The Rebirth of Truth

A Celebration of Life

2012-01-26T06:17:00.006-05:00

Tears of sorrow do not stain these coffee colored cheeks. Nor does my heart ache with the burden of regret. There are no wishes from me of extended mortality. Nor the anguish of wondering about your soul's eternity.

You see, today I celebrate my birth, but today I also celebrate your death. For your death forces me to analyze your living, your life. A life that as I flip back through the pages of my memories of you, I read you. I read your life and it was a good book. I stop some where near the beginning of our book of memories, and I read about that time you asked me to help clean the church. Clean the church? Your voice was so soft, so gentle, so entreating. There was no way I could say no. So we came on Saturdays to God's house to clean. There were so many other ways in which you, elegant, sophisticated you, could have served, but that is what you chose to do in His house. That is how you chose to serve Him because His house should look like Him. We cleaned the toilets and the pews, the doors and floors. We, you, kept His house clean and in order. Clean, pure, without the stains of life that was you.

The tears that stain these coffee colored cheeks are not tears of sorrow. My heart does not ache with the burden of regret. I did not wish for your extended mortality and I do not anguish over your soul's eternity. Today, I celebrate my birth but today I also celebrate your death because your death forces me to meditate on my life and my living. Your book had a couple more chapters in it than mine. Today I start chapter thirty-three and I hope, I really, really hope and pray and ask God to please help me live my life like you lived your life. Totally and completely unashamedly for Him. I hope and I pray that my life will touch as many lives as yours. I hope and I pray that I can be a lady because you always were a lady and a fashionista. Before I took the title you embodied the title of royalty, of a queen. Just the way you walked and carried yourself spoke of that royalty. Today I pay homage to you my queen.

Though the tears that stain my coffee colored face blur my vision right now, I am not crying tears of grief, sorrow, regret or anguish. I do not have any questions for God because He let us have you for an appointed time. Before Christmas you came to our Bible study group to say good bye and I had the privilege of taking you home. It was the first time we had been anywhere alone together. You being you, would not let me help you inside your place. I think I knew then what we who are left here are living through now. Yet even then I could not find it in me to question God and throw that temper tantrum that I wanted to throw, asking why. Even now I find myself waiting for that anger or that grief but it doesn't come.

I do not want to run the risk of sounding cliche, but I am just happy that I knew you. That I know you. The essence of a Godly woman and you, your character, your faith, your memory is immortalized in my heart. Yesterday, I wanted to call you to tell you that I loved you, but I felt those three words would not have been enough so I didn't call. I didn't text. I didn't email. I know now that it was the moment of that thought that you were meeting Jesus. Death can not steal the joy I had from knowing you, touching you, loving you because you are one of those few people who left an imprint on my life. I will miss you and I will continue to love you from this distance, knowing that one day we will meet again. I wondered what I would write about today, my birthday. I'm glad I am writing about you.

Today I celebrate my birth but today I also celebrate your death because your death forces me to make sure I live a life worth celebrating. I know you did, my sister, my friend.

Kendy Ward

2011 Women of Compassion Conference

2011-10-07T09:57:00.006-04:00

Today I am in Pompano Beach, attending the 2011 Women of Compassion Conference hosted by New Life World Outreach Ministries. Women of Compassion's mission is to teach women how to walk in God's word and model themselves after God's character. It's goal is to establish mentoring groups, bible studies, retreats, seminars and other fellowship events.

The conference will be today, Friday, October 7th through Saturday, October 8th, at the Wyndham Sea Gardens Resort and Spa. The program features Pastor Cassandra Patterson of New Life, Pastor Joanne Smith and Pastor Sheena Pinder of Bahamas Faith Ministries. I am sure it will be an awesome time in the Lord. If you can come out and join us. I will be in the vendor area, promoting my latest literary effort, No Glory Without a Story: Every One Has A Story to Tell!

Have a blessed day!

Kendy

Kingdom Abassador

SPEAK

2011-01-23T09:14:00.000-05:00

This is a poem my mother wrote. I told her I would post it on my blog. She said it's not finished, but it seems complete to me. Now everyone will see where I get my poetic prowess from. :-)

Speak up

Don't speak down

Speak loud or soft

Speak to the mountain until it becomes a plain

Speak to the valley of dry bones

Speak! Speak! Speak!

Speak words of love not hate

Speak peace not war

Speak health not sickness

Speak wealth not poverty

Speak faith not doubt

Speak up not down

Speak loud not soft

Speak to the mountain

Speak to your valley of dry bones

Speak! Speak! Speak!

Just open your mouth and speak.

What you speak can make you or condemn you

So speak life not death

Speak! Speak! Speak!

Trudymae Ward

October 14, 2010

"You are coming out of Lo Debar!"

2011-01-20T12:58:00.002-05:00

As I was about to take out my Bible for study time this morning, God spoke these words to me, “You are coming out of Lo Debar. The enemy has exiled you to a place where God’s presence is absent, but God is taking you out of that place to the place where His presence is. You are coming out of Lo Debar!”

I Samuel 20:17 says that Jonathan loved David as much as he loved himself. Their friendship was something that defied the odds because of Jonathan’s father, Saul’s, obsession about killing David; nevertheless, the two were best friends. In I Samuel 31 Jonathan dies, along with Saul, in battle. In II Samuel 9 David remembers the covenant he made with his best friend, Jonathan, and asks is there anyone left from Saul’s family (who fled in fear when David became king because they thought he would take retribution out on them for the way Saul had treated him).

Siba, who was a servant of Saul, tells David about Jonathan’s son, Mephibosheth, who was crippled as a child when he was dropped as Saul’s family fled the palace in fear. Mephibosheth now resided at Makir’s house in Lo Debar. David tells servants to bring Mephibosheth from Lo Debar. When Mephibosheth arrives David says, “Don’t be afraid, I will be kind to you for your father, Jonathon’s, sake. I will give you back all the land of your grandfather, Saul, and you will always eat at my table.” (II Samuel 9:7)

Lo Debar was a city in Manasseh. The name means no pasture, no word, and no communication. God’s promise in Psalms 23:2 is that we are to rest in green pastures. Pasture as defined by the dictionary is grass or other vegetation eaten as food by grazing animals. It’s ironic that this place Lo Debar also means no word. The spiritual food we eat is the Word of God. There’s no spiritual food in Lo Debar. God tells us to rest in the freshness and abundance of his Word, but when we let fear drive us to Lo Debar we get no rest in God’s Word because we can’t hear God’s Word when we live in fear.

Fear not only prevents us from hearing God’s word, it takes us out of position. Mephibosheth’s rightful position was not in Lo Debar. His rightful position was at the king’s table. It take’s you out of God’s presence. Ephesians 2:6 says, “He has raised us up with Christ and gave us a seat with Him in heaven.” He has seated us in heavenly places, ye, we instead, sit at the table of depression or the table of oppression, or the table of grief, or the table of sickness or the table of lack.

David’s first words to Mephibosheth were, “do not be afraid”. David cast out that spirit of fear out of Mephibosheth. Then Mephibosheth was able to be restored to his rightful position at the king’s table (seated in heavenly places) and received his rightful possessions. In I Samuel 30:8, after the Amalekites had kidnapped David’s family and stolen all his possession, God told him that he would recover all. Now David was telling Mephibosheth the same thing. David gave Mephibosheth back everything that belonged to Saul, but he couldn’t receive the possessions until he was in position.

You can’t receive the possessions if you are out of position. The right position to be in is seated in heavenly places. The right position to be in is in the presence of God because it is the only way you will be able to hear His Word. You get in position by prayer, fasting, worship, studying your Bible, exercising your faith, walking in obedience and loving your neighbor as yourself. The Word says to seek first the Kingdom and His righteousness and then (and only then) will everything else be given to you. Also the reason Mephibosheth was restored was because of David's covenant with Jonathan. Restoration comes only comes when you are in covenant with God (like covenant of paying tithes).

