 Sometimes, silence is the loudest confirmation. I can’t find one word to describe the emotional tone of March. It felt like there was an earthquake in my heart that fractured my soul. And what hurt most wasn’t the shaking—it was looking around for the people I expected to help put me back together… and realizing they weren’t there. This month has been a reckoning. A shifting. An unraveling. But also a divine awakening. I cried hard when I was met with silence. I felt abandoned. But I also felt the Spirit pressing on my heart, “Pay attention to the pattern.” Something always seems to happen when I choose not to let the darkness consume me. When I decide to rise, realign, and remember who the heck I am—resistance shows up in the form of fractured friendships and wounded words. But I am light. I am chosen. I am a vessel that God is using in the midst of my suffering to heal others. And maybe—just maybe—this shifting had to happen. Maybe the placeholders had to be removed so I could fully step into the position God prepared for me. Because I can’t be available for half-present people anymore. I deserve the same quality of T.E.A. that I pour. When the anger hit my chest, I knew something had to change. I can’t keep letting people crack the foundation God is restoring. The Sacredness of Goodbye Goodbyes don’t always come crashing in like thunderstorms. Some arrive like a soft drizzle—barely noticeable at first. I feel the rain but it’s not heavy enough for the umbrella, so I linger. I stay in it a little longer. Then I realize… I’m crying. And I’m soaking wet. These quiet goodbyes—the ones wrapped in silence and distance—cut deep. They don’t come with closure. They don’t come with a fight. They just fade. And somehow, that stings more than a blow-up ever could. But I know now: these were God-byes. Ordained endings. Necessary breaks for the season I’m entering. And even though they left me with silence, what speaks louder is the truth: Not everyone will fight for you the way you would fight for them. Not everyone is meant to go where God is taking you. I’m a cry baby—I’ll admit that. I feel deeply. I hold on long. But I’m learning that before anyone else, I have to be my first best friend. A sacred goodbye may make you cry, But deep down, you knew. You knew the end was near. Because something in your spirit could feel that a new beginning was on the way. God has gone before me. He’s doing a new thing. And even without the closure I thought I needed, I trust He’s already building something better in its place. Divine Alignment & The Month of April Alignment isn’t just spiritual—it’s physical too. And right now, I feel the shift in both. Something’s off in my body and my soul. So I’m taking both where they need to go: My heart and soul to God. My body to the doctor. Because I trust what I feel. And I know the body holds a score, especially when we’ve been holding too much for too long. April isn’t just a new month—it’s an exit strategy. I’m stepping out of entanglements that damage my soul. I’m stepping out of financial deficits and emotional slavery. I’m stepping out of the past and every broken thing I tried to glue back together. April, I’m showing up as my friend—someone who can be trusted with me. And from here forward, I’m keeping my peace close and my people closer—the ones who pour back, the ones who show up, the ones who see me and stay. 
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 The lioness has been released in the belly of Denice. Strategic. Focused. Discerning. She moves with divine intention, her purpose revealed by God for her time on this earth. She has given birth to her new self—reborn, unearthed, and unapologetically powerful. Passion rooted in pain. Wisdom cultivated in darkness. She is the light, protected by heavenly hands, stepping boldly into her season. She has a divine reason and must protect her soul. Take off your shoes—this is sacred ground. The beauty and the beast have reunited, and it feels so good. She is set up for greatness, standing behind boundaries built with love. Those aligned with her purpose may enter but cannot stay too long. The lioness moves intentionally, knowing her worth. There will be no compromising, no settling for a lesser form of self. She leads with her presence, and her power will be felt deep in the hearts of those she is called to attend to. She engages without attachment, for she has learned the importance of letting go and taking it easy—like a Sunday morning. She has received joy after mourning. She is a guardian of her soul, a self-advocate, and a nurturer of her being. She pours from overflow, letting the world know she has survived the fire and has become the flame. She no longer blames those who once hurt her. She has surpassed those seasons and embraced the will of her Father. Tears and prayers have shaped this lioness. She is ready to move—writing, leading, training, and creating—while declaring this truth… The Message That Shifted EverythingWhen I received baby sister's morning message, everything struck me because I knew it was God speaking. Every single thing I had been praying and asking Him not to do, not to allow, He did it anyway. And I know it's because He is preparing me for my promised land. In my promised land, there will still be giants, and I have to tap deeper into the lioness within me. She's alive, stronger than ever, reminding me I am not the old Denice. This is a new Dee, a Dee who no longer sees tears as weakness but as cleansing. Even when I hate the puffy eyes left behind, I know God is liberating me, releasing emotions I once tried to stifle. With my birthday approaching and grief heavy in my heart, He's showing me that release is necessary. Stepping Into Position: Where Power AwaitsThe lioness inside me was placed there by God. He knew the plans He had for me and knew that I was ready to step into them. A few days ago, I told Serenity that we have to step into the position that God is calling us into because power is waiting for us there. This power is not just about influence or control, but about the strength and resilience that comes from aligning with God's purpose. We can't stand outside of the position and expect the power to meet us where we are. We must step into the season, even when uncertain about all the steps ahead. That's when God releases His power. And that's what this lioness represents. She moves with strategy, focus, and wisdom. She knows that not everyone can come with her. She no longer entertains what no longer serves her. She isn't the same woman she was before. Tears as Cleansing, Not BurdenI've always been a crier. So much so that sometimes I wish I could just turn off the valve. My tears often leave me puffy-eyed and drained, making me feel like they're a burden. But I've come to understand that being able to cry is a gift. It's God's way of cleansing me from emotions that, if held in, could become disease in my body. Think about it--what happens when we hold onto pain, resentment, or grief? It starts to affect our health. Crying is a release, a detox for the soul. And now, I'm learning that my pain has a purpose—nothing I'm going through is in vain. Bending, Not BreakingFinding out my mother-in-law passed away on the last day of February while also preparing to celebrate my 46th birthday has been a test of endurance. I'm learning that sorrow and celebration can coexist. It's a hard lesson, but it's teaching me balance—between tears and laughter, between loss and life. I can celebrate my birthday on Thursday and still find the strength to bury my mother-in-law on Saturday. This is bending, not breaking. This is endurance. This is the reality of a woman who walks with God, even when the path is heavy. Moving With Divine PurposeNo matter how deep the pain cuts, moving with divine purpose means returning to a place of knowing—filled with prayer, worship, and surrender. It's knowing that God has already written my story, and nothing happens outside of His will. It's knowing that no matter what He ordains or allows, He has me. So, I have no choice but to shake it off and move. To write. To lead. To train. To create. Because God has given me an assignment, no emotion, hardship, or loss can cancel what He has called me to do. When Pain Becomes Passion Every tear, every heartbreak, every storm—I have turned into fire, purpose, and power. I am no longer just enduring pain. I am using it. To fuel my calling. To set others free. To become everything God has called me to be.  |
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