Mixed Emotions

Ecc. 7:3 Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.

Yesterday was not a good day, not a good day at all. It would be the day of my dad’s funeral. The day that family all gathered ‘round sharing tears, memories and love. There would be brothers and a sister, aunts, nieces and nephews, maybe cousins who I haven’t seen in ages all gathering to show their love for my father. There would be something missing from the family gathering…namely me. A series of mixed emotions would encompass my entire day.

Steven was very sick yesterday. Well, seriously he’s been sick for two weeks, first with a nasal infection but it seemed to have cleared up but by Monday something was running amok in his chest. He has asthma and breathing had become very tiring for him and by yesterday when I woke he announced, “I have to go to the doctor!” I scurried to get dressed in record time and we were at the doctor by 9:30.

I had first called my mother to make sure she was okay on what would be the hardest day of her life, putting her husband of sixty years to rest. I tried to keep it together but by the time we returned home from the doctor, I was once again on the phone to my mother seeing to it that she was going to be okay. She assured me that she would be, she had loving family surrounding her and she’d be okay.

After the phone call I broke down sobbing like a child who lost her puppy. I run the gamut of emotions from sadness, anger, guilt, shame, hate, love, sorrow, grief, concern despair and sympathy. No wonder the tears flowed by the bucketful.

At three o’clock (four o’clock eastern time), the time the funeral was to begin, I lit a candle for my dad, placed my little angels around the emanating light and sat a picture of my mother and father there and then I mourned. I was once again crying like a fire hydrant at full throttle. I was feeling all the pain that my family was enduring rush over me, as I looked at memorial pictures of my dad at the funeral parlor’s website.

Why am I not there? Why am I not grieving with my family? Why did nobody see to it that I was able to make the trip? I threw a pity party for myself and it felt okay, it felt like the right thing to do alone out in the middle of nowhere. The answers would come one day, but right now I just wanted to be alone to cry, to let the floodgates open and mourn.

Last night for some reason I wanted to watch It’s A Wonderful Life. I wanted to see Clarence, I wanted to see George, I wanted to see family and friends rally around him to make sure his Christmas would be a memorable one that made his life worth living. I wanted to see Clarence get his wings and leave George the message from beyond, “No man is a failure who has friends.”

It's a Wonderful Life

If it were not for my friends rallying around me to offer me comfort and support, the death of my father would be unbearable. I received a condolence card from a dear friend whom I’ve never met in person, yet she reached out, took her time out of her day to think of ME! Nothing touched me more than that moment of knowing, someone out there, cared for ME. My spiritual friends have been a welcome comfort where my blood family cast me aside and sent me out to sea.

After the movie ended I once again placed a call to my mother, not thinking she’d be home yet, so I’d leave a message reminding her to take her medicine. To my surprise she answered the phone and said she had just walked in the door. She went on to tell me how it was good seeing my father with no tubes in his nose, no mask on his face and not being hooked to wires. She felt a peaceful feeling knowing that she had family surrounding her during one of her darkest days. As we parted words I would go to bed in a sea of mixed emotions.

"Each man's life touches so many other lives, and when he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?" says the angel Clarence to George Bailey.

Blessings

Eph. 1:3 “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ:”

Blessings

In the midst of grief, blessings arise. Can you imagine laughing and smiling less than five days after your father passed away? Believe it or not, I’ve even shed some happy tears along the way this week.

I have traveled down memory lane and clung to all the happier times and the dimmer days don’t even seem to be in my memory base. As I sit out here in the middle of nowhere, I find myself being a light in a tunnel where darkness might try to seep in.

Last week my brother was shying away from visiting my father all because of earlier disagreements with his brother and sister. I’m too far away to slap him upside the head but what I did say encouraged him so much that the next day he walked in the hospital, head up, and spent three hours with our mother, father and siblings. He came home and called me right away and thanked me.

The next day my father passed away. My brother again called me and thanked me. He said had I not told him what I told him he may have never had those last moments with my dad. There are blessings in death.

Last week on October 29^th when the news of my dad dying smacked me upside the head, I struggled with thoughts of not being there by his side. I went outside and looked at the night sky as tears leaked out of my eyes like a faucet. I talked to my dad and said how sorry I was for not being there, in that moment the brightest star I’ve ever seen fell from the sky. A smile replaced the streaming tears and I said, “Thank you, Dad.” That is why when I saw the shooting star dance across the sky the other night I called him a show off.

I imagined my dad, dancing across the sky in happiness that there would always be a way to communicate with me. He was happy, breathing easy and knowing not only would we all be okay but that my mother would be fine. He is dancing in the eternal sky and the heavens are now his home.

Many people, not just me, see their loved ones in one form of communication or the other. Some see them in fluttering birds who land in odd places and chirp or butterflies who show up at odd times of the day and land right in front of you or on your hand even, some see their loved one communicating in something as simple as a frog appearance where frogs/toads wouldn’t normally show up but deep inside they KNOW, it is their loved one communicating. They see what others don’t want to see and they acknowledge it as just what it is; they are blessings, communication from beyond.

Then there are different blessings like the one my mother received yesterday. As you can imagine she has the new worry of living alone and paying rent and bills. My mother paid her rent for November while my dad was in the hospital. My dad always took care of that stuff but he wasn’t home or able to at that time so my mother took charge. The landlord called her yesterday and announced that my mother had paid too much rent for November! Since my father passed on Oct. 29, and she would be living alone, her rent would be reduced by almost $400 dollars!!!

As you can imagine my mother cried her eyes out but finally in all the dismal weeks these were happy tears. She called me right away and told me, I then unleashed some of my own happy tears! It felt good that my tears were not for being sad but were comfort in knowing this blessing, and that’s just what it was, coming a day before my father was put to rest.

Blessings come in all shapes and sizes and each of us needs to be open to see the spiritual blessings that reside in every thing. Today, November fourth, my father’s funeral is taking place back home. I need to reflect and see what blessings come on this grim day.

