Intimately Worded with Michelle

Tag: intimatelyworded

  • Sunday Reflection: Advocating for Myself, Finding My Center

    Sunday Reflection: Advocating for Myself, Finding My Center

    Sundays have always been my sanctuary—the quiet pause, the slow swirl of coffee steam, the soft scratch of pen on paper. Today, I’m sitting with a truth I’m learning more intimately: self-advocacy is not optional. It is necessary. It is the bridge between hope and action, between fear and clarity, between my body and my spirit.

    Anchoring —Advocate

    This week, I found myself in a strange liminal space: my body insisting on attention, my mind navigating uncertainty, and the familiar ache of missing my mom whispering in the background. I was faced with the possibility of emergency surgery, yet something in me hesitated. I wanted guidance, but not without discernment. I sought the advice of my primary care physician, the solace of my adult children, the steady presence of my siblings. And through it all, I leaned into my partner, Reggie, whose care and calm felt like a cape draped over my shoulders in a storm.

    Through these moments, I kept returning to my faith. Spirituality has been my guide when life demands pivoting, when seeking clarity in confusion, and when life lifts me up and lays me low. The words of James 1:5 remind me: “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him.” Leaning into that guidance, I found the courage to pause, reflect, and make decisions in alignment with my body, my mind, and my soul.

    Self-advocacy is sacred. It is the act of showing up for myself when life threatens to sweep me along. It is telling the world—and reminding myself—that my voice, my feelings, and my choices matter. Choosing to pause before surgery wasn’t indecision. It was discernment. It was a quiet, stubborn insistence that I would not let fear dictate my path.

    I share this because I know so many of us move through life forgetting to take our own hand, to speak our truth in the spaces where it matters most. Whether it’s in health, relationships, work, or our spiritual lives, advocating for ourselves requires courage, patience, and a fierce tenderness. It is not selfish; it is essential.

    Today, I write with gratitude for the support around me, for the faith that keeps me anchored, and for the hope that whispers, even when my body feels foreign to me. Advocating for myself is not just surviving—it is leaning into life fully, with awareness, presence, and love.

    May we all find the courage to speak our needs, honor our bodies, trust our wisdom, and lean into our faith when the path is uncertain.

    Be brave,

    Michelle

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • Loving Better

    Loving Better

    Loving—is being.

    Rainy Sundays, The Day After Valentine’s Day, and the Quiet Work of Agape

    There is something sacred about a rainy Sunday.

    The sky softens. The noise settles. The world feels like it has exhaled. And today — the day after Valentine’s Day — the roses are slightly tilted, the chocolate boxes half empty, and the performance of romance has quieted.

    What remains?

    This is where “loving better” begins.

    Not in the glitter of a single day, but in the ordinary, rain-soaked moments that follow it.

    Valentine’s Day often celebrates eros — the passionate, romantic love that thrills and sparks. But the day after invites something deeper. Something steadier. It calls us toward agape.

    Agape love is not flashy. It does not demand applause. It is patient, enduring, and generous in spirit. In the Christian tradition, agape is the highest form of love — the kind that reflects the heart of God. As described in 1 Corinthians 13, it is the love that is patient and kind, that keeps no record of wrongs, that bears and believes and hopes.

    Agape is the love that shows up on rainy Sundays.

    It looks like making breakfast slowly and staying at the table a little longer.

    It looks like checking in on a friend without needing anything in return.

    It looks like choosing gentleness when irritation would be easier.

    It looks like forgiving — even when no one posts about it.

    Loving better is not about loving perfectly. It is about loving consciously.

    The day after Valentine’s Day is honest. It asks: Who are you when the spotlight dims? Who are you in the quiet? Who are you when loving requires patience more than passion?

    Rainy Sundays are teachers. They remind us that intimacy is cultivated in stillness. That love deepens in consistency. That safety is built in small, repeated acts of care.

    For those of us who are healing, who are rebuilding trust, who are learning to receive and give love more softly — loving better may mean slowing down. It may mean refusing intensity that feels like chaos. It may mean honoring steadiness over sparks.

    Agape invites us to love from wholeness, not hunger. And that begins within.

    Because loving better also includes how you speak to yourself when no one else is around. It includes the grace you extend when you fall short. It includes the way you tend to your own heart on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

    Love is not proven in grand gestures alone. It is revealed in posture.

