my own story is a redemption tale.
a little girl made almost nothing by the strong arms of the past. you can’t underestimate what’s gone on before you and handed down. the momentum of years taking dead aim to crash into your life is the most powerful force on earth, i’d say.
there’s an elementary lesson to be learned in this life.
our time is brief. short. fleeting. easily forgotten, my friend.
but the generations…oh. they are not short. they go on and on. from eve until now, what we choose affects those who come after. those we’ll never know.
i know it’s been true for me.
the force of motion of years finding women treated wrong came knocking at the door of my life too early. i was four years old when the devil, in all of his pride, found me in my bed.
i think his pride was his downfall.
he got too confident in my family line. too obvious. i sang along to every chorus of the song that the devil wrote until jesus. until jesus said enough. until he stretched his arms out wide and drew a line in the sand for me.
funny thing about the past.
it feels distant and yet it still has the last word. it wants to write your story, engrave it in a headstone that no one alive cares to read.
your past will bury you six feet under just like those women and men before you and the dirt will barely cover your casket when it will turn its eyes toward your own daughter or son.
and then to their children and the next and so on and so forth.
if ever you get a chance to grab the pen out of the hand of the past, friend – do it.
do it quicker than you can think.
when you feel the words being written around you like a familiar old song that somehow you know by heart, push against the comfort of the past. kick against it and write words in your own blood if you have to, or better yet, in someone else’s.
write these words:
not this time. not my children – or theirs. i will not repeat the death of the past in my short seventy years.
because he defeated death for more than the endless repetition of the graveyard. his plans for you include no harm, only hope and future. i promise.