Ombré 

Dear Dad, 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

God, my eyes are opened. My parents are broken. I’m broken. The world is broken. My parents want to stay in this decay of yesterday. My parents want to lose in the ruse of refuse when it comes to you God. My parents want to feel the reel of their flesh god facade. My parents want to pretend that their lies are no longer stronger in hiding what’s inside. My parents want to keep believing they’re receiving their corruptive confetti instead of their growing unattended empty. Empty is not a space that can ever be replaced without you God. 

You don’t replace God. You restore, you revive, and you remind us that we thrive, not just pass along playing a self made cheap lemonade song, in this pit stop called Earth only to survive. Man cannot confirm, only you God affirm His Return. The world doesn’t want to be still. The world doesn’t want to grab Your Gills. The world doesn’t want to discern your Hidden Detailed Concerns. Thank you for hiding your details God. It pushes me, as your daughter and anyone else who’s over the flesh god facade, to be lead by the Holy Spirit through surrender. Your Hidden Details, and parables are only understood through the surrender of the Holy Spirit. 

I cannot talk in this fake, break, and take walk anymore. This economy of language is a catastrophic sandwich. This economy of language has a meat that presses play on the delay of defeat. This is a collection of waste in a space that has no digestion. This is a waste in a space of violent silent vomit confessions. Only a fool returns to his own vomit. 

We are all fools playing in a pool of vomit clinging to false prophets who make it hobbit, because the bleed in seeds that’s a weed shows tangibility. Tangibility is a ruse we all choose to lose in the decay of yesterday, by never pressing send on the end of pretend. Tangibility will never lead to accountability or maturity. Tangibility is a stance in a non-mobile dance, where the cries hide the lies that we all fight to keep inside. Stagnancy is a mockery of the Holy Trinity and His Divinity. Stagnancy is the nonverbal omission, to give permission for pale scales to prevail; and have us as broken vessels fail to see God through our flesh god facade. 

As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool returns to his folly. Proverbs 26:11. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

I’m overwhelmed God. I’m tired of being mad at you. I’m tired of being sad and crying. I’m tired of pushing through this residue of lying and feeling like I’m dying. People are fake, break and take. I don’t trust anyone. I’m tired of my words being twisted and misrepresented. I trust no one outside of you God and Jojo.* it’s hard for me to fully trust anyone outside of you and Jojo. I trust people in increments. 

I’m tired of seeing my mother be paralyzed in fears she just never took to you all these years God. Now you have me witnessing my mother die rapidly right in front of my eyes. All I see is someone that gave up and that angers me. I’m always upset around her. I don’t like being around her. I’m so disappointed in her. This isn’t the mom I had growing up. Where’s that woman? I miss her. I don’t like this chick in front of me. I don’t want this chick in front of me. I want my mom back. Why isn’t my mom being revived like the Bible says? 

How the heck is witnessing my mom die before my eyes edifying your Great Name? How the heck is this pruning me to be a better daughter for your kingdom? How the heck does this better me? How the heck does it better me to see my father hide in alcohol? How the heck does it better me to see my brother choose the wrong path too? Why can’t you just let me walk away. This is too much. Out of sight used to be out of mind, until you took that away God, through this he you say is for me. I can’t do this anymore. How the heck is this all supposed to make me okay with Your Obey? Everything is so impossible looking. 

You know I’m overwhelmed. Yet you keep showing me what you do, like what happened at work Wednesday. You’re making work impossible too!? Like you called me to education God. See, this is why I avoided this stupid calling. I knew this would be so impossible looking and feeling. I am getting no breaks God. You have no chill button. I’m over you making this all insane. You’re making all areas of my life hard. I get it, no more stagnancy and no more running. But can you press the chill button now God? 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

Do you see why I was like ‘oh time to go,’ at jobs, with humans, in my broken relationships of the past. In all aspects of my life I was quick to leave because I refused to lose in ruses. I saw all of these rushing winds and tsunamis of shake ups. I don’t like them. I leave before things hit the fan. I don’t like fighting but I don’t like someone coming for me either. That’s when I get over my dislike of fighting, and I’m ready to knock someone out. I’ve always pride myself into never being that transparent nor letting anyone outside of my circle see me pissed off. But then Wednesday happened, and I’m like shell shocked still. But I have no time to process anything, at least that’s how I feel. I had grad school that same night. I shut down after my team meeting with my graduating cohort. I was shocked by my candid expression. I shut down. 

What I wanted to do, to that daughter that came out her face on Wednesday, was knock her teeth out and make her other leg break. That way she’ll be double wobbly. But you’re humbling her through this one foot wonder. This chick is still not listening to you God. This chick bothers me God. What bothers me more is you won’t let me tell her about herself. You mute me every time. I’m finally feeling home free about this he you say is for me; because one I’m not around to see that train wreck. He chose the wrong she, and was poached like a robotic roach that he’s really not, just for this caught up in the wrong voices by his fearful choices song; and he was coached in that night no unity community to lose in this ruse. I keep praying he leaves or gets pulled out. I keep praying this hit it and quit it misfit, my he was talked into making this the legal messy commitment gets dissolved; and he’s set free from that worldly ugly. Only if that’s your will. Your son needs Your Gills. Your son needs to be still. 

