiet confidence and sometimes light brown eyes is enough to make me wonder the inches that lies beneath, the hug of his jeans. Let's also not forget the fact that with the right words, you can make his cheeks crimson red...how powerful a feeling that is, the ability to also place a hicky brand on his chest.....its nice sometimes to mark your territory....is just s cherry topping too.

In my experience I've found Brownings to be very sweet inside.... though capable of great anger as well....the single most endearing quality though, is the inability to respond quietly to my probing, teasing tongue. Yeah, a Browning will make you put on some ole school soul music and bump and grind the night away...then in the morning you get to see the remnant of your session on his chest, his shoulders, his back.....

With the rain pouring outside today, my fight for control last week as I observed toned, muscular, tanned shirtless bodies, lie on the beach and poolside at the granbahiaprincipejamaica.com Hotel trunks hanging low on the taunt waists, torsos begging and screaming for you to taste, dark brown or pink nipples, picturing your tongue teasing the outline of his tattoos, nipping and tugging at the spot where his moans seem to get louder(and that's everywhere).....aaaahh the brown sugar male body in motion is truly tantalizing.....a girl almost couldn't keep her righteous Order.

God is standing by.so hush and be comforted

Today, the purity of love flows through my veins, mind and soul. I would draw the world close to my lips and plant on everyone a kiss, if I could.

A beautiful dream unfolded last weekend in my mind.....I was wrapped in safe arms on a blanket...wrapped in love, warmth and protection, and I had no reason to fight anymore....kisses rained down on my forehead, punctuated by soothing whispers of I love you's...a channel filled with deep sentiment formed in my heart, a long time lovers' net of comfort which restored my spirit and made me give in to trust in him, knowing that his feeling toward me will never change.

Sometimes we get jaded by baggage from breaks-up and makeups or playing and winning the game, and we forget that man and woman were not meant to be adversaries but a unit...one being, which when joined, populates a world with love.....Lets stop playing for a day. Let today be the day you show love....let her know she's a treasure and that will lift her spirit, and she... my dear friends, will make yours soar.

In the presence of God

I sat and waited on Saturday......waiting for my God to reach down father than my hands could reach up...and I was at peace.

Under the ackee tree, I gave thanks to a mighty father who knows me more than I know myself....I thanked him for sticking around despite my failings. I was surrounded as I whispered my prayer, enveloped, wrapped in his arms by the cool breeze which filtered through every pore of my skin, and I felt blessed.

I sat immobile, and felt the long week of battles fought...some won, some lost, tiptoe up my spine and into my shoulders, rushing to be released into the wind. The stress of everday life, my interaction with Boogie which stirred up sentiments and thoughts of whether we had done the right thing, all conspired to test my faith, and I knew the battle could not be fought by me, so I called upon the keeper of my faith and I was at rest.

I gave thanks, thanks that I was one of the chosen to live for yet another day. Thanks that despite my circumstances my trust in my Lord and Saviour continued to grow..albeit haphazardly. Confident I was though, somewhat, that soon there would be a seamless transformation of me. I gave thanks that God was not like man, for I would have perished long ago if he had the hard heart of my brothers and sisters.... if he counted my mishaps against me. I gave thanks that it was another weekend for recovery and replenishing of spirit.

As the sunlight pierced through my eyelids beaming down a promise of blessing, I felt my shoulders sag into relaxation...aaahhh. I was as light a cloud, remembering the beauty of the Budgie which stopped by on a limb:0) and as I listened keenly to natures silence, I was interrupted by a toiuch on my thigh..... reality kicked in and I decided to send up praises from the safety of the great indoors rather than to fall prey to the reptiles which plague the canopy above.

For Edification Purposes Only - trust me

As I continue to wage war with the forces of evil which lie within I have developed a strategy which aims to keep me free from absolute damnation, at least for the time being. I have determined that sex is a big sin...my hunger for same and the ungodly thoughts which are a part will continue to engulf me for the time so I will, in order to not have sex, punish those who read me here instead of putting my thoughts into action.

That said, an issue occupied my mind on Saturday - Do Society Men Know how to Lay Pipe?

I mean the 21 families of Jamaica types and their darker complexion though equally hoity CEO types. Don't get me wrong, every girl likes the perk of being with a man with means- the status , the lifestyle, the honey gold complexion children. They provide whatever the image of wealth is from time to time, whether Range Rovers in the driveway, the Norbrook residence, Tea at Terra Nova to show off the boob job done in Cuba to the girls, a snapshot of you and him on Page 2 of the Jamaica Observer, whatever the status symbol at the time. But can they satisfy that raging hunger in your core...Can they touch the root of you...Can they FUCK?

I know they can rock your body like the ebb and flow of the waves with a touch of the lips and tongue...I know they can play a good game and intrigue the mind, sweeping you away in a whirlwind of seeming interest (sometimes to your delight)...but can they use the windowsill, wall, settee arm, stove handle, anything handy to get the leverage necessary to dumb the dick so deep inside you, you scuffle visibly and in your mind with the feeling to run from the pain or stay for the pleasure...Can they FUCK?

Can they throw one leg over their shoulder and balance with their hand at the back of the other knee and slide in inch after glorious inch of pulsating flesh into your core, urging your volcanic response...Can they Stand up to a Hot Pussy?

