When I came to believe in Jesus for real, for myself, I mean, one of the first scriptures I came across was “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you.” I held on to this word for dear life. It fit perfectly. Kenya had just been murdered. He was everything. Unknowingly, I made him my most beloved idol. He taught me about life. Under his wing I learned how to drive, pay bills, save money, grocery-shop, clean and keep a home, work hard. I had a friend. I finally felt like I belonged, that I had a purpose, I was wanted. Losing him was like losing my very life. Kenya was the closest thing to love that I had ever experienced. I mean, what was love? Attention? Time? Security? Those things alone were more than anyone had ever given me, and surely more than I expected or believed I was worth.
I knew he dealt with other women, but I never would dare question it. There were a few times that his infidelity would be blatantly in my face, and those times I had no choice but to address it, even leaving at times. But that smile, that charm, that desire of being wanted would always bring me back. I loved him for what he represented, so much so that I took myself totally out of the equation. That was a pattern for me. I did that in friendships, too. Always looking for love, for intimacy, for purpose. People can see that, you know? That you’re looking. I’ve learned that most things that happen in life are a result of the battles and demons we are facing internally. Self-pity, denial, disobedience. You can see those things in your life, in your relationships. You will always have a choice, Satan will give you opportunities to live those battles out, and God will give you opportunities to overcome them. God’s options usually involve patience, faith, and trust. Satan’s are usually immediate, quick, and exciting.
The floodgates are usually open when you’re on your knees. In despair. In the face of death, of impossibilities, betrayal, and when there is no visible or logical way out. These are the times the heart is the softest, the most pliable, and for the wise, the times when pride is useless. The weight of the circumstance forces one to their knees and pushes out a wail that only the Holy Spirit Himself can interpret. This is the point where the truth unlocks the levees, and the floodgates are allowed to cleanse the thirsty soul. Here is where Jesus can be found. Where He can comfort the soul of the lost and begin the road of relationship and recovery.
I remember that night I slept at my grandparents’, they have this glass room where you can look up at the stars. I lay there with tears continuously running from my eyes. I remember the pain, the crushing on my heart. I said to God, “How am I going to live through this?” He said, “Set your hopes on the day that your pain is no more.” I didn’t even question it. When you’re hopeless and out of solutions, you tend to question very little. It seemed simple. It was almost like as soon as I heard that and agreed, I was able to do it. Let me be clear: I didn’t hear an audible voice; it was more like my voice saying it but I know that didn’t come from myself, if that makes sense. I still felt the pain, but I had hope. I was reminded that where I was at in that moment was not where I was going to always be. I didn’t have to spend the rest of my life in that place. I had a choice. I had hope.
I couldn’t sleep for months, so I went to see a psychiatrist. They prescribed me sleeping pills, and I began to justify smoking as a means to eat and sleep. They, too, were becoming idols in my life as I used them as crutches to get through the pain of life. That’s false, though. The idea that when things hurt or are painful I can run, I can become numb. The pain has a purpose, but running from it is running from reality. I would spend my workdays writing love letters to Kenya. Sometimes I’d tell him how angry I was that he left. I knew it wasn’t by his choice, but I didn’t know who else to blame. Others would be happy letters, ones of thanksgiving for our time spent together. Eventually, the letters turned into prayers. I couldn’t shake the memory of Kenya dreaming of his own death, the image of him reading his Bible on the couch days before his murder, or him telling me about his supervisor talking with him about this man, Jesus. They were like keys, clues. So, I started talking to God.
Like God, why you don’t like me?
I be looking for you but you always
Quiet.
And you know my insecurities can’t take that
Silence?
That would allow too much time for my demons to speak
For truth to be revealed
Which means I’ll have to admit my part
Admit I’m not perfect
That I’ve been far away from home
That I don’t like me
I don’t know me ‘cause I don’t know You.
Please help.
I started smoking cigarettes mainly because it was something to do. I found out it would help increase my high after I finished a blunt, so I wouldn’t have to smoke my tree so fast. I would be off a bottle, a blunt, a cigarette, and a sleeping pill. All the while, I would be attempting to read my Bible and writing letters to God. There was an unseen fight going on between flesh and spirit. That entire time, Jesus never left me. I remember lighting a cigarette once at a stop sign and Jesus’ presence drew me to the sign. He said, “What are you doing?” It was so gentle, though. Loving. It convicted my heart. I kept smoking, but with discomfort. I was aware that what I was doing was displeasing to God, and I felt ashamed. Another time, I was getting ready to take a sleeping pill and I recalled Kenya speaking to me about why he didn’t want me smoking and how he witnessed people start off smoking weed and ended up addicted to hard-core drugs. I never took another sleeping pill after that night.
I ended up dropping out of college and getting a job at a car dealership making twelve dollars an hour. That was huge for me at the time, and I felt as if I was finally taking steps in the right direction. I found my own place in San Leandro, a one-bedroom apartment. I purchased my first car from the lot I worked at, a 2009 Toyota Camry. During that time, I became pretty promiscuous, searching for a relationship, not yet understanding Christ’s seat on the throne of my heart. I never stopped praying through it all, never stopped seeking. I lost friends, I put weed down, then picked it back up and then put it down again. I still went to clubs, but I stopped dancing on tables and wore slightly more clothing. I became more and more aware of God’s voice and His presence in my life. Then I met the familiar Stranger and the seed was planted. Kenya was conceived and everything changed.