Meet Elijah.

 

I haven’t posted on my “Meet a Friend” page in quite some time, so here goes:

Elijah is my little brother. He’s the oldest of the two but will always be my baby. I’ve watched him go from being a complete MUTE, to shining light in people’s lives with his love and encouraging words. I realized how much I admired Lijah when I was about 18 years old. I was going through some things and I found myself blaming my father, or the lack thereof. I sat down with Elijah, 13-year-old Elijah, and just said I was angry. I’m not sure if he remembers it, but I always will. The only thing he said was, “We supposed to forgive.” I was pissed. I didn’t know how to respond or react, and I don’t think he understood the level of wisdom those words carried. We weren’t necessarily “close” at that time, and he very well could have been trying to shut me up, but it was in that moment I realized, he was going to change me.

I know all of this may sound corny to some of you, but maybe you have to know my battle with forgiving my father and understanding my relationships with men to understand that this was something I did NOT want to hear, let alone from my little brother.

About ten years later, and he’s my best friend. He picks me up when I’m down. He carries my burdens like I will never understand. He hurts when I hurt and rejoices when I rejoice. He talks to me about the ugliest of sins and the most beautiful victories. There are times when I confide in him with things that most people wouldn’t believe, and I do it with the utmost confidence and delight.

He often tells me how much he looks up to me, and to be quite frank, I don’t know why. He’s seen me at my worst. He’s watched me weep over things and people that I can’t change. He’s watched me lose myself in anger and emotion. He’s watched me break myself and other people down. I think the beauty in our relationship, though, is that he’s watched me grow. He’s taught me that I have to stop pushing people away. I have to be devoted to the best and worst parts of my relationships. He’s taught me what love looks like and I’m thankful to call him my brother and my friend. He sees a kind of beauty in me that I don’t see in myself. He’s set the standard for any man in my life, and I’m thankful to have had him do so. His love is overpowering and I know not to settle for anything less than that.

Elijah was our little miracle baby, he barely made it out of that hospital alive. With IVs in his head and tubes all over the place, he came out fighting, and I’m confident that’s exactly how it was supposed to happen. Long before he knew it, he was the epitome of strength, and to me, he always will be.

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I’m ready.

This weekend was one that I’m sure I will remember for the rest of my life. I’ve gone through it not being able to walk, crying in front of friends who I’ve been my “strongest” for, and having to physically be taken care of by my family.

Without saying too much, the largest tumor decided to do its own thing, and the result was a Foley catheter. I seldom get embarrassed, or feel a sense of “anxiety” in public places. This weekend was different, though. I didn’t want to walk into Wal-Mart. I didn’t want to walk my dog. I didn’t want to walk to my car. I didn’t want to WALK.  Coincidentally, the day before this, I was praying for the ability to do just that — walk. I went Thursday and Friday without being able to stand up on my own, let alone move about, and here I was, too ashamed to use that gift. After a long night of profane prayers and silent weeping, I was relieved at the fact that I was well on my way to perfection. I know it sounds silly, but that’s all I see in my head.

Two years ago, my heart was broken down and battered. Not only by the man I loved, but by many of my family members’ selfishness, unexpected murders, unexpected death, and the absence of old friends through it all. It was soon after rebuilt.

Last year, my mind was broken down as I realized that my job, my health, and my insecurities had completely stripped me of any mental peace. I was consumed with dark thoughts and a scary lack of hope. I was depressed and lonely, and my mind was the root of it all. It was soon after rebuilt.

This year, my body is being broken down. I’m having to remove, repair, and rethink what I thought its purpose was. I’m being prepared, and as the days go by, I’m able to find the joy in that.

I don’t know what God is preparing me for, but in Hebrews 2:10, it reads

“For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation PERFECT through suffering.”

That verse has penetrated my entire being in ways that never made sense until now. It reminded me that suffering isn’t always what I see it as. It’s not the absence of God, as much as it is a small dose of His powerful presence. I’m being molded into the woman I am meant to be. That woman serves others relentlessly, sees beauty in herself, and will be a mother of some child that has been abandoned and neglected. There is more to come, but I think that’s a good place to start.