God is bringing you out of Lo Debar, a place of desolation, isolation and separation from Him. He is bringing you out of Lo Debar and into a place where His presence is abundant. It is a place of rest and a place of green pastures. A place where there is no fear nor condemnation. It is a place of anticipation, restoration and restitution. You are coming out of Lo Debar.

Kendy Ward

I Can Pray in this Mess!

2010-12-05T08:12:00.000-05:00

I find that when my surroundings are out of order or a mess I can't concentrate. If there are stacks of paper, books out of place or clutter around I can't focus and I'm not motivated to work. Last night I attended a formal event, and in the process of getting dressed my room became a colossal mess. Which bag should I carry? After selecting one all the others were left on the floor. Where's my scarf? Scarfs went flying. These shoes are too high. These shoes are too low. Shoes were every where. You get the picture.

When I woke up this morning to pray. I looked around the room and, of course, there was no way I could concentrate on praying with the mess. I said to myself (or so I thought), "I can't pray in this mess." Then God spoke to me in middle of the mess. When our lives are chaotic, in shambles, or a colossal mess we feel the same way. I lied. I cheated. I stole. I gossiped. I fornicated. I was envious and jealous. God doesn't want to hear from me. I am a mess. I can't pray.

One of Satan's biggest deceptions is that we have to clean ourselves up before we come to God. Well, the truth is that God's specialty is cleaning up messes. The Bible is filled with messed up people that God cleaned up. My favorite messed up saint is Paul. He was so messed up he was killing Christians and thought he was doing God a favor! God put on his janitors uniform and appeared to Paul as he was on his way to slaughter some more Christians. God cleaned him up and he went on to write the majority of the New Testament.

God wants to clean up our messes, the chaos and confusion that's in our lives, the bad relationships, the financial crisis, the abuse. Whatever the mess is God wants to clean it up. You don't have to do it yourself. You don't have to wait until you've conquered that addiction. You can pray now in the middle of your mess. We've all sinned from Adam to Abraham, David, Peter and Paul. We have all sinned and fallen short of God's glory. If you want God to clean up your mess, I encourage to stop what you're doing and pray right now! It's really simple to talk to God. Just say, "Dear God, I'm tired of living in this mess. Please clean me up." And He'll do it. In fact, that's all He's been waiting to hear you say.

If you haven't been to church in a while don't let the mess stop you from going. You may think that you don't need to go to church, but you actually need it more than you think. The church is a body of believers who are ready and willing to love you in spite of the mess. I challenge you to go to church this morning. If you don't have a church home, you're more than welcomed to visit mine - A Place Called Hope 3761 NW 94th Avenue Cooper City, Florida. Our service times are Sundays at 10:30 am and 12:15 pm and Wednesdays at 7:30 pm. If you have a church home and haven't been there in a while, dust off your Sunday best and stop by.

Remember God wants to talk to you today, and despite what you may think or feel you can pray in your mess.

I love you, but God loves your more!

Kendy

I Wonder

2010-10-14T20:32:00.002-04:00

I felt like writing a poem and this what came out. Enjoy...

I Wonder

I wonder…

I wonder if this is normal

I mean is it abnormal

I mean is it common

Or maybe what I mean is this uncommon

Wait, wait, wait…

I mean is this what this is supposed to be like

I mean…

Um…

How do I put this?

I wonder

Actually I ponder

I contemplate

I think about

I meditate on

Close my eyes

I fantasize

I dream

Yeah, I day dream

I night dream

I envision

I imagine

I wish

No, no, no

I hope

No, no, no

I pray

Yeah, I pray

That one day

All this wondering

Pondering

Thinking

Meditating

Fantasizing

Dreaming

Envisioning

Imagining

Wishing

Hoping

Will become my truth.

Kendy aka The Rebirth of Truth

I Can't Breathe

2010-09-24T02:42:00.002-04:00

I can't breathe.

I'm still waiting to exhale.

Holding my breath.

I'm near sudden death.

I'm praying, hoping, wishing

On one shining star

To come and light my path.

Illuminate my darkest parts.

Shine on my deepest fears.

Take away these burdens, my fears.

I can't breathe.

I'm still waiting to exhale.

To breathe out this anguish.

The disappointments from

False expectations that

Left me alone and lonely.

I can't breathe.

I'm still waiting to exhale.

Then inhale

A breath of fresh air.

Something out of the norm.

An abnormality that

Refuses to conform

To this world,

To the acceptance of

Mediocrity and assimilation

To society's wrapped

Sense of morality.

I can't breathe.

I'm still waiting to exhale.

Then inhale the Truth

Which liberates me

Frees me from the constraints

Of mind games that

Have me tripping into sin,

Stumbling over transgressions,

And then falling...

Falling in love with The One

Who breathes into me

The Breath of Life

So that I can finally exhale

And then inhale Him,

His presence, His glory,

His righteousness, His love.

Now I can exhale.

Kendy Ward

Some Time in April

2010-09-20T21:21:00.007-04:00

In 2007 my sister, Denise, traveled to Rwanda with a non-profit organization called the Business Council for Peace. The Council's mission was to go to Rwanda and train genocide survivors in business skills. With a Bachelors in Food Service Management and a Masters in Hospitality Management my sister was paired with the owner of a small hotel in Rwanda. My sister fell in love with Rwanda and the people. She started a non-profit organization, My Brother's Keeper, and returned to Rwanda in 2008 to offer aide to widows and orphans. As she prepares to return once again to Rwanda in October I thought I would share this speech I gave to in 2007 after her first visit. Enjoy and remember we are our brothers' keeper.

On April 6th, 1994, Augustine and his wife, Jeanne, had just put their two sons, Marcus and Yves Andres to bed when a loud explosion sent them to their window. They peered out the window and saw a plane falling from the sky. The local radio station broadcasted that the Rwandan president and the newly elected president of Burundi had just been assassinated, and for Augustine, a Hutu and Jeanne his Tutsi wife this was the beginning of the end.

The Hutu and Tutsi tribes coexisted in what is now known as Burundi and Rwanda for many, many years. It was European colonist that drew racial lines between the two tribes, establishing Tutsis that have what they considered more European features as superior to the Hutus. The two tribes were distinguished by identity cards that stated whether they were Hutu or Tutsi. Tutsis were the majority in government, the majority in military and received better housing and education. Resentment mounted between the two groups, resulting in ongoing conflicts. Burundi experienced two genocides prior to the Rwanda genocide of 1994. In 1972 nearly 200,000 Hutus were exterminated by the Tutsis, and in 1993 an estimated 400,000 Tutsis were murdered by Hutus, but April 6^th, 1994, marked the beginning of one of the most horrific genocides in modern history. Over the next 100 days the world stood by and watched as nearly one million Rwandans were murdered.

Augstin’s brother, Honore’ worked at a local Hutu radio station that was broadcasting propaganda, calling for the extermination of all Tutsi cockroaches. He knew the plans of his fellow Hutu extremist. He knew that thousands of machetes had been imported from China. This would be their weapon of choice. He also knew that as a Tutsi his sister-in-law and two nephews would be murdered. He went to Augustine’s house to warn him. They decided that Honore’ would take Jeanne and the boys and drive them out of the country to neighboring Congo. Augustine and his best friend, Xavier, a Tutsi also, would stay behind and find their own way out of the country. By this time day one of the genocide had come to an end and thirty thousand people had been killed. As Honore’ and Jeanne drove they saw dead bodies lining the streets. The Hutus had set up check points along the way to check identification cards. They forced Honore’ out of his car, checking his ID they realized that he was Hutu, but still demanded the IDs of his passengers. As Jeanne fought to protect her sons she was knocked unconscious by one of the Hutu soldiers. Her sons were executed. They left her for dead. Later that night Honore’ returned to where Jeanne’s body had been dumped. He found her alive and took her to a church where he left her on the door steps. Inside the church hundreds of Tutsis were hiding, hoping that they would be safe from the Hutus there. They were wrong. Here Jeanne was raped by several Hutu men. As they planned to kill her she stole a grenade from one of the soldiers and pulled the pin, killing herself and the soldiers.

