manos que moldean (hands that mold)

I was praying today and I found myself thanking God for molding me into some kinda man.  I say that because I can’t describe it any other way.  I am amazed at who I am becoming.  I react differently to different situations now.  Freaking out is not my first reaction.  My faith is deeper.  My speech is changing.  I love more.  My walk is stronger.  No, I don’t have swag.  I am simply being me: FREE.  I can dig it.  Is this what this blog has been about all this time?  I have no idea, but it’s shaping up to look that way.


handsI am actually at a place where I am very aware of my surroundings.  No, I’m not talking about dark alleyways or empty parking lots; I’m more aware of my life.  My eyes are becoming more open to life everyday.

I read a comment on IG that said, “I’m self-made.”  I have found a slight problem with that statement.  That’s simply not the truth.  We all need someone to help us.  Everyone.  Save God, there hasn’t been one person who hasn’t needed help from anyone.  I repeat: We all need someone to help us.  I know for a fact that people have helped, are helping, and will help me along the way.

The people who have come in and out of my life have been there for a reason.  Some people have passed through, but it has all been to teach me valuable lessons.  Even they have helped me.

I envision me walking through a crowd.  As I walk towards the front, the people who I’ve met along the way, are putting a hand print on my shirt.  Some hands push me backwards.  Some hands propel me forward.  Some of them hurt like hell while leaving a mark.  Some of them were rather enjoyable as well.  No matter the case, those hands are helping to mold me.

At the end of my vision, what do I see?  A shirt covered in hand prints.

Until Next time

Love & Peace.



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