The last man standing

                                                  Photo by Liv Bruce on Unsplash In case you missed part one of the story I am not a product of a broken home, but there were times that I wished I were, for my mother’s sake. For a long time, she was the unhappiest tormented soul I knew until she found her place in God.  In talking about the insidious attacks of the enemy against manhood, it might escape the attention of a few, but many families are breaking apart. I am not an expert in these matters and I don’t pretend to be. My aim here is to share my experience and the lessons I have learned.  A huge part of my growing years was spent watching my mother hold the home together, she stretched herself thin trying to make sure that her children had the semblance of a home and it was heartbreaking to watch.  As the first child, I experienced upfront, the violence and abuse that went on her relationship with my father and it exposed me to the toxic narrative that has

Last week, I called God “daddy”. Photo by lauren lulu taylor on Unsplash I know it may not sound like earth-shattering, life-altering news to you, but it was one of the most profound moments of my life. Let me explain why. So, this year, things have happened to me that have tried the very core of my faith in God. They are the kind of things that have had me swirling around in a haze of utter disbelief, looking for some sign that I was not going crazy, that the divine was still in my life. In the midst of it all, I railed, I cried, I withdrew, I prayed, I didn’t pray, I read the word, I didn’t read the word, I went to church, I didn’t go to church… I vacillated between wanting to be on this earth and wanting to leave it. It is not something I can put in words, but it was not the most pleasant experience of my life. And to be honest, I might just wish it on my worst enemy because look, it brought me to this point I am excited to talk about. I am