Meanwhile Augustine and Xavier were attempting to make their way out of the country. UN and Belgium soldiers had been sent in to evacuate all foreigners. Augustine attempted to follow the UN convoy but the convoy was stopped by a road block. He begged the soldiers to tell the Hutus he was a part of their convoy. They wouldn’t. Xavier was executed. The killings continued, and by the end of the first week over two hundred thousand people were murdered.

Here in the US former Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, Prudence Bushnell, urged President Clinton to do something to stop these mass killings, but like the leader of the Hutus told her during a phone conversation Rwanda lacked any resource that the US needed so it had no interest in the small country. Still she tried to convince the Department of Defense to do something to intervene.

Augustine made it to the hotel made famous by the movie Hotel Rwanda where he stayed until Paul Kagame who was the leader of the army and is now the president of Rwanda was able to subdue the Hutus and bring some semblance of order back to the country.

Augustine started his search for his family. The first place he went to was the boarding school that his daughter, Anna Marie, attended. He had hoped like so many others that the Hutus would have had mercy upon the children, but they didn’t. There he found the remains of most of the girls. He his daughter had also been killed.

Eight hundred thousand people died in Rwanda between April 1994 and June 1994. This story that I have shared with you is fictional. It is from the HBO movie Sometimes in April, but even though the story is not true, the events that happened during this three month period are very true. It is a story of hate, prejudice, and social inequality. It is a Rwandan story. It is a Jewish story. It is an American story. It is our story.

My sister recently traveled to Rwanda where she worked with a genocide survivor. When she first shared with me that she wanted to go Rwanda I was a bit apprehensive because of what had taken place there a mere fourteen years ago, but I knew that it was something that she had to do.

She told me that the thing that amazed her the Denise and Symphrose

most was the spirit of the people. After having

lost her husband and having to flee to Congo with her four sons Symphrose Mukantamu was able to return to Rwanda and open a hotel. A hotel! Three of her sons are in Canada in college. Her youngest is still in high school. My brother who attends the University of Arkansas was able to meet with the admissions office and persuade them to allow Rwandan students to pay in state school fees, which is a lot less than out of state fees. So if all goes well Symprhose’s son Chico will be attending the University of Arkansas. My sister also plans to meet with both Johnson and Wales University and Florida International University to discuss the same sort plan for Rwandan students who are accepted to those schools.

When I went to New York I met Richard, also a genocide survivor, and I began to understand what my sister meant when she spoke about the amazing spirit of these people. Richard like so many others lost his entire family during the genocide. My sister visited the boarding school that was portrayed in the movie and also the genocide memorial center that was funded by President Bill Clinton. She felt her eyes tear up but when she looked around her at Symphrose, Richard, and his girlfriend Denise, and saw that their eyes were dry she felt like she had no reason to cry if they were not. They each have been able to rise above the hate that they lived through.

The world is truly flat and just because you don’t live in Africa does not mean that what happens there does not affect you here. I believe it is our duty as human beings living on the same planet to be our brother’s keeper. There are non-profit organizations that we each can become involved in to do our little bit to help because one April morning you could wake up and someone with a machete can be banging on your door to kill you just because you’re

Richard and Denise

tall or short, fat or skinny, black or white. Just because you’re not what they are.

“It is said when Imana created this land he grew so found of it, he returned every night to rest. When did paradise become hell? From the start even the conquest was a regrettable misunderstanding. Europe gave the land to its conqueror and the king knew nothing of it. It was never about civilization, never about tribe or race. It was always about greed, arrogance, and power. And when we finally grasped the horror it was too late.

“And every year, and every day in April a haunting emptiness descends upon our hearts. Every year in April I remember how quickly life ends. Every year in April I remember how lucky I should feel to be alive. Every year in April I remember. On April 12^th, 1994, my wife Jeanne was killed. In that same month my sons Marcus and Yves Andre were killed. My friend Xavier was killed in the month of April. My daughter Anne-Marie was killed some time later, but I never asked when.”

~Some Time in April~

Genocide of a Generation

2010-09-12T08:26:00.004-04:00

This generation is under attack.

In November 2008 a Broward County teen committed suicide live on the internet. Teen suicide is the 3rd leading cause of death among young people ages 15-24.

Another Broward County teen shot and killed a classmate at school also in November 2008. The Children's Defense Fund reports that every day 13 children under the age of 20 are killed, and US News estimates that there are a total 270,000 guns that go to school every day.

In March of this year a 16 year old Virginia native was killed when the car he was travelling in crashed into a tree. The driver of the car, also a teen, was drunk. According to the National Institute of Alcohol and Alcoholism 25% of 8th graders, 49% of 10th graders and 62% of 12th graders have been drunk before.

About 20% of teens will experience depression before adult hood, every year there will be approximately 750,000 teen pregnancies and according to statistics 1/3 of all teen dating involves violence.

I haven't mentioned teen drug use, teens that battle with mental health issues such as bi-polar disorder, teen rape, molestation or child abuse.

Revelation 12:14 says, "... the dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth to devour her child the moment it was born." We know from Jesus' temptation in the wilderness in Luke 4 that Satan is very familiar with the Word of God. He knows that God said in Joel 2:28 that in the last days He has a plan for that generation. It says that your sons and daughters will prophesy. So the enemy's plan is stop that Word from being made manifest on the Earth. His plan is to devour our children through suicide, drugs, alcohol, murder, violence, teen pregnancy, depression and any other tactic he can come up with.

We should not underestimate Satan. The very first description that is given of him in Genesis 3:1 is that he was cunning. The word cunning means subtle and deceptive. The enemy is subtly and deceptively launching an all out attack against our young people. His plan is to wipe them out. His plan is genocide. A genocide is the systematic and deliberate extermination of a race or nationality.

Technically our young people cannot be considered a "race or nationality", but the attack that has been launched against them is both systematic and deliberate. Our counter attack, then, should also be systematic and deliberate. Our strategy - pursue, overtake and recover all.

In I Samuel 30 David had just returned from battle to Ziglag to find that all the women and children had been kidnapped. He and his men mourned. Then he asked God, "Should I pursue the Amalekites? Will I overtake?" David was not interested in recovering material things. He was only interested in the recovering the women and children. God answered David, "Pursue overtake and recover all."

Satan has come into our camp just as the Amalekites had raided Ziglag. Sure he's stolen from us some material things, but more importantly he has lured our children away with drugs, alcohol, sex, depression and violence, and God is instructing us to purse, overtake and recover all. We do this through prayer, fasting and evangelism. "Going out into all the world" means the high schools. Satan used his cunning to get prayer out of schools. As Christians we must get it back in schools. As Christian parents we must declare "as for me and my house we will serve the Lord".

In April through June 1994 nearly one million Rwandans died in a genocide. It came to an end when 14,000 Rwandan soldiers took up arms against the "government" that had initiated the genocide. They seized Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, and declared a cease fire.

The enemy has taken more than a million of our youth. Who is going to take up arms against demonic forces, seize the Earth and declare peace? Who is going stop this genocide?

Kendy Ward

Once Upon a Time

2010-09-04T15:28:00.007-04:00

Once upon a time I used to believe in happily ever after, but then I realized that life is not a fairy tale. I don't think I'll ever be mistaken for Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty or any one of those story book princesses; and the chances of Prince Charming riding into my life are slim to none.

See I don't live "a land far far way". I live in the 21st Century where about 50% of marriages end in divorce. I live in a time where for a lot of my contemporaries marriage is not even a desire. These are not the days of great love stories but of great love tragedies. Where boy meets girl, girl falls madly in love with boy, and the boy beats her up or worse kills her. I've seen too many mamas left to raise children on their own to believe in happily ever after. I've heard of too many men with six kids and four different "baby mamas", and too many women who wear the title "baby mama" like a badge of honor.

