You'll find a little bit of everything here. Coming from red clay roads to four lane, we're moving on up! Puh-leeze! Contrary to popular belief, we do wear shoes! Enjoy your stay!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Point of it All
Everything about this song is so pure, honest, sweet... Take a look see..
Interpretation
Love is like an artist's palette. The slate is clean in the beginning. Then layer upon layer of trials, heartache, joy and smiles are added which can create such heart-wrenching beauty. The critical eye will only notice the tiny imperfections, but the eye of an Artist will see a work in progress. So beautiful it will rival and surpass the beauty of the Mona Lisa.
So now u tell me why are we so critical of those that we love? Why is it so important for us to be the "critical eye" and point out the tiny imperfections instead of looking beyond to see the heart & soul of our nearest and dearest?
Friday, May 15, 2009
Beautiful Beautiful Zion
A young girl never quite understood her worth. She was cute, but she couldn't see it. She was smart, but she didn't think so. She was always on the outskirts of popularity, never quite apart of the "in" crowd. Her mother would lie awake at night wondering what it was that she did wrong. Why couldn't her baby just see her the way her family saw her. Now she didn't come from a broken home and her childhood was not horrible. Daddy wasn't the man she needed him to be, but the her brothers were perfect stand-ins. The family was really close knit. Everybody genuinely loved one another, but for some reason, she always felt alone. She always felt like she had to be more, to do more than everyone else just to be noticed. Guys didn't pay attention to her. They like bad girls. Guys don't appreciate girls with morals. All she wanted was to be liked. So she gave so much of herself to guys, even though she felt so empty, so dead inside afterwards. They would stick around for a moment, but it was only for their benefit. Then she met a guy who she thought was special. He seemed different. They spent each and every day and night together. She found out she was pregnant and everything changed. His true colors came shining through. Of course he left to do his own thang. She wanted to hide it, but it came out anyway. Some of the people closest to her reinforced what she always thought. She was stupid, she was nothing. She couldn't be a mother! What was she thinking. She would spend the rest of her life barefoot and pregnant living off the government. There's no way to turn this situation around except to have an abortion. So, she decided that would be best. She had the money for it, but didn't have a ride to the clinic. She found a ride to the clinic, but didn't have the money for the procedure. This definitely wasn't working out. She knew she couldn't be a mother, she wasn't responsible enough, her baby would never respect her, she was nothing. She was in a deep state of depression. All she did was cry and listen to the radio. It got worse and worse until she heard the song "Zion by Lauryn Hill". This is how she felt. She couldn't talk about it to anyone, but all her feelings came out in her tears. At her lowest point, the only thing she knew to do was cry and pray. After what seemed like forever, wallowing, she stood up refreshed. This is it. Face the fear. Now, 10 years and 1 healthy, handsome, intelligent son later, I am so thankful and honored to be his mom.
No Service
First off let me explain exactly why I haven't been here in so long. We had Comcast Internet Service (which really is very good if you can keep it working, a load of crap with all their new changes). I'm not sure if maybe lightning struck the box one night or if the changeover they're doing here in Mississippi had something to do with all the problems. Anyway, my internet died and I"ve been using my work computer when I could carve out the time which doesn't seem to be often. I have just been able to find a pretty good service, connected today, yaaaay, so hopefully I will be able to update a bit more often. Y'all don't leave me okay :o)
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