Creating Sacred Prose might be a lofty goal or an enjoyable reality. We believe the deciding factor is community. You are invited to enter this sacred place filled with sacred thoughts. We ask only that you be kind, participate, and grow with us as artists of all kinds who love to share with others.
As a teen I began to give away small pieces of my dignity. I always felt awkward and out of place. My mom and dad worked long hours and my brother and I were latch-key kids. We took care of ourselves in many ways. At least, that's how it felt. I remember standing in a field behind my middle school with a young boy. He pressured my into letting him grope my breasts. He unlatched my bra and manipulated me into letting him keep it. I was so ashamed. It wasn't as if I was passionately in love with this boy. I just wanted to be liked. I wanted to be valued by someone, anyone. From middle school, high school and beyond, I would find myself in the same type of position. Only my actions would result in ever worsening consequences. That is until I began to believe that I had value. All women carry secrets of wounds, hurts and disappointments. Most always they work to shame our hearts into believing we are not good enough. The truth is that we have an enemy that doesn't want us to understand our value. This enemy works hard at binding our hearts and he delights in creating generational bonds that keep us from enjoying life. I've spent innumerable nights huddled in my bed, scared of the thick darkness that seemed to surround me. I didn't find relief until I began to recognize the words of a loved one for what they were: my help. I wanted help to arrive in the form of a man. The One who knew me sent my help in the form of a mother. My biological mother helped me by providing basic needs in the for of shelter and food. My aunt lavished my soul with words of hope and unconditional love. I needed both and both nurtured me in different ways.