Day 10: Speak Your Truth #twentyonexpressions
Truth is, it’s been tough being in NY and away from my family, especially with everything that’s been going on in life. I’m always drawn back, to its calmness, to its familiarity, to its comfort. Then in the back of my mind I hear my dad’s voice echo, “keep striving.”
I have to be honest and admit that I haven’t been doing as much as I am capable of. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned since living here, it’s that people have no shame – none whatsoever – in their hustle. Whether it’s swinging on poles on the 3 train, banging on buckets in Union Square or singing their heart out from cart to cart. Witnessing these acts every day leaves me to face myself, and ask:
What am I willing to do to make my dreams come true?
I didn’t come all this way to turn right back around. My father didn’t move me here in vain, he believed that I had a purpose and knew that there was something here I needed to do. Whatever that something is, I have to make it happen.
I’ve been sleeping on my dreams, coasting through life expecting blessings to fall in my lap without giving 100% in return. But that’s not the way it works. It only works if I do, if I push past the other side of grief, to glory. That leaves me with two choices: break down or break through.
God is telling me and showing me in so many ways that it’s time to wake up. It’s time to do more, and believe that it can be done. There were dreams and books that my father left unfulfilled and unwritten, that within itself is a blatant reminder that I have to do what I can while I’m here. No one wants to feel regret, or haunted by goals that remain unchecked. God has me here for a reason, and wasting time isn’t it.
He’s given me gifts that I must use and share with the world. I have to push myself, harder than I have ever done before. Not for me, but for God and my family. For those who have lost someone close to them and felt like giving up on themselves. For the ones who have dreams and visions that remain just that. For those who got lost along the way and need a spark of inspiration to get them started or keep them going. For the ones who didn’t even have a chance to finish what they started; for all of the dreams left deferred.
Langston Hughes: A Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?