From Troubled to Triumphant

I used to call my soil troubled,

weighed down by the weight I carried—

letdowns, breakups, curses buried

deep, like seeds nobody hurried.

The cards I held? Couldn’t pair,

playing hands with chips too bare,

but the dealer knew my share

was more than what was there.

Then I twisted the kaleidoscope,

turned my scars into a telescope—

suddenly, the past had scope,

every hurt a slope to hope.

Real blessings, disguised as lessons:

Disneyland, Thanksgiving dressings,

Nana’s summers, sweet confessions

in banana pudding sessions.

Donny Hathaway crooning “This Christmas,”

lifelong friends’ kids living wishes,

little cousins now kitchen magicians,

passing down the old traditions.

Birthday bikes and puppy surprises,

family love in bold reprises—

every thorn just proof of roses,

every storm just watered Moses.

So I’m blessed—yeah, deeply grateful.

What looked like weeds was faithful fuel.

My soil wasn’t troubled, no—

just God’s ground for glory’s grow.

Now I stand here, strong and sure,

fought the battles to win the war.