The Ending We Didn’t Get

A twelve days ago we were supposed to move into an adorable little two bedroom, two bath condo we were buying. And fifteen days ago, I was standing in line at Marshall’s when Travis called to tell me that the sale had fallen through.

I had planned to drive home and pack more boxes, then pick James up from his first day of preschool all smiles and energy.

Instead, I cried my way home and off and on through the rest of that day, and canceled the order for our new mattress that we scheduled to be delivered the day after closing.

I planned on anxiously waiting for the school day to be over so I could run and hold my preschooler and then sit enraptured hearing all about his day.

Instead, I washed my face, put on mascara and as much a smile as I could manage, and braved my way through his first preschool pick up, trying to be fully present and joyful in this moment with him, while at the same battling back the overwhelm now plaguing me.

I had plans, and they were suddenly, unexpectedly, gone. I had built dreams for our family in that place, all in my head, and those too, were now gone. I had expectations for what the next days would be like, and those were gone. I had thought I’d known where God was taking us, and that also, was now gone.

I felt unmoored and untethered. Adrift.

In the days that have followed, I’ve been all over the place. I’ve clung to God in some moments and run from Him others. I’ve been angry sometimes and peaceful others. I’ve run a million scenarios in my head and made plans a dozen different ways, grasping for what is right. Searching in darkness for a spark of Light to guide us.

And into the chaos of my heart and mind, a friend spoke these words.
“We were shouting for joy just a few weeks ago…focus on those miracles. Those miracles didn’t come for no reason, and you guys didn’t get excited for no reason…continue to believe that the Lord is going to move.”
Her words stopped me.

“We were shouting for joy just a few weeks ago…”
“Those miracles didn’t come for no reason…”

I thought I had figured out how God was writing this story. I thought the miraculous way He was letting things fall into place, was all leading up to one certain ending. And when it all fell apart, I began to think maybe I had just heard wrong. Maybe we weren’t following God after all. Maybe God had spoken and I’d just missed it. Or maybe I’d been too stubborn to hear. Or maybe I just had no idea what was going on. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

And then God used the words of this friend to draw near and whisper in my ear…

“This closing falling through does not negate the things I did to get you this far.”

I can praise God for the way He worked and also mourn the ending that I didn’t get.I can trust the God I love to be near even when I don’t understand how He is working.I can worship the God who guides us, even when it feels like we’ve been led to a dead end.

I don’t have an ending to this story yet. Well…not quite.

I can say that we haven’t curled up in a ball and given up, as much as we’ve been tempted to.

God has also provided for us to extend the lease with our current rental until the end of September with no extra fees, so we won’t be homeless at the end of next week.

And today we signed a contract with a new seller, for us to buy a different condo in the same community, although based on the events of the past few weeks, this too, feels far from an ending.

I can say that I’ve had days of intense anxiety, days of overwhelming desire to give up, and days of overwhelming peace from God, in the midst of it all.

I can say that there is a tiny seed of excitement over this new place beginning to form.

We are working hard and the emotional roller coaster, is far from over.

But the fact remains true, God did some wonderful things that I will continue to praise Him for, and the ending we didn’t get, the ending we still might not get, doesn’t negate that.

Be blessed

Parenting: Story in Poem

Parenting

My eyes lock with

His, the scowl on his

Small face takes my heartbeat,

My blood pressure,

So high I can feel it

Throbbing in my ears. I want

To scream and shout, and

As I open my mouth,

I feel the same scowl

Plastered on his face,

Stretched taut across

Mine. Him reflecting me.

I see his eyes hard,

Like mine. His lips pursed,

Like mine. His hands clenched,

Like mine. Like mine. Like me.

All that makes me angry in

Him, I see first in me.

It’s everywhere in me

I want to scream,

Claw at my chest and tear,

Rip my own self out

Of my parenting, I wonder

If I could be a perfect

Parent, would he be

A perfect child?

I want to cry, scream,

Wail again, but not in

Frustration. This time

I want to scream from

Sadness, despair, hopelessness.

I can never be who

I am asking my child

To be. What can I do?

What. Can. I. Do?

My breathing tears, burns

Sharp and painful inside.

But truth rises in me

Like a trumpet,

Like a song sung to

Summon hope.

I cannot make him perfect, partly

Because I cannot be perfect.

But I can teach him

Humility. Asking forgiveness.

Self awareness. Admitting

Failure and getting up to

Try again. I can teach him

Dependence

On God. And hope

For change and growth beyond

His own capacity. I can

Teach him all this because

I can live all this.

I can live humility and

Forgiveness and dependence.

Grace and honesty and

Self-awareness and hope in

Someone greater than myself.

I can teach him, what I can

Live myself. And I am not

Able to live perfection, but

I can live grace and hope and

Humility and surrender. So

My eyes lock his

Softening to meet his iron

Gaze, and I relax.

Apologize. No but.

It’s just there, the offer,

The apology for

Him to accept or not.

A going first.