Can they give your ass a couple slaps before almost breaking your back to position you and riveting his 8 inches into your six, touching the womb and then tell you to wine on it? Can he make you wet enough to even attempt?

Laying pipe is an art that it seems a man has to either be born in poverty, or the lower middle class to inculcate. A certain coarseness of spirit and hands is required that the middle and upper classes would never expose themselves enough to hone.

Can he rub his dick across your face as he watches you suck his balls?

Can he get that scowl on his face when he knows he's doing a good job and has you on the brink of a breakthrough, knowing that he himself is about to break, can he stop himself from letting you win by thrusting even harder in?

Can he tief a piece pon the road side on the way to country or, if you're really lucky, pond di roadside inna town with all the external threats to his and your person? (Exciting). Can he handle the police if they happen along?

Can he touch that spot while you're flat on your stomach and jab until you scream fuuuck, and then, can he sen'-on one or two more inches just to prove his point, while commanding you not to run ...can he fuck out your surrender?

Can they? Can they really?

I was tempted to put a poll at the bottom of the page to get a real idea on this one, but I doubt I have very many none male readers, and every Jamaican man thinks he's a cocksman (despite class borders) so the picture would definitely be distorted.

Not Business as Usual:(

My commitment is waning, but I go on.... it didn't help the other night to go out to a late dinner in Port Royal. Call it the moon, beautiful star filled sky, the sound of waves lapping the sea shore, but I was intoxicated, and it proved almost disastrous for my faith.


A bredren, who my stubbornness and his had placed at odds as far as the East from the West, bit the bullet and sent me a text "I miss you...". A weak girl can't withstand that kinda pressure, and knowing him to not be the type to 'give in', he melted my barrier.

I left work at 7..ish and we met at 8:30..ish....damn he looked good. Golden brown skin, arms bulging, cigarette separating long skillful fingers, his locks of hair beneath a simple black cap...he was naturally sexy. I like to drink him in mostly, he is so striking to me....jeans hugging, accentuating worthy package:) and a shirt that testifies to the hard work done in the gym....he was all man, and for the rest of the night, he could be all mine...the prospect was....exhilarating.


I like this bredren cause we always seem able to talk....quite naturally....there is no emotional issues between us....he's not my man, I'm not his girl, we rarely see eye to eye on issues but, we can always meet in the middle...surrender to 'done di argument' in the interest of bredrendom....he's my arm candy, and I love the attention he gets when we're out.


Over steam fish and steam bammy we chatted about the month past, what we were up to, a possible Reggae Sumfest date and the follies of the West Indies Cricket Board and the Players Association (WIPA)....a little celebration of the Australia loss to England crept in as well, Usian's 7.89 in pouring rain....Church and current affairs too, though I lack the constitution for meaningful discussion of these issues, its depressing especially the imminent return to the IMF.


In general, it was pleasant. A wholesome and irie vibe, until we went for a walk on the beach..... I've always been fascinated by the sea at night, moon glistening in the water, the odd fish or two leaping out to catch a glimpse of dry land....oh how I wish I could paint. The tantalizing allure of the darkness, a blanket to your actions and the wind and waves a mussle for your moans...its a good place to be. We talked about the ill-fated call which led to our taking a step back, he accused me of being too feisty (with a smile) and I decided to show him how rude a girl who had'nt been touched by a man in almost two months could really get.


The cool summer night breeze on my face, his firm tongue in my mouth..my cold hands seeking warmth in his pants, his hands groping my ass and breasts.....nipples set free against his hard chest, our temperatures rising....his fixed gaze as he fell to his knees and unbuttoned my jeans, it came down with surprising ease (thought I 'd chosen the right gear to avoid a situation like that:) Now, mostly I like to serve, but with that kinda treatment I relaxed in my role as receiver....with focused eyes he seemingly stripped the remaining fabric cover from my V and tasted the lust drenched flesh through the thin cotton. Hot red blood raged through my veins and goose pimples created a blanket on my skin......I wanted him.

In the back of my mind I heard the Holy Spirit whisper.."Stop my Child"...but I was unable to comply...how easy it would be to lay back and just watch him feed...I've been a good girl thus far, why couldn't I be his treat....my thoughts rambled wildly as warm juicy liquid flowed willingly from my core. My knees went weak when in response to me he covered my clit with his tongue and lips...teeth brushing the tender mound ever so lightly.....Could I really just give in? Another thought tiptoed across my mind as if not to disturb the moment....Could I just lay back on the sand and let him lick me under the moonlight...despite my doubts, despite reason, could I just succumb to the dark side...again?

Before I could decide he held back....." I just wanted to taste you"...and I was convinced that the Spirit had saved me from myself, through him. How great a God we serve.

Good Morning

I paused this morning to give thanks and praises to the most High, Jah.... King of Kings, Lord of Lords... and its not Selassi I Rastafari...its the God of Moses, Daniel, David and Solomon.

In a rare moment I greeted the morning at 5:30 a.m. and headed to the great outdoors. Birds introduced and welcomed my presence with song, the bows of the coconut tree swayed ever so slightly in the light morning breeze and I was blessed with an ash blue sky, peacefully washing the land with hope. Aaahhh, such beauty...and because I have delusions of grandeur, I believe it was all done for me...to show me the mighty power of a Creator in whom I should repose absolute trust.