Today I find out when the hysterectomy will be. I schedule the surgery, and although I’ve come in contact with MANY people who disagree with my decision, my health has become an enemy to my service to God, and whether or not you understand that, is outside of my power. Not being able to have children will never define me. Being a mother is more than natural birth. I’m ready. I’m ready and willing to be whoever it is that God has for me. I will walk in obedience and I’d love it if you walked alongside me. Remember to add yourself to my email list so I can encourage you PERSONALLY in your life, as you have done for me by taking the time to read my posts. Please feel free to ask ANY questions, remember, my life is open so we can grow together. I’m confident there are people praying on my brokenness, but I have faith that I’m protected.

Thank you.

I love you.

Today, I Cried.

This is not some rouse to get you to read my blog. Today, for the first time in a long time, I uncontrollably cried.

Here’s how it started:

Last night, around 10pm, I was overwhelmed with insecurity. I felt like I was an embarrassment to a pretty close friend, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I felt small and irrelevant. I ended up praying until I fell asleep, woke up around 4:30, prayed more, and got ready for work. Now, that insecurity manifested itself into something much more than I’d thought it was. All day at work today, I doubted my ability to serve my students, and work alongside my co-workers. I doubted my own growth and the growth process of my students because of me. Simply put, in less than 12 hours, I’d completely lost confidence in myself and my abilities. At this point, it had nothing to do with the initial hurt, but the fact that all of these underlying feelings even existed. I hated that I still had feelings like those toward myself, and felt like a hypocrite. I teach my babies to be bold, brash, and confident in who they are and who they’re becoming. In my head, I saw the opposite in myself. It was during my 6th hour class, now if you’re a teacher, you know that sixth hour periods generally pack some punch:

  • They’re my largest (27)
  • Most of them are athletes (they don’t sit down)
  • They just left lunch (psychotic)
  • They have 1,573 stories (from lunch)

Now, don’t get it twisted, I LOVE them, they bring me LIFE, but they equally wear me out. I was fighting for them to focus, and I caught myself getting super frustrated. I’d never struggled before, yes, taken a different approach, but not STRUGGLED. I sat in a corner behind my desk and prayed. At this point they were all doing their Bellringer assignment, so most of them didn’t notice. I just asked God to give me some sort of peace and strength. I asked Him to help me serve my kids. I got up, and continued the lesson.

Here’s how it ended:

Terek Warren, a former Senior of mine- and of course one of my babies- came knocking at the door and when my baby opened it enough to see him, I ran out. LOL. I gave him the biggest hug (because I hadn’t seen him since he left for college) and told him I loved him. He proceeded to say, “Ms. Solomon, I’m fareal teachin my roommates how to write essays! Like my grades are so good! Thank you…” I started weeping. Y’all, he was so confused and legit had no idea what to do with me. I explained to him what my night was like, what my day had been like, and the current frustrations in class. He told me he loved me and to “push through, they’ll see.” I continued to cry LOL. I went back in class and the kids said you miss him that much? I responded with, “I needed him more than he knew.” I had a long talk with my class about how my love for them will never waiver. No matter how angry I get. No matter how lazy they get. No matter how lonely I feel at school. I will never compromise my love. It was so pathetic, authentic, and sweet.

So, I cried today, and I think I needed to in order to be reminded that I need to be broken  more than I’d ever admit. My students NEEDED to see me broken. They needed to see me struggle. They needed to see ME. I try my hardest to be authentically Ms. Solomon, but there’s something magically real about a teardrop. Dear educators, let them see you be you! I understand professionalism. I understand boundaries. I understand authority, but my students have a love for me now, that I didn’t think could be established in 55mins.  I’m thankful for them.

Thank you for reading.

I love you.

The Year of Growth.

I’ll go ahead and get right to it. I haven’t posted in about a year, and the last time I did, it was a short poem about an exhaustive break-up. I made the conscious decision never to go back to that place. I decided that I would start fresh emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and bloggally. (I know that’s not a word) LOL.

Last year was, in short, one of the most devastating and exhilarating ones I’ve ever had. I felt pain that I didn’t know existed and experienced freedom I didn’t know was inside of me. I could meticulously break it down, and tell you my lowest and highest points, but this isn’t my diary, and I think that until told otherwise, I will be conscious about keeping certain things between myself and God.

With that, I wasn’t sure what the topic of this blog would be, but as I tried to narrow it down to 3-4 ideas, I found that GROWTH was a recurring theme. I’ve been talking about growth all year, and today I went ahead and looked up the formal definition:

“the process of increasing in physical size.”

