When was the last time you praised God simply because He's God?
Not for a blessing.
Not for a breakthrough.
Not for an answered prayer.
Just because He's worthy.
Once you decide you want a good life, the universe will start moving things for you to have it.
The people you need will appear, the healing you need will happen, the doors you need open will unlock.
But not till you decide.
Once you truly, sincerely decide, miracles will happen.
I was about to eat the meat in my food at work when wisdom descended quietly on me like a dove and said, โMy daughter, preserve your dignity.โ
This is not the kind of meat you casually eat during your lunch break and continue with your day. No. This is the type of meat you find at a nonagenarianโs burial party where the meat obviously cannot go round. So they give you one piece to contend with while you gossip. If youโre not careful, youโll spend the entire event chewing on the meat and ruminating on the issues happening at the party.
This is the type of meat that requires prayer, strategy and upper-body strength. A bonus for gym rats. The kind that makes you abandon cutlery and start using techniques passed down through generations. Your incisors and your fingers become close lovers. Every few seconds, they meet to discuss the way forward and exchange a French kiss.
๐๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ต๐ข
Itโs so muta-lic (oti muta) that one bite turns your face into a canvas. Stew on your cheeks. Stew on your chin. Stew in places you donโt remember touching. By the end of the meal, it looks like a makeup artist is preparing you for a traditional wedding.
Itโs blush season, baby.
You need a mirror or at the very least, your computer screen after pressing Windows + L.
๐๐ข๐ญ๐ฐ ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ง ๐ฎ๐ช?
The meat itself? Stubborn like a goat.
You bite. It protests.
You pull. It obeys Hookeโs Law.
You pull harder. It starts pulling you back into a past relationship.
At that point, people are no longer watching someone eat lunch. Theyโre watching a custody battle. Imagine struggling with meat like you have personal issues with it.
Of course, itโs beef.
Not to sound cow-ardly, but Iโm letting go of this beef.
I was about to eat the meat in my food at work when wisdom descended quietly on me like a dove and said, โMy daughter, preserve your dignity.โ
This is not the kind of meat you casually eat during your lunch break and continue with your day. No. This is the type of meat you find at a nonagenarianโs burial party where the meat obviously cannot go round. So they give you one piece to contend with while you gossip. If youโre not careful, youโll spend the entire event chewing on the meat and ruminating on the issues happening at the party.
This is the type of meat that requires prayer, strategy and upper-body strength. A bonus for gym rats. The kind that makes you abandon cutlery and start using techniques passed down through generations. Your incisors and your fingers become close lovers. Every few seconds, they meet to discuss the way forward and exchange a French kiss.
๐๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ต๐ข
Itโs so muta-lic (oti muta) that one bite turns your face into a canvas. Stew on your cheeks. Stew on your chin. Stew in places you donโt remember touching. By the end of the meal, it looks like a makeup artist is preparing you for a traditional wedding.
Itโs blush season, baby.
You need a mirror or at the very least, your computer screen after pressing Windows + L.
๐๐ข๐ญ๐ฐ ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ง ๐ฎ๐ช?
The meat itself? Stubborn like a goat.
You bite. It protests.
You pull. It obeys Hookeโs Law.
You pull harder. It starts pulling you back into a past relationship.
At that point, people are no longer watching someone eat lunch. Theyโre watching a custody battle. Imagine struggling with meat like you have personal issues with it.
Of course, itโs beef.
Not to sound cow-ardly, but Iโm letting go of this beef.