    So today, let the rain fall. Let the world move more slowly. Let your love be less performative and more rooted.

    Valentine’s Day may celebrate being chosen.

    But the day after celebrates choosing — again and again — to love well.

    Reflective Thought:

    On this rainy Sunday, ask yourself:

    Where in my life am I loving out of habit instead of intention? Do I offer myself the same patience I extend to others? What would it look like to practice agape — steady, generous love — in one small, concrete way this week? Am I loving from fullness, or from a desire to be filled?

    Sit with your answers.

    Loving better is not loud work.

    It is sacred, steady work.

    And it begins right here.

    Doing Brave,

    Michelle 🌿💛🌿

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.

  • God Remains in the Small, Tender Things

    God Remains in the Small, Tender Things

    There is a sacredness that lives in ordinary moments. Not the loud, mountaintop kind of sacred. The quieter kind. The kind that slips into your life wearing your man’s favorite sports jersey on a lazy Sunday afternoon after Church, hair wrapped up in a messy bun, soul rested, heart slowly learning how to trust softness again.

    I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how God remains.

    Heart work.

    Not just when life feels orderly. Not just when prayers feel answered in obvious ways. But in the everyday unfolding of intimacy… the kind that feels human, warm, and sometimes unexpectedly healing.

    This Sunday felt like that.

    After Church, we drifted into what has become our unspoken ritual — pajama Sundays. No rushing. No performing productivity. Just allowing ourselves to exist beside each other. I pulled on his favorite sports jersey, oversized and comfortable, the fabric carrying the faint scent of him. There is something quietly vulnerable about wearing something that belongs to someone you care about. It is closeness without announcement. Trust without speeches.

    And in that moment, I felt it — God remaining in tenderness.

    We spent the afternoon watching movies, eventually landing on Double Jeopardy. An older film, but one that stirred something deeper than entertainment. As the story unfolded, the betrayal by the husband was sharp and unsettling. What surprised me wasn’t the plot twist, but his reaction to it.

    He was hurt by it. Not dismissive. Not detached. Hurt.

    There was a visible discomfort in him as he processed the cruelty of a man who could betray someone who loved him. He spoke about it with genuine frustration, almost grief-like confusion about how someone could carry such intentions toward their partner.

    And I watched him while he watched the movie.

    Sometimes God shows up in sermons. Sometimes in scripture. But sometimes, God shows up in the way someone’s heart reveals itself when they are not trying to impress you. Just reacting. Just being.

    There is a quiet safety in witnessing a man be moved by injustice against love. It tells you something words cannot. It reveals a moral tenderness that does not perform strength through hardness, but through care.

    God remains in that too.

    I am learning that divine presence is not reserved for grand spiritual awakenings. Sometimes it rests in the way someone reminds you to eat after a long day. The way they lean closer during a tense movie scene. The way they respond emotionally to pain that isn’t even their own.

    God remains in shared blankets.

    God remains in laughter between dialogue.

    God remains in oversized jerseys and slow Sundays.

    God remains in the soft rebuilding of trust after life has taught you to armor up.

    For a long time, I believed closeness required vigilance. That love needed monitoring. That safety had to be negotiated constantly. But lately, I am experiencing intimacy that feels like exhale. Not perfect. Not fairy tale. But present. Intentional. Gentle in ways that feel spiritually grounding.

    There is something holy about being allowed to soften without fear of being mishandled.

    And maybe that is one of the most overlooked ways God stays with us — through the people who hold our tenderness with care.

    We often search for God in clarity, answers, or control over outcomes. Yet I am discovering God also remains in the unfolding… in learning someone’s emotional language… in noticing how they respond to harm, to love, to vulnerability, to stories that mirror real life.

    God remains in how we learn each other.

    This relationship is teaching me that divine reassurance doesn’t always arrive as certainty. Sometimes it arrives as consistency. As presence. As small moments stacking themselves into quiet evidence that love can be both safe and deeply felt.

    That afternoon, wrapped in comfort and movie light, I felt gratitude rise unexpectedly. Not just for him, but for the way God continues to show me that intimacy does not have to be chaotic to be passionate. That softness does not weaken connection — it deepens it.

    There is holiness in ordinary love.

    There is ministry in tenderness.