I was pissed. I mean I knew that growing had something to do with size, but I think the idea of growth has been much more than “increasing in physical size” in my personal life. I decided to define it for myself, because choosing another word would be too easy.

“the process of refining; flourishing.”

The question is, how do we do that? As people, how do we intentionally put ourselves in a position to become more refined and full with beauty? How do we make the necessary changes in our lives in order to become who we are intended to be? I think we’re supposed to just do it. I often hear people say, “easier said than done,” when I advise them to do things they may not want to do, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. The action isn’t always the hard part, it’s the emotional effect of those actions that are hard to handle. DO IT. Break off the relationships that bring all glory to anyone but God. Do away with the self-hate that you’ve justified for as long as you’ve known you didn’t love yourself fully. Remove yourself from people. Remove yourself from things. Put yourself in a position to hurt a little, that lack of comfort may be the push you need. There is nothing wrong with breaking down in order to rebuild.

Growth is a constant and it is imperative that we never think we’ve finished. There is always room for progress, and my past relationships taught me that I am often tempted to stop my growing process for the sake of someone else’s. For years I thought that was love. For years I thought that’s what true sacrifice was supposed to look and feel like. I thought that in order for me to completely and fully serve the people around me- I had to accept them destroying my personal peace. Lies. I listened to a podcast a few weeks ago, and the author stated,

“Fear and anxieties create this world where the only thing that exists is myself and the threat to the thing that I love..”

I wasn’t sure how that related to my life until now. There was an underlying fear that I may not have been loving intensely enough, and that fear convinced me that the only thing that existed was Shakiyla, and whatever was hurting the people I cared for. In that state of being- I lived a life of combat. Every day my sole purpose was to defeat the threat, in hopes that I’d come out alive. It was exhausting. It was impossible. I had a God-complex. I wanted to be the savior of all people I held dear, and in that pursuit, I died.

I say all of this to say, love is a call for sacrifice, forgiveness, and an unconditional presence in the lives of broken people (us). At some point, though, we have to stop and reflect on whether or not we are actually loving and being loved. We have to be sure that we aren’t sacrificing and being broken down for the sake of loyalty to someone/something that isn’t grounded in true love. It’s a complex thing; love. I think that the more we slow down in an attempt to understand it, the better we’ll get at expressing it.

I’m growing. I have forgiven people who ruined all that I thought made me who I am, and I have grown to love the woman I’ve become. I am walking in obedience. I am protected. I am growing.

Feel free to comment, and share.

I love you.

An Epiphany…


I don’t have very many people who stick around. I don’t mean people who know OF me, I mean people who know my heart and all of its hurt. People who know my mind and why it works the way it does. People who help me be a better me for the sake of my students and service to my community. I’m thankful for those people. They’re the ones who read what I’ve written because they know how insecure I am about my art & will give honest feedback. They’re the ones who make me feel like a friend when I’m troubled, not a burden. Those people are treasures, and I couldn’t imagine life without them. If you’ve ever tried getting close to me, you know that I preface the relationship with “I’m too much to handle” and I don’t say that because I’m dramatic, I say it because I’m broken. I get irrationally angry. I take many things personally. I isolate myself. I struggle with forgiveness. I’m very self-aware, but not enough sometimes. I’m sensitive AND stone cold. I’m humble in love but prideful in progression. I’m a walking oxymoron, so if I’ve submitted my heart’s truth to you it’s because I trust that God has placed you in my life. It takes so much for me to admit that I NEED companionship, and God is continuing to humble me. Today I had a friend tell me that I do too much sometimes and it’s pushing him away, but 3yrs ago I wasn’t doing ANYTHING. I didn’t know what it meant to express myself, let alone with confidence. I was locked up and full of emotion and anger. I was a ticking time bomb, so being able to honestly share my feelings and boldly ask for reciprocity is a milestone for me as a woman. I guess I’ve yet to find a perfect balance, but I’m not sure it exists. I’ve finally stopped blaming my circumstances for my lacking as a person, and that means that I’m left with no excuse. My desire is growth and freedom in self-love. I’m to the point where I can honestly say I don’t want to pursue that alone. I know that there will be people who walk out of my life, but I guess all I’m trying to say is that I’m thankful for the ones who see me, inspite my imperfections, as worth the fight. 
*Photo by Debra Cartwright*

im His daughter.