I spent an hour basking in the glory of it all, and watched as the light rose over the hill tops. With a whisper of good morning to God I headed inside to sate my need for fried dumplings, and callaloo and saltfish.

I encourage you all to give thanks to the father today...there must be one thing that you can give thanks for. Have a blessed day.

Weekend and more....update

West Indies lost the Test:(

On Saturday I awoke with a very lazy spirit and the remnants of the headache the day before...it wasn't a good day. I twiddled my thumbs at home for as long as I could, but set about hitting the road to avoid yielding to my impure thoughts and temptation of the flesh....where was I going, who knows, I just needed air. On the 'driveout' I decided to hit Portmore to see if my God-daughter would oblige me with a smile and a hug...she didn't hug me but she smiled and it warmed my heart:)

Remembering my longing for fish and bammy on Thursday, we decided at 4ish to head to Hellshire for a dip....it was one of the most refreshing trips I had ever had. The white sand, salt water and energy of J'cans at leisure was just what my mind and soul needed to replenish itself.

There was little temptation on the beach, not too many hard bodies around (Thank God). We dipped and chatted and played with little miss until our bodies were saturated and then we played some more. The beach was much too populated so we opted to stay in the water until we were signalled for our meal. The fish, as usual, was fried just right, the bammy too and the pickle sauce, hot, spicy and ...mmm...mmm...good.

Sunday was spent fighting the usual demons but I was fortified by my church service in the morning...one of these days I hope to be as happy as the people in church, you know, those really grounded and rooted in God's word and love...its a happiness that I envy, but I know one day it will be mine.

On Monday I decided to be the early worm, cause the phone simply rings too much when work is in full swing for you to really get significant work done. I got in at 7 a.m. and completed a task I started late Friday, e-mailed it, and decided it was time for a little tea break (balance is critical in life). I settled into checking e-mails and the perfect opportunity for my hug and kiss on the forehead walked in....Thankfully work intervened but the thought danced whimsically through my mind.... I didn't want to send the wrong signals, cause I think we're back to a good enough working relationship, but he was right there, well sahven and looking pretty tasty....I weighed the options and figured I was mature enough to leave beg the hug and peck, without complicating issues....I'm a lover at heart, a sexula, sensual being and these weeks without a tender touch from a man were wreaking havoc on my sensitive spirit. I gave in to the vibe, and spent last night repenting cause I liked it... Sigh.

I'm still horny and dreaming of sweaty bodies moving to an innate pulsating rhythm, a man's tongue tasting, licking, lashing every contour of my body, breaking only to hear me beg for more..... but not as much anymore. One of these days I'll learn control.

Blah feeling

My head is still splitting in two....I think I would be open to a hug and squeeze and a kiss on the forehead right now.....I promise not to rape the man who delivers it....really I do.

Reflection

I woke this morning with a headache and the usual longing below to be ravaged by Mr. feel Good (whoever he may be). I have sent up prayers to the Lord for a good, well built husband, who worships God and me only, cause mi nuh tink mi a guh mek it pon dis journey without one.

I've been wound up of late so yesterday, though seeds of a trip to Hellshire to have some fried fish and bammy, were planted in my mind, I opted for an early evening at home....alone. I took an hour to chillax from the day and listened to some inspirational tunes on Love 101 while sending up some praises to the father for my safe journey through Mountain View on the way home and in general, requesting a blessing on the life of each of my family members. Afterwards I was still a little tight physically, and chanced that my body would survive an intense workout to remove the excess energy and the other kinks, while battling hwat I hoped was not H1N1.

Stretching and straining, building muscle and thinking too much, I powered through an hour and was exhausted enough I thought for sleep. I was wrong. I couldn't seem to depart from my thoughts unholy.... I want sex...I know I can't have it, but damn, I want me some.

As I stared up at the beautiful sky, draped in the remaining soft yellow glow of the sunset, the irony was not lost on me as I took spoon after spoon of couch soup under the ackee tree (for what purpose would I use the added energy????). My dilemma notwithstanding, I settled my mind through prayer and nature and all was quasi right with the world.

Serious T'ing

An issue has been on my mind of late, and I feel its about time I deal with the matter frontally.

Chris Gayle, Ramnaresh Sarwan and Chanderpaul can kiss my West Indian fluffy ass. What the heck. They barely scraped through the England and Indian series mounting scores that sunlight cup school boys could surpass and now they have the nerve to be complaining about lack of payment...for what????

Like every Caribbean being, the sport of cricket is not just a game, its life blood. Nothing compares to the roar of the crowd when a strong batsman at the top of his game takes his crease, the stand off between bowler and batsman, the threatening gazes when he is hit for four or six, these images, this sport, is the glue that binds us together as a Region.