The stark reality that the male/female relationship has deteriorated to this point, and that a "traditional" family has become an ideology has left me some what jaded in my own desire for "true love". Jaded in a way that makes me some times wonder exactly what is "true love". I'm a skeptic by nature and I am really skeptical that there's a man who can love me "as Christ loves the church". God's love I embrace and bask in easily. It's Prince Charming's love that I have problem with.

Why should I bother with marriage, family and whole kitten caboodle if there's an expiration date. If I'm getting in the thing knowing I have an out called divorce, and that the vows I said before God and man (until death do us part) doesn't amount to a hill beans, why spend thousands of dollars on a wedding? So I can live miserably ever after? I might as well keep my money and stay single.

Here's what's wrong with that philosophy. God created us for relationships. Our whole society is based on the interactions of humans in relationships on one level or another. God said that it wasn't good for Adam to be alone so He created for him a helper. Adam did not find companionship with the animals God gave to him. None of them were suitable. So God gave him a woman. Adam was only compatible with that which came from a part of himself.

God set a precedence in Genesis 2. It's not good for any of us to be alone, and I believe God has created for each of us a "help mate". I am some man's rib. It doesn't sound romantic, but it really is. The whole quest for a relationship that we call "dating" is about putting the rib back in. It has to fit just right.

God's will is perfect. He created love and Moses wrote the first love story when he told the story of Adam and Eve. His desire is for us not to be alone. He also desires that I not be a skeptic so He gave me a great example of ever lasting love in my parents.

My parents met 38 years ago when my mother came to work at the Lyford Cay Club in Nassau, Bahamas, where my father was already working. As the story goes my dad had been checking out the "new girl" for some time before their official introduction by fellow co-worker in the cafeteria. From that point forward the two became inseparable. Legend has it that my dad would ride on the bus with my mother to her stop which was way out his way so he could spend time with her. They were friends for four years before my dad proposed to my mother and on September 4, 1976, they were married. My dad had saved up all his pennies, nickels and dimes and built a three bedroom house for his bride on the eastern side of the island. Both my parents came from very humble beginnings so a three bedroom house was like a mansion to the them. Three years later in 1979, I came along, and was the apple of parents' eyes. They spoiled me terribly. My sister, Denise, was born in 1983, and my brother, Quincy, joined the family in 1987.

I have watched my parents over the years create a home for us and provide for the three of us in every possible way. As a child I hardly ever remember them arguing. They presented a united front to us. I could never talk one into something the other hadn't said, but that didn't stop me from trying to manipulate them. They exposed us to a world outside of that seven by twenty mile island that we lived on that a lot of my peers knew nothing. We've gone on vacation almost every year since I was two years old.

I remember when I was a child my dad used to open the car door for my mom, and wondered why he did that because I didn't see other men doing that. It left a major impression on me and created a guide for me on what I should expect from a man. My dad is the consummate gentleman and provider, and my mother the nurturer, caregiver and disciplinary. They fit perfectly together, and there is no doubt in my mind that my mom was my dad's missing rib.

So today, on their 34th wedding anniversary, I want the world to know that I believe in fairy tales again because once upon a time in a land called the Bahamas there was a beautiful Princess named Trudy who meant a handsome Prince named Kenneth. They fell in love and are living happily ever after.

Kendy Ward

The Birth of Destiny and Purpose

2010-07-11T18:35:00.002-04:00

I'm hot.
I'm cold.
My emotions are out of control.

I'm bloated
And irritated.

My waist line is expanding
And I am demanding
Fulfillment to these cravings.

I'm back and forth
For restroom stops
I'm uncomfortably
Uncomfortable.

I'm pregnant.
I am pregnant with
A girl named Destiny
And a boy named Purpose.

You see there are twins
Nestled in my womb
And I am about to go into labor.

I am fully dilated
And Destiny is crowning
Destiny, she is being pushed out of me
And I've got my eyes wide shut
Closed tight against the pain and agony.

I'm pregnant.
I am pregnant with
A girl named Destiny
And a boy named Purpose.

I'm in labor.
Laboring over Purpose.
Purpose seems a little more
Difficult to deliver than Destiny.

There are labor complications.
My blood pressure rises,
Threatening still birth -
A death of Purpose
A dead Purpose.

But I can not give up on Purpose
Because of my Destiny
I have enough strength for
One last push.

My Purpose seems fragile at first.
His breath is shallow and heart beat weak.
So I ready myself for battle.
I ready myself to war over my Purpose.

I am beyond the point of exhaustion
A weak smile lights my face
There are remnants of the pain, the struggle,
The fear of near death.
Stretch marks will remain as battle scars,
But none of it really matters now that
The twins, Destiny and Purpose have
Been born.

Kendy aka Rebirth of Truth
May 19, 2010

Mama My Hero

2010-07-05T08:37:00.005-04:00

I impatiently swung my legs back and forth as I sat in the door of my grandmother's small, five room house. I was itching for the go ahead for me to go outside. I looked back and my grandmother, who sat in a chair near the dining room, was methodically sewing little pink flowers and the word "NASSAU" onto straw change purses. My grandmother didn't work outside the house. Her job was taking care of me and my other cousins while she sewed those straw change purses. My job was to help Mama gather up all the change purses she sewed and put them in large brown paper bags, the ones that came from the grocery store. Aunty Betty, that's my mother's oldest sister, would come to Mama's house at the end the week to collect the bags of change purses to take Down Town to the Straw Market to sell to the straw vendors. That's how Mama made money because she wasn't going to make any money taking care of me. I was more trouble than I was worth or however she used to say it.

Anyway, my three year old self was bored. I really wanted to go outside. I loved being outdoors. There was so much "scope for the imagination". There was the neighbor's well. I liked getting close enough to see down in it. It had lots of tadpoles and frogs that swam around in it. Then there was outside toilet. My grandmother didn't have an inside toilet at the time but I refused to use the outside toilet because I was under the impression that at the bottom of that very deep, very dark hole in the ground was hell. I was afraid that I would fall in the hole and end up in hell. Then there was the other neighbor, Mr. Black. He had a missing finger. I imagined that his missing finger was the result of a cutlass mishap that involved him chopping up little girls. Needless to say I steered clear of Mr. Black.

I was anxious to get outside and find out what I could get into, but Mama hadn't given me the go ahead yet. Finally, she called my name and I looked back at her expectantly. She told me I could go outside. I stood up and jumped from the door all the way to the ground, not bothering to use the three steps.

"Kendy! I told you about jumping out that door!" Mama yelled after me.

"Yes ma'am." I yelled back to her as I ran to the side of the house.

I was outside playing treasure hunt. I imagined that once upon a time pirates roamed the land just outside Mama's house, and, of course, they had left behind some burried treasure that I was hunting for with an imaginary map. Just as I was about to uncover the buried treasure my foot got caught between two rocks. There was no grass in Mama's yard. There were only rocks, lots of rocks. Rocks that I was not supposed to play around. Well, as a child, it was seldom that I listened to anything anyone said to me. So now my little foot was caught between two rocks and for the life of me I couldn't get it out. I tried with all my three-year old might to get my foot loose but I couldn't. Finally, I gave up, and imagined life with one foot. The prospect of being an amputee made me cry, and that's where Mama found me some time later, sitting on the rocks, nearly hyperventilating with my foot caught between those rocks.

Mama looked town at me. I could tell that she was upset with me. She had been calling me for some time, but I was so hysterical I couldn't answer her calls. As soon as she saw my face, though, the look on her cocoa face soften. She mumbled something to herself about me always getting into trouble, and pulled my foot from between the two rocks. Just as as easy as that. I was amazed. I thought my grandmother had to some how be super human like She-Ra or Wonder Woman. She saved my foot. It didn't have to get cut off. I wouldn't have to be an amputee. I flung myself into my grandmother's arms and gave her the biggest hug I could. I had a very nasty gash on my foot, and it stung terribly when Mama put that ugly red medicine on it. I didn't cry, though, and I didn't flinch because although it hurt I figured having my foot cut off would have been one hundred times worse.

