February is for fasting

prepare yourself for a new anointing.

“Fasting is what prepares you for a new anointing.”— Unknown

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Happy February, cousin. Time flies, doesn’t it? As we step into a new month, I can’t help but feel that it’s curated with love—a love for Black history and a love for self.

And speaking of love, this February, I’m choosing to show love to myself by fasting and extending an invitation for you to join me.

When is the last month you fasted?

Now, this isn’t just any fast. This is the first time I’m walking into a fast with my head held high. No force, all choice. I love that for me. The energy in the atmosphere is giving redemption from life’s bullshit that didn’t break me but built me. If you knew me a couple of years ago, you’d know my first few attempts at fasting ended in failure—I crashed out immediately day one, every time.

My flesh was weak, and honestly, so was my trust in God. Hell of a revelation to receive.

But growth came slowly, step by step. Over the past two years, I’ve completed three fasts. The first one was born out of curiosity. I saw this picture….

Do not conform to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. - Romans 12:2

I remember telling myself that if I could make it 24 hours without food, I’d know I’d reached a new level of mental discipline. I ain’t gone lie to you—those 24 hours were HARD! I failed MANY times before I finally succeeded. What I learned completing my first fast is…

your environment matters.

When I was working from home, there were no distractions. No catered meals at work, no social pressure to indulge. Just me and my water, in peace, no explanations needed.

On to the next…

The second fast was a 21-day Daniel Fast with some friends who were part of a ministry. Just fruits, vegetables, and grains, and the Book of Daniel was our daily bread. That one shifted something in me. My trust in God and myself soared. —at least, I thought it did.

The next year, though, God called me into a fast. I didn’t seek it out. It wasn’t on my terms. And let me tell you, it was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. I didn’t understand it then, but now I know it was a beautiful revelation of my true spiritual mobility. It was a dark, and lonely time. When God calls you to trust Him, he doesn’t leave room for you to be held up by anyone or anything. Friends, family, and all the positive affirmations in the world can’t save you. The only thing that will sustain you is the sound of God’s voice, & the embrace of loving confirmation through revelation.

And that brings me to fast #3.

Deep trust takes you to a place where surrendering your flesh becomes an act of faith. A very numbing and humbling experience. You let go of everything you know, everything you control—your thoughts, your feelings, your ability to speak—and you just hope that something stronger than you will save you.

This kind of trust ⬆️ I know personally, because I’ve lived it.

A few years ago, my daughter went through a dark time. Out of nowhere, things took a turn. Spiritual warfare is real, cousin. I couldn’t understand it, but God never withheld his voice from me, and that was the only thing that kept me going. I’ll never forget one day while I was showering God spoke to me, and said, "Tomorrow, you’ll get a message. Just know it will be okay." The next day, my mom called me, saying her hairdresser had heard that my daughter was struggling internally. She confessed she was tired of living. This went on for weeks, to the point that the school had to get involved.

The only reason they didn’t try to take her out of our home was because she had filled out paperwork saying the one thing that made her happy was me (and getting her driving restrictions).

So, I went into overdrive—affirmations, acts of service, whatever I could do to help. But nothing seemed enough. As a mother I felt inadequate, why wasn’t my love enough to sustain her happiness with life? Eventually, I turned to God. I went into a deep prayer, a hard fast. My rug in my prayer closet became my new mattress. One night, I cried out to God, asking for forgiveness. I had been neglecting the fact that my daughter was his before she was mine. Hard pill to swallow. Maybe I’d idolized her- I know I did, but the truth was, her life was never truly in my hands. If God was calling her back before my ideal time, I had to be at peace with that.

Obedience is better than sacrifice.

There’s a pain so deep; you can’t even connect a feeling to it—similar to when you get a tattoo, and the needle keeps going over the same spot until the pain doesn’t even register anymore.

The next few days felt like a blur. Work didn’t stop, and no one noticed a difference in my personality to question my sanity. I have this love-hate relationship with my internal strength—sometimes I wish I could just feel something, instead of powering through everything.

One night, my daughter came to me, asking for prayer. She said she was having bad thoughts. We held hands and prayed. That night was different. When we stood up, a peace washed over me, a serenity I can’t fully describe. Since that night, she hasn’t had those dark thoughts again.

God is good…

y’all can finish that line up for me.

That moment changed me. I didn’t just believe in the power of prayer anymore. I knew it. God won’t have you visit hell just to come back to Earth and not glow. My vision for my purpose is now in alignment with that ray of light.

I’ve always been the one to lift others up, the one who can make others smile with just a word or a hug. But during that dark time, I remember thinking, “If my words are so powerful for others, why couldn’t I help the one person who matters most to me?” The devil knows our strengths, and he will attack them, trying to turn them into weaknesses.

In the end, love for myself and trust in God have been my greatest tools. That’s what this fast is about honoring myself and the strength I’ve found in God’s grace.

I’d like to take a moment to thank

Particle P

for creating a safe space for me to pull a skeleton from my closet and give y’all this vulnerable chat.

Chat soon,

Candice