Tuesday, June 9, 2009

HOME, Book Excerpt

Once upon a beautifully clear and sunny day I had a dream. You know the kind. When you wake and you can't distinguish as to whether what transpired actually occurred in real time or in dream time. As I remember it, there was nothing particulary extra special about that afternoon. I was living out and relishing in the feel of being enveloped within the core of my passion. Destiny's feet had lead me to The Land Down Under where she planted me in a gem of a city called Sydney. A bedazzling place which is well noted for its beautiful beaches, white silky sands and gloriously blue skies. There I had founded and operated my own little slice of heaven. A vintage clothing boutique. The Diva's Closet. It was a magnificent treasure. I reckoned that it was a beautiful gift from The Almighty. I had always felt the name to be appropriate when referring to women. Diva. All women were Divas, I reasoned. Created to be admired for their strength of character, loved for the faith which roamed within their beings, and revered for their innate beauty. A world without Divas would be a dreary place indeed. In fact, humanity could not exist without a multitude of Divas dancing upon Planet Earth. Afterall, women are the bearers of Life. Even Jesus Christ, the Ultimate Saviour, had been incubated inside of the womb of the heroic Diva named Mary.Truth.

The boutique was a space where the world's most fabulous Divas called Any Woman could leave their cares behind, sit back, and natter on excitedly about their day. And all the while, enjoy the simplicity of a cup of tea and a sumptuous piece of cake. To top it all off? They could float out the door upon a cloud with the most divine vintage frock that any one person ever did see. Let me tell you, there was nothing ordinary about these dresses. They were, like the women who enjoyed their beauty, exceedingly extraordinary. There is a certain species of dress which instinctively inspires squeals and twirls of delight. I stocked them in my boutique in abundance. It was in these twirls that I began to realize the ultimate creativity of The Dream Maker. In my eyes, The Almighty was proving to be the most amazing designer ever known to womankind. He was adept at knowing how to dress the outer silhouette of a woman, and at the same time drape her spirit with a fitting garment of praise. No minor feat. I was happy to be His sidekick and, a bit bemused that He would allow me to come along for the ride. I learned to prance around inside of encouragement and inspiration as if they were a pair of gloriously made leather stilettos. Blessings spilled forth from my lips and into my customers in hopes of negating the curses that would have surely taken up residence in their souls throughout the week. My mission in life took on the art form of tying compassion around weary wrists. I sought to be a perfectionist at blending everlasting joy into battered hearts. I was living my dream. I was walking right in the middle of my God destiny. I just knew it to be true. Or so I thought.

(continued in next entry)

HOME, continued.... (Book Excerpt)


On The Day Of The Dream, as I now refer to it, my whole world would begin to crumble. I had just bid adieu to my midday client. As she left I could feel my eyes grasping onto the edge of drowsiness. My half way shut lids made the decision to take a quick cat nap. A mini Siesta as it was called in some parts of the world. I grabbed a 1920's beautifully embroidered piano shawl and tucked it around my body as I fell off of a cliff into a deep sleep. In the dream, I remember being in a state of panic. My heart was pounding and my brow sweating. A still wind seemed to pervade my being. As I peered into my dream I could hardly believe what my spirit was viewing. My whole precious business completely dissappeared. Right down a rabbit hole and into a ball of nothingness called confusion. A living nightmare. There where no beautiful twirly 1950's cocktail frocks, no frilly Victorian Jackets, and no cheeky 20's Flappers dresses. Beauty, as I knew it, had dissolved into thin air. Such a thing, even in a dream, is hard to fathom. In my humanness I reasoned that it could only be the workings of an evil twist of fate. Only darkness would allow for a funeral of one’s hopes, desires, and passions. Destiny had somehow walked out the door on me. And I didn't even get a chance to say: "So long to you Ms. Destiny. Maybe we will meet up again one day." No. She just decided that it was time for her to go, packed her bags without my knowing, and drifted out the back door. And to make matters worse? She didn't even leave a note behind to bid me farewell. She let me find out the hard way…in an empty dream.