    And there is God… still remaining… in all of our things.

    Remain brave,

    Michelle 🌿

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Scripture: “You make known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand.” ~ Psalm 16:11

    Reflection:

    •Where have you experienced tenderness that felt spiritually safe?

    •Have you allowed yourself to recognize those moments as sacred, or have you minimized them because they felt “too simple” to be divine?

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.

  • Grace, Pathways, and the Cost of Becoming

    New Beginnings

    The new year does not arrive quietly. It comes with memory, with residue, with the echo of prayers whispered in exhaustion and spoken aloud in faith. As I step into this year, I do so aware of divine forces that have been at work long before I had language for them. God’s love has not been performative or punitive—it has been steady, corrective, and deeply intimate.

    Some prayers were answered quickly. Others were answered slowly, through redirection, loss, or delay. And some were answered in ways that required me to grow into the answer rather than simply receive it. I now understand that unanswered prayers are often invitations to become wiser, more honest, and more discerning.

    The Pathways of 2025

    The pathways established in 2025 were not accidental. They were carved through difficult decisions, uncomfortable boundaries, and moments where choosing myself felt lonely but necessary. I learned that God’s guidance does not always feel gentle in the moment—but it is always precise.

    Every hard pivot created alignment. Every closed door reduced distraction. Every ending taught me discernment. What once felt like disruption revealed itself as divine order.

    The wisdom gained did not come from ease. It came from emotional pain—pain that now reads like a highlight reel of growth rather than a list of regrets. I can trace my maturity back to moments where I survived disappointment without losing my softness, where I chose integrity over convenience, and where I honored my values even when it cost me comfort.

    Emotional Pain as Wisdom

    The older I get, the more I understand emotional pain as a form of instruction. Pain exposes what matters. It clarifies what cannot be negotiated. It sharpens our ability to love ourselves with boundaries rather than abandonment.

    Grace, I’ve learned, is rarely delivered as “I told you so.” God does not shame us with hindsight. Grace is extended from love—quietly, patiently—without the language of “you should have” or “why didn’t you.” Instead, grace says: Now you know. And knowing changes everything.

    This understanding has softened my relationship with my past. I no longer interrogate myself for what I didn’t know then. I honor who I was with the tools I had. Growth does not require self-punishment—it requires acceptance.

    Acceptance Without Self-Erasure

    Acceptance does not mean betraying your desires. It does not require you to prove your love by shrinking your wants, lowering your standards, or redesigning your future to make others more comfortable. Acceptance is not compliance.

    I am learning to lean into acceptance without changing the landscape of my wants. Without negotiating my needs. Without confusing patience with settling.

    Because settling has consequences.

    And I have learned—sometimes painfully—that the cost of settling is always higher than the cost of waiting, choosing again, or walking away.

    Counting the Cost

    I will continue to ask myself one question in this season: What is the cost?

    What is the cost of staying where I am tolerated but not cherished?

    What is the cost of silencing my intuition for the sake of harmony?

    What is the cost of convenience over calling?

    This question has become a form of self-respect. It keeps me aligned with God’s wisdom rather than my fear. It reminds me that love—divine or human—should not require self-abandonment as proof.

    Moving Forward

    As this year unfolds, I trust the pathways already laid. I trust the wisdom earned. I trust that God’s love will continue to guide me—not through coercion, but through clarity.

    I enter this year grounded in faith, sharpened by experience, and unwilling to settle for anything that costs me my peace.

    Grace has met me here.

    And I am ready. 🌿

    A Closing Prayer

    God of wisdom and gentle correction,

    Thank You for loving me without humiliation and guiding me without force. Thank You for the prayers You answered, the ones You delayed, and the ones You answered by changing me. As I step forward, help me to trust the pathways You have already established, even when I cannot see the full picture.

    Grant me discernment to know the cost of settling and the courage to choose what aligns with Your truth for my life. Teach me to accept what has been without diminishing what I still desire. May my wants be refined, not erased. May my love be rooted, not desperate. May my decisions be guided by wisdom rather than fear.

    Cover me with grace as I continue becoming.

    Amen.

    “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.” — Proverbs 3:5–6

    Soul-ing Quote:

    Emotional pain did not break me—it instructed me. What once hurt now highlights the wisdom I earned and the grace that carried me forward.