Cricket when played well can be the only thing that matters on a Saturday or Sunday. In fact I remember missing some of sixth form because Cricket was on. The Mighty Viv Richards was at the helm at the time and a rich pool of talent in Richie Richardson, Courtney Walsh, Brian Lara, Curtly Ambrose, Keith Atherton, Kenny Benjamin, Malcolm Marshall , Jeffrey DuJon, Carl Hooper, the icons of Desmond Hanes and Gordon Greenidge (the list is endless) played backup to his mastery. I have led many a friend to the pleasures of Cricket, and as I grew I looked forward to chilling at home with friends, a bottle of red wine, cold beer in the fridge and a pot of curry chicken with dumpling and bananas bubbling on the stove top. Endless analysis was offered but nothing compared to the togetherness we felt.

No doubt then, I have been a fan of West Indies Cricket for many moons. To see my team held to ransom by players who on a given day could not guarantee even a run before getting out, unceasingly inconsistent top dogs, because of money, I am angered and disappointed. Particularly Chris Gayle continues to be a mercenary player who seemingly only performs if the price is right, and even then he fails more often than not. Who are they to demand money from the WICB, they have not earned their pay for many a match now...how about instituting a dollar per run system, maybe then we could get a decent total out of the lot.

Frig the stars, lets pull some youths from the regional cup tournament or our local curry goat cricket squad, they surely would do no worse than these demi-gods we pander to at every step. I'm cheering for Bangladesh next series...Frig them all.........Now them mek mi sin, mi haffi guh pray 'bout it, but I had to get it out.

Appreciation

Though I love the contrast of dark chocolate skin against my cocoa brown, there's something about some Brownings that really get me hot.


The built dark skinned male represents that primitive interpretation of a man. Him standing 6ft 2", naked, his rigid big dick in his hand, the works of art his curving biceps are, bald headed, lips invitingly thick, pink tongue, a goat-T beard...raw sexual magnetism.....damn he's sweet. Combine all that with confidence in self and his abilities and he's quite a treat.


Every so often though, my eyes and the erectile tissue of my nipples are stimulated by the sight of a honey gold Browning. Every so often I take a moment to admire his....perks. Cherry lips, smooth quiet confidence and sometimes light brown eyes is enough to make me wonder the inches that lies beneath, the hug of his jeans. Let's also not forget the fact that with the right words, you can make his cheeks red...how powerful a feeling that is, and the allure of placing a hicky brand on his chest.....its nice sometimes to mark your territory.


In my experience I've found Brownings to be very sweet inside, though capable of great anger....the single most endearing quality though, is the inability to respond quietly to my probing, teasing tongue. Yeah, a Browning will make you put on some ole school soul music and bump and grind the night away...then in the morning you get to see the remnant of your session on his chest, his shoulders, his back.....

With the rain pouring outside today, my fight for control last week as I observed toned, muscular, tanned shirtless bodies, lie on the beach and poolside at the granbahiaprincipejamaica.com Hotel...trunks hanging low on the taunt waists, torso begging and screaming for a taste, dark brown or pink nipples, picturing your tongue teasing the outline of his tattoos, nipping and tugging at the spot where his moan seems to get louder.....aaaahh the male body in brown sugar motion is truly tantalizing.....a girl almost couldn't keep her righteous order.

Down but not Out

As much as I tried the other day to stick to the staright an narrow, I yielded to temptation...in a way. I weighed the evils in my mind and engaged in the lesser...I called Mr. ATL. He was a deacon at a point in his life so he was no stranger to my confused ramblings....he was a bredren, he let me vent, he understood that he was chosen because he could not reach across water to touch. He dusted off the usual words of comfort he would offer in counsel to Church sisters in times gone and was a comfort to me.

We had extensive dialogue on subjects pure (that was my only stipulation) and I felt heartened that he was not upset with me for watching his number light up my phone repeatedly without answering 2 months prior. He understood that I was no longer available. As time dragged on and we updated each other on each other's lives, I asked if he had replaced me yet.... My ears were not prepared for the "almost" which was the answer. My ego was shot initially but I understood in the end.

I was a little guilty for my thoughts and whispered a word of prayer for forgiveness. How sweet bredrens can be when they remain just that.

Down on my Knees

On the verge of a break through, skipping stones in my mind asking myself if I really want to shine, want to be lifted up above my circumstances and into a realm of consciousness which surpasses the physical, the material…the livity part of life.

Notions of subterfuge ramble in my head. Oh how I wish I hadn’t said come in, cause then I could stick to my usual plan and fill the loneliness in my heart with the tender lips of a another man. But I did, I did say yes and now I am bound by the tenets of generations past, tenets which forces me to remember Gethsemane.

And though I try to fill my psyche with pure love for my neighbour, coveting, sating that raw need in me with someone else’s someone still finds space in my heart….Am I beyond help then? Never that, I know, for he promised he would make me white as snow, he promised to help if only I should call upon him,. And I do but at what point does repetitive falter become presumptuous sin? At what point will he harden his heart and ears against my pleas? Surely the prospect of losing him as a friend is much greater than any worldly need I could have to test his faith in me.

Oh though I wish I were the old me, cause then even the words I type now wouldn’t appear to be blasphemy. I am disappointed because I have shamed him already in my heart with these thoughts. I have lusted after the flesh, I have sinned in my words if not my deeds, I am ashamed for I judge, when he has taught me not to judge, I have not kept his temple holy.