Gen. 49:25 “Even by the God of thy father, who shall help thee; and by the Almighty, who shall bless thee with blessings of heaven above, blessings of the deep that lieth under, blessings of the breasts, and of the womb:”

Middle of Nowhere

Pss. 147:4  “He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.”

Middle of Nowhere

It hit me and it hit me hard when I realized I’m out in the middle of nowhere, especially when the urgency to get back home became some kind of fantasy trip never to be had. I suddenly felt alone, alone and wandering like the couple in the Children of the Corn movie, where every road that they turned down basically led to nowhere.

I remember being back in Dallas when the panic call came that my mother had a stroke, my dad wanted me home and he’d pay for everything just to see me back there consoling my mother. In less than 24 hours we boarded a plane and landed at BWI airport. It took us 20 minutes to get to the airport where we’d board a three-hour flight bound for the east coast. Easy peasy!

When the call came in that my father had passed, I wrestled with what had to be done. I thought another easy flight plan was in store for my near future but no, it just wasn’t meant to be. The cheapest airline tickets ranged from $337 – $557 round trip. That is not including hotel and car rental and of course the food we’d need to eat. We’re talking close to $2000 - $3000 trip for the three of us to get back to my hometown. That doesn’t include the gas that we’d need to make a three-four hour trip to Omaha to catch the plane.

It’s not like people have money just lying around waiting to help a poor soul, they have lives and needs themselves. My dilemma is my dilemma and as it would be, it just isn’t meant for me to go back and see my family during one of the hardest times in their lives.

When my brother looked at the google earth map he realized something and exclaimed, “You live out in the middle of nowhere! Literally!” Tell me something I DON’T know! I look at the map and it looks like a simple straight line from Nebraska to Baltimore but there is more than meets the eyes there!

We have an airport 3-4 hours away. We don’t have bus stations or trains that could just whisk me away on a trip to Baltimore as easy as it was when we lived in Dallas. We literally live out in the middle of nowhere! We don’t even have a place to call to deliver food out here, that’s how far away we are from the main town.

My only connection at this time is facebook via computer and my phone. I don’t have one of those ‘Smart  Phones’ that everybody uses to surf the worldwide web; I don’t have the luxury of ‘facetime’, whatever that is, and no one back home has a way to allow me to SEE the family I long to be with at this time.

I have to sit here out in the middle of nowhere and grieve in my own way. It’s hard but I’m muddling through, writing every day whether it’s something to post or not to post. I clean, I rake, I do whatever my back will allow. I know my limits.

I call my mother just to hear her voice in the morning and at night to make sure she takes her medicine. That is what my dad did and she tells me that sometimes if I hadn’t called, she would have surely forgotten to take her meds. She sounded really good last night as opposed to the other tearful three weeks; she laughed and I know I heard her smile right through the phone. She sounded as if one-thousand pounds of stress had been lifted off her shoulders. Yes she’s grieving but she is also accepting that this is what was meant to be.

I walked out the back door and looked up at the billions of stars in the sky out in the middle of nowhere and said to my father, “Dad, she’s going to be all right.”

Just at that moment a shooting star danced across the sky. I whispered, “You show off.”

1 Cor. 15:41 “There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars: for one star differeth from another star in glory.”

The Call Came...

RtoL: Uncle Richie,Aunt Gerald,Aunt Betty, My Dad!

note: only Aunt Betty is alive

Matt. 8: 26 And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.

The Call Came…

Let me say first, if you have recently lost a beloved soul, read no further as I don’t want you tearing up and opening old wounds. God be with you.

The call came last night after we had just finished watching Casper. Poignant lines rang throughout the movie such as:

Kat: What's it like to die?

Casper: Like... being born, only backwards. I remember, I didn't go where I was supposed to go. I just stayed behind, so my dad wouldn't be lonely.

Amelia Harvey: James, I know you have been searching for me, but there's something you must understand. You and Kat loved me so well when I was alive that I have no unfinished business, please don't let me be yours.

Kat: “My mom. Just certain things. The sound of her making breakfast downstairs. The way she'd put on her lipstick, so carefully. I do remember, she always used Ivory soap, and when she'd hug me, I'd breathe her in, so deep. And I remember before I'd go to sleep she'd whisper in my ear, "stardust in the eyes, rosy cheeks, and a happy girl in the morning."

This brought memories flooding back; like my dad wearing Old Spice, his favorite cologne; after Bethlehem Steel closed down him and I spent many mornings home and he’d often make his famous Omelet, never leaving the fresh vegetables and dashes of this and that out; the aroma of the kitchen while said breakfast was being cooked but most of all I remember his tight hugs where puffs of cologne would kiss my cheek.

After the movie ended my mother called. This was one of our nightly calls when she got home from the hospital where she would tell me how my father was this day and I’d remind her to take her medicine. My dad wasn’t good this day. He slept through my mother, sister, brothers and aunt who were visiting. His hand would twitch, his toes would move and he squeezed my mothers’ hand as she whispered memories to him. She told him she would be okay and that it would be okay if he passed. Her last words to him were, instead of I’ll see you tomorrow, “I’ll see ya when I get to heaven.”

Everyone left the room and the halls fell silent as visiting hours were over. She went home and called me. She was finally eating some food and sounding like her old self (no, not with her mouth full), feeling not so sad and just trying to make peace with letting go of the man she adored for sixty years. I didn’t cry too much and tried so hard to stay stoic and in charge of my being. I again reminded her to take her medicine; we said our ‘I love you’ and I told her to call me if anything happened. She was exhausted.

I don’t even think 20 minutes passed when the phone rang again. I said, “There’s the call.” I knew who and what it was going to be and sure enough it was my mother in tears, pain leaking through the phone like a raining night and a hole in the umbrella. She told me how she had just laid down and was falling asleep when she felt someone touch her foot, she jumped and the phone rang with the devastating news of her husband, her best friend, had passed away. I guess that was my dads way of saying goodbye to her.

She made the necessary calls, me being one of them. I then called my brother, then my mother called again. We sat on the phone until 11:30 est. time when she said she wanted to rest. She just wanted to be alone; alone with her thoughts. I understood but I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to be there hugging her tightly and NEVER let her go.