    ✨🌿✨

    Be brave,

    Michelle

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.

  • Red Flags or Revelation? Learning to Trust Your Inner Wisdom in Love

    Red Flags or Revelation? Learning to Trust Your Inner Wisdom in Love

    In dating and intimacy, we’re often taught to look for surface-level markers of “worthiness” — titles, income, lifestyle, social status. But the deeper truth is this:

    A person can look impressive and still live in quiet chaos.

    And the more mature version of you doesn’t need to investigate someone’s outer life to understand their inner world.

    You don’t have to figure out how much someone makes to know whether they are emotionally whole.

    What matters more are quieter, more honest questions:

    Is their life stable — emotionally, spiritually, relationally?

    Does their story match their choices?

    Do you feel safe, calm, and clear in their presence — or confused, tense, and unsettled?

    These questions don’t come from judgment.

    They come from wisdom.

    You’re not “too sensitive.”

    You’re perceptive.

    When something feels off, it isn’t an accusation.

    It’s information.

    Your body notices before your mind catches up.

    Your spirit recognizes misalignment long before you can explain it.

    And trusting yourself doesn’t make you cynical — it makes you grounded.

    Quiet clarity is powerful.

    You don’t have to argue with your instincts.

    You don’t have to convince yourself to stay curious about red flags.

    You don’t have to silence your nervous system to be “open-minded.”

    You are allowed to listen to the discomfort.

    You are allowed to honor the pause.

    You are allowed to choose peace over potential.

    Emotional intelligence in love looks like this:

    Peace without performance.

    Consistency without chasing.

    Safety without forcing.

    And spiritual maturity shows up as discernment — not paranoia.

    You are not rejecting people.

    You are protecting your peace.

    And that is holy.

    I pray this Sunday you focused on what you need and that you know that your wants (no matter how big) are divinely aligned. May peace be your stand and hope your anchor. You are worth your healing work. 💕

    Be brave,

    Michelle🌿

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.

  • Sunday’s Writing

    Sunday’s Writing

    Words Heal.

    #SuperSundays: I used a gift card I won through a health app and treated myself to Starbucks this morning. I walked in, minding my business, and they handed me a free Red Cup for being a regular coffee consumer. A small, unexpected kindness. A wink from God. #WinWin 🤓

    The Tribe… they were all here this weekend.

    • Autumn fussed about my eating—and my not eating—habits. 🥰 A full Tillman. When she “moms” me, I hear Pearlie Mae, Val, and Keyna speaking through her. Healing comes full circle when our children carry the tone of the women who shaped us.

    • Brutus texted a whole list of demands… while at work. 🧐🤷🏽‍♀️

    • Darius seeking Umi duties. 🥰 His way of staying close.

    • Damien, the big brother who shows up—not loudly, but faithfully. 💛 His presence always lifts me.

    Damien and I spent Saturday together—shopping, movies, dinner. I drove him around for a bit. We got home and he immediately started dressing to go out again. I fussed because truly… he only comes to see his barber and his brother.

    Him: “I’ve been with you all day.”

    🤷🏽‍♀️🧐🙄

    #FirstBornJiltsTheHeart

    There’s a sacred sweetness in this stage of life—grown children finding their own paths but still circling back home in their unique ways. Their presence reminds me that love doesn’t leave; it shifts, expands, and deepens. Even the fussing is a kind of prayer.

    Pair all of that with one spoiled pup and I feel surrounded by a living testimony of God’s goodness. 🌿🧡🌿 I’m leaning into these new chapters, not just gracefully—but spiritually aware.

    🍂 Fall is here again. My favorite.

    NC weather gave us every season this week:

    🌦️☔️🌬️❄️☀️

    But today is calm, bright, and warm in that gentle, soul-softening way.

    This morning was #CoffeeAndQuiet and #PrayersAndSage.

    A settling. A centering.

    A reminder of Psalm 46:10 —

    “Be still, and know that I am God.”

    Stillness is not the absence of movement; it is the presence of awareness. It is choosing to pause long enough to hear what your spirit has been whispering all week.

    Today, I’m reminded:

    Healing isn’t optional; it’s required.

    And it often begins in these small, ordinary, holy moments—

    a free cup at Starbucks,

    a child fussing in love,

    a weekend full of familiar voices,

    a quiet home after the laughter settles.

