I dream of kindness.
It spreads love in city streets.
She holds multitudes.
Her hands are warm like the sunset.
With feet, she carries peace.
With her mouth, she speaks no words but
With her eyes she shares everything.~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley image by pixabay.com
My Saving grace: In moments I could only say words like God if you get me out of this one. I promise I’d straighten up and fly right.
Even then, I’ve come to understand you can’t quit the Creator
While that sounds cliche-ish.
“The peace of God that passeth all understanding” in ways I can’t explain.
Has given grace beyond grace and then some.
And for that, I’m over the moon grateful
For every time I said I needed a miracle.
For every time I said, move this mountain.
The All Mighty has always come through…~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley image by Malisha Goggans
I confess there is a new story happening & it’s a beautiful thing to let it be..
The other day I had a conversation with a friend.
We actually talked. Something quiet needed.
No text
No emojis
No signs
It went something like this:
Me: Hey girl I’m getting better thanks for checking on me.
I’m on the mends now.
My Friend: Are you sure? Because I’m not giving up on you.
Me: Yes, you don’t have to drive all the way here.
I know you would but I’m feeling much better.
My Friend: Okay, then how are kids and the family?
They are good.
Me: It’s always good to hear your voice.
Again thanks for checking on me
P.S. That made me smile.~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley
What started out as a typical day: the birds chirping in the sky, the squirrels in my trash can. The children running to catch the school bus. Then I was transported…
As if I was present but with my eyes, I was reliving a moment, felt like yesterday. The air was bitter cold. My teeth chattered. I saw the window she’d climb through to get in my bed for a quick nap and go back out on the street.
We all knew she had a drug problem. I was about twelve years old at the time. Sneaking my Aunt through the window. My mother said she needed tough love. I disagreed, but I knew not to talk back to her or that would be a quick slap in the mouth.
It went on for months, tapping the window, I’d let her in. She’d be crying saying that she didn’t want to die out there in the street.
Krissy pray, for me, would you?
I don’t think I was the right person.
I said to myself. Why didn’t she go to a pastor or Rehab but I tried.
I said Lord help her…
That was the end of my prayer watching her strung out. Climbing in and out of my window. And when she didn’t come home.
I’d say, mom. She’d answer: I know, she’s missing right.
We’d all get in the car and drive to abandon houses where crack addicts slept in the gutters of dilapidated property’. Then ask around at gas stations.
And we went home that day without any progress.
The next morning, mommy said she was going to check the hospitals and sure enough, we found her.
She could barely talk, out of a full body cast.
What happened?
Aunt Trisha: I was at a gas station: I was going to get my life right. You know, change for good. That’s when I asked this man for a ride home. He said yea. So I hopped in. But the second he pulled off, he pulls out a gun.
Now we are on the highway I-80, going eighty miles per hour. He says to take off your clothes and I yell Jesus I’m tired, I’m tired…
I unbutton my shirt, as I pushed on the door as hard as I could. I jumped onto the highway. I saw an eighteen wheeler headed straight for me. I ball up, just started rolling and rolling. I just knew I was dead. I knew it…
I didn’t feel my body hit the pavement.
I didn’t feel not one bone brake…
It’s no way I’d survive this.
For the next few months, Aunt Trisha came home to live with us. Every day before and after school my sister and I washed her. Bathed her down in medical solution and ointment, wrapped her up as best as possible.
I watched her skin fall off in my hands, her flesh was raw and opened. She stunk really bad. The whole house smelled like her – rotten mold decaying by the second.
After eight months she could use the crutches. My sister and I were no longer her live-in nurses.
Aunt Trisha: I wanna thank you, girls, for taking care of me. And for my big sister letting me stay here. I’ve signed for rehab and they’ve got a spot for me. She sobbed…
All we could do was wrap our arms around her.
Have we failed God? Surely I have…
My aunt Trisha cleaned up her life for a moment but in a few years, she was back out on the street. It wasn’t until she found herself expecting her first child. High once more, she flagged me down in the driveway.
Krissy, she shouted but her belly met me first. She started sobbing, pray for me I don’t wanna to do crack and have this baby.
This time I’m older, I lead her through the prayer of faith… God move this mountain. When we are weak, be strong in us. When we fail, help us to go harder after you…
Needless to say, her daughter is turning eighteen this year. Trisha has been clean for fourteen years and counting…
The ups and downs of walking this life of faith:
simply keep going. God does the fixing. We keep believing and that goes for me too.
~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley signing off…
(true stories from my life and I have more to tell) thank you for reading …♥
It does my soul well to listen.
Upon the trees without leaves,
to the birds that have returned.
Better than steel- glass.
Better than kings.
Better than the finest silk
spun over the master’s
pupating cocoon.
With every note,
open to heaven’s ear.
Quieting the soulish scream.
Soothing, lonely eyes.
And calming rivers across
the seas…
Calming rivers across the seas.
~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley
There is a source of kindness:
One that is disruptive to evil plans.
And restores the lion to lay down with the lamb.
~ your kindness sister Krissy Mosley
We witness.
We tell.
We cry.
We hope.
We pray.
We spare.
We wait.
We can.
We must.
We lend.
We bend.
We stand.
We cast.
We doubt.
We shake.
We glean.
We fight.
We run.
We hide
We mask.
We fall.
The axis of our souls out of orbit.
We uncover truths in scarlet letters…
The snare of the watchless.
The hold of the gun.
The pleading bones of some.
And what should we witness?
And point the finger at the system.
We broken- little leaves…
We learn much.
We school none.~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley
Krissy Mosley Ministries 