From that moment on my grandmother was my hero. She was always getting me out of "situations" because I was a curious child and always found myself in "situations". There was the time my cousins hung my stuffed animal. They killed him! Murderers! My grandmother brought him back to life by sewing his head on. Then, of course, there was the time I was playing in the "wash house". The wash house was this little room on the outside of my grandmother's house where the washing machine was. Well, the room wasn't all the way finished and there were a lot of exposed nails. She told me to stay out of there, but I wanted to know what it looked inside of the washing machine while the clothes were washing. It would be just my luck that my hand got caught on one of those nails. Got another nasty gash. I overheard the adults talking about stitches. Oh Lord no! I was terrified of hospitals. My grandmother responded by saying, "Take her to the beach. The salt water will fix that." So she wrapped my hand up with a red cloth. I believe it may have been an old sock, and off I went to the beach. The salt water was exactly what I needed. Never had to get any stitches.

Today, I share these stories with you about my grandmother (and I can share many more) because if she were alive she would have celebrated her 85th birthday today. I'm not sad any more because she is no longer with us, but I do still miss her at times. Especially when I'm trying to make johnny cake just the way she used to make it.

Mama wasn't rich. She didn't have a lot of material things, but she left behind a legacy that lives on in her children and her grandchildren. I find myself, at times, chewing my tongue the way she used to when she was sewing those straw bags. I do it when I'm concentrating. Some times I'll say something that she used to say and I'll shake my head because I said I would never say that. She influenced me in so many ways, and she will always be my hero.

Kendy Ward

Daughters, rise up!

2010-05-28T15:25:00.002-04:00

"And the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and He took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof; and the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made He a woman, and brought her unto the man. And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man." Genesis 2:21-23

Women comprise over half of the world's population. So we are not really the minority, but, even in what we call the "modern" age, women are definitely still second class citizens.

There are an estimated 600 million women world wide that can not read or write. Over 500 million women world wide live in poverty, meaning 500 million women live on less than one US dollar a day. There are 15.65 million women world wide infected with HIV/AIDS. Over 7.8 million women have been raped in the United States, and one out every four women in the US will experience domestic violence. That means that if you are a parent of four girls one of them will experience domestic violence; if there are four women working in your office, one of them will experience domestic violence. Almost 60 million female fetuses were terminated because of sex-selected abortions (mostly in Asia).

In India and a lot of African countries women do not have a voice. I am fortunate enough to have been born on this side of globe where I, nor my unborn daughters, do not face the threat of "honor killings". I don't have to wear a Hijab, and my role is not to sit down and shut up.

Today I became aware of an incident that made me realize that even though I won't experience an honor killing and don't have to wear a Hijab, women in the United States are just as disrespected as other women around the world. That I have been reduced to the sum total of my body parts. It doesn't matter how smart I am or eloquent I speak some men still just see a big butt or big breasts or hips. So that makes it okay for them to put their hands on me, call me out me name or expect sexual favors from me.

So even though we are not poor where material wealth is concerned we have a poor self image. We may not be illiterate in the true sense of the word, but we can't read the signs that so clearly tell us when we're being played. We do not wear a Hijab, but instead we wear corporate suites and look up at a glass ceiling, realizing that we are just as trapped as our sisters around the world.

You know, this would be a good place to sound off on the men. Tell them that like Adam said in Genesis men and women are one, to hurt her is to hurt yourself. It would be a good time to remind men that Ephesians 5:25 says that husbands should love there wives as Christ loves the church, but this not a message for the men. This is a message for the women.

In the fourth chapter of Judges Deborah, the only female judge to rule Israel, says to Barak that God wants him to fight Jabin's army. Barak refuses to engage in conflict with Jabin's army unless the woman of God accompanies him. She agreed to go with him, but told him that Sisera, the captain of Jabin's army, would be killed by a woman. The man didn't do his job so God allowed a woman to take his position. In verse 21 we see that Jael, a woman, kills Sisera.

We are in an era in the Kingdom of God where God is raising up women to places of prominence because the men of God refused to take on the assignment. There is a spirit of oppression that is ruling over women world wide that needs to be broken, and it will not be broken until the women of God in the United States rise up and take their positions, until we the nail into the temple of the enemy the way Jael nailed Sisera's head to the ground, women around the world will continue to be oppressed.

I attend Hope Group at my spiritual mother's, Virginia Herrmann, every Tuesday evening. Last Tuesday we were fortunate enough to have Missionary Geeta, who had just returned from a missionary trip to India, with us. She told us a story of a woman who attempted suicide because her husband would not allow her to accept Jesus as her Lord and Savior. I'm sitting there thinking how in the world would her husband know if she accepted Christ into her heart or not. I would have just repented, confessed my sins and been done with it, without even considering him. But the women there are so oppressed that they wouldn't even dare to accept Jesus Christ into their lives because of the stronghold that their husbands wield over them.

The world, as it always has, is watching this country. Women around the world are watching the women in this country. They are watching and waiting for us to rise up.

We are treated like second class citizens because we are allowing it. People only do to us what we allow them to do. We must demand respect for who we are in God. He has empowered us to exercise our authority in Him. He is ready for His daughters to rise up. He is looking for today's Deborah and Jael, but like Missionary Geeta said our unbelief is holding us back. For so long we have heard that we, as women, are not strong enough or smart enough or pretty enough that we have believed it. We have more faith in doubt than we have in God. We don't realize our value, which is increasing daily because the more time you spend with God the more of God is in you so the more valuable you are. Don't believe the lie that you ain't nothing and never will be anything.

We need to let go of our unbelief and walk by faith. When we do this God will elevate His daughters to their rightful positions, and the world will taste and see that the Lord is good.

Kendy aka Rebirth of Truth

True Worship

2010-05-25T11:07:00.006-04:00

We recall a lot about King David. He was the boy who killed the giant, Goliath. The man who slept with Uriah's wife, Bathsheba. The one chosen by God to replace Saul, Israel's first king. In I Samuel 13, the prophet Samuel breaks the news to Saul that he has been rejected by God as Israel's king because of his disobedience. His replacement was chosen because he was "a man after His (God's) own heart (v. 14). He was a man that continuously sought after the heart of God. David was chosen as Saul's successor not because he had a heart like God's, but because he was after God's heart. He was chosen because of his worship.

David is first introduced to us in I Samuel 16:12, as he is brought before Samuel and anointed as king of Israel. In verses 14-23 of chapter 16 we see Saul being troubled by "an evil spirit". Someone advises Saul to find a person who can play the harp, someone who knows how to worship. David's reputation for worship proceeded him because another person said there is a boy, the son of Jesse, who plays the harp. So David played the harp for Saul and the evil spirit left Saul.

See, David did not merely play the harp for Saul. He worshiped God with the playing of his harp because he says in Psalms 34:1, "I will bless the Lord at all times...", which meant if he was watching his father's sheep, he was blessing the Lord. If he was killing a giant, he was blessing the Lord. If he was playing the harp for the king, he was blessing the Lord. In all that he did he blessed the Lord.

The word bless can be defined as "to honor in worship". David said in all I do I will honor God with my worship. The word worship as a noun means "the reverent love and devotion accorded to a deity; ardent devotion; adoration". As a verb it means to honor and love a deity; to regard with ardent or adoring esteem or devotion".

Last night I was at World Harvest Community Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where William McDowell (I Give Myself Away) shared something I have been feeling in my spirit for quite some time. Christians have forgotten how to worship. We have redefined what worship is and have given it a shallow meaning. McDowell said that we try to manipulate God with our worship, by saying God if I worship You then You must heal me, You must bless me, You must deliver me. That's not worship. He went on to say that we do not serve a cause and effect God - if I do this, then, God, You must to this. We can not make bargains with God. He doesn't need anything from us. If God heals you, it's because He's good. If He blesses you, it's because of His mercy, and not because of our worship.