    Happy Sunday, Good People.

    Take care to take care of yourself. 🌿

    Intimately worded,

    Michelle ❤️‍🩹

  • Love Does Not Require My Exhaustion, Only My Honesty

    by Michelle Tillman | Intimately Worded

    There’s a quiet kind of fatigue that can come from wanting to be loved well. It isn’t physical — it’s emotional and spiritual. It’s the weariness that shows up after you’ve overextended your heart just to be understood, after you’ve carried more of the emotional load than the relationship ever asked you to.

    But I’ve come to realize something sacred:

    Love does not require my exhaustion, only my honesty.

    That truth has become a balm for me. Honesty isn’t just about what I say — it’s how I choose to show up. It’s admitting when I’m tired, when I feel unseen, when I’m hoping for more depth. It’s saying, “I want a meaningful relationship,” without trying to earn one through over-effort or performance.

    There’s a kind of peace that only comes when you stop negotiating your needs. When you release the urge to chase clarity or beg for consistency. When you start trusting that the love meant for you will never confuse you, diminish you, or ask you to betray your spirit in the process.

    As we begin to heal with our own stuff, something shifts. We stop seeing love as a rescue and start seeing it as a reflection. We start realizing that the relationships around us mirror where we are internally — what we believe we deserve, how safe we feel within ourselves, and how deeply we’ve allowed grace to meet us in our healing.

    My journey now is about emotional healing and spiritual safety — finding a rhythm in love that doesn’t disrupt my inner calm. I want connection that feels like prayer: steady, honest, rooted in presence. The kind that honors the quiet work I’ve done to heal, forgive, and grow.

    When someone fades away, or blocks, or simply doesn’t have the depth to meet me — I breathe. I remember that peace isn’t the absence of longing; it’s the presence of alignment. I remind myself that my worth doesn’t rise or fall with someone’s ability to recognize it.

    So I’m learning to love differently — without rushing, without rescuing, without rehearsing who I think I need to be. I’m letting honesty, not exhaustion, lead the way.

    Because love that is divine, grounded, and true doesn’t demand my striving.

    It welcomes my stillness. It meets me where I am,

    and says: You are safe here.

    Be Brave,

    Michelle🌿

    “I have found the one whom my soul loves.” — Song of Solomon 3:4

    Intimately Worded | Sunday Reflections

    What would it look like for you to love without exhaustion — to let honesty, not effort, guide your connections?

    SelfLove enables better choices.

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • Navigating Relationships and Healing After Loss

    Navigating Relationships and Healing After Loss

    Without Coincidence Divine Timing Connects;

    I am deeply thankful for God’s grace and His provision.

    And in that quietness, I find myself weeping in gratitude. Smiling in reverence. Standing still in awe. God’s grace shows up again and again, sometimes wrapped in joy, sometimes in the hard beauty of becoming. His provision meets me—not always in the ways I expected, but always in the ways I needed.

    I’m learning not just to remember, but to remain—in peace, in presence, in gratitude.

    Spiritual Safety in Grief

    Grief, is a whole something else, entirely– with the loss of my father, can indeed leave us feeling untethered, almost floating, unanchored. This sense of being “lost and free, numb and unable” speaks to the spiritual disequilibrium that can accompany deep loss. When our foundational relationships, like the one with a parent, are altered, it can feel as if a protective covering has been lifted, leaving us exposed in ways we hadn’t anticipated.

    It is incredible how life’s most treasured moments can pass by in the blink of an eye. Recently, I’ve been making a conscious effort to slow things down, to truly embrace and cherish each moment. My memories unfold in slow motion, allowing me to savor them fully. I find myself smiling, shedding tears, and feeling profound gratitude for God’s grace and His continuous provision.

    In these moments of profound vulnerability, cultivating spiritual safety becomes paramount. It’s about recognizing that while earthly anchors may shift, there’s a divine tether that remains. This doesn’t mean bypassing the pain or pretending it doesn’t exist. Instead, it’s about acknowledging the hurt while actively seeking the comfort and stability that spiritual connection can offer.

    My youngest son is 18, a high school graduate, gym rat, and a mental health advocate who is truly walking in his path with empathy and compassion. His friends have their own Bible Study and have given their friendship circle the title of “Council.”