It’s been a long road my dads illness, and the last two weeks of him wanting to go home but the doctor not allowing it have been agonizing pain for all involved but I felt a blessed comfort wash over me when I knew, the call came…he was called HOME!

Be at peace, Dad…inhale the breath of heaven.

Psalm 23:1-6 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

To my father...

from google images

Psalm 46:2 ~ Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;

I cannot stand...

I have our heartfelt memories

Stored inside my heart

I cannot stand and watch you

Being slowly torn apart.

There is a soft wind blowing

A fragrance in the air

Heaven calling out to you

I cannot stand to bear.

I cannot stand and watch

The lighthouse falling down

Brick by brick dismantled

Without its shining crown.

I cannot come and be there

To stand right by your side

I’m in the best place for you

And that is right inside!

I stand along the shoreline

And watch your light go dim.

I see the angel’s calling out

In a radiant glorious hymn.

I love you, Dad!

Letting go

Isa. 38:18 For the grave cannot praise thee, death can not celebrate thee: they that go down into the pit cannot hope for thy truth.

Letting Go…

On October 16^th my dad went into the hospital. Being so far away is hard but I imagine not as much pressure as on the ones who have to be there day in and day out and watch the lighthouse of their life crumble before their eyes. When he went in he had told my mother that he wouldn’t be coming back home. She just shrugged it up to his tiredness.

Like water in a clogged drain, my father kept going down, slowly and exhaustively. My mother was tiring but kept holding on to the threads of her husband who was once vital in their daily walk of life. For sixty years they were one for each other. No one else in the world seemed to exist and he was her lighthouse that she sought out in the dark.

By the 23^rd she held onto hope that he would be coming home, not in the condition he went in but much worse off than what he was before entering the hospital. Her daily visits to the hospital, by either my sister or brother, were tiring for her but she kept going on, no matter what, she was holding onto hope that he’d be coming home.

I’ve called twice a day for the last two weeks and what I heard on the other end was not good. He had slept and slept and on a rare occasion would wake then drift off to sleep. He went from ICU to a ‘room’ then back to ICU and then back to a room.

Ironically his first room number was 405. Our address growing up and where we resided for almost 30 years was 1405. The next room he was put in was 317, the time of my first child’s birth/death. Also, it was the same floor and same hospital where my grandmother died one room over in 316 a few years ago.

My feeling in my sunken heart was that this is it; this will be the week my father dies. I cried, I sobbed like a baby, hoping beyond hope my feelings were wrong. By the 25^th my mother had seen a ray of hope, my dad sat up and talked. He sat in the chair (as opposed to lying helpless in the bed) and conversed. By Sunday he was back to sleeping hours on end, not looking as good as he had the day before.

By Monday the 26^th there was talk of putting him in a hospice because there was nothing they could do. He was now seeing people who weren’t there and talking gibberish in his sleep. They were going to take him off the defibrillator because his heart is being overworked. The doctor said this is a painful step as his oxygen is minimal and his heart is pumping at abnormal rates. His blood pressure would drop to a deathly low then soar to an astronomical high. Would he make it through the night? The doctor’s and all around him said no!

The call came in that they had to make a decision to turn the defibrillator off. I spoke to my mother and said is this what you want. After I told her to let him go in peace not pain and the conversation ended with he’d be taken off the life source keeping him alive.

I called my brother, the black sheep whom no one has conversed with, and told him the defibrillator would be turned off and that he wasn’t expected to make it through the night. We cried, we laughed, we spoke of old times, and we mourned. I hung up the phone and drained remaining tears as I let my father go. I would sit and wait impatiently for the call that my father had passed. It never came.

Instead, at nine p.m my mother called and said they DIDN’T turn the defibrillator off. My father had awakened and said not to touch it, he just wanted to go home. This is something impossible since they can’t send the machine home with him to keep him alive. I believe there is another aspect of… affordability. The hospital has done all it can, told the family the options, and they are releasing him to the unknown. Ten to fifteen hours of sleep, the machine alone keeping him alive, pain and suffering abound, the heart and lungs trying to pump the very last second of life as the host lay waiting to take his last breath.

My mother said he was not supposed to make it through the night even with the defibrillator keeping him alive. My day and night was spent mourning like a baby who lost their first puppy.

After calling my mother twice in the early morning and not getting an answer, wondering if he was alive or dead, I waited the entire day of the 27^th for ‘the phone call’ that never came. Instead at 5:30 she did call to tell me that they put him back in a room, #316 by the way, and that he was having hallucinations, unable to eat whole food because he was choking on it, then sleeping for hours on end.

I’ve struggled with the decision to put him at rest but it had to be done to face the inevitable. I woke feeling a peace around me because I had let my father go. I don’t know where his destination will end, I cannot be certain because his destination is his; it is between him and God

Today the 28^th they will decide to put my father in a hospice against his wishes (remember he just wants to go home), to live basically on life support. The ones back home have had to make this heart wrenching decision. I cannot fathom what they are enduring and the guilt of not being there is sometimes overwhelming but I feel peace because I’ve done the hardest part on my end and that is… I let my father go.

Lam. 1:20 Behold, O LORD; for I am in distress: my bowels are troubled; mine heart is turned within me; for I have grievously rebelled: abroad the sword bereaveth, at home there is as death.

Dysfunctional Family

Luke 17:3 “Take heed to yourselves: If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him; and if he repent, forgive him.”

Family

Many know of the circumstances of my family. I’ve said over and over again we’re not a tight knit, religious in any way family but oftentimes that leaves people scratching their heads and saying “What?”

Let me paint a picture: I have an older brother, J, who is 59 and living in Tennessee somewhere. I haven’t spoke to him in about 13 years and there really is no doorway to communication for reasons I won’t elaborate.

Then there is my second eldest, T: He’s an oxycontin addict/alcoholic living somewhere in Baltimore doing the ‘house squatting’ thing ie: moving from house to house, flopping wherever he can.

Then there is Ja who I just spoke to yesterday. (more about him later)

There is M who is married to a woman 16 years his senior living happily high on life in the ‘we’re doing great ignoring you’ world.

