When I write sometimes I do not know where it will completely lead to. What I write practically writes itself. This is how it has mainly been as one being led by the spirit. I just let it go and let the spirit get out whatever message it wants to speak in those certain moments. Well, here goes:

I remember a few years ago some girl by the name of Melissa left me a comment. She had the nerve to think or believe that she was actually schooling me about God based on her preconceived notions of what she ignorantly gathered from reading an article that I wrote.

One cannot know a person’s life or entire life story just by reading a few detailed posts from a blog. My mother was solid in her Christian/Baptist faith she attended church regularly as a child, had gotten me christened/anointed/blessed at four months in a catholic church, and introduced me to God at a very early age.

I had always believed in the Lord, was gifted with second-sight, and was led to him and by him. God’s favor was on me since the beginning of my journey here on earth as a little infant. My mother and I shared countless instance of the Lord’s providence.

During my teenage years up into my early adulthood I had a very strong relationship with God and was in communication with him consistently through prayer and would constantly reap his generosity.

I was no stranger to the Lord, and he was not someone who was a stranger to me. Due to my aversion toward negative situations and circumstances brought on by undesirables (jealous/envious/miserable people) and the certain inevitable trials of life, in general, I was fed up and tired and very resentful at God for what I had to go through from childhood on up.

It happens. Nonetheless, the Lord called me back to him after my distancing myself from him for so long even though he never distanced himself from me.

The whole time God was still there taking really great care of me. I was furious at the Lord for various reasons, yet he did not punish me. Instead, he showed me compassion, mercy, and grace. He also extended an invitation to rekindle our fellowship so that I could get to know him more genuinely and intimately within a way that I never knew or understood him beforehand.

I accepted Jesus Christ between the age of ten, eleven, or twelve. It was so long ago I don’t remember exactly but it was before I entered into my teen years.

My great-grandmother criticized me over the telephone when I was about fifteen telling me that I wasn’t normal because I wasn’t doing and acting the way other teenagers were at the time.

According to her, I should have been hanging out, partying, having sex, and whatever else she hoped since she had gotten pregnant at fourteen, would get drunk and possibly do drugs as well as associate with the wrong type of people who used and abused her.

Any other great-grandmother who was truly a Christian at heart would have been proud and recognized that it was God’s holy spirit within me claiming me as one of his very own children.

I was never of this world.

I did not judge my great-grandmother or care about what she did in life. All of her regrets and downfalls she took out on certain members of the family out of jealousy. She and my eldest aunt tried their best to destroy my mother and I years ago. My mother and I were not like the rest of the immediate family. We were unique and spiritually inclined.

Insight was a gift that ran in the family but my mother and I were different than them in character and personality, we were cut from different cloths (not of the same nature).

God knows us all. It does not matter what other people think or what other people say. God is the true judge, soul-seeker, and examiner of the heart and our intentions. None of us have to explain ourselves to anyone and we are not to be a pleaser to those who do not understand or accept us. We are to be pleasers and expressers of God.

For the Lord knows us better than we know ourselves and only he can reach us in the places where he is able to search and find us.

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