Worship is more than a song. It's more than lifted hands. It's more than bended knees. It's about a bended spirit. It's a heart condition. Worship is innately embedded in us. It is a part of our DNA that lays dormant and needs to be activated by the inhabitation of the Holy Spirit in our bodies, God's temple. We were created to worship.

Our King sits on His throne, looking down on us, watching over us as the angles cry holy, holy, holy, recognizing His Deity and Majesty. As they cry holy, we should cry all hail King Jesus. He triumphantly entered into Jerusalem as it was proclaimed Hosanna. At His birth the Earth cried out in worship, and as the Earth recognizes that He is the object of its worship, our hearts, souls and flesh should recognize that He is the object of our worship.

Everything we do, everything that we are about, every breath we take, every beat of our hearts should be to bring praise and honor to our King. Our worship is not conditioned by our situations. Like David, we should bless the Lord at all times. I've been tested and I have been proven. It does not matter what is going on in my life, God is God. He is on the thrown so I must worship him. Not because of what He has done or what He will do, but because of who He is. King of kings. Lord of lords. Alpha and Omega. I am that I am. The one who created the Earth in six days, the one whose soul lives in me, the one who knows the vastness of the galaxies because He imagined it into existence. That's why I worship Him because He is my King and I just need to be in His presence, even if it is for the briefest of moments. The sons of Korah said in Psalm 84:10 better is one day in His presence than thousands else where.

As strongly as feel about the need for true, pure worship, is as strongly as I feel that today's Christian doesn't get it, but I hear God saying that He will elevate our worship to another level. He is putting a dissatisfaction in our hearts for anything other than Him. We will not be content with what we have been conditioned to accept as worship. He is looking for those who will worship Him in spirit and in truth and awaiting the birth of true worshipers. Those who will seek Him with all of their hearts. Those believers who understand what "giving themselves away" is all about and who truly will "surrender all". As sister Jody McCalla said last night, God is looking for those believers who will not come into the House of God to sing lies. If you say you give yourself away or you surrender all, God is expecting you to live out that truth. Those who really and truly want to sit at His feet and drink from the cup in His hand. Those who just want Him. Those who don't want to use Him because of what He can do for them or what He can give Him. Those who love God because He is God. True worshipers. Those believers who are after God's heart.

This is my testimony, my hearts cry, my anthem - "Here I am. Here I stand. My life is Your hands. Lord, I'm longing to see Your desire revealed in me. My life is not my own. To You I belong. I give myself, I give myself away."

Kendy Ward aka Rebirth of Truth

God's Heart Beat

2010-02-04T07:38:00.001-05:00

In the Bible a woman with an Alabaster jar filled with expensive perfume approached Jesus. She stood behind him at His feet crying. She poured the perfume from the jar on Jesus’ head. She washed His feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.

The Pharisees who were present questioned why Jesus would allow this sinful woman to touch Him. His disciples questioned why she would waste expensive perfume that was worth a year’s salary by pouring it on Jesus when they could have sold it and given the money to the pour.

The Pharisees didn’t understand this woman’s worship. Even Jesus’ own disciples didn’t understand this woman’s worship. CeCe Winans sings a song paying homage to this woman whom Jesus prophesied would be remembered wherever the Gospel is preached. The words of this song say “you did not feel what I felt when he wrapped His loving arms around me”. What Jesus made this sinful woman, a woman who had been ostracized by society, feel is what prompted her to worship Jesus in such an extravagant way.

I, too, like the disciples didn’t understand why this woman would worship Jesus in this way. I didn’t understand why the apostle John would lay on Jesus bosom. I didn’t understand why David would worship until he was out of clothes. I didn’t understand that reckless abandon. That all consuming feeling. I didn’t understand their worship until today.

I woke up and remembered a song that I had been trying to remember since Sunday when I first heard it. The words did something to me. They were like an electric shock to my system, but held such truth in them. I sang them in my head at first and then I began to whisper them. Then I got up and as I made my way to the bathroom I began to sing those words from my heart and from my soul, and my flesh submitted to those words. The words sung by Kari Jobe are not fancy. They are just true.

I want to sit at Your feet

Drink from the cup in Your hand

Lay back against You and breathe

Feel Your heart beat

This love is so deep

It’s more than I can stand

I want to melt in Your peace

It’s overwhelming

I kept singing those words over and over and over again, and I felt the presence of God in my bathroom. He was so real and tangible that I had no choice but to fall prostrate in His presence. No choice but to lay at His feet and as my tears flowed I saw myself as that sinful, ostracized woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears. My tears made a little puddle on the ground and I understood her worship. I understood that she was not trying to do anything extravagant or news worthy. It’s just hard to stand in the presence of God.

I kept singing those words that were becoming my truth. I want to sit at Your feet. Drink from the cup in Your hands. Lay back against You and breathe. Feel Your heart beat. Then I stopped and repeated that line. Lay back against You and breathe. I exhaled. Feel Your heart beat. I heard it. God’s heart beat.

God’s heart beat is the very pulse of all of creation. God’s heartbeat is what brought not just planet Earth into existence but everything that is known and unknown to man. The sun rotates to the rhythm of God’s heartbeat. The waves move to rhythm of God’s heart beat. The wind sings to the tune of God’s heart beat. Mountains shake, leaves fall, the rain dances, dogs bark, the moon shines to the beat of God’s heart. John laid against Jesus’ bosom and heard that heart beat. I heard that heart beat. I heard the pulse of creation and the Creator.

The beating of God’s heart that is in rhythm and in sync with all of creation did make me melt in His peace and it was overwhelming. I didn’t want to leave that place of total and complete peace. That place where I was completing in sync with God’s heart beat.

I want to sit at Your feet

Drink from the cup in Your hands.

Lay back against you and breathe.

Feel Your heart beat.

This love is so deep.

It’s more than I can stand.

I want to melt in your peace.

It’s overwhelming.

Rebirth of Truth

All Hail The Queen

2010-01-26T11:59:00.008-05:00

Today, January 26, 2010, marks the 31st anniversary of the day the world was graced with the presence of royalty. For I am a joint heir with King Jesus in the Kingdom of God (Romans 8:17).

When I refer to myself as "queen" it is not because I am boastful or egotistical. It is not because I have an elevated opinion of myself. It is because I know who I am. Twenty-three years ago as an eight year old, second grader I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, and God changed my name and and gave me a title. My name was changed from Kendy to Child of God, and as a child of God I am a queen.

In Genesis 1:28 God gave Adam and Eve the command to subdue the Earth and have dominion over it. The word subdue means to conquer and bring under subjection. Miriam Webster's dictionary defines the word dominion as a supreme authority; sovereignty. The function of a king is to conquer, bring under subjection and to have supreme authority or sovereignty.

From the very beginning God placed man in His royal family and gave him all the rights and privileges of a king, but then sin entered the Earth, changing man's perception of himself. Man's fall from grace relegated him to life of mediocrity. When sin entered the world it changed man's nature, mindset and perception. Sin blurs our view of things. I Corinthians 13:12 says that we see through a glass darkly, meaning our vision is impaired.

Sin impairs our vision of ourselves. So instead of seeing ourselves as the kings and queens that created us to be, we see ourselves as mediocre. Instead of taking dominion and subduing the Earth, the Earth has dominion over us and subdues us. We are subject to our jobs, our bills, our sickness, our pain, our addictions, our past, our abusers and our tormentors.

God did not create us to be subjects. He created us to be royalty! He created us to be rulers of our world. He gave us the power and the authority to frame our existence with our words. If God gave us the ability to speak our world into existence, why would we speak death over ourselves instead of life? Why would we speak poverty instead of riches? Why would we speak sickness instead of health? Yet this is what most of us do. We speak (command) death, poverty and sickness in our lives instead of life, riches and health; and it's all because we don't know who we are.