Then there is my sister, T, who is wrapped up in her family struggling to be everything for my mother and father. I haven’t spoke to her since June when her grandbaby was born.

What a mixed up mess, eh? There you have it, altogether six non-communicative siblings and a dying father and a disabled mother. I call my mother daily and I have for the thirteen years since I left home for brighter horizons. Little did I know I’d be out here, in the middle of nowhere with the inability to ever return home ie: my birthplace.

Last week when my father fell ill, I thought he’d be home by Sunday but he wasn’t so I took it upon myself to notify Ja. (I’m using initials to protect their privacy) Ja had no idea my father was sick, no one felt the need to inform him and he thanked me.

Him and I were the closest of all siblings and as dysfunctional life proves, no one was happy seeing US get along and well, that is where a lot of resentment arose. Even my mother and father were annoyed of our friendship. And that is what it was, a friendship. I befriended the black sheep and no one else did. As always *I* was the lone warrior in an extremely dysfunctional family.

At one time in my life, I was the only one that spoke to EVERY single one of them. I was there for them, their kids, the parties, the births of their children, the godmother of two, the helper of all. Even my mother and father, I was the only one who was there for EVERY thing! When my brother Ja had a second child I thought I’d be a godmother for a third time but no, he asked my sister whom he was TRYING to be a friend to in some way. (Yeah, that didn’t work out for him so well as you can imagine.)

By the time I left home, it was MY time. I had to finally realize that there was no hope, no one left to LOVE the only way I knew how to love. I was branding myself a ‘self-imposed’ black sheep. The pain I went through the first six years or so after I left, no one knew, no one cared, no one called, I was alone without the crutch of the dysfunctional family.

Yes, *I* called, I cared and I still tried to hold onto the crutch until I couldn’t hold onto the nothingness any longer and let it slip through my fingers like liquid in a strainer. I had to let go to embrace the new family I had joined and was welcomed into with open arms. I am not judged out here in the middle of nowhere. I’m not expected to do and be more than I can be and isn’t that what life is all about really? Being accepted for who you are?

“And the day came when, the risk to remain in a tight bud, was more painful than the risk it took… to BLOSSOM.” ~ Anais Nin

My brother and I spoke for well over an hour yesterday. He went on and on about his kids, his life and how much he strives to be the father to his kids that my father wasn’t to us. He asked about the siblings and he was shocked to find out that our sister lived not far up the road from him and that three of her kids lived there with her. I did tell him that I didn’t want to come home and see my father in an urn or a coffin and he understood. Completely understood.

I did get to squeeze into the conversation that sometimes I had to walk with a cane because of arthritis in my back and he was like, “Wow, how old ARE you?” Then we went over the siblings’ ages and whatnot, finally ending the conversation with the ‘I love you’ and stay in touch jargon.

After the call ended, I was hit smack dab in the forehead with realization. None of them know me. Do they know I’m a writer? I’m the editor of a newsletter? Do any know of my pain and suffering with arthritis? Do any of them care about MY life or that I’m even alive?

I got the answer from my Father in heaven on whether I should return home to see my family. NO was plain and clear not much unlike my father on earth had said when asked if I should come home, “Maybe next time.”

Don’t pity me or misunderstand where I’m coming from, I am at PEACE with every decision I’ve made in my life and I WILL go on living the life that God Himself has etched out for me.

“Trust yourself. You’ve survived a lot and you’ll survive whatever is coming.”

 ~ Robert Tew

Helpless!

4 Ezra 2:27 “Be not weary: for when the day of trouble and heaviness cometh, others shall weep and be sorrowful, but thou shalt be merry and have abundance.”

HELPLESS

There is no other word to describe how I’m feeling right now. Helpless! One single word. Oh, I’m feeling a river of emotions but helpless is at the top of my list.

I’ll start with… my dad is dying. Don’t be so negative you might say but as you my readers well know, I’m the optimistic one. I always see the bright spot in any given circumstance and I’m struggling so hard to dig through the gray mire and find some sunshine to cling to here.

A little background: My dad had heart surgery twenty years ago and he’s had a stent placed on an artery of his heart, he’s survived throat cancer, five years clean now, and he also suffers with emphysema. He’s been on oxygen for quite awhile now and last week he was taken to the emergency room because he couldn’t breath, his oxygen wasn’t working. He was told to use the oxygen when necessary and my dad used it 24/7. Little did he know that THAT was doing more harm than good.

A little over a month ago when he had his visit with the Cardiologist, the doctor looked at him and said, “I can’t believe you’re still alive.” You see, all the x-rays show my dad has a heart that looks like a mangled car wreck but it is still driving.

Last Friday, as the doctor did his work, and the nurses did theirs, day after draining day I sat here feeling helpless. You see, I can’t just hop on a plane and go see my father. I’ve made ample use of my phones free minutes on the weekend and the not free minutes during the week. I have called and talked to him, talked to my mother and well… no one wants me home for fear my father will get the impression that he’s dying. If everyone comes and sees him, since no one sees him while he’s alive, coming to visit will surely speak volumes that he is near death.

Tuesday my mother had offered to pay for my trip back home but later when I told her the astronomical airfare prices, she quickly said, “I can’t afford that!” I understood but was hurt nonetheless. I think I overestimated the quote I gave her not knowing $1500 was for three adults, three days, round trip.  And that is not including the hotel I’d need to stay at or the rental car that we’d need. No, going home just isn’t an option.

Then there’s MY disability that would hinder travel. I can’t just be squished onto a tight-seated plane with the arthritis in my back. A three hour car drive to Omaha then boarding the plane to fly two or more hours only to have a layover in N.C. to take off again for another two hours of flying to Baltimore. After the flight I’d never be able to walk off the plane, with limited legroom, I’d definitely need a wheelchair. That is NOT how I want to visit my father, with not nearly enough time to ‘visit’.

Helpless! There IS no solution except prayer.

I had said on my Family Facebook page, “I might never get to see my family again.”

My sister retorted, “That was YOUR choice.”