Even as I stir from my bed at night begging, pleading with him to give me full insight into his plan for my life, I cannot shut down the thoughts of a kiss the morning after, a hug, an intimate touch, a suck…I cannot beat these images of well built men, willing and able to please me, into the recesses of my new mind…

Oh hear my cry oh Lord and let me stand firm in this time when the wicked rise up against the I....when my flesh is weak, when all that I think about is feeling the electric pulse of body heat... Order my steps Oh Jah, order my heart, order my mind..lead me.

A Retreat to avoid Surrender

Sultry, seductive does he know his effect.

His proximity spirals me into thoughts ungodly…forbidden fruit is soooo tasty. Successful attempts to ignore his presence are whittled away by his words….simple words, said with such cocksure authority that it .... stimulates me.

Further test comes in the form of forced close interaction, a mandated action,…..I lay the foundation that nothing will happen…I convince myself thereof even as the words trickle weakly from my mouth into his ear….resolve diminishing. My statement evokes disdain and is summarily dismissed…damn he plays well. A battle of wills, and while he has no qualms whispering gentlemanly nothings in the open observance of the crowd, I sit rigidly, fixed in my mind that I will not reward his attempts with a flinch. I survive, just barely, as he notes the warmth emanating from my body, through my trousers and his, against his thigh.

Machinations of him writhing under me, my tongue charting a map across his chest, down his stomach, over the head of his dick, seep deep into my consciousness….I am uncomfortable. Thankfully, the session begins and we are plunged into thoughts of nation building….saving me from the demolition of my worthy feather barricade.

In the end, amidst the ill fate of an edict handed down to finish the job in time outside of the current forum, I am once again thrown to the wolf….so yet again I try to establish perimeter defenses and launch a mighty coup...an offense, I thought. I paint a picture for him, one which underscores my lack of faith in his ability to satisfy me, wholly, completely….I hadn’t expected that he would see it as a challenge…..damn it . As usual I am successful at not achieving victory against this very worthy opponent.

I am saved soon after though, he disappears and I hang back and strike up conversation with an easy target….men like to talk about themselves, and I have found it useful at times to let them wow me with their accomplishments…does it impress me? Sometimes….but ofttimes not. On my way to the car, my folders in his hands, we talk of his past and present work fires…..Across the car park I see him and he sees me, an acknowledgement occurs…though very chilly???

I pray to my God that I will survive this unfortunate week ahead. My derricks will be set, ready for a victory against the temptation of his flesh.

Dreams

Ordinarily, I don’t dream. When I am frustrated by one thing or another however…….

Like potters clay my body is molded to fit his form. His weight upon my chest is nothing, all that matters is the tantric pleasure he delivers. Soft hands dance across my flesh, cupping my breasts, spanning my ass, kneading my thighs. His tongue awakening nerve endings and stimulating my soul while thoughts of what I did to deserve this sinful pleasure tumble through my mind.

I fight to grab hold of me but I lose, and relax under his probing…..With a call he had beckoned me to his bed, his request simple, “Can I make love to you?” Six words woven together….a profound tapestry, and which woman doesn’t like the sound of her name on a man’s lips. As he approaches the door, I step back and drink in the sight of him, his presence, that smile. I fight the urge to have him just stand there and flex, nothing would have pleased me more than to see his body on show, just for me…at least for that night. In wife beater and jeans, barefoot, smoky…he was beautiful.

My approach was welcomed as I took his cheeks between my palms and brought my mouth down to get a taste of his. His immediate response was…unmistakable. Hypnotized by his bulging biceps, the cushion of his chest, the hint of cologne, the power he represented, I placed my trust in him to make me feel, and I knew he was equal to the task.

“I want to taste you.” Five words was all it took to un-dam the river.

As usual the first strokes of his coarse tongue on the pink, wet, delicate flesh were too intense… and he held my hips in place as I tried to wriggle free and up the length of the bed. “Stay”. A muffled threat, the “or else” needn’t be said.... Hungry he seemed, devouring and unwrapping the gift with expert ease. Each thrust in and out built a roaring lioness' groan but my climax was dashed each time for he wanted to prolong the wanting. Watching and waiting intensely as I rose my hips to meet his Cheshire smiling lips….Frustration sets in.

“More”, a low whimper, a plea really, escapes me and he cools the fire with his breath, blowing, soothing….I descend only to be hoisted once again. On the third attempt, when the abuse left swollen labia and clit I held his head in place….the power table shifts. I coach him with rotating hips, slow circular thrusts… "don’t fucking move…. let me fuck you” a whisper intended to eek out my full release.

I am afflicted by spasms and he doesn’t relent…a fight ensues to rip his pleasure trove away from my body...... “Ssstop….tttoo intense”. Him nodding no sends thrills to the pit of my stomach and another eruption charges free…I am spent. Convulsing uncontrollably, I flay my hands wildly until he shows mercy and leaves me be. Quivering, the heat from his hovering body teasing my nipples, I fight a losing battle for control again….Aaaaaaaaaahhh.

Limits

A woman should always know her limits. This is the most critical element to your satisfaction in life. Whether its how much cream to take in your coffee, or inches you can handle...know your limits. For me, in sex its simple.....I like a man who sacrifices for my pleasure.

