top of page

“A Plea for Reconciliation”

Updated: Jul 23, 2022

Written 9/12/21

Dreams man. When you read the Bible, God shows our most hidden kept thoughts, desires, demons, and memories. Yeah, memories. Still amazed that this many dreams can happen in my thirties. I removed my technology from my bedroom and LISTENED… He never leaves us. I believe making that first step to distance myself from the literal Apple’s temptation, unlocked my egg to more possibilities. Don’t chuck out your stuff, simply charge it somewhere else not by your rested head. It’s a preference now, not paranoia.

While I was out running an errand after a much joyful morning and lunch date with my adopted stepmom and bestie, a car pulled out in front of me right before a red light. My new welcomed delight. Why did they do that? I challenge the notion, ‘because their poor drivers or rude’. Since I was given the moment at a red light to read the plate, the stickers, and ponder – I snapped a photo. The first sticker reads ‘Biden Harris’, my attention has peaked due to my earlier call to support the current leaders – read 1 Peter 2:11 A Call to Good Works. The numbers on the plate were 8-9-5 along with another sticker that read Orinda Academy. I looked up the academy and it tells me that this driver is far from home, more East Bay fallout headed North perhaps?

The day continued in a joyful manner, with friends stopping by, sharing stories, tanning and snacking, all my favorite things, elated. I finished writing ‘Follow the Clue, Connect the Dots’, cleaned, organized, baked banana bread - ‘I heard you Yeshua, that’s twice now she mentioned him – I heard you.’ I am starting to think that as our elders age and they repeat, repeat, repeat their stories it’s only because the youth aren’t listening. Listen to the message, if you’re hearing it over and over again then it’s probably for you.

Later that night I turned to page 895, Psalms 145: Praising God’s Greatness. My name is in there, I heard him. How wonderful and how sweet to be serenaded again, he loves us! He really loves us! Been wanting to make that banana bread for days, but last night was the proper time. I heard you Jesus, your timing not mine. Each time I visited the stepmom she repeated the story of the man living by a cart behind the fence. Hope he liked the family recipe.

I lay with the book open with my left hand rested on his Word. Almost asleep, I realize I read the wrong page 995, ‘why? I’m blessed in this moment. Let me take it and I’ll read the right page tomorrow’, I closed my eyes. Do you ever have moments like that? Where you thought you were on the right page, right road, right call, right place, even think you're talking to the right person then… nope! If you’re as social as I am then you make it quirky, cute, maybe insinuate the blonde roots, or just embrace the awkward.

My heart begins to pound, moving, turning even. I roll over, ‘oh here we go, deep breaths, forgiveness, and don’t give up.’ The first dream was a pull of sorts like he was wrestling with me to go deep within and I’ve very, very, very, guarded so you can imagine the wrestle. My décor pillows we’re everywhere and I have to wonder if my upstairs neighbor heard anything, I talk in my sleep… always have apparently. My people will testify to that.

“Ljepota iza Rešetaka“

Beauty Behind Bars

Painted on 7/3/22

Acrylics in Prophetic Worship

There were all these people in the room from past memories and like in Clueless, a rotating closet only instead of clothes rotating, it were flickers of my memories. Almost like that Black Mirror episode, you know the one? Where he’s shifting through time to catch the look. I don’t like this game Lord! I snap out in a sweat and repeat Psalms 4:7, a good one to remember in moments like these.

The second dream was about me returning to a Boutique that I once worked at. I’m shopping, building my fitting room, friendly chatter, then the owner appears and immediately assumes I’m there to talk with her. I’m always obliged to talk to someone – let’s end my silent treatment. She leads me upstairs, and then through a door, and another door, and then we’re outside with not a soul in sight sitting at a long grey wooden dining table with fashion things spread out across it and with birds overhead in the sky. What the Narnia?!