I pray that we, the children of God, would recognize who we are in Christ Jesus because the world is waiting for the manifestation of the Sons of God (Romans 8:19). The world is waiting for the Kingdom of God to take up its rightful position, waiting for its kings and queens to rule, reign and take dominion.

I am reminded of story, The Man in the Iron Mask. When we were born the devil recognized who we were before our parents did so he concealed our identity from us and from the world. Just like the man in the iron mask. Because our parents didn't know any better and their parents didn't know any better and the preacher didn't know any better the devil concealed our identity and then locked us in the prison of our fears - fear of being successful, fear of being beautiful, fear of being powerful.

God wants us to take off the mask, look in the mirror that is Jesus and see ourselves for who we really are. We are a royal priesthood, a holy nation, sons and daughters of the Most High God, kings and queens.

So I remind you that I call myself queen not because I am arrogant, proud, boastful or egotistical. I call myself a queen because that is who I am, and that's the truth.

Rebirth of Truth

Virtuous Woman Part II

2009-05-09T13:54:00.003-04:00

People wonder where her secret lies.
It's not cuz she's cute or dresses real flyy.

She is a woman virtuously.
A virtuous woman is what I aspire to be.

Men themselves wonder what they see in her.
They try so much but they still can't touch
He who makes her free.

She is a woman virtuously.
A virtuous woman is what I aspire to be.

I say,
It's the way that she prays.
To Him her hands are raised.
She falls down on bended knees
And the enemy has to flee.

She is a woman virtuously.
A virtuous woman is what I aspire to be.

I say,
It's the wisdom on her lips
And not the sway of her hips.
She walks into a room just
As cool as she please.
She doesn't have to shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.

She is a woman virtuously.
A virtuous woman is what I aspire to be.

I say,
It's the determination in her strut
And the way that she cares so much.

She is a woman virtuously.
And like her a virtuous woman is what I aspire to be.

Kendy Ward

Copyright 2009

Basketball Jones

2009-04-30T18:45:00.004-04:00

The NBA playoffs are in full swing. I understand the Cavs swept whoever they were playing in the 1st round. Back in the day I would have known who the Cavs played in the first round. I would have had the whole season and post season schedules memorized. I haven't been motivated to watch a basketball game in years. Those of you who've known me for a while know that I had a major basektball jones. You also know who I commonly refered to as my "babies' daddy". Yeah, Mr. Anfernee "Penny" Hardaway. Well, I walked into him (literally) here in Miami when he did his little 8 game run with the Heat. Seeing him reminded me of my jones, and inspired this. Enjoy.

Basketball Jones

I know you can remember that first time. That first time when the hair at the back of your neck stood up and your heart skipped a beat. Then another beat and your breath caught in your throat. You knew, you knew this had to be love.

I remember. I remember the first time I laid eyes on him. I was like eight years old. He was rocking that classic gold and purple. He was like mad tall with Hershey, caramel, porcelain shaded skin.

In the beginning I didn’t understand him well. There was a lot to learn about him because he could be complicated, yet it was the simple things about him that attracted me to him. There was a childlike quality to him. Something innocent and pure. Very pure and honest. Honest and free.

I think maybe that is what I liked about him the most. That he was born into a world with dishonesty, prejudice, racism and hate, but even though he lived amidst it he was able to free himself of those constraints. With him there were no color barriers, no social barriers, no gender barriers. With him everyone had equal right to the freedom he offered.

Through the years I kept my eyes on him and what had started off as puppy love grew up. I remember his rhythm. He was strong and agile, yet graceful, even beautiful in the way that he moved. The way that he carried himself. The way that he took possession of the space that he was in. He owned it. Electrified it. Brought it to life. And when he moved everyone moved right with him. Jumped with him. Soared with him. Flew with him.

He was exciting. His passion is what generated this excitement that emanated from him, and infected everyone that came into his immediate presence. He made my heart beat faster and set butterflies dancing in my stomach. He caused smiles to cross my face.

I remember holding him in my hands. Cradling him. Creating our own rhythm. When I was with him it was like I could do anything. I could be anyone. I could go anywhere. When I was with him I felt confident. I felt invincible. I felt powerful beyond measure. I felt beautiful.

I remember I used to have this fear of being ushered out of the back ground and into the fore ground. He never had any problem being in the foreground, and he pushed me out of my shell. He held my hand and let me have some of his shine. And I basked in it. I reveled in it. I loved it and I loved him.

He challenged me to break out of the stereotypes. Step outside of the confining box that society had sentenced me to. He taught me to never give up. Even when it seemed like the clock had stopped and time had run out he never gave up. He would always pull some trick out of his hat that really made me believe that he was super human. He taught me that anything that I wanted I was gonna have to fight, and if I made up my mind to fight I better bring it cuz he always brought it.

He was all I thought about. All I talked about. All I dreamed about. He consumed me. Burned in me. I watched him and I became captivated by him. When he moved, he spoke and when he spoke he spoke volumes. Loud. His voice shook me. Encouraged me. Scolded me. Complimented me. Loved me unconditionally faults and all.

Then I grew up. He grew up. We grew up. His shorts got longer and his kicks got flyer. He shaved off his Afro, and sported the bald look. His favorite number switched form 32 to 23. He didn’t sport that classic purple and gold any more. Instead he wore that red and white. He moved from La La land to Chi-town. And I fell even more in love with him.

Then I don’t know what happened. Things just started to change. He started to change. I started to change. We started to change. There wasn’t no more sitting in front TV for hours on end. No more weekends, weekdays, weeknights spent together.

I was angry at him at first for changing. I felt like he had sold out. He sold out so more people would stand his corner and hoop and holla. He forgot about those days we spent on the hot asphalt when the folks around him were there because they loved him, and didn’t give a damn about how much money he could make them. After the anger subsided I knew that things between us would never and probably could never be the same.

Then you know what happened. The other day I literally ran into him. My eyes traveled up his six foot seven inch frame and I remembered. I remembered when I was fifteen years old I used to watch him push that rock and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I wondered if he could still make me fly. If he could still inspire the best in me.

Even, though, we went our separate ways, I now realize that he was still a part of me because the lessons he taught me transcended our estrangement. It transcended the years because love transcends everything.

I remember the days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds we spent together. I remember his rhythm. I remember the smell of his sweat, the feel of him, how his muscles flexed. I remember when I fell in love with basketball.

The Woman I Am

2009-04-28T11:19:00.008-04:00

I was an only child until I was four years old, and for those four years I was ridiculously spoiled. I think the correct term is spoiled rotten. Pre-school was a rude awakening for me as I was not accustomed to being around other children and the concept of sharing was foreign to me.

I was in K-4 when my mother got a telephone call from my teacher. The subject of their discussion was my selfishness. Her complaint was that I didn't share. Of course, my mother was upset because "selfish" is not a word you want a teacher using to describe your child.

My mother took me home. She sat me down and read a story to me about a little girl who didn't share and she didn't have any friends because of this. My mother asked me if I liked the little girl in the story. I told her no. She asked me why. I told that I didn't like her because she was mean. She then told me that I was acting the same as that little girl and nobody liked me either because I was being mean. Well, I just started to cry because of the thought of nobody liking me was just too much for me. I was cured of my selfishness.

From that day until I graduated from high school no teacher ever had to call my parents for any reason. I was consistently on the honor roll through out elementary school, junior high school and senior high school. I was junior and senior class president. I was co-captain of the basketball team my junior year in high school. I started speaking publicly at 15 and my first speech topic was abstinence. It took a lot of courage, a lot of boldness and a lot of God to get up in front of a group of 200 of my peers and give a message they weren't trying to hear. I had to, though, because my mother taught me to always tell the truth even if it's a truth that doesn't want to be heard.

I have always been a leader. Never a follower. When I make up my mind about something heaven and earth can pass away but I shall not be moved. I am unreasonably stubborn when it comes to God. There is nothing and no one in this world that can separate me from Him. I met Him when I was eight years old, and despite everything I have put Him through He has never left me. I love Him without reason, without limits and without conditions. He is my absolute all in all. I am persistent, hardworking, intelligent and elegantly classy.