Because I think I was dirty, nasty slut in another life:) I tend to like my sex nasty mostly. You know, sweaty slapping bodies, nibbles and bites that just break the border of bearable, the smell of juices, saliva on and in every crevice, name calling (but for bitch), role playing and in general visual stimulation.

I like the sight of a black man's big dick, but I know I my limit is eight inches with two or so inches of girth. I know I like:

- being on top, on the bottom, on my knees, on my back
- being taken from behind in 6 inch heels with fish net panty-hose
- knowing that someone is listening to my groans and vulgar utterances
- tasting my juices on his dick
- hearing him moan, not like a bitch, but those little ones that escape him inspite of his tight grip on self ( that really turns me on - it makes me know that the pleasure is mutual and that strokes my ego, simple really)
- getting fucked in front of the mirror
- watching him do a strip tease, muscles rippling, his chocolate brown skin glistening and that pretty smile
- being teased to the point of utter frustration, this makes me more than wet
- searching for his sensitive spot with my tongue...wishing I could over power him, just once and have him feel how I feel when he teases me so

I like a man who fights the urge to lay himself down, bending instead to my will to look up at his face as I suck. One who caresses the bulge in my cheek with sweet force, a man who is attracted by my big eyes looking up at him with complete and absolute lust. A man who shows me in certain terms that I make him hard...no fluff, just unadulterated wanting, a limitless being when it comes to being pleased by the flesh, a maestro who knows that a woman does her best work resting on her heels. I like a man who knows that I like the weight of his dick resting on my face as I lick his balls and possibly his ass. I like a man who accepts that I am "touchy-feely" and will not mistake my caressing his body in the afterglow as an invitation to ravage me again, or to come into my heart.

As you can see, there are several things I like but there are two things I can't handle....watching him trying to be my buddy and a man who confuses the slutty me when his dick is pleasing me with the me outside of his bed.

All Things Bright and Beautiful

I enjoyed my weekend at the beach so much in my last post that I went back for a week. Aaaahhhh.....the blazing sun, the ash gray skies, on more occasions than our white guests would have liked, and the alcohol.....my new found drink is a Lime daiquiri...mmmm. I've never really appreciated the smell or taste of white rum, for a myriad of reasons including a father who didn't know when to say when, but DAMN...that drink is good.

Mi bruk out pan di beach, sang the nighttime bond fire songs with zest and zeal and learned how to "cock it, cock it, cock it up gal" (the dance...dirty minds:) Yep I was once again fancy free with my sister in tow and a girlfriend too. It was great.

The eye candy was wondrous and I learnt how to appreciate built bodies of different hues. One guy, unknown to him of course, teased me the whole week and were I not a sweet, trying to live right girl, I would have made my advances, but, he and his girl seemed quite into each other so I chilled and just admired his body on the odd ten or so occasions. Once, having jogged to the gym, sweaty and completly out of breath...I hate cardio...I bounced through the door to see him and the gym instructor who, were it not for his height challenges, would have also been a prime candidate for me...in another life.

The hymn "All things bright and beautiful..." played over and over in my mind as I soaked in the image of his dark skin, sweaty T, arms and chest bursting from the self inflicted abuse of the free weights, and I thanked God, the cycle machines over looked the tennis court instead of the ceiling to floor mirrors which gave me too inspiration to conjour up images of his body really pumping.

Now, this girl has been good for a good while or so, being hard up would have been more than an understatement, but I trusted myself to be good. I got into the zone very quickly and blocked the sound and thoughts of him out of my mind. My focus was so great that I barely heard when the instructor asked if I was alright....having noticed my eyes tightly shut and my legs rotating the pedals of the cycle like a possesed amazon being...Damnit, he broke my stride. I nodded breathlessly and he handed me a bottle of water to replenish my lungs and thighs.

Stepping away from the unit, to stretch for my second round, I glimpsed the Herculean arms from the corner of my eye. Mmmm...mmmm good, I thought as he effortlessly curled what seemed to be at least 40 bounds. Fleetingly, a thought of him on top of me and my lungs being crushed for a more pleasurable purpose, but I returned to my bike...now there was more than calories from the buffet at lunch that I needed to work off.

I lasted a mere 30 minutes and gave up when I couldn't feel my thighs and butt anymore. I smiled at the attendant and thanked him for the help and sustaining fluid and headed for a clothes change to hit the openish sea.

With a one piece on and a sarong covering most of me at least, I took the 20 steps to the beach. It was refreshing. I hailed my sister who was hoping to squeeze the last minutes of sun that remained and we had a swim and chat while while watching a few men watch her melon like chest bobb up and down to the rhythm of waves. Men are shameless....a feature I quite admire.

While the poolside filled with hungry being to be fed, and the local version of a Cabana boy came milling around, we packed it up for the evening and headed into the Bungalow for a shower and change. Its amazing how the vacation you abhors the thought of lengthy fabric clinging to your body. I opted instead for a simple dress, short but sweet. Accenting my curves and shaving a few years off my appearance I thought....I was ready for the thrills of the night.

Dinner was good....Hotels I find have a plethora of salads and protein to choose from...I was in heaven..ish. I couldn't shake the vibe of wanting to be in a mans arms, feeling him holding me tight and it didn't help to see couples at every turn. Grudgeful and badmind, my sister told me
and I agreed wholeheartedly.