Yes, I chose to leave Hell! I chose to find LOVE even if it took my last breath I would find and KNOW what love is, what family is all about, what my God had planned for me and I would not look back. Yes, MY CHOICE! That wasn’t my reply to her but something similar. I wrote, “Yes, I wanted to see what REAL love was and I found it.”

A dear friend who I confided in told me, “Joni, you don’t need that family, you have your family right there with you and your spiritual family to uphold you.”

He was right. As hard as it may be NOT going home to put my father to rest. I am at peace knowing that he knows I’ve found what I was looking for and he can die a happy man.

After writing, I don’t feel so helpless. Thank you sweet Jesus!

4 Ezra 12:5 Lo, yet am I weary in my mind, and very weak in my spirit; and little strength is there in me, for the great fear wherewith I was afflicted this night.

Comfort Zone

Isa. 49:13 Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains: for the LORD hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted.

Through prayer people find the comforting arms of the Lord surrounding them in their time of need.

These past few weeks I have been down, depressed and not wanting to go on in life and the only thing that got me through was prayer. Even us good people have our moments of darkness shrouding us but we MUST go on and in prayer I find healing. 

Lam. 1:16 “For these things I weep; mine eye, mine eye runneth down with water, because the comforter that should relieve my soul is far from me: my children are desolate, because the enemy prevailed.”

I spoke the other day about our loss of electricity due to a substation malfunction and me being ever the optimist saw light in those many hours of darkness. Here I was, at a low point and who would have thought that hours without electricity and the unknown return of the electricity could spring optimism and hope?

We were sitting at the kitchen table with a kerosene lamp and candles lighting the room but it was the Lord’s presence and warmth I felt the most. As I looked at the shadowed faces trying to pick a card to throw out as we played Rummy, I smiled. I felt comfort and loving arms hugging me and allowing me to see a light in this darkness.

Facebook for some is a game room where they play their games and have fun, for some it is a place to joke around and have fun while for some it is a political pedestal that they can stand on and promote negativity. The U.S.A is a pool of negativity these days and I can’t wrap my arms around it or swim in the cesspool of hate. 

Facebook to me has become an ocean of prayer. There is not a day that goes by that someone isn’t in need of prayer; whether it is an illness they seek out prayer for, a medical procedure, or a death in the family. People seek out prayer because of the healing that they feel wash over them.

While I sat at home, wallowing in my own self-pity, I was still drawn to the power of prayer and continued on my facebook journey to see who needed prayer on any given day. Through praying for others, I felt an emotional healing within myself, and the day we lost electricity it became a God-slap moment.

In the previous weeks I had cried, I ranted and raved and sang the woe, woe is me plea. I didn’t know if anyone knew of my predicament but I do know that I have a friend on facebook who prays daily about the downtrodden and on this occasion, these prayers were for me. I could feel them holding me in place.

I used to use facebook as an avenue for writing and my writing friends but it quickly became a place of prayer for me. I can be fun and jolly with the rest of the playmates but my focus is on prayer and those in need on facebook and outside of facebook. 

Take for instance my mother. The other day she informed me that they might be raising her rent. Knowing she and my father have limited income and are swimming in medical debts, she was worried. Instead of worrying with her and adding to the worry, I chose to pray. Yesterday when I spoke to her she said that they DID raise her rent by forty dollars BUT and this is a BIG but, she was okay with the increase. I feel in every fiber of my being it was because of prayer that she was comforted. My mother, the worrywart, was comforted!

I end this week from a different perspective. I’m not down, I’m not up, I’m right in the middle seeing hope at the end of the tunnel. I see that life is not about religion, or how one practices their religion, it is not about judging people for the way they practice their faith, it is about strengthening people in their walk of faith and being a prayer warrior that they can turn to and trust and hopefully find some comfort. When all is said and done at the end of the day, I’ve found my comfort zone… in prayer.

God bless you all!

Matt. 9:22 “But Jesus turned him about, and when he saw her, he said, Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole. And the woman was made whole from that hour.”

Seeing The Light

Gen. 1:4 “And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.”

Not all light is man-made.

Last night, as the fan churned behind me, we were gearing up for movie time; an enjoyable daily event for us. As we get everything ready, hook up the HDMI cable and watch Netflix on the television and Adam hunkered down in his room on his computer ready to game the night away; we were ready for our quiet evening. Quiet evening amid sounds mind you.

Perched on the sofa like birds on a wire, we were ready for the movie. We sat for about 15 minutes of the movie before we heard a sizzle sound, followed by a BOOM, the house trembled and the lights and sounds of the day came to an abrupt halt. Clocks stopped telling us time, computers stopped humming and the refrigerator sat silent as a tomb.

Running (as fast as my wobbly legs allowed) to the front door then to the back door, hobbling down the steps to, thankfully, seeing no fire. One neighbor was already in his jeep (he lives two houses over) and came to our house asking us what we saw and heard. When I said a sizzle and a boom he right away said the substation and went on to call the electric company.

From Google: A substation is a part of an electrical generation, transmission, and distribution system. Substations transform voltage from high to low, or the reverse, or perform any of several other important functions.

Our neighbor came back to tell us he had called the electric company and also told our other neighbor, who came to hear the news, that no electricity had enveloped our little county. It would be hours or days depending on the problem before electricity was restored. The pump to the well runs on electricity so that also means no water.

Before the daylight blinked away we hustled in the shadows of the house to gather the bottled water and candles. We had not used the kerosene lamps since we’ve been here in Nebraska, but the kerosene was easily found in the darkened corner of the shed.

We hurriedly gathered candles, filled the beautiful hurricane kerosene lamp, pulled out the flashlights and hunkered down by candlelight wondering what to do as darkness fell over the house and silence filled the air. The electric guys appeared on the scene and got to work almost immediately. There was hope that this darkness would be short lived.

My husband and son, computer nerds, needed their gadgets while I was babbling on and on saying this must be what Laura Ingalls lived like. As I prayed and joked in the stillness of the house my son asked, “So what did they do?”

“They prayed! Pa played the fiddle and they found things to do like read.”

