Play Ball

This isn’t the dress rehearsal. This is the show. We can only say “I’ll start tomorrow” so many times before the tomorrows run out and we’re staring down the barrel of our life and our babies have babies and the “good ole days” are behind us.

This isn’t practice. This is the game. The time to speak rejection to generational curses is now. The time to send the Devil running is now. The sun is setting on his season of wreaking havoc. His eviction notice is in your hands. Serve it. Tell him heaven sent you. Disarm him with the authority your daddy gave you!

The time to be praying over the minds, hands, feet, eyes, ears, and mouths of your children is now.

• That their feet won’t take them anywhere the voice of God isn’t sending them.
• That when they open their mouths to speak only truth and life come out to send darkness back where it came from.
• That their eyes and ears won’t see or hear anything that has the potential to catch and keep them.

It ran in your family before it ran into you, woman of God, break it off! He handpicked you for this.

Self-deprecation. Break it off.

Depression and anxiety. Break it off.

Addiction. Break it off.

Infidelity. Break it off.

Divorce. Break it off.

Obesity. Break it off.

Eating disorders. Break them off.

Destructive behavior. Break it off.

Mental illness. Break it off.

Speak to the mountains, mama. They have to move.

Don’t let your babies leave your house carrying the burdens of their great-greats.

I’m so sorry no one protected you, mama. I’m so sorry your innocence was stolen. I’m so sorry your daddy walked away. I’m so sorry you didn’t have a mama who knew her worth because her mama didn’t know hers. I’m so sorry that sickness left you with a limp. I’m so sorry you were taught that food was the enemy instead of fuel. I’m so sorry you had to witness that thing. I’m so sorry that you can’t see how beautiful you are.

I’m so sorry, but your children’s stories can be different. Their story can be: I was protected. My daddy stayed and he loved my mama so much. My mama walked in the confidence of the cross like Esther and Ruth and Deborah before her. That sickness stayed off me because my mama said it had to leave.

Father God, thank you for this mission of being a heavenly-minded mama. In the mighty name of Jesus, I plead the precious blood over the physical, mental, and spiritual bodies of our babies.

Father, bind up what needs to be bound and unravel what needs to be free. I speak in expectancy for a double portion of energy for the mama reading this – it’s hard, heavy work sending the Devil back to hell.

Father, give her rest. Heal what is yet to be healed. Let her experience your easiness. May what she prays in the spirit be seen in the physical and mental. Dispatch an angel to every corner of her home.

Lord, may we walk in wisdom in such a way that leads our babies into freedom. Amen & play ball.