With sustenance in us and an idle spirit to appease we sauntered over to the bar at the far side (the real adult section) and were entertained by the twisting mystery wiles of Storm and Hurricane.....lets just say that I now know why old men will always choose young girls. I soaked as much of the positions, gyrations and general expertise an had to concede that while I was sure I could out manoeuvre the Storm and win my man with intellectual mind games, she could in one felt swoop trap him each swing of her well shaped hips. The bitch.

.......

Innocent Vacation at Home

At the bequest of a dear friend last weekend I got some well needed R&R at the Royal_Decameron_Club_Caribbean-Runaway_Bay_Jamaica....it was great resting for a change...real rest I mean and at a reasonable US$70 double occupancy and $140 single Occupancy (resident rates) it was easy on the pocket.

We listened to the interpretations of Bob Marley's "One Love" by more than tipsy visitors to the island, we ate fruits and vegetables with the odd piece of pastry here and there, there was no ackee and slat fish though (bummer) but it was fun.

The sun burned brightly in the morning blue sky and the sea breeze was heady in the night as the waves crashed against man made reefs.....it was beautiful. Yes I would have preferred sharing the moment with a red blooded male who could teach me a thing or too as we explored and blessed the quaint cottage without fear of being heard, but there'll always be a next time. Who knows maybe I can find a man I can trust to not make the weekend all about sex, and one who will be strong enough to not let my Evelike character lead him into temptation and ultimate destruction...yeah right. It would have been nice though to sit and watch the sunset with a good bredren in whose arms I could curl up and relax and do one or two tequila shots, and simply exhale.....ah well.

We went to greengrottocavesja.com and learned a little about the WhiteWitch of Rose Hall but nothing compared to the simple chillaxing on the beach. Our stop at the Ultimate Jerk Centre was good too...talk about real Jamaican jerk chicken, not "pan foul" it was delightfully hot and spicy and the bammy and festival hit the spot. Sometimes it pays to vacation in your back yard, there's so much of this beautiful island I've not seen. I am heading back next week and I'll tell you all about it:0)

Strange Things are Happening

This morning while sipping my tea and praying that my faith would be strong enough to make today a Friday, I heard on my most favouritest station in the world these days "Love 101 FM" that persons were killing Albinos in some country beginning with a B and selling the body parts to people in Tanzania for purposes of witchcraft...."a wah dis Faada" People are so confused these days. I realised then that there were greater things in this world for me to pray about so I whispered a small one for love to be returned to the hearts of men.

On another note, the Player tempted me yesterday and I resisted...why?? Cause he's a married man and I am so not doing that anymore. If I were though I would fly to the ATL and get me some good freaky dick. Also, there's something about him that makes me feel less of a woman and that's unaceptable....we had a talk about that and he chastised me for reading too much into his actions, but my gut rarely lies so I'll stick with my instincts for now. Besides, I'm so hard up, I need a nice slow build up to my climax and I doubt very much he would've had the time to deliver.

I have to say though, its been awhile since I've locked my legs around the back of a man and felt his thrusting deep within the pit of my womb, or watched with interest his face as I dance atop his rock hard dick...so no doubt, homegirl had some interesting dreams last night....but I'll get over it.

Rejection for the Greater Calling

If he were more receptive today...on this bleak and beautiful day....I would jump at the opportunity to lay in his arms and listen to the drops of rain on the concrete....nothing more, just to rest with him would have been my goal.

If I were strong enough to see his shirtless torso now much, much bigger than before, expansive, chest inviting (Creatine works), his locks of hair trailing down his neck, sexy...sweet really...If I were strong enough, I could convince him that I would stop me from destroying my faith and wouldn't have to rely on him to be my rock...

Withou the threatening rain maybe I wouldn't be catching that familiar feeling.....but it is and I am and he doesn't trust me to be good....PITY

Exorcising Demons

Last weekend was spent fighting temptation....I won with a little help from prayer and my TotalGym 1500....Oh how I wish I had the TotalGym XLS or even the TotalGym 3000, but at a whopping US$1500 and US$849 its not gonna happen, at least not in this Recession. For now I just draem about owning the XLS and continue to salivate at the features.

When the burning yearning got to much I latched on to my Bible and read Psalms, Kings, Solomon and Acts but they weren't enough ...I thought. Eventually on Tuesday, i settled for a hug and a kiss from a bredren who is committed to helping me through this bold decision I've made...Damnit. He refused me yesterday, while the rain fell and my body ached, he refused me....am I losing my touch, Already???

Sinfully Good

Walking the straight an narrow with the Lord is not so easy when he has pecs like pillow tops, arms that you can imagine tightly wrapped around your waist, pretty pink lips, abs like ridges, a taunt sweet waist that you picture in action grinding you in place, fingers of fury, touching each erogenous zone making you whimper and scream and moan...

Yes the righteous trod is threatened by him, the memory of him is enough to cause sin, yet I must push to the back of my mind his feel, his strong sturdy thighs, his jeans at low rise, his hips, the tsate of his d--k...its definitely not an easy road.

By His Deeds Shall a MAN be Known

Young, future bright....he was a child for whom the world came tumbling down when he heard the word "Divorce".