I went on to say, “I am an optimist and there is something positive in all this.”

Adam said jokingly, “What’s your positive spin on this, Sherlock?”

“Well this is God’s way of showing us to appreciate what we have in the heart of the darkness. We will be indebted to the light and gadgets in a new way. We’ll see light in the darkness.”

I know his eyes rolled and Steven sat on the sofa contemplating what Sage Joni had spoken. In the quiet you hear well. As Adam struggled to find the toilet in the dark (that he couldn’t flush by the way) Steven sat on the sofa embracing the dark that once belonged to him. After being blind for two and a half years, he had the upper hand in this blackened house. I sat at the kitchen table and Adam joined me.

Out of the silence came a choir of angels that God sent, okay that was over dramatizing. Out of the candlelit night the sound of the saxophone began piping out Amazing Grace. (It’s not a fiddle but I felt like Pa Ingalls was here.)

After 25 minutes and no musical accompaniment from the buzzing computer, the house fell silent again, the sax stopped. The electricity went out about 6:45 and the darkness swept over the house by 7:30 and here it was almost 8:30 p.m and we were still sane.

“CARDS!” I bellowed out in the peaceful night.

Adam rose to the occasion, went to the basement with his penlight and made it back with a very new deck of cards. We gathered at the table lit by a kerosene lamp and some candles and we played cards.

By ten thirty the refrigerator had moaned back into existence. Nothing else lit up because we hadn’t had any lights on when the power went out. We played on. My neighbor drove by the house and saw us through the window playing cards by candlelight. She stopped her car, came up the path and knocked on the door; happily she exclaimed, “The electric is on.”

Adam said, “Yeah we know.”  She sounded kind of surprised as she said, “And you’re still playing cards by candlelight? COOL!” Adam chuckled, we chuckled and we continued to play, by candlelight, until 11 p.m. at which time I won my version of 500 Rummy!

Something happened in the total vacuum of darkness. We saw the light. It had been there all the time waiting for us to tap into it and as we sat listening to music on a battery operated radio and playing cards by candlelight, we were embracing being together and sharing our time as a family.

I said afterward to Adam, “That was fun. I really enjoyed myself.”

He smiled and said, “Yeah, me too.”

With the light of a new day, I thanked the Lord for showing me the way. 

~ Amen!

Through the darkness, we saw the light.

Acts 26:13 At midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me and them which journeyed with me.

Quotation Saturday

Pss. 25:5 “Lead me in thy truth, and teach me: for thou art the God of my salvation; on thee do I wait all the day.”

FAKE

“A company of wolves, is better than a company of wolves in sheep's clothing.” 
~ Anthony Liccione

“What's the whole point of being pretty on the outside when you’re so ugly on the inside?” 
~ Jess C. Scott

“You will never find the real truth among people that are insecure or have egos to protect. Truth over time becomes either guarded or twisted as their perspective changes; it changes with the seasons of their shame, love, hope or pride.” 
~ Shannon L. Alder

“An open Facebook page is simply a psychiatric dry erase board that screams, “Look at me. I am insecure. I need your reaction to what I am doing, but you’re not cool enough to be my friend. Therefore, I will just pray you see this because the approval of God is not all I need.” 
~ Shannon L. Alder

PRETENSE

“That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is. Most people love you for who you pretend to be. To keep their love, you keep pretending - performing. You get to love your pretense. It's true, we're locked in an image, an act - and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image, they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession.” 
~ Jim Morrison

“Men fear thought as they fear nothing else on earth -- more than ruin, more even than death. Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible, thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions, and comfortable habits; thought is anarchic and lawless, indifferent to authority, careless of the well-tried wisdom of the ages. Thought looks into the pit of hell and is not afraid ... Thought is great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief glory of man.” 
~ Bertrand Russell

“You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it.” 
~ Alan Moore

“After all, what was adult life but one moment of weakness piled on top of another? Most people just fell in line like obedient little children, doing exactly what society expected of them at any given moment, all the while pretending that they’d actually made some sort of choice.” 
~ Tom Perrotta

CHOICE

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.” 
~ Robert Frost

“In the space between yes and no, there's a lifetime. It's the difference between the path you walk and the one you leave behind; it's the gap between who you thought you could be and who you really are; its the legroom for the lies you'll tell yourself in the future.” 
~ Jodi Picoult

“Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself in your way of thinking.” 
~ Marcus Aurelius

“Plant seeds of happiness, hope, success, and love; it will all come back to you in abundance. This is the law of nature.” 
~ Steve Maraboli

TRUTH

“The truth is messy. It's raw and uncomfortable. You can't blame people for preferring lies.” 
~ Holly Black

“Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.” 
~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” 
~ Socrates

“Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world would do this, it would change the earth.” 
~ William Faulkner

Change

Proverbs 2:1-5 (NIV) "My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God."

Today is the day I will renounce my Christian label. Before you all go ballistic on me, allow me to explain. The label Christian means absolutely nothing these days. People toss the word around like a basketball; dribble it here, toss it there. 

Definition of renounce (before vocab nazi’s attack): to give up or put aside voluntarily: to renounce worldly pleasures.
2. to give up by formal declaration:

As I’ve been working through some tough things lately, I’ve sure been hit hard with a realization lately; I need the courage to let go of what I can’t change. I can’t change my past I accept that. I can’t change humans I have to accept that also. 

These humans are the very reason I will no longer call myself Christian. They have me struggling with my faith and it doesn’t seem fair to me. I have an extremely strong faith, a viable strength in the Lord, and an apparently different way of seeing things.

They (Christians) drink because hey, Jesus drank wine so it must be okay. Well to me, I don’t believe he drank a beer in His life and definitely don’t see Him nipping at some mushrooms in the garden before being tempted by satan. Was it all a hallucinating experience for Him and He just wish-washed the truth?

I wanna drink.  Thanks Christians.

They also curse, and that is okay too because I guess Jesus rode an ass so everyone must get the symbolization that we’re all asses? 

I wanna curse. Thanks Christians.

Is this a lie?

Ephesians 5:4 ESV “Let there be no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, which are out of place, but instead let there be thanksgiving.”