    I am entering what I believe to be one of the greatest relationships of my life…at 54. It’s hitting differently and often feels unfamiliar and fearful. I am in my 50s and dating. Menopause. Diabetes. Dating. My Light, this soft era. None of this is bad; the dating experience is questionable and rather humorous—courageously so. What I know is that it is something worth growing into; it is what my whole soul has craved. Furthermore, it is truly what my father advised me it would be. I was 23 when he told me what qualities to look for in a man, the man for me. I argued that I wouldn’t ever get married; my father passed away the next day.

    This Father’s Day was different than most. It was quiet, filled with grief, and I experienced the loss of him with deeper sadness and more love. #Grateful His impact on my life carries me. I transitioned from being protected and covered to a different type of sheltering. He was my anchor, my fallback. It’s hard to navigate this life without a father. Our selves become untethered, almost floating and unanchored. Lost and free. Numb and unable.

    Where would I be, truly, if God didn’t redirect his heart? I’m an adopted child, a loved daughter and at times I truly believe a cherished sibling. Family is our first love…be it what it is or what it was. ❤️‍🩹

    There are not too many people I share my heart with; I believe that to be a good thing. I am sharing how off kilter I have been lately with my sister-friend. Her presence in my life is actionable, tangible. My friend, my Wizard Sister said to me, “We lived for so long in isolation in so many ways…individual traumas, collective traumas and now we’re all in the early stages of reconnection getting triggered left and right (zero pun intended and…) We hurt in relationships and we heal in relationships. I am praying for your healing, sister.” @borninprovidence 🌿

    I breathe. She’s right. Foolishly yet with wisdom—thinking I thought I was healed enough; just enough. I have been doing the work, my soul work for the longest. It would seem that falling into something safe and prayed for would be simple, easier, refreshing… my heart yearns for soft, softer a forever landing.

    I encourage you to not only look up in wonderment yet learn to count the stars. Scripture Psalms 147:4 states, “He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.”

    God’s infinite wisdom and limitless love continues to pull all of this together and not as haphazardly as we believe. Trust that purpose and pain is not the great divide we experience, yet somehow it bridges what has to happen. Love better. Love anyway. Do it because you can; you are ready.

    Intimately Worded, 

    ~Michelle

  • The Plot of Resiliency: Do Not Settle With Hurt

    I’m not afraid of the unknown. I tend to get stuck in the not knowing…and that becomes quite tricky, rather unsatisfying; in some moments punishing.

    We do not have to settle with hurt and we should try our best not to settle with it. I know it is difficult and often feels normal when we settle with pain. Pain becomes our comfort, a comfortable familiar dysfunction, more friend than foe.

    I’m on a new dating app and all I want to do is try, have great communication, and see. I’m told by my friends I should be with someone who matches my love. I think so too. I’m learning to be available without giving heavy access to others; to enjoy the simple things. Know the difference with nurture vs blame: our roles in our relationships change.

    It is fascinating how we’re in the relationship and our partner knows us, listens. Then suddenly it becomes our fault, this emotional pain, our walls become our default. We shoot fires of what-ifs: Why do you do what you do? This wouldn’t have happened if you did what you were suppose to do. We take ownership of the mistakes, the mishaps, the wrong in their perspective. We punish ourselves with, “I should have done better.” We bypass the nudges, the emotional learning curves , the red flags with the mentality, “I will try to fix it” or “I’ll do better.” The blame becomes a cycle, a cycle of toxic behavior. A cycle of you doubting yourself, you trying to figure out what suddenly happened. Total train wreck, a complete train-wreck. I’ve been in situations, predicaments in which I am treated like a “queen” yet the second that there is an indication of independence, of learned liberty, of liberation, it is squashed, insulted. Now another rejection where there is jealousy and intimidation voiced with insults and growing resentment; conflict. #DeepSigh

    Early this morning, while on my walk I saw what I thought were red wild roses. I thought how odd that they are growing so randomly along this trail. Upon further inspection, I realized they were flowers of blackberry bushes. I love blackberries…it starts out as a beautiful flower. I have forgotten that over the years.

    I hear Tupac: “Some say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
    I say the darker the flesh then the deeper the roots…

    Because there’s too many things for you to deal with

    Dying inside, but outside you’re looking fearless…

    You gotta keep ya head up.”