His days since the split were spent suppressing his hurt and pain at the loss of the familial safety net...Parents who were supposed to protect him, failed him and now look at the result.

Frustrated, tired of shouting silently for help, he succumbed to the J'can male stereotype..."Bad man nuh bawl, they act out". He hid his emotions under transparent actions, tucked away the longing in him for that cuddle, a demonstration of love and protection and he succumbed.....he succumbed to the pressure of destroying someone or something else, after all, misery loves company. In order to get the attention he needed, he realised he had to scream from the core of his being for somebody, anybody to SAVE ME PLEEEEASE.

His deteriorating mind found a voice in a blog, an outlet which escalated his plea.......Jamaica, the secret society that it is, closed its eyes and ears and he languished in latent violence.

Bombarded with images of 9/11, bombings in Afghanistan, nauseating demonstrations of force of will on smaller opponents, and the ease with which one can create mayhem, a website guide to world domination explored maybe. His Itouch, cellphone, computer, TV screen, weapons of self destruction, a detonator in his hands and a head full of erroneous thoughts...a dangerous combination, but a necessity for the HELP he needed.

He's a Jamaican boy, armed with his father's gun. Blind, Overcome with the release of finally letting them see what he had become....how much it really hurt. He forced his way in, he took charge of the plane and stonewalled the troops. Minutes turned into hours....and with messages streaming in from every angle, he grew intoxicated with the stage he had entered, spotlights on him, finally.....His father on a phone, his friends too, a pleading Prime Minister...which other 21 year old could claim such an audience...all for him, a shadow until then. Hoping to recover sanity, praying the system wouldn't fail him, or that Daddy's money could bail him....raging against just being a statistic, to not be counted among the number of failures at life after legislated parental split.

Steven Fray was as much a victim as the passengers of Canjet Flight 918 His country failed him. We failed to recognise his pain...we failed to listen to the words unspoken.....this baby of the soil, the JAMROCK, our hard hearts failed him completely.

In all this though, we give thanks, that the usual force of our armed forces was not displayed, and he lives....an opportunity provided to help him still.

My concern is that a jury of his peers, will not see this action as a cry for help, but instead, will sentence him to life among the real threat. Yes, we will bow to the pressures of international organisations who were the same to happen on their own soil, would have coddled the youngster instead of sacrificing one for the greater business number.

It is indeed sad that history will recall him as a troubled youth, with too much access to information for his idle hands, weak constitution, it will see him as the corn reaped from impure wayward youth. His deeds in one night, will forever be his badge of dishonour.....no matter the motivator, no matter the circumstance, a son betrayed by a mother and father....a son of the 21st century common phenomenon... a broken home....a text book case.

First Step to Closing the Door

I was early for my Father’s House, so I walked to the seashore and gazed at the morning as I pondered the paradox of building a Church almost on the sand.

Moved: I was moved to depart from my wicked lustful ways and the Lord being a good friend, took me in his arms and promised to make me whole again if only I would choose to obey.

While I’m not there fully, I considered my attendance at church for two consecutive Sundays (a vision not seen since my early teens) to be a step in the right direction toward deliverance from my sins. The road will be rough and I in my most naturally human form, will have to pray night and day and day and night for strength to overcome. Being my greatest critic as well I also hope that I will learn to forgive myself when I stumble and fall.

I have always had a rigid conception of the Christian being. A child of God is a rock with a foundation on the Lord, so then how could one fall, I used to think. But in the last three years I have learnt that even Jesus was tempted and lesser beings as we are, we cannot fully escape the allure of sin. The aim is to keep on trying and to rely on God to see you through your next confrontation with the darkside.

Prayer: Prayer I am no stranger to, and in fact it has buoyed me through quite a bit in my life, but this is not enough. Taking that step toward the Lord through acknowledgement of him as Lord and Saviour of mankind, living the life, letting your life be an example to others, these things are must dos to prove your commitment to the Cross and its promise of….. Salvation. Prayer represents however a direct contact to your shepherd and should never be broken no matter the stains on the fabric of your soul.

Spirituality: I have tried to be spiritual mostly in my 3 decades and 4 yrs, however for one who can barely muster tolerance for her brothers an sisters, this is sometimes hard to maintain. My efforts are also derailed by my more than healthy love for the gift of sex…….how do I stay away until he sends for me that one special sexy bodied being? How do I stay Chaste, for I am bombarded each day with potentials and images of the possibilities? “Just say No” rehearses in the back of my mind, yet still I am weak.

My challenge is also compounded by my seeming natural appeal to those with golden bands upon their fingers and a yearning for excitement. Appealing they are to me as well and this is my certain path to hell. But they can never ask you to be true, nor fall to their knees proposing protection until death do you part…..a format in which I find absolute stability, for I never have to pretend to be asleep as he whispers marry me.

Inspiration: As I looked up at the imposing hills, I knew the Great I AM looked down on me saying “Through me all things are possible, those in the dark I will bring into the light and they will be as a great oak tree, planted in my love a personal treasure that I will keep and hold through generations” I can’t help but be inspired to try.

PEACE: I am Confident that he will lead me home, no matter how long it takes and I will dwell in the House of the Lord in absolute peace, just in time.
My journey will be great…..the road will be rugged but I am today committed because I know he alone can change me.