As we begin to discuss an opportunity to work there again, puzzled on why she would want me back after I quit via text, I’m met with insults and mocking my direction. I begin to leave, I am so mad. In reality, I felt that this woman belittled me in front of the younger manager teasing me when I heard them laugh, a laugh I know all to well from elementary torture. Fifteen years my senior and she was always quick to dodge, didn’t care, often times rude to my understanding, too busy, never really knew me and all I craved was her guidance. I have much to offer and I’m benched, why?

The third dream brings me back to that familiar laughter. ‘Really God?’ A little blonde girl whose need to diminish my existence before ten years old was, well, her determination could be perceived as admirable today. I constantly tattled on this child, I was drowning and I needed rescue, but back then teachers wouldn’t separate instead they would sit you next to each other to work out the differences. That tactic only works if one party is allowed to talk. Silenced by her rhetoric deafening chants of how I was stupid, I couldn’t read, why was I even here? She had no idea what I was up against at home already trained to silence by invasive outside influence. Later I found out that my Junior High bestie was her bestie and, oh, the jealousy that ensued that fallout Freshman year when a girl half my size pushed me into a locker for my dishonesty. See the ripple?

Why is God pulling these memories out of me when I just want rest? Well, the Sabbath is over could be one reason or because I read the correct page the following morning. Psalms 53: A Portrait of Sinners. Readers, even children are corrupt and astray consuming people like bread. Why? I believe because there's an invasive influence which children are to learn from these experiences, but if no one knows about the experiences then how do they grow?

That little blonde girl lost her mother at a very young age, I wish that for no one. I remember hearing her story and despite all the turmoil that child caused me over the years, I wanted to hug her that day in sixth grade. I wonder if she knew that I always thought she was pretty. She was definitely smarter than I, her laugh was infectious no matter if I was the cause, and she was one talented artist. The things this girl would draw, what a gift at that young age. Part of me always wanted to be friends with her, but couldn’t get over the misunderstanding of our communication. I was different, most kids are intimidated by different. It wasn’t even her fault.

To the little blonde artistic girl: I love you and I forgive you. I would ask for forgiveness in return, but I think she already has. I held the grudge, not her. She moved on to make friends, become a successful makeup artist, and although I don’t know where she is today – I know that girl’s strength is a force to be reckoned with! I wish her all the love and happiness and now I hope we both have peace. It’s over. Thank you Yeshua!

With that haunting memory of my past, I see now how it greatly affected me and the owner’s relationship in adulthood. I was put off by her ego, her pride, her demeanor, things we all have, but I was disappointed even though she took the chance on me. She was generous, funny, talented, and she was right, I was overthinking the whole thing. That can happen when you feel benched in the outskirts, but again, trained to silence, I couldn’t just say that. Where was my courage?

Walls. I just built walls. My behavior can be overwhelming at times and I didn’t find my voice until much later in life so I felt the need to make up for lost time and as an adult, that's different and different is intimidating. As I write, I’m reminded of all her influence that she might've been subjected to. The need to be the best, above all, successful, that typically comes from rejection. I know this one too. I kept thinking, ‘Man, what burned you so bad that your walls are iron clad?’ Well I didn’t help. I’m a brick among her walls.

To the Employer: I love you and I forgive you. Again, I’d ask for forgiveness, but who is holding the grudge here? I never stopped loving her eye for the trends, her talent, her drive. She is so beautiful that I wondered why she wasn’t taken at the time. Walls? No, she deserves better than anything being offered. I Hope she’s fulfilled and beyond happy today! I built walls too instead of offering a better service, for that I am truly sorry. I misunderstood you the way I was misunderstood. I still love your store, it was my favorite getaway, maybe now, I can get away again and meet you with love and understanding. I would like that very much.

From a License Plate


7/3/22 - Yesterday, I stepped foot into the Boutique for the first time in over five years. This Boutique was such an inspiration to me in so many ways and I shopped there for clear over a decade before I was hired. I knew the staff, I loved the atmosphere, and I would dream of one day owning my own store because of this woman's execution to her dream. The owner wasn't working, but I enjoyed the service, I enjoyed the items, I bought my first size small! If felt good. A good experience. Thank you!

22 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page