Beginnings

Don't despise them...

The name Roshanda rolled off the tongue of a teenage mother as she held her baby for the first time. A baby that forced her to be kicked out of school the previous year, as she was deemed a bad influence upon the rest of the female student population. That teen mom, daughter of share croppers and migrant workers went on to take life by the horns and exceeded expectations of many. Little did she know this first child would repeat that path.

Becoming a teen mom at 17 was difficult, however I was allowed to continue my education, and By God’s grace got married. My husband and I are continuing through life’s journey into our 41st year. As parents to four children and four grandchildren, we must acknowledge God’s intervention in our lives and the lives of our children. I began writing at the prompting of an intuitive college professor . She looked at me one day and said, “Roshanda, you need courage.” It was one of her requirements to journal daily. Through out the years journaling became prose, prayers, outbursts, outcries, releases and reflections - like steam from a tea kettle. There were times I truly just needed to zone out and when I did allow time for this, to travel down those paths with whatever medium I chose at that particular moment, the result produced was often more than I should have ever kept to myself.

I have realized that to horde or hide is selfish. God does not give us talents (sound cocky) for our own use. I am still learning that in those moments of resignation to the creative within me - the Creator expresses Himself. Illustrating in paint or dance or quite literally in print (poetry or prose) and some times Spoken Word- what I am unable to verbalize in conversation. My vocabulary and communication skills are hindered by my emotion, or fear of what others think or how they will feeel but in alternative mediums, communication is free to be read, heard or seen.

Honestly, I have been putting this off for far too long. I have used other platforms in the past including blogs and self publishing, which was before print on demand publishing. In fact I still have more than 800 printed book covers from the print house that could only print one thousand or more at the time. That was a major endeavor for me and and I was such a novice that I did not purchase barcodes to put on my little book of poetry. I am not one that will attract a publisher and I do not expect to make a living off of my work, however I do want to share it. All of this of course is before print on demand publishing came to fame. I lost the blog to some type of backdoor virus that slipped by the site wardens and eventually I got lost in the whirl wind events of life.

Time continued on as it has for centuries, one day became years and then I looked around and was baffled at was taking place in the world. Anger and passion once again caused me to pick up my pen. Pandemics and trafficking and racial tensions and world events caused me to retreat inward and but I knew and I know I cannot remain there, hidden. I must emerge from my safe space to releae the emotion- like the tea kettle forgotten until it sings. Releasing the accumulated pressure- the smoke signal indicating the rolling boil- the transfer of heat from my mind, heart and soul. The outcry, the response to what is already ocurring has one common theme throughout, the Father’s love. I cannot escape His love. He pursues me, goes before me, guides me. So I write, I dance, I draw, I paint, I quilt. Hence, now it is time to share with you.

The goal is to share with you, what my Father shares with me. I call myself a scribe because quite literally the work flows without hindrance when I zone out, when I stop trying to keep up with daily living responsibilities and sit still, Psalm 46;10 says, Be Still and know I am God. It is a difficult thing to sit still in the current world we are living in. But I’m curious to see what will come of this. My name is Roshanda, aka, Scribe, welcome to, “ Love Jones For Jesus”.