So is it okay to joke and use crude vulgar language. All in fun, right Christians? 

More lies?

James 1:26 ESV “If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless.”

I struggle. Thanks Christians.

I’m beginning to think hell is the better place to end up when I die. Heaven is going to be full of people cursing, drinking, laughing at people cursing and drinking and maybe THIS is not where I want to end up. Christians believe they’re all going to heaven and these same Christians are the drinkers and cursers. Are they all going to change AFTER they get into heaven? Hmm...

I’m confused. Thanks Christians.

I will now call myself a Follower of Christ. Not a follower of humans who fill people with lies, have no remorse, have no character and basically they have a wilted soul. I can only pray for them in their disillusionment. I cannot change THEM I can only change ME! And this is what I strive for!

Romans 12:2 ESV “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

Thank you Jesus! 

Now this is a post not many will like, maybe because of the truth it holds? My point is this I can call myself a Christian but it doesn’t mean I AM one. Just as I can call myself a butterfly but until I CHANGE from a caterpillar, I am just a caterpillar.

Thank you God! For making me, ME!

Psalm 19:14 ESV “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.”

Mistakes Part II

Jas. 5:16 “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.”

Let me make something perfectly clear. In yesterday’s post I was going over mistakes I made in my life and I don’t want my reader to misunderstand me. I in no way regret not getting an abortion. Sure I was young, many would jump at the chance, but I CHOSE not to get an abortion because I don’t believe in them. I clearly was given a CHOICE and I chose life but God, for only reasons He knows, chose death. 

I didn’t make a mistake in getting married at seventeen either because low and behold, thirteen years later I would be blessed with a beautiful baby boy, living, breathing! My whole point in these mistakes posts is a chance to look back and see that they weren’t really mistakes after all just learning experiences. I learned I had a CHOICE as to what to do with my body and soul, no matter what age I was.

Granted, at such a young age my choices weren’t that great but I did learn from them and am a better person because of them. Many people make mistakes and live a life filled with regret; why didn’t I do this, why didn’t I do that? I’m here to tell you from experience that your life will be a living hell if you live a life of regret!

Maybe this is why I’m an optimistic positive person, because I see the glass as half full not half empty. I don’t live a life of regrets, I live a life of promise. My hope is that when you read my words, sitting there full of regrets, you think to yourself all of the good things that came out of what seemed like mistakes in YOUR life.

The only way to find healing, short of therapy, is writing; if not to the world then to you and you alone. Coming to grips with a hard past is a long road and one worth taking if you are ever to heal. Healing is a process, sometimes a long slow process but a process nonetheless. It’s a painful process too and there is no humor in going over the most painful parts of your life. Pain will resurface, tears will fall, loneliness will embrace you but it is all a part of the healing on the path to a better you.

What you have to try is this: Write down what you see as a mistake and right next to it write down a positive slant like what good came from that mistake. You might be the kind of person who is afraid to admit you made any mistakes and that’s okay too, I guess. Take note: Living in denial will hurt more than heal. You have to come to terms with the mistakes you made, your mother might have made or your father in rearing you and I tell many students to write, write, write and get it off your chest and onto paper! Granted you may have had the perfect life and made no mistakes. To me that is like saying, “I’ve never sinned.” 

Jas. 5: 20 “Let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins.”

I have to admit, writing is one thing I will NEVER regret doing. It has become an emotional healer for me whether in writing my story or writing poetry it has been a healer of all sorts on so many levels.

These things you write down can be for your eyes only and when you’re done they can be deleted or burned, if you wrote them on paper. That’s just one step in the healing process to make you SEE that you’re a better person because of your mistakes. You’re not a BAD person, you’re a healing person! Own it!

With the grace of God may you all find the healing that you seek. 

Acts 4:22 “For the man was above forty years old, on whom this miracle of healing was shewed.”

Mistakes

Pss. 19: 12 “Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.”

I’ve made quite a few mistakes, I’m sure we all have and usually ones that we have to live with the rest of our life, like it or not. Since I began writing, well no, since I began blogging, my paintbrush of mistakes is in vivid color here. I hold nothing back and my truth is my healing place.

Some people deal with their mistakes, some timidly live with them, some take the mistakes they made in life by the horns and wrestle them to the ground and shed them from their life never to be seen or heard from again. 

To me, mistakes we made in our past shouldn’t be forcefully thrown in our face so that we have to live with the pain on a daily basis. Some people don’t deal with their mistakes very well and they live in denial as if the mistake is a joy in their life, never to be admitted as a mistake, but the pain, the pain is so evident when people live in denial. 

One mistake I made, was not getting an abortion at 16 and spending nine agonizing months pregnant only to give birth to a stillborn child whose memory still haunts me to this day, some thirty-odd years later; then marrying the guy at 17 and spending 20 years of my formative life owning up to a pledge I had made more to God than my husband.

Looking back at my mistakes helps me to see God’s hand in shaping me. I was the clay and he was the potter molding me into the woman I am now. I don’t have regrets in the choices I made and some may say I’m in denial but really; the CHOICE was mine, an act of free will that God gave to us all. 

Isa. 64:8 “But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.”

Have you ever lived in a moment of should’ve, could’ve, would’ve? I normally don’t but as flashbacks come back to haunt me, writing about what could’ve been helps me for some odd reason. 

It helps me because with all of the looking back, I see myself exactly where I should be and any amount of changes in what ‘could’ve been’, only changes segments in the here and now. At this juncture, I would not want one thing to change. My pain and my suffering, (that of which no one understands except myself) is what helps me to be non- judgmental to others who are suffering through their own mistakes.

I do believe that our mistakes are little tools in our life that carve out who and what we become. I need to see that living with no regret is where my mind and body is supposed to be at this moment.

Job 19: 4 “And be it indeed that I have erred, mine error remaineth with myself.”

Mistakes should never be used to make people bend to your whim, they should be treated with the soft-skinned hands of a person who has grown and learned from their mistakes. A mistake can be seen as a work of art instead of a hold-over-your-head lifetime of remembrance.