That wrong she doesn’t do anything for this he you say is for me. He’s not challenged by that wrong she, or that no unity night community he may still believe in. He’s not being held accountable nor is he growing. You love in the realm of growth God. You love in the realm of order and peace. That wrong she is none of those truths. This wrong she stings my he, and this woman is wearing his wedding rings when she shouldn’t be birthing stagnancy. This he you say is for me is stagnant, and a magnet being used and abused, by that no unity night community. My he is living a life in secret strifed stifle with this wrong she as a his best last first bite. Wrong she did well to hook this he under her suffocating and decaying spell. 

Check it, even if it’s not me? It’s definitely not her. This wrong she will never be he + He + her. This wrong she will never be the path to correct math with this he or be His Stir. This wrong she is bad news because she wants to be of the world. This wrong she is bad news because she chooses the ruse of pretending to be godly when in her cold stone heart she wants the flesh god facades. That’s why darkness and chaos walks with her. That’s why this wrong she is off. This wrong she needs a heart check. There’s a lot that this wrong she rejects and neglects. But this is the she this he you say is for me, decided to do life with. 

Okay, let him keep slim, let him keep looking dim and grim, so he can press play on that decay of never ending pretend. You finally moved me from that church. According to me I’m set free. There were a lot of good memories there and I did grow there; but the bad memories are all I see. They’re all I replay in my decay of yesterday. All I see is the flesh god facades of an “Alice and Wonderland” quicksand of where the Holy Spirit no longer dwells. I’ve been asking you to move me from that church since I had that meeting with that false prophet who made it hobbit, back in January. January-July was torturous to be there still. But what got me through that was choosing to lose in your Gills. I choose Your Purpose over the world’s popularity like the theme of that church I’m thankfully free from. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

After Wednesday I no longer care about transparency. I no longer care about the sensitivity of where others feel or how others see. No one gives a crap about my feelings, and I’m tired of caring about others. The world wants to broken then stumble and crumble in this terminal fumble. 

After everything that’s happened to me since I said yes, is all too much. I’m overwhelmed in this fight to rise above and choose love. I’m starting to believe love is only when we leave this pitstop called earth, and I just have to figure out how to operate in this poisonous place until you move me on. I’m so over everything. I’m so discouraged. I don’t see anything, and I don’t believe in people changing anymore. 

There’s still so many routines that are mean, lean, and glean like my life. My family didn’t change. Jojo didn’t change. I didn’t change, and that he you claim is for me didn’t change. We are still all hiding the lies inside. The world is bold in being cold. Fighting feels stupid. Believing feels stupid. Choosing the road less travels feels stupid. All of this feels stupid. Writing is starting to feel stupid. I don’t even want to write anymore. I loved writing. I loved loving. I loved cheering and encouraging people. I want to just start over fresh, and far away from here. I wish I was going to Italy too for three months like my sister Elaine* is doing. It was so nice to catch up with her this past weekend. But I want to leave too. I don’t want to be here around this poison and this brokenness. I’m sure Italy has brokenness but it’s a blank canvas of brokenness. That’s my cup of ombré: blank.

I’m tired of being stalked by this broken daughter at work. This chick clocks everything I do and makes me so uncomfortable, that I want out of this job. I want out of this calling. I just want out. I’m tired of being nitpicked by people, especially my father. He’s so broken. Yes I grew up tough, because of God first and foremost but also my dad. But his brokenness is not necessary. I’m broken and fight not to be fake, break, and take. Do I fail? All the time, like twenty minutes ago when I was on the phone with Jojo. 

I’m tired of failing and I’m tired of brokenness. Wednesday the thin thread that kept me going in this job broke. What’s the point of fighting God? Seems like darkness is in the spotlight. Darkness is front and center at my job and my old church. People will still try to break me, and come for my character. And the routine of you God blocking me from hurting someone comes. I’m tired of rising above and choosing love. It’s abused. It’s reused, it’s just a ruse to me now. I want to sleep and not wake up sometimes like take a final bow. 

This brokenness was in the Bible 2,000 years ago. Nothing changed. All those hopeful world changing vessels in the Bible died believing; that there was going to be change. There’s still none. Only you know the timing God. Even though I’m too through, and I’m very discouraged and over everything, truly wishing for rapture, and the end of the world was here. This truth remains: You won’t quit on me. You won’t let me quit life. You won’t let me quit this walk. You still rise above and choose love with me, when I know I don’t make it easy. You keep loving me through my hot-mess ways on how I delay my decays of my yesterday’s. My muted salutes no longer work as a tribute. I don’t like that. I don’t like that you’re not letting me suffer silently anymore. You’re making me speak up and it’s annoying. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

Every time I’m in this place, you meet me God. You replace my hate for love because hate is a facade. That’s why I love you so much. You meet me. You taught Jojo to meet me. No one else gets me, according to me. I’m okay with that truth, according to me. You’re not God, because it’s a facade. Elaine gets me, Benjamin* gets me, C* gets me, and B* gets me. I get them all too but they’re going through their journey your way not mine. 

Even in the midst of my discouragement I still love love. I thought I was psychosocial but I’m actually a nonconformist. The message is received from that dream I just had. I choose to lose in the refuse to press play in abuse through man’s ruse. I choose to lose in the obey of your ombré, because I stand in this worldly quicksand. God you will always be my steadfast, stable upward falling walking on water land. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

Love your daughter.

*names changed for privacy purposes. #TeamProPrivacy

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