I often walk to the park at our sister town-homes right next to where I live so my children can play and I can watch the sun set. It is quieter on that side of town and it is like my children and I have a playground to ourselves. They laugh and play, sometimes, my son and I throw the football.
Lately, I've been meeting up with a woman named Carolyn. A truly unashamed woman about her life, her skin, and her beauty. She is one tough cookie with a story to tell. I don't know how many people she have told her story too but I wish to tell the world, or at least whomever will listen. How many of us can say we survived death? Yes, the rare few can admit that they died and came back to life, but her story is different. How about the doctor pronouncing you dead but you a hear everything he is saying, not only that but you wonder who he or she is speaking about. Is he or she talking about me? Can't be because I'm not dead.
Her story of courageousness when the doctor told her mother that she was dead will move any heart. She told me she had to move something to let them know she wasn't dead. She did just that and was able to move her hand across her face, if that isn't God, then who is it? She will tell you that she knows a man, you see. Yes, she says that every time she speaks on it. It sends chills down her spine.
Oh, how I want to know if I'm going about life wrong when I hear her story. She told me we can only take life one moment at a time. You only get that moment, that you can walk around the corner and be dead so you have to appreciate life.
I desire to speak to her about dreams and goals, but her view is satisfaction, she isn't a worrier. Her mind is totally made. She tells me she needs two things: her cigarettes and Folger's coffee, black.
I know from her story that she is a mother, friend, sister, daughter, but most of all, she is herself. You will catch her walking around the neighborhood enjoying her day. She likes when others walk with her or she just walk by herself. I didn't want to tell her story, I wanted her own words to flow.
Ms. Carolyn can tell it, better than I can.
"It started as an headache when I went to the hospital,
But a vein busted in my head.
My mom was hollering about her baby.
"I'm not the baby, you see."
I was trying to figure out who my mom was calling baby.
(Her mom reassured her that she is the baby.)
I was sad that I had lost my hair.
I was trying to get up, and hadn't realized that I was dead.
I just wanted to see my mama.
I had to let her know I wasn't dead.
So, I moved my hand, and they told my mom, I wasn't dead."
Ms. Carolyn carries her story in her pocket wherever she goes, ready to inspire someone throughout her daily walk that doesn't believe in the power of God.
She will not push her story on you,
But when she thinks about what he's done for her, this is usually how the conversation will start, "I know a man, you see. When the doctors said I was dead, I wasn't. Thank ya!" She isn't short of praising him and sending up His glory.
Her story constantly reminds me that no matter how dead the situation may feel or seem, it isn't over till God says it's over.
How strong is your determination and dedication when everyone has counted you, said that you will never make it? Does your situation look like dry bones that needs life spoken over it? Ms. Carolyn didn't let, even, death stop her from getting out of the place where she had been counted out. That one testimony she holds on too.
She has gone on to have children and grandchildren.
She still walks the paved concrete of Tiffany Square and Heather Lane.
She has a story to tell and is not ashamed to tell it.
Lately, I've been meeting up with a woman named Carolyn. A truly unashamed woman about her life, her skin, and her beauty. She is one tough cookie with a story to tell. I don't know how many people she have told her story too but I wish to tell the world, or at least whomever will listen. How many of us can say we survived death? Yes, the rare few can admit that they died and came back to life, but her story is different. How about the doctor pronouncing you dead but you a hear everything he is saying, not only that but you wonder who he or she is speaking about. Is he or she talking about me? Can't be because I'm not dead.
Her story of courageousness when the doctor told her mother that she was dead will move any heart. She told me she had to move something to let them know she wasn't dead. She did just that and was able to move her hand across her face, if that isn't God, then who is it? She will tell you that she knows a man, you see. Yes, she says that every time she speaks on it. It sends chills down her spine.
Oh, how I want to know if I'm going about life wrong when I hear her story. She told me we can only take life one moment at a time. You only get that moment, that you can walk around the corner and be dead so you have to appreciate life.
I desire to speak to her about dreams and goals, but her view is satisfaction, she isn't a worrier. Her mind is totally made. She tells me she needs two things: her cigarettes and Folger's coffee, black.
I know from her story that she is a mother, friend, sister, daughter, but most of all, she is herself. You will catch her walking around the neighborhood enjoying her day. She likes when others walk with her or she just walk by herself. I didn't want to tell her story, I wanted her own words to flow.
Ms. Carolyn can tell it, better than I can.
"It started as an headache when I went to the hospital,
But a vein busted in my head.
My mom was hollering about her baby.
"I'm not the baby, you see."
I was trying to figure out who my mom was calling baby.
(Her mom reassured her that she is the baby.)
I was sad that I had lost my hair.
I was trying to get up, and hadn't realized that I was dead.
I just wanted to see my mama.
I had to let her know I wasn't dead.
So, I moved my hand, and they told my mom, I wasn't dead."
Ms. Carolyn carries her story in her pocket wherever she goes, ready to inspire someone throughout her daily walk that doesn't believe in the power of God.
She will not push her story on you,
But when she thinks about what he's done for her, this is usually how the conversation will start, "I know a man, you see. When the doctors said I was dead, I wasn't. Thank ya!" She isn't short of praising him and sending up His glory.
Her story constantly reminds me that no matter how dead the situation may feel or seem, it isn't over till God says it's over.
How strong is your determination and dedication when everyone has counted you, said that you will never make it? Does your situation look like dry bones that needs life spoken over it? Ms. Carolyn didn't let, even, death stop her from getting out of the place where she had been counted out. That one testimony she holds on too.
She has gone on to have children and grandchildren.
She still walks the paved concrete of Tiffany Square and Heather Lane.
She has a story to tell and is not ashamed to tell it.
