Faith it ’til you make it

Faith
rumi

Divine Feminine Reawakening

by Stephanie Rochelle Redd
I am not from Missouri, but when given the choice between seeing or believing, I prefer the former.

“Show me the money!”
“The proof is in the pudding.”
“Just the facts, Ma’am.”

If these phrases were not already part of the zeitgeist, I am sure I would have coined them. For me, and perhaps for you too, seeing is just easier than believing. Seeing just takes sight. Believing, on the other hand, takes work–mental work, emotional work, ultimately, faith.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” ~Hebrews 11:1, NKJV

As one who sees herself as ‘faithful,’ my preference to see is often overruled by my purpose, which is to believe in that which is unseen. No doubt, living with this contradiction has proven challenging for me over the years. Yet as of late, my purpose has surged pass my preference into a stratosphere of belief that I have never seen before.

Frankly, I feel like I jumped out of a plane without a parachute, in tandem with only the belief that I will have a good flight. Everything in my life right now appears to be up in the air. But for a proof-seeking, facts-demanding land lover like myself, I am actually – and surprisingly – cruising at this untethered altitude.

While there is a lot of earth in my astrological chart, I have chosen to heed a voice in my heart that has greater intelligence than ground control. This voice speaks to me at such a high frequency that I have to be still to hear it. In my stillness, it prompts me to trade in  my natural sight for supernatural vision. Not while I’m driving, of course, or even walking, for that matter–only in matters that require the utmost tender, loving faith…which, as I previously stated, appears to be everything.

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Quotesgram

Lord, lift me up where I belong. (Not only is this my jam, but it’s also my prayer.)

You see, I’ve got high hopes and big dreams. In fact, my hopes and dreams are so massive that if I was not as faithful as I am, I would think they are impossible. I mean, looking at where I am and then looking at where I want to be, my hopes and dreams appear to be just that.

Yet, my faith tells me to look beyond what is and compels me forward to what will be. What will be, that is, according to faith.

How can “the substance of things hoped for” be a substantial tool for seeing your way through life? How can “the evidence of things not seen” be seen as “evidence” at all? How many questions can one writer ask? (Don’t tempt me.) For me – and all my questions – the only answer that I can offer myself and others engaged in the high-flying act of faith is: Because it tells me so.

No, not Stephen King’s It, though the “it” to which I am referring was also established by a King. And no, I am not referring to King James either–either of England or “The Land” fame.

The “it” that tells me so, that compels me forward, that has distinctly instructed me to jump out of life’s plane – and away from my plans – is The Word.

Known to some in its written form as the Bible, known to others in its living form as Jesus the Christ, known to others still as the Holy Spirit or simply Spirit, God, Source or the Universe, whatchamacallit and whatever you call it, it affirms my faith, it confirms my faith, and it renews my faith – moment-by-moment – in what I hear my heart say.

And what has my heart said exactly? Well, that’s for me to know and for you to find out–eventually. But I will tell you that what it tells me is true. How do I know?

george-michael-o

‘Cause I got faith.

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Beauty becomes her–again

Beauty
beauty

The Master Shift

by Stephanie Rochelle Redd
There are a lot of beautiful women in this world, especially in Hawai’i, where I live. Yesterday, I went to the beach and as one can imagine – on a beach, in Hawai’i – there was a sea of beautiful women, as far as my eye could see. I saw beautiful women of all ages, hues, and shapes.
     As I sat and saw the beautiful women that danced and pranced in the spirit of Aloha before me, I also saw among them a beautiful friend that I had recently made, dancing and prancing in Aloha and all her glory. I continued to sit, admiring her beautiful spirit from afar.
      A part of me wanted to join her and also revel in the Aloha that filled the air, yet there was a larger part of me that did not. You see, I’m not what you call a “joiner”. I have personality traits, astrological configurations, habits, and hang-ups that make it so.
     On top of all of this, I was comfortable–in my beach chair, at least. I was not, however, wholly comfortable within myself. It’s a trip to be able to behold all the beauty that surrounds you and not count yourself among it. That’s what I did though; I had counted myself out of being one of the ‘beautiful ones’.
     Now, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m beautiful. (Sorry, Sammy Kershaw.) I look in the mirror on more occasions than I’m willing to admit here and declare a big ol’ “Damn, Girl! You look good!” Hey, some days, I just got it like that.
      And then there are days when I’m at a beach…in Hawai’i…surrounded by a sea of beautiful women, wherein if I do make one of my dynamic declarations of personal beauty earlier in the day, my dynamism seems to wane somewhere along the way. Alas, this is where I found myself yesterday. That is, until my aforementioned friend found me and pulled me out of my less-than-dynamic stupor.
     “You’re beautiful,” she announced without any prodding or provocation. “You really are, you need to know that.”
     I smiled and exhaled deeply.
     “Thank you for saying that,” I said, without an ounce of shame.
     “Would you like to dance?” she then asked. Her tender invitation was in great contrast to the thunderous sound of live drumming nearby.
      “I would actually,” I replied, taking her invitation and her hand as she led the way to where the beautiful – and brave – ones danced and pranced against the backdrop of a postcard-perfect scene.
     There, amidst the beauty that only seconds earlier I had been a spectator of, I had become an active participant. I was beautiful and I knew it, and I reveled in it among the beauty of others. And all it took was a friendly and gentle invitation to remember the beauty I had always possessed.
     Would you like to dance, Beautiful?
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