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I’m a thinker. I find myself sitting in the room, in my car, or at the foot of the Cross creating scenarios in my head. I don’t find it strange, sometimes it’s simply an interference during my day. So, I’m sitting on the couch in the living room right now right? I find myself thinking about what I would say to Charles, my father, if I had the chance. Now, my introduction wasn’t much of an introduction so I guess y’all don’t know much about our relationship. Well, to make a long story short, there was none. He left when I was 5, called on my 10th and 12th birthdays, called the week before he died, and died when I was 14. Now, you may think it cold of me to be all cavalier-like when discussing the death of the man that took part in creating me, but like I said before, we had little to no communication.

So, back to my initial thought. I’m just thinking, if I was ever given the opportunity to say one thing to him, what would I say? Well, I’m 21years old. I’ve never had to love a man and I’m struggling to learn how. My God is my Father and I sometimes struggle with learning how to love Him as well. All this to say, the whole “daddy” thing is not really my FORTE. Well, the more I thought, the more I ran through my head, the more I struggled with what I would even say.

I think I’ve concluded that I’d thank him.

I’d thank him for his deciding to build a relationship with my younger sister instead of me. That pretty much has shown me that NO man can ever be trusted to ALWAYS choose me first, other than my God. No matter my situation, age, innocence, nothing. God is the only one I am absolutely sure has chosen and always will choose me.

I’d also thank him for leaving my moms to raise me on her own. She is now the spitting image of what it takes to become a God-fearing woman WITHOUT the leadership of an EARTHLY man. She had to learn on her own what it meant to devote herself to God. She had to understand that she is not the father in our family but is given the honor to let God take the leading role when raising up my brothers and myself. She was put in a situation where when provision was questionable, her faith had to be solid in the fact that our God was the provider. She had to see him as the head of the household and teach us to look to Him for guidance and understanding.

I think I may also thank him for calling me when he was sick. Not sarcastically, or out of spite, I’d whole heartedly  thank that man. In those few minutes, laying at his bedside, watching him waste away, he showed me that no matter how wrong someone has ever done me, no matter how hard my heart will ever grow, no matter how abandoned, betrayed, deceived, or rejected one person has ever made me feel, that I am called to love them like my Father has loved me. I vividly remember that night. I see his face in my mind more than I’d like. I remember. Those memories simply remind me of how bad it can get, but it’ll never compare to the way I deny God with my sin and he continues to sit and my bedside, as I’m wasting away, losing myself, trying to tie loose ends, he still sits at my bedside and pours out His love to me in the most pure and satisfying way.

I’m not sure why Charles did the things he did. I’m not sure why he left. I’m not sure why he called. There are many questions I’ve wanted to ask him but now, while I sit on this couch, listening to John Legend, I’ve decided that all I’d want to do is thank him.

My God is more Father than he could have ever been and having to tell myself that when I struggle in any relationship is just another form of growth…i guess…

Matthew 23:9 says

“And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven.”

that verse brings me a ton of peace. I’m not sure when I’ll do a “biographyish” blog. I’m not really sure if i even want to. I just know I’m really thankful for my daddy and the way He loves me.

goodnighty ❤

 

Meet My Mother.

I’m 21 years old and I don’t think I’ll ever not want to run into her arms when I’ve had enough of the world and its crap.As long as I can remember, she has had the most trust in the woman I want to become and the measures I’ll go to get there. Growing up it was only us and my younger brothers, no father, no male example at all really, and I know she did the best she could do. Little does she know, her best was better than I could ask for. My moms believes in my faith in God and my faith encourages her faith which encouraged my family to stay faithful as well. She oozes joy and I think that’s something of hers I’ve desired all of my life. No matter the circumstances, the struggle, the pain and suffering, she puts on this smile that instantly melts my insides and makes my face light up. She’s been through all kinds of hell, I just know it but those downfalls have in no way determined the mother she is or the woman I see and fall more in love with everyday. She’s my rock. She’s my refuge in a lot of troubles. I’m still not sure of the way she raised us but we weren’t trapped in caged nor were we allowed to do anything. It was the perfect balance of I know you’ll make mistakes but I trust you can handle them. She hurts when I hurt and rejoices when I rejoice.

Lately I’ve been having a ton of people walking in and out of my life, but she promises it’s for a reason and that she’ll never leave me. I may sound like a child, but I had to grow up faster than the norm and sometimes, I just love to curl up in my mom’s lap and not think.

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