I am the woman I am because of the woman my mother is. She has prayed for me every single day of my life. She encourages me. She challenges me. She believes in me when I don't believe in me. She is the most powerful woman of God that I know. I have seen her pray and watched God answer. I remember one time this guy was "stalking" me. I told my mother that I was becoming quite disturbed by this man's behavior. He was scaring me. My mother prayed an unusual prayer. I had never heard anyone pray like this before. She said, "Now you see him. Now you don't. I release him to God in Jesus' name". He lived about three houses down from me so I would see him every day. After my mother prayed I never saw the man again. I don't know if he moved. I don't know what happened to him. All I know is that my mummy prayed for me and God answered.

When I was a teenager I thought she was too hard on me, and we never saw eye to eye. Now that I am older I am so grateful for the fact that she was hard me. Her strictness forced me to have standards. It forced me to never settle for anything or anyone beneath those standards. She has taught me how to pray, how to have faith, how to trust God, how to love a man and how to be a good mother. I love her so much. There are no words that can express what she means to me. I thank God that she is the woman she is because if she wasn't, I wouldn't be the woman I am. I love you Mummy!

Every Day Ordinary

2009-03-11T18:04:00.003-04:00

I wrote this poem nine years ago after I had the "epiphany" I spoke about in my last post. It's about that ordinary guy that gave me an extraordinary revelation. This is dedicated to him and all the regular guys like him.

kw

Every Day Ordinary

Soft like cotton or maybe silk.
It’s comparable to fluffy white clouds.
It’s that kind of soft.
You know the kind you want to bathe yourself in
Or maybe wrap yourself in.
The kind of soft you wanna use sparsely.
You wanna luxuriate in when you want to feel needed, wanted
That softness can do that for you.
It’s a priceless commodity.
I’m talking about his voice.

Mellow like some Coltrane during the rain,
Chasing away fears and apprehension, regrets and tears.
It washes over you like a cool shower on a hot summer’s day.
Refreshing.
A change from the basing baritones and booming tenors.
No, this is absent of the hardness, the roughness.
This is soft like a feather grazing your skin.

So the voice forces you to watch the lips, wondering about its origin.
Wondering about how it would sound in a different place, uttering different words.
Words that illicit reaction.
That voice that caresses and demands.
Disobeying, not yielding is not an option.
Why would I want to anyway?
I want to spend forever with that voice.
With that man.

His smile is slow in coming
But worth the wait.
Soft just like that voice,
Lighting up his whole face.
A smile that makes me smile even when I don’t feel like smiling.
It’s crooked and not what you may call perfect,
But it’s perfect on him.
Just like the way that slight limp isn’t out of place at all,
But fits perfectly.
He ain't no Denzel or even a Will Smith.
It doesn’t matter, though, cause the package is complete.
You know what I’m saying?
Do you understand me?
You feel me right?

No, he’s not Vin Diesel with bulging biceps or striking looks.
His beauty is more tamed.
That’s cause it comes from some place else.
Some place inside.
His kindness, his caring, his sacrifice, his commitment,
His devotion, his respect, his passion, his morals.
Those things don’t come because of nice legs and tight abs.
They come from knowing and being comfortable with who you
Are even if being you ain't popular.

And because of those things mahogany skin seems a little bit smoother
And you can’t resist touching it.
Ebony eyes seem a little bit more mysterious, giving a little more sex appeal.
Five feet ten inches seems the exact height.
And 170 pounds seems the perfect weight.
Scrawny legs don’t look so odd.
And a bird chest is what you’ve always wanted.

Now isn’t that funny?
Funny that behind a desk beneath
All the clutter, the paper, the folders
There sat Prince Charming.
There was no evidence of his knight hood,
But there was evidence of the honor and the courage.
An ordinary man that does ordinary things,
But that’s the best thing about him.

Makes me feel like home.
Like sitting on Mama’s step, sucking on a baggy.
Like Junkanoo on Boxing Day.
Like conch fritters from the Fry.
Like well mudda sick.
Like home.
Like I could fall in love with that voice
That’s soft like a baby’s skin.
With that smile that’s as slow as molasses and just as sweet.
With the man and not a myth, not a fairy tale.
Just real, everyday, ordinary.

Kendy Ward
Copyright 2000

Prince Charming

2009-03-11T05:08:00.009-04:00

Once upon a time I didn't believe in happily ever after. I thought such things only existed in a writer's imagination, and even then you didn't always end up with a happy ending. Just look at Romeo and Juliet.

My apprehensions about the romanticism of relationships was born out of the fact that I thought I didn't know Prince Charming. I didn't see any men riding in on big, white mares clothed in shining armor to save the damsel in distress. The men I knew didn't ride horses. Their titles were not prince anything. They didn't live in castles and they didn't wield swords.

Then I had an epiphany, an awakening, a rebirth of the truth as I had known it. I was twenty-one and had just wrapped up my junior year at college. I was at home for the summer, working at an insurance company as a receptionist/file clerk/whatever you need me to be. I had also decided at the time that I was going to be an author. I was working on my first published work, and of all things it was a romance.

I had a lot of difficulty trying to create the story's hero because I was trying to fashion him after Cinderella's Prince Charming. His white mare was an expensive car and even though his title wasn't as lofty as prince, his job made him a lot of bank. He was going to ride in and save the day. Isn't that what romance is?

One day I was at the receptionist's desk working on my story when a woman walked in. There was nothing extraordinary about her. In fact I can't even remember what she looks like. She was just regular, every day ordinary. She had a two year old on her hip. I automatically made the assumption - single mother. Then she asked for Gordon. I didn't know exactly what Gordon did as I hadn't paid a whole lot of attention to him in the past. He walked with a limp and was not what I would have considered handsome. He, too, was just regular, every day ordinary.

I called Gordon and within a few minutes he made his way to the front. I looked up and the expression on his face made me pause. I followed his line of vision and it ended at the woman standing in front of me. I had never seen it before (or so I thought) but I recognized it right away - love.

I started to watch this man. I mean almost stalk him. He got into the office on time. He did his work with pride. He was a hard worker. He was kind, courteous, and respectful. He loved his wife and daughter with everything he had to love them with. Then it hit me. He was Prince Charming! And over the years I had met more Prince Charmings than I first thought.

My father is my Prince Charming. When I was a little girl I was

afraid to walk over those grates on the sidewalks, which was silly,

but he never said so. He would just pick me up and lift me over it. Every morning, and I mean every morning, my father would fix me, my sister and brother breakfast. He worked ridiculous hours so he could put us through private school and pay for our college tuition. We went on summer vacations every year. There has never been a time when I have asked my father for something and he has not given it to me. When I feel insecure his "you look nice"

makes me comfortable being who I am. Even as I type now

there are tears in my eyes because I was looking so hard for something false that I didn't realize that I was living with the truth.

It took me a long time to realize that my father was raised in poverty. He often tells a story about stepping on a nail while walking home from school. After hearing the story for maybe the hundredth time I asked him the all important question. "Why weren't you wearing any shoes?" His exasperated response was, "because we couldn't afford shoes". I say that to say that everything that my father has given us was because he worked his butt off for it. It's the equivalent of the prince slaying a dragon, and a poverty is a big dragon to slay.

I know a whole lot more Prince Charmings. I just didn't realize that their names weren't going to be Prince Charming. Instead I call them Daddy, Bishop, Uncle Mungy, Mr. Cameron, Pastor Ellis, Alkin, Mr. Staley, Uncle Oswald. These are men who have character, honor, and standards. Men who know how to love and how to sacrifice. Men who are not afraid to be scared or know that God is bigger than them. Men who don't have to cry in the dark because they cry in the Light. Men who would literally die for their families. Men who have created for me the definition of what manhood is, and who force me to keep my standards high.

The truth is that I now believe in once upon time and happily ever after because I know the hero in the story. I know Prince Charming and maybe you do too.