Happy Resurrection Sunday!!!
I remember Sundays, way back when I was about 12 years old, and an active PK (preacher’s kid). It was my opportunity to get dressed “to the nines.” I played handball, punch ball and touch football most of the week, and dressed accordingly…some say I was a “tomboy.” But Sundays was my dress-up day. And the best Sunday for dressing up was Easter Sunday. It was a supernova opportunity for me to blast into my most Dorothy-esque self. For those of you who don’t know…Dorothy was my mother, one of the early fashion models of known African descent.
Easter Sunday means so much more to the super-senior me. That’s of the benefits of aging, my growing insights, and evolving understanding of life’s purpose. I still want to be Dorothy-esque, but now its not the glamorous model I aspire to be, but her as a role model for straight up love for her children, her friends and family, and her God.
Easter, or rather, Resurrection Sunday is when I call on love the most.
What is Resurrection Sunday if not a recognition of God the Father’s love. Thank you Father for sacrificing your son for our salvation, and raising Him up so we could be assured of our place in Eternity.
Day 9 Another favorite:
FRAGILE HANDLE WITH CARE
I don't want to hide or change my color.
I believe there's a Creator above, who especially chose this tint and poured it all over me, with love.
He used his fullest paintbrush to add the details of my features. He highlighted my entire body to be prominent among His creatures.
He designed my broader nose and curved my fuller lips. He contoured my entire body. He even added accents to my hips.
He gave me a crown of lamb's wool and twirled each curl with care. He thought of His lamb sent to earth, while designing each strand of my hair.
Some pretend not to see a difference, as if there's some kind of shame, in being who and what I am, and they're trying not to cast blame.
Some try to prove they love me by comparing me to others in my race who they think are unusually wonderful, so they slot me into that space.
Don't excuse me for the group of me, and don't accuse me for it either. Ethnicity can't make right or wrong. It's time we teach ourselves-it's neither.
Who are we to pick and choose, elevate or diminish someone's worth, when the Creator designed and individually signed every person on this earth.
We are uniquely handcrafted to be more than the sum of each part. We are masterpieces, handle with care, irreplaceable works of His art.
FRAGILE HANDLE WITH CARE is one of my favorite poems from my book,"For The Love of Life" available on my website at:
Hope you enjoyed Day 9. Would you like me to light a spark at your school, college, house-of-worship, conference or organization? If your answer is yes, please click on this link to book me: https://www.mylindamichellebaron.com/book-dr-lindamichelle.html
Love and realness,