My Mess, My MESSage.

Why do you say you cannot,
when I say that you can?
Don't you know whose you are,
don't you know
I am the great I AM?

- God to Me, 17 July 2017

I was just reflecting on all the lies I had built my life upon up till the moment I met God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.

I remember dancing freely around the house, humming music and random words in my head, journaling and writing down all my thoughts and poetry, loving writing.

And I don't remember exactly when the lie came, but I think it was sometime in Poly when I submitted work for Journalism ( I was studying Mass Communications) and I got a C. And it was decided for me ( or as if it felt like someone had declared and I agreed) that I hereby now decree that you, Hadassah Lau, CANNOT WRITE. YOU SUCK at it, don't even try.

Not just that, you also CANNOT SING, and CANNOT DANCE. You might enjoy it, but honey, you are NO GOOD.

I remember feeling a strong prompting in my heart 7 years ago to start journaling down my thoughts and conversations with God when I had first encountered him. I timidly created a pseudo name and website and thought of calling it " His Daughters Diaries". I wrote 2 entries but quickly deleted the whole thing. I did not feel worthy and did was full of fear and shame. I was not good, I should not, I had thought.

Back when my life was DARK, like really dark, I wrote poetry with a friend. And trust me, it was DARK. Let me dig up a few of them to show you.

Seduced 7/4/04

Indecisiveness.

Slaps me in the face,

like a butchered butterfly.

My feet hurt

from the jarring sounds of

the earth, but

I sleep with Deceit,

and i like it.

The rain calls

and the winds blow from the netherlands.

Being called

and more,

I sit on Deceit's lap,

caressing his thighs.

As I stone,

I drink

the wine of my

stubbornness

I eat

the stale bread of youth.

Stomaching

All forms of

Abuse.

I decide to move, but

Deceit steps on my feet,

and nails them to the ground.

Gather round my brave soldiers!

But i have

none.

As i rammed my fist into his mouth,

i lifted my feet.

It is wrapped in

a red sheet of satin.

But i am,

free.

AND ANOTHER ONE HERE

8.05.2004

what.

Vindicated.

you slept with the gods,

then asked me what pleasure seeks

when fuck screws.

motion moves along your neckline.

Bite. Blood. Gore.

hair drops from pulls,

straying and rules.

crying sobbing madness eats my eye-

munching at it,

slowly.

crates of baskets bundle up my joy

and puzzle me endless.

cobwebs, beetles and dragonflies flood my feet and possess me.

i sway to the rhythm of the sour music

and then to it all, i have only one word-

Why.

-----------------------------------------------

BUT I've always loved writing.

Whether or not it was good, and is good,
I don't judge myself anymore because God has given me that GO. 

That Green sign that says, just write, just say what is on your heart.

You have a message because your mess if your message.

SO, after MANY years of having my blog be about either this or that ( Jewelry, Fashion blogger trying to be, writing about things that didn't truly matter to me at that time but all of what I felt I "SHOULD" be doing), Today it is HADASSAHLAU.BLOGSPOT.COM because I am because of the I AM ( GOD ).

Father, may my name be all about YOUR NAME. 

And now I sing a different song to 2004, and for all eternity.

MY MESS, MY MESSAGE. 18 July 2017

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Bite. Blood. Gore.
You took it all,
I fight no more.

Straying and rules.

Your Grace entered

And I live,

free from the pulls,

of sin.

Of lust, of hate, of jealousy and offense -

because I am dead.

I died with you.

Co-crucified,

my life brand new.

Crying sobbing,

madness eats my eye-

no more from sadness

but from pure Joy.

Cobwebs, beetles and dragonflies
flood my feet but scare me no more.

I sway to the rhythm of your music

and then to it all, i have only one you,

but three words -

FATHER

SON

HOLY SPIRIT.

MY MESS MY MESSAGE. Mixed Media, Acrylic and Thread on Canvas. July 2017