Monday, February 09, 2015


I hear the sound of the pouring rain outside my office and I can’t stop the smile forming across my face. The tempest outside is loud. It’s hard. It wonderfully glorious. Not because I particularly like the rain, which I do, but because I feel as though my naked soul stands beneath a majestic downpour filled with new grace, new life, and new beginnings. I’ve carried around the ashes of grief long enough. I feel light. I feel …ready.

For the first time in my life my present, my life, and my future belong to me, and only me. I’m alive. I’m free. I won’t be chasing dead dreams, but dreaming new ones.

Love me, hate me, envy me, or despise me – I honestly don’t care. Just watch me - amazing things are happening!!!!!!!

It was once prophesied over me that I had been called before I was born, marked and targeted; that my life would be shattered into a million pieces; that there were several tentacle arms reaching out to grab and bind me and keep me from my mission; and that like a ship I would be dashed upon the rocks and left for dead. Yet a tempest would come and wash away the debris and I would rise from the wreckage with 9 stars above my head, sun-kissed, strong, wielding a sword, with coal-touched lips filled with words of fire that would weave its way through the universe and touch the hearts and minds of kings and priests.

When I heard that prophecy the creative writer in me thought it’d make for a good story, but was certain the minister who gave it must clearly be mistaken, confused, and perhaps a little crazy. But those words have never left me. I’d laugh them off at times, chuckle at their absurdity, roll my eyes at their sensationalism, and shake my head. I have no idea what it even means, but perhaps there’s something subconsciously inside me that likes the rain because I’m clinging to a hope for this prophesied relief.

It doesn’t matter. Whether the prophecy is real or a joke, I feel my soul dancing in the rain. I have been shattered, abandoned and broken as I tangled with death – death of a dream, death of a promise, death of a marriage, and death of a friendship – yet I’m still alive. Even cancer couldn’t defeat me.

What do I do now?


Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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