Krissy Mosley Ministries

It doesn’t take robots to figure out how to be kind, it takes humans for that. kindness sis.krissy

 

Sometimes our stories are harder, then others. Some stories carry greater textures. Some are encased with freedom like tiny homes worth putting in the plumbing and laying down the pipe. Some are steady -rising and falling.

Some are of “deep pits yelling for help.” As the elder-mothers ‘ back home in Texas would put it. “Some through the water, some through great-trials, some through the flood,”

but all the stories I know seep out through the blood.

As a child, I remember gospel music constantly playing in my house. I believe my mother played the gospel music to deliberately drown out the sorrows of poverty, segregation, and the sheer weight what it meant to live through all of it.  Be alive to see it.

In the words of the late-great Mahalia Jackson: “It would be always Howdy -Howdy and never goodbye”- “I’ll be watching somewhere around the altar” -“drink that old healing water” and live on forever” “My soul looks back and wonder, how I made it over”

and only now can I appreciate- The Hammond B organ, all the sermonic selections – I’d slept through. And though most of those I knew back home in Texas are now gone. Their sound still keeps me up at night. Just knowing – the elder mothers’ are somewhere around the altar praying and watching.

kindness sis. Krissy  ✨😊

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Literally for the first time in a long time. I had no desire to pray. Has that ever happened to you? So many thoughts floated in and out my head. I pressed my lips to say, Dear God, but -there was nothing. Rather it was something more of irritated, dry resistance that came over me. And then I sat there.

Listening…

I’ve been lost before, strangely my soul has cried. Dear God grant unto me a prayer when I can’t find one. When everything around me says, The heavens are iron brass and dust beneath my feet.

No less than saying that, I heard the winds howling. Smell the dust spinning in the air. I think when it rains. God sips ice-tea through a long copper straw. The sky clicks her heels together. God whistles- the sun slips back into her layer, watching tiny clouds prancing through the marvelous mixture. “Their eyes are watching God” And God is listening, Ambitiously, anticipating the light in the darkness.

must be rain.

kindness sis Krissy

Is there such a thing as running out of faith? “Tried and true, but even -then there is work to do” I’ve heard that from somewhere, I don’t remember where.

There are times when nothing seems to work – falling apart at the seams

such is the stuff of life. All that living. All that trying to be good can give.

and yet I’m still trying, still running, still believing

 

rubbing the edges of defeat –

faith and fears going toe to toe

it remains to be seen – what can be achieved

down to the seconds, – I’m not giving up

Not giving up

even when there’s a failure – there’s no stopping

kindness sis Krissy

 

 

 

 

Anytime I make a mistake or drop the ball on the way to success I confront my inner self…

I wish I could say, that on the inside was – all unicorns and fairies, and “birds singing in the dead of night”

Honestly: improving what goes on in my mind has been one hammered- rollercoaster.

when I was younger I’d always asked my sister was there something in my nose or on my face. She was a personal mirror due to the negative outpouring of voices around me.

As I got older, appearance became something that was exhausting. Do I look neat, smell clean, skin glowing? I hope I don’t look dull today. How’s my hair? Am I smiling too much?

I know I’m short- better stand tall. Walk with grace

Confidence come through,

bravery come through,

 

Aggh! Enough Already! Just shut up.

Push the world out the door or throw it out the window

I just gotta be here and be okay with that

kindness sis krissy

 

 

 

 

My mirco – meditation -mantra

After a long week, and in serious need of rest and relaxation.

In sound and without all the noise I repeat…

I’m here for me,

I am already loved.

 

 

 

Sometimes we are the “worst and best” of ourselves. The best of friends and most cruel enemies inside this industry of the mind

so the next time someone asks – How are you? 

I believe instead of caging all my raging feelings – I shouldn’t shout I’m fine – because I’m not. Yelling up a lamp post. Talking to myself.

When hugging trees are not enough, and spirit animals haven’t solved any major crimes.

lately, I’ll square off, let my shoulders down, close down the deep dark circles in my head

I pray you’d hear me, then I wouldn’t be telling “nobody but God”

I’d say- I wasn’t feeling the warmth of sun today, I couldn’t quite grasp the sound bluebirds singing through the trees.

louder than the first whispered prayer of the morning-  a faint voice- replied:

“it’s okay, anybody ever -tell you it’s okay”?

kindness sis Krissy

 

On the days I’ve laughed so hard-

my sides ached and cheeks are sore from falling

into a honeycomb of goodness,

feels like church, feels like- Hello Sunday

I’d respond with all my teeth in the sky. No more pain, no more suffering, No more stuggle, no more tears only tears of joy only sweet, sweet melodies in the waters.

 

kindness sis Krissy

Step one – vulnerability

sometimes when you think you know the way- you should go

I find myself catching the bus at the end of the line

two- when I am exposed beads of sweat roll across my forehead, all I want to do is bury my lungs in hot coffee

Three- on being a writer- contending – I don’t write love poems –

I don’t write love poems

I repeat

I don’t write them

By now I’ve grown down to the point of a pencil,

and now I’m ready to start again. kindness sis . Krissy