I Can't Breathe

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

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

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

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

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

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!

"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