Aspiring Poet, heartfelt thoughts.I have Just Discovered that I can write

  The Funerals No One Sees (A reflection on the graves we carry, the courage to share our wounds, and the faith that still dances) “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me...” Psalm 23:4  There are some words that sit quietly inside of us for years. Not because we do not believe them. Not because they do not matter. But because they came from places too deep to easily explain. Sometimes the hardest things to share are not the moments when we broke down in front of everyone. It is the things that broke inside where nobody could see. This is one of those thoughts. I wrote this a long time ago, but I never had the courage to share it. It sat quietly, like so many things we carry, waiting for the moment when I was ready to let someone else see it. Maybe that is because some truths feel too vulnerable when they are still close to the wound. But sometimes God takes the very thing we tried to hide and turns...

Today, I find myself grappling with a profound sense of loss that words can scarcely capture. The news of Amber, Jason, Nathan and Kelly Nelon's tragic passing in a plane crash has shattered the hearts of all who knew them. For years, they were not just voices on a stage but dear friends who became like family to me. Their music, a perfect blend of faith and harmony, touched thousands and left an everlasting imprint on our souls. I first met this family in 2016, and we instantly became friends. They were so loving and caring, welcoming me into their world with open arms. Their kindness and warmth were as genuine as their music was uplifting. The Nelons had a unique ability to transform the world around them with their music. Amber's voice was like a gentle breeze, pure and filled with grace, that carried the hope of her every song straight to our hearts. Jason’s harmonies were the comforting embrace that brought warmth and unity to their sound. And Kelly, with her rich and powe...

Today is my birthday, a day to pause and reflect on the many memories that have shaped my life. On this day in 1977, I was born, and it was a day marked by an unusual twist—our house was broken into and all of our things were stolen. I often joke that they’re still trying to figure out which one of us was the better choice! Growing up, Hudson Avenue Baptist Church was a cornerstone of my childhood. Brother Dennis Thomas was my first pastor, and his dedication to the church was inspiring. He was always doing something for the church and expected everyone else to be involved as well, almost like he thought we were all part of his personal volunteer army. His enthusiasm instilled in us what it was to be a true servant, leading by example and showing us the heart of service in everything he did—so much so that even on   days off, people might feel guilty for not showing up with a mop and bucket! When I was seven, my family went to help Brother Joe Watson with a new work he had starte...