Yeah yeah yeah. You just do

What you do. I’m gonna do better then how I was done. You send your children to a stranger to speak and work it out and keep them in a box.

I’ll send them to a stranger to work it out. Sure. But then I’ll lambast them with a mind blowing truth to show them really, how it’s done. Does a stranger know how to help my child better then me the manufacture? Is my Mama so wrong? Did she know her own cure? Did she send me to find it and bring it home? Well? Not consciously. But that’s exactly what she did.

Sure a trained stranger is gonna know how to help my children? Ha ha!! I know them. I know what they are capable of beyond a strangers assessment. They tried to assess me. But I would not let anyone assess me cuz I’m not done. I already had one label I was dealing with I did not need more labels to add to my adoption salad.

The fact is. People will call you crazy. Until they know you are not them and that you came to teach them something they can’t even see. To cause the blind to see what’s right under their noses the whole time, sounds like Jesus. To me. Jesus in me. Jesus through me. Jesus at my wheel getting to you. God is funny.

My life and my experiences and how my body reacted to them is all god needs to get to you. All I’m doing is letting God take me higher to show a big picture that micro managed people can’t see. I’m taking this to the macro level to fly over it and pour it all out like a plane flying over and looking at the earth, I tell what I see. Can you see? Or are you still thinking I’m you?

Telling a stranger your angry with your Mama.

Telling them all about how she did this and that.

While that stranger doesn’t even know me?

How can any good come of what a stranger says when you don’t even ask me?

To scared to face the truth you hold about your own Mama to tell it to her and get free.

Cowards talk in rooms where those they speak of can’t hear what’s being said while strangers make money off a person inability to tell the truth. That’s what I see. While they, add to a persons going around in circle, now with added labels and flags so folks don’t interrupt them wandering around aimlessly when they, like the prodigal son, can just go home and tell Mama about it and she’ll listen and feed you what you really need. Love soup. Hot. Spicy. And good for the soul.

And if you’re a Mama? You better get the soup ready cuz they gonna be hungry after eating pig soup with pigs. You better clean your own soul and tell your truth so you can even handle theirs. Cuz the worlds got a lot of ideas of who you as a Mama you are and you got to be grounded and strong when they blow in smell of pig shit to even stand the smell of what the world did to your daughter or son. It’s Mamas that make it right in the end. Always. It’s Mama who takes the shit and cleans it up and turns it into a garden for all to feast from.

That’s why my brother didn’t come with me. Cuz he wasn’t a woman. But he gave me all I could to help me succeed at this life in a mans world. Woman have a placement that looks low. But that’s where the foundations is so low is good. Grounded. Humble. She flies low for her children and no other reason then to let them see what an Eagle Mama looks like flying around watching her offspring work their wings. She knows they can fly higher but they got to learn first about the ground.

My children don’t have to fly home cuz I’m flying along side them. Always with them. Always loving them as they learn and grow. They came through me to fly like eagles while the world or chickens try to keep them in a barn yard, oblivious to who they really are. The chickens try to tell my children they are chickens and I know they are eagles. So. Good luck with that world. Ha ha ha. I saw you coming a mile away and prepared for it.

How? I went higher. I went to the highest authority. God. And told god. And God told me what to do. If that’s crazy? Well. Gods crazy.

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