The next reel of my dream had me running full throttle out the door and into the business next door. I began screaming: "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BUSINESS?" “I don't know," was my neighbor’s calm response. And with those words I began to wake. And at the same time I knew that something in me had died in that dream. It was a strange and unusual feeling. Being awakened to what now had passed away. Unbeknownst to me I was at the beginning stages of my learning how to stare straight into extreme surrender's eyes. It was the start of my spirit moving into a new house. And the shingle on my new home would read: Desperate Faith. Not long after The Day Of The Dream, I left the beautiful haven called Australia. I gave away and sold the majority of my belongings. I bid teary and heart wrenching goodbyes to my friends and to my world as I knew it. At the age of 45 years old I returned "home" with two half empty suitcases and precious few dollars. 68 to be precise. One never forgets such a paltry sum. What lay behind me was a country that I loved, friends that I adored, and a business which God had allowed my creative heart to enjoy. Mainly I felt as if I had left behind my destiny. My mission field for inspiration now lay in smouldering flames. It was a spectacular downfall.

For some time afterwards my beautiful world resembled an unshapen heap of puzzle pieces which lay upon a dark and unfamiliar landscape. It seemed as if each one of those pieces had the words "I DON'T KNOW" written upon them. My spirit refused to understand how God could have allowed me to build such a beautiful little hidden jewel of inspiration only to dismantle it in a blink of His eye. As I began to ponder the enormity of God and His unfathomable ways a glimmer of knowing began to dawn in me. Part of the answer was in the word "hidden". God had been incubating me with the purpose of teaching me about the wonders of His divine character. In doing so, He had been growing and strengthening my spirit for new mountains to conquer and new streams to rule. God, it seemed, had been meticulously preparing me to out run the wind. I had overgrown my precious space. It was just that simple. Now it was time for me to open the door, pull back the curtains, and bolt into the wide open space. You see, I was born to fly. Now I know that there are some who will smirk at what I am about to write but it truly comes from the depths of my spirit: I believe that I am a dancing yellow butterfly. I was borne to soar across the vivid blue skies of life. And a cocoon, even if it is decorated with the most gorgeous of frocks, is no place to remain if the tug of flight is pulling upon one's coattails. It was time for me to take my first fledgling flight. Well, at the very least it was time for me to line up on the runway and prepare for lift off.

****note: I am leaving this because I am feeling as if Christ is beckoning many to GO! So do. Just that. GO! No matter, in spite of. Go. A very short word. Two letters, in fact. ****

(Excerpt from the book Home, by Regina Evans, Copyright 2008: Regina Y. Evans)

Friday, May 15, 2009

find me

something about cool crisp mornings
awakened sun, owning the sky
something about the dawn's newness
stimulates fingertip's imagination, senses
half sleep, half wake
something about cool crisp mornings
dancing, swirling
air, breathe
something about freshness comes to mind
something about you
(Copyright 2009: Regina Y. Evans)

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


grow, plant,
with zeal
fertilize, water
your flowers
your fruit
your destined garden
its your time
(Amos 9:13 "The days are coming," declares the LORD, "when the reaper will be overtaken by the plowman and the planter by the one treading grapes. New wine will drip from the mountains and flow from all the hills.)
Copyright 2009: Regina Y. Evans

Monday, May 11, 2009


I was just pondering the beautiful process of Fall. A single tree. I often marvel at how its leaves float in the air and down upon the ground....leaving shorn branches. "Barren". Sometimes to the eyes of our heart the tree looks gangly and awkward. Our beings latch onto the distress of fear which we believe we see in the tree's lack of leafy protection. In fact, in this state, it is at its most beautiful. It has the capacity to stand. Naked in its bareness. Transparently revealed in its audacious baldness. Bold.
The tree seems to cry out "Here I am. Here I am. I am solidly planted against outside hostile forces. Unbowed by the pinching breeze of negative winds of change. And yet. It is my pleasure to accept the positivity of a new flow. Because I KNOW ME. My tangled roots. They are divinely anchored in joy. I relish. I dance. My sap. Sweet. HERE I AM."
And then. And then. Somewhere between the seasons of Fall and the beginning of Spring a process occurs which prepares the tree for a newness of life. A smile encased within the call of love. A sigh. A flutter. Longing. Rebirth. Our eyes are then mercifully permitted to gingerly drink in the glory of the blossoming. Our spirits are enthralled by the rapture and journey of life's character. GRACE.
Yes, there is a unique strength in Fall which unfailingly rivals the breath of Spring.