    Songwriters: Daryl L. Anderson / Roger Troutman / Stan Vincent / Tupac Amaru Shakur

    I encourage you to keep growing, protect your healing in your process, love this journey to the next pathway with compassion and integrity. You’re deserving of the good things too.

    Bloom exactly where you are; with God we are different. #SoulWorkInYourWait

    “I am going to bring … recovery and healing; I will heal them and reveal to them abundance of prosperity and security.” Jeremiah 33:6

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle

  • My Ragged Bible

    my ragged bible

    Sunday mornings are my love.  I am ashamed that I haven’t written this year. Forgive me. As I sit here meditating, reading the word, and other reading tools that help me go deeper into God’s word I notice my Bible. I notice how worn it is, how the tears, nicks and picks have crept in over the years. I notice how the binder has completely ripped and the back of my Bible, my ragged Bible is falling apart. I notice how the faces of the women appear bubbled, out of focus and I smile. Well I tear up and smile.

    The appearance of  my Bible is a replica of my worn-torn, war –wearied, heartbroken-heart and healed/healing soul. God has watched over me. God has pushed me; He has talked to me and He has loved me because He promised He would. His capacity to love us without the pull of guilt or you owe keeps me hinged to Him. God gives value to our souls.

    In reflection, I purchased this Bible on July 7, 2007 and inside I wrote, “To understand God, you have to spend time with God.” (How God works.)  I began studying more of the Word in an effort to save the beginnings of a crumbling marriage; we had not made it to the seven-year mark. I wanted to find solace in the One Belief I trusted…if I just prayed hard enough—I would not break my vows. God could still trust me with the big things. I yearned for the big things. God will turn our selfishness into His greatest opportunities. Oh, how things got worse the closer I became to God. We were divorced two years later. Nevertheless, my Bible was still intact, still looked new.

    My journey to return to school as a Business Major, older and as a single parent of four was challenging. Many a night, this Bible was read, yet not felt. We are required to read, to study, to show ourselves approved. I cannot tell you when the binder ripped but it hurt when it did. I refused to tape it, to add anything to it to fix it. I let it be —I just carry the pieces together. (How God works.)  Recently, my Masters in Clinical Mental Health Counseling was granted on March 1, 2018. You would think He and I are even…that I have done the work and all is now within the realm of completion. The master’s program journey was devastating. It tore me apart and put me back together so different than I expected. My thought, let’s let the blessings flow, Jehovah. (Laugh) Nope, smh. I have submitted my application for certification in Clinical Pastoral Education—to be educated in spiritual care. I am not a minister…yet my gift is to care for those who are.

    I am so far out of my comfort level. Shoot, I have been for years. These next steps of my life are huge and I am terrified. I am alone. This past week, I have endured so many attacks, spiritual attacks. It has been a whoa-Jesus kinda week. So much so that my deceased parents have visited me in my dreams. My mom, “You’re taking care of everyone else. Don’t lose sight.”  My Dad, “You’re’ not alone. Stick with it, Michelle.”

    Yet, my ragged Bible, this ragged Bible, my, “Aspire, the new Women of Color Study Bible.” My ragged Bible is in pieces, tattered, pages bent, filled with love notes written by my kids; highlighted words that hem my heart…written for purpose of guidance, written for purpose to encourage, written for the purpose to build, written for the purpose to heal…my ragged Bible, is written for the purpose to initiate and cultivate purpose.

    Our need, our individual want to prosper, to be better in life, to live brighter than yesterday cannot be done without Him. I encourage you to find your niche and allow God to incorporate the work, the journey; the balance required to live your greatest life. Again, I write, “To understand God, you have to spend time with God.”

    Each time I read the story of Jesus healing, the man born blind I receive a number of different insights. My favorite verse, John 9:3, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might displayed in his life.” This had to happen. Our things had to happen. Our must go through is required. Know that what has become increasingly clear to me is that without self-evidence, without the pain and heartache, without the disappointments, the hurt, without the journey, without painful, historical insight I could not share with you that prayer —our relationship with God —is the very breathe of our greatest human existence. Spend some time with Him, your way.