He can make his

Choice. I have made mine, and

I pray he will follow.

  • Alesha Sinks

All The Little Blessings

He said it so clearly. Whispered it into my heart in that moment…

“Don’t get so hung up on waiting for the answers to the big things you are praying for, that you forget to stop and worship Me for all the little blessings I’m sending in the meantime.”

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1558380803031-BFOPQV6TZSFQ80QYR6KR/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kDCPJx5CXgnCxGyfZrDVw8J7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0pmy3nA_zcH46jcY3zQ1h8g_FNYzQB9C1g4oEzntxIUvwy5WtNg-YWltkTaCEnH3xg/IMG_4427.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

We were simply trying to get two new keys made for our van.

THE van.

The one from a short list of things my husband had been faithfully praying for every day for nearly two years.

God had answered.

He’d answered that big prayer and two weeks later, we were still overjoyed and in awe. Still thanking God for it every single day.

But deep down, a part of my heart was also starting to look ahead at the next big thing we’d been praying for.
Longing.
Anxious.
Wondering.

Almost as if that one answered prayer sparked more discontent in me, rather than ushering me into the eternal gratitude and trust I thought it would.

{To read the rest of this post go visit my friend Kerry’s blog. She graciously asked me to write this post to share with her readers, but I wanted to make sure I shared it here with you all as well.}

Be blessed

I Never Said

The prompt hung there in my mind. Confusing. Unclear.

And a for a few hours, I had no words.

But when the first idea burst through in my brain, it was like the floodgates opened and I couldn’t stop writing.

Just writing this was incredibly helpful to me. I hope maybe, as you read these five small poems, you will feel seen.

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1554376739937-B3V6P2B2WHO0N82SAIBY/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kJK4Mm1kch8SFO9ZNkN1NT97gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z5QHyNOqBUUEtDDsRWrJLTmFk_H6M1tkD9NpL7mXac0oVSXdFfjxR5AjcLwGSebOiGBsFzzcw3xKxvyC_6CFFG_/IMG_3125.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

Prompt: The Words You Always Wanted to Say to Him/Her But Never Did

I never wanted you
To be my friend.
I wanted you
to be his.
Because I care more about him
Than I care about
Myself

….

Maybe I’m wrong,
But I think the same temptations hold us close
I see things in you
Pressing, begging, rearing to come out in me
And I’m running hard
I pray maybe you will start running soon too
Or that maybe,
I am just wrong about you

….

It’s okay to not be perfect
It’s okay to not have it all figured out
I like you better that way, anyways
Let’s be broken together
I’ll hold your pieces
You hold mine
If I get cut, it’s okay.
Because we’ll be together.

….

I cared what you thought
So when you chose them
I suddenly felt caught
In my childish naivety
Why would I have ever thought
You’d choose me?
That day life taught
Me a lesson
I’d spend the rest of it unlearning

….

You can’t see it, girl
But you’re so very loved.
And there’s not one single person
You will meet in this whole, beautiful life
Who will be enough to love you
As much as you already are.

….

If you feel inspired, try out this prompt too. You don’t have to consider yourself a writer to write. And I’d love to read what you come up with. Or keep it private.

This was a sad and beautiful and helpful exercise for me to do and maybe it will be the same for you.

Be blessed

100 Days of Poetry

100 Days of Poetry

Hi friends,

I wanted to share with you a project I’m starting tomorrow.

The 100 Day Project

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The 100 Day Project is a creativity challenge. Many people do this on their own, and some as part of a group. There is a large community of people that I will be joining to complete the challenge beginning April 2nd and finishing July 10th.

If you follow my Instagram (@aleshablessed), you may remember that I participated last year. I did 100 days of storytelling, with the goal of telling short stories about my life everyday, in order to grow and explore my storytelling ability.

Although I stopped participating in the challenge around day 50, and I didn’t even complete every day up until then, I loved it. I felt my confidence, and I think, my skill grow throughout the challenge.

This year, I am taking on the challenge again, with the goal of finishing…not completing every day. But keeping on until the end. And my creative goal?

100 Days of Poetry

I plan to write a poem every day for 100 days, about whatever I want.

I have been writing poems since elementary school. I used to carry one of those tiny composition notebooks around so that I could spend the minutes waiting and the minutes in the car scribbling down tiny poems about cows and trees and whatever else ten-year-old Alesha thought about.

I’ve always thought my writing somewhat reflected that poetic bent from my childhood. But lately, I’ve wanted to lean in to that a bit.

And I wanted to write and actually share it again. Regularly.

If you want to follow along, you can join me on Instagram or wait and see the poetry “round ups” I post on here.

I hope, maybe, the poetry will inspire something in you. A reflection. An emotion. A prayer. A poem of your own.

I’m going to try to write more than just poems for the next four months, but even if I don’t write anything else, I am praying that the poems do the same thing all of my words are intended to do…

to reset your perspective with truth.

What is something you were obsessed with as a child that you would love to revisit? Why not?

Be blessed

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