Copyright 2008: Regina Y. Evans


"You budda", she spoke.
I looked up to see a girl tryin' ta act like what she thought a woman of today should be actin' like. Tough, armour on. The words street cred come to mind.
"I beg your pardon?" I stammered out.
"I said, you budda." she said a bit louder. As if the elevation of sound would trigger the knowing.
I stared at her blankly, searchingly.
She then cranked out a larger than life laugh and said, "I like what you wearin'. Budda. You budda." She shrugged.
"Oh. Umm, thanks. Budda. Yes." I gulped.
Conversation sprung forth cus of "budda". Right there. In a Harlem grocery store.
She seemed a bit young to be out in the middle of the day. So, my mouth said what my mind thought.
"Why aren't you in school? Don't you go to school? Its 1 o'clock."
"Did I just say that?" my brain mused.
Well, it was too late to back it right up. I stood my ground. I stared intently. Right into the swimming pools of living waters that she knew only as her eyes.
In query's moment I was sure that I heard a crack.
"Was that her heart?" I wondered.
Shift. Answered. Yes, it was.
Soft terseness spilled from her face.
She spoke, "Well, I, well, my Momma don't worry about it so I don't neither. Why you care anyway? What's it to you?"
I paused a moment. Wondering "Truth. What was it to me?"
Don't blink.
"I care because I care about young beautiful girls who should be taking advantage of ALL their opportunities in life. How else do you plan to rule the world? You can't do it on fumes! You need to go to school!"
More softness of face.
Side stepped. She imagined.
"You live around here?" Her.
"Yes, when I am in the country." Me.
"When you in the country?" Her, again.
"Yes, when I'm in the country. I spend most of the year in Australia. Ever been there?" Me, last shot.
Seed planted.
And with that the newness of a relationship was birthed. Whenever I stepped to the Black Mecca called Harlem, Budda (me) and Budda's friend (her) would spend many evenings sittin' on my Brownstone stoop. Engaged in life. Relationship.
She brought her friends. I brought the chips and red soda. Laughter, questions, stories, passions, dreams. Revealed. Healed. Our individual broken cisterns mended a bit more by the touch of hands. Fingerprints of life. Required.
Be budda.
Note: Sometimes in life, in a split second, we have the opportunity to dive head first into the heart of the matter. Love. May you run like you have never run before and chase like you have never chased before. Discover her. Discover you.

Copyright 2008: Regina Y. Evans

Saturday, May 9, 2009


Today She Realized

that she can brush her fingers across the sky,

wrap herself in a cloud of splendour,

sit upon a sunstar named strength,

and hold its rays of joy in the palm of her hand

yes, today, she realized

that she can dance across the top of a hurricane,

never bowing down to its twisty gusto,

in fact, she can reach into its eye,

yank out peace,

grasp calmness,

capture serenity

my, my, my, today, she realized

that she can walk,

deliberately, gracefully, elegantly,

royalty lives in her steps,

faith tickle her toes,

patience caresses her ankles,

and delight entices the soles of her feet,

oooooo weeee, today, she realized

that she is a pearl of great price,

and it is The Father's great pleasure to

pour out the vaults of grace over her being,

she is a Rose of Sharon,

a Lily of the Valley,

the eyes which overwhelm,

praise God, because today, this day, she realized

to Him she is perfection

to Him she is glorious

to Him she is



today, realized

so, in the morning when you

wake and The Almighty says,

"My darling, you have stolen my heart,

my sista, my bride, you have stolen

my heart."

simply smile and say, "Thank you Father,

and yes, I know because

here, now, today



Copyright2008:Regina Y. Evans