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle

  • Fractured, yet Healing

    Intimately Wrded_picDecember 31…the last date of every year. I believe it to be more. It has become the date in which we tend to count our blessings, regret our mistakes, total up the losses. A date in which we ruminate over in regret…decide to regret or make executed decisions to do better while hoping for a grander life than previous. #2017

    What if December 31, symbolizes other than “more”? What if December 31 meant to pause, that we actually live within the momentary time of gratitude. No adjustments, no planning, no goal setting.

    My December 31: I am fractured, yet healing. From here, I will continue to grow in my healing. I will continue to let God have His will, His way regardless of how I feel, how dramatic I may get. Regardless of my hurt, my guilt, my disappointments. I will let Him win this for me…this life, these expectations.

    What if? I know that God’s love for us is bigger than we realize. What if, I just take this date, this last day of the year to let Him love me with His thoughts, His plans for me…for they are never to harm me.

    This thought process has not been easy to achieve. My hurts this year have been gargantuan and not because I am wrong or off path but because He has more in store. Tonight, I will see my life from His perspective—fractured, yet healing. #perfectlyimperfect

    Vulnerability is not an easy path. At times, the vulnerability is to get you where He wants you to be…His best work is when we are open, wounded while processing. I have learned that there are connections I cannot be without; spiritual connections do not break. {bfk}

    I have learned that God’s opportunities look very different from ours. I am learning that getting closer to God does not necessarily mean that I know Him in the depth and realms He knows me. It will hurt, remaining on your path. Yet, you must remain however fractured your soul is. We are forever healing, forever growing in Life processes.

    December 31, you are on the right track. Trust me. #Trust Him Jehovah Rapha, the God who heals. May this New Year bring you face to face with God’s purposed plans for your life. I wish you prosperity, grand fortune in love, happiness and peace. #continuedblessings

    Intimately wrded,

    Michelle

  • Living in Brokenness

    We all do this. We do not allow ourselves to heal…not all the way. We believe we have had enough, done enough so we wait in hurt. We dream for better in the same routine, the same rut. We fight so hard to get what we want that we fight even harder to keep what damages us so.

    This post is heavy. I have pondered not to write it but alas here’s my heart: Living in brokenness determines so many different avenues that our lives will take. Faith and courage are more than stepping-stones. Faith and courage open doors. So many doors. The last few weeks, relationship woes have found their way to my listening ear. I refuse to give relationship advice. One, I am not in one. Two, No one knows a person’s true ordeal. People tell you what they want you to know and if the advice given does not match up to their true wants and what they want to do…the advice given is deemed wrong. Three, my experiences and my level of want may not match up to another’s level of love. Therefore, I listen.

    Her experience Woman I: “I am in a committed loving relationship. Twenty years, a sinful committed relationship. He still married.”  She laughs, “Now you know I know better.” Beautiful woman, late 50’s, a therapist.  (He is not legally divorced.)

    Her experience Woman II: “Thank you for wishing me happy birthday. My husband has not said one word about my birthday. I have been dealing with this for 20 years and I am not going to remind him.” Its 11:30 pm when I receive her text. This saddens me so. I want to respond, “Tell him.” Yet, I do not. I text, “Hugs. We’ll celebrate when we go out.” I know that did not ease her hurting. Beautiful woman, late 50’s, wonderful heart. She will give her last to a friend not expecting a payback. Beautiful spirit.

    My experience: I hide. I dare not show the deep levels of my heart. As wide and forgiving as it is, my heart hurts quickly and the consequences of that hurt makes me very decisive. It is difficult for any man to penetrate my heart. If I am hurt, I retreat. I do not argue and I do no fix people. My intent is never to hurt anyone. I live my life with those intentions. Yet, I know that I am capable of loving with the best of them. God’s timing is with purpose.

    Living in brokenness becomes factual, routine and monotonous without us being aware. It is a cycle of self-protection and longing. It is very understandable and livable. We all do it. Our coping mechanism, our coping techniques are a greater companion than anticipating change. I truly believe if my first marriage had not ended the way it did I would still be there praying, hoping, hanging on and suffocating simultaneously.

    I believe the ones who have the ability to break our hearts should not have nor be given the credibility to keep us in that place of brokenness. Living in brokenness is a place of growth, not a permanent place of stubbornness and “if-wishing.” God will do so much more with our heart matters when we faithfully move within our trust of Him.

    Peace your heart and love in hope,

    Michelle