Memoirs of That (K)Night

By S. A. Cumbus

Love wasn't given to me to forget, but to remember and to carry with me a lifetime in the pockets of my heart. It was to become my credentials. To help me remember who I really am; to reinvent myself when I, like the walls of Jerusalem have been torn down. To remind me that it is my generous portion, it is a kind and noble-spirited gift. And like dolphins and mermaids I am learning to splash in it, I am learning to live in it, I am learning to laugh in it, I am learning to allow myself to grow in it, and I am now one step at a time becoming what it intended to make of me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490713748

Book preview

Contents

Why I write my story

Dedicated to That (K) night

Life before That (K) night

Prodigal Love

A Letter to That (K) night

To be continued

The Exodus of That (K) night

Dangerous love…

A breath of fresh air… I breathe

A constant joy… my strength

A reason to laugh… my fun

A personal haven of sheer delight… my pinnacle

When somebody loves you, you learn to love you too, and only then are you able to genuinely give love back. To me that equals a miracle.

When I had nothing prepared he gave me choice food and sweet drinks to enjoy

These will always be my tokens of reminder that someone rescued me from a drowning situation enroute to disaster. No greater beauty can be obtained from one person to another, when they dare to give all, be all that they can ever hope to be, to make life a grandeur experience out of the wells of their own living, dreaming, being and becoming, so that your life is forever enriched, changed by their generosity and authenticity. It’s a risk so few will ever take. Thank God for those who have and for those that do, and those who are willing to show up and walk beside you just because you are you. Vulnerability is a great act of love indeed.

Sac

Why I write my story

There is such great strength in sharing, so I write my story. And as I share with you the marvelous things that have been given to me in my lifetime by none other than God, things that are oftentimes overlooked and counted out, I tap into his unlimited supply of strength and I am made strong. I then evolve and expand and as I do the exceptional beauty of humanity not only within me but within you as well is awakened and confirmed.

It is this amazingly beautiful humanity that connects us and speaks to our identity while affirming our uniqueness. And as I witness the beauty in you I find my own. And it inspires hope that you will dare to dream your dream, to sing your song, to dance your dance, to design your fashion, to write your play or build your empire with courage, hope, conviction and fervor.

I write to share the richness of my truth as an inheritance coupled along with your own amazing journey, And to attest that No man is an island unto himself. We each need the stories of another man’s life to push us forwards with encouragement and to bring enlightenment that we may believe in our own lives and our own possibilities.

I write my story so you will know that God is a dream keeper, not only does he gives us dreams, but he also keeps the torch of dreams burning eternally. Dreams are his rainbow of promises, his visions for our lives, his seed. He dares to make the promises and then he faithfully fulfills every promise made. We don’t have to go it alone.

I write my story in recognition that the stories of others play an important role in all of our lives. They give us something to aim for that is so worthwhile it owns us. They give us words to speak that are so beautiful it releases our inner paradise. They give us peace so great it identify us with the truth of still waters.

I write so that our children and grandchildren will trust God and never forget his works and to tell the triumphs of love and life, to share the failures as being an intricate mixture in obtaining victory. And to show that as we follow the principles of God they will plant us and eliminate fickle and faithless actions. I write my story so that neither you nor I will forget the marvel’s he has done in our lives-the miracles that he has performed in plain sight.

I write my story because it weaves us gently into our ever important history of belonging, becoming and being. Every mans story is the evidence that although we are different we are yet alike, though we dream a different dream, each vision is significant and can be accomplished because God has no respect of person. What he does for one he will do for another if you have the courage to step out of life’s harbor and into the deep flowing waters and believe what he envisions on the canvas of his mind. I write this story and every story with this purpose in mind… to release others to fulfill destiny and purpose and recognize that every man has a story that must be shared if he is to find and maintain his strength, integrity and humanity.

I was born to do it… write.

Sac

Dedicated to That (K) night

You and I did not find love it found us. Love was looking for a place to thrive and for someone to personify. It needed two hearts full of faith so that it could breathe, work and give a successful performance. We were just the two people with the right element of spirit for it to arrive and become a smash hit. For me the love written between us have always been and will always be; a bestseller.

I sincerely wish that every woman would first allow love to find her and then exhibit the courage to experience love on a high plane. And I wish above all that every man would endeavor to be a knight in shining armor that he may love on a two-way street… freely, romantically and triumphantly. You are a monument to the power of love. You have been my rescuer… my redeemer and my liberator truly.

With mad love,

Your porcupine

Life before That (K) night

I spent so much of life in the dullest of company, experiencing only the faint hearted cynic’s who had lost everything except their fears and their wet wounds which they licked often. After keeping company with these self made hostages who like scrooge, shouted out thunderously to the optimistic and daring heart; bah! Humbug! Those shouts brought to my subconscious mind an arrested development and the contamination of their sardonic sores gradually oozed out upon me as I processed the stench and the grimness of their black moldy comments without an antibiotic.

Over a period of time those embittered words ate into the flesh of my youthful hopes and the dark shadows