I think what I’m trying to say in short is this: Mistakes are sometimes blessings in disguise. Not that they are rainbows and unicorns and should be seen as such but that they are clay and mistakes are what molded you.

Flashback

Baltimore, Maryland

“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”

~ Cormac McCarthy

Here recently I’ve been struggling with flashbacks. Not the good kind with happy memories that follow but truly ugly ones I thought were dead and buried, never to resurface again; but here they are upon me in a tidal wave of emotion.

It all started a few weeks ago on my facebook family page. I was looking at friends of  friends and WHAM it hit me; flashbacks. I’d see a familiar name and think, Hey, we were friends once, I wonder why she/he hasn’t friend requested me? Then I remembered, maybe we weren’t really friends we were acquaintances. Maybe I’ll friend request them, then I said to myself, no, they seriously didn’t like me – then all of the bad memories flowed.

No matter how much I’ve grown and changed in life my past is always there to remind of the evil little witch that I once was and I realize pretty vividly why no one likes me or would like to catch up with me and see how I’m doing now. You know what they say, ‘Once a witch, always a witch’ so they steer clear of me.

I have struggled all my life to put the past behind me, forgive the evil-doers, move on in a walk with Christ but like a worm, the past just slowly inches its way into my present when I least expect it and slaps me upside the head. Sure I shrug it off and look at the writing friends I have now and how they help me to see the change in me but my past is a part of who I am today.

“We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it.”

~ Rick Warren

Sure I hear the whole spiel that people feed me. Look to the Lord -- Walk with God -- Read your Bible and quite honestly I’d like to slap THEM upside the head for not understanding one thing I’m going through.

Are they trying to tell me that if I walk with Christ, the past won’t resurface? Are they trying to tell me that if I focus on God, the past will disappear? Are they offering to me a safe haven in reading my bible and that the past will no longer be present in my mind? HOGWASH!

I have for many a year (not just a spur of the moment of caring about Christ) looked to Christ for my healing and yes, I have come a long way, some might even say I am a new person. Well I AM!!! BUT, and here’s the clincher, THAT does not change my past or make it miraculously disappear and make people from my past want to know me again.

I imagine that when people see on the sideboard of their facebook that little picture asking, “do you know Joni?” They look at it and shiver and tremble and say, “Yeah and I don’t want to know her again!” And don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to know them either only because of the ugly past that I need to leave behind to burn, but it doesn’t hurt any less realizing I’m not that likable because of who I was back then.

Then my traumatized childhood rears its ugly head and I remember the not so nice life I had growing up in a neglectful household. I didn’t have parents who cared dearly for their children, I had parents who dragged their young child into bars while the older kids stayed home or ran the streets getting into their own sort of trouble. I have to hear now that I’m grown, from my mother, “Why don’t my kids love me?” And I cannot and will not give her the God’s honest truth, “Maybe because you didn’t love THEM enough.”

I love my mother and father dearly and have dealt with the neglect and the non-neglect of me; after all my brothers and sister see it as me being the baby getting EVERYthing while I see it as me getting the traumatic events that they didn’t receive.

As I continue my journey and heal I AM walking with Christ because I know that it is only through Him I can truly heal. Make the past disappear? Probably not because by looking back into my past I can see how far I have come and also see it as a blessing that I am still alive today.

While I lock the hard-to-deal-with-flashbacks in a secure trunk, I will send it up a river never to be seen from again. I WILL heal and continue to create positive memories that I’ll enjoy looking back on.

“It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one.”

~ George Harrison

~ Nebraska ~

The Pits

Concordia, Kansas

Pss. 40:2 “He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.”

The Pit

It saddens me when people are so filled with hate that they need to point fingers, laugh at, mock, joke and make fun of people (after posting scripture mind you). The world is so full of negative influence that people just fall right into the web of deceit.

They are misled and misguided and they are only a source of light and inspiration to make themselves look good? It puzzles me to no end how people really feel good about themselves when they KNOW they’re not following God FOR God, they follow Him for looks.

I liken the world to a pit; a pit where people are clawing at the mud, trying to find purpose in their existence and just spilling more mud because clawing is only stirring up the avalanche of clay that will soon bury them knee deep in the mire.

They seek but cannot find; they search but cannot grasp; they claw and fill their nails deep with the clinging clay. They are stretching for everything out of arms reach. They think but they don’t think fully; they aim but always miss the target.

"Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It's about the choice to show up and be real; the choice to be honest; the choice to let our true selves be seen." ~ Brené Brown

People seem to graze at the truth but never end up capturing the truth. When the truth is captured they can lay claim to their authentic self, which has eluded them while seeking out the wrong things in life.

Why do people strive for what they can’t have? Why do they poke fun at others or crave what other people have? Why do people try to claim goodness when so much is eating at them where they need to release a negative spin on almost everything they touch, read or hear?

I see people trying so hard at being good but they lose track when they try too hard. Being good and righteous should not be a chore that one undertakes, it should be a flow of natural behavior that many, all too many, do not understand. 

They would much rather tread in a mud-filled pit and try to define good and bad and cling to both. It can’t be done. I see it being done but really it should not be a way to live. You cannot serve the masters of good and bad, right and wrong, dark and light. You’ll find yourself stuck in the pit and never finding sure footing of a way to get out. 

You can try and find God, but cling to the negative juncture in the road. You will try to see the light, but offer up a dark shading umbrella for people to climb under. You pretend to offer light but secretly hide the darkness within you and that is what is shining forth, not the light within you. 

Now I see where the term, ‘the pits’ comes from, “the pits” as slang for the very worst, the most degraded and depressing example of something. To me, humanity is ‘the pits’!  They live there, breathe there, share there and cling to their own beliefs infecting others like a wildfire burning out of control with the compulsion of negativity. People of the same thought process, ‘we can serve two masters and get away with it’ feed the pits.

I myself, when I see negative reactions to things I run like a bat outta hell! I won’t allow myself to be infected so I strive to spread light and love in hopes to give the people in the pits a rope to hold onto to pull themselves out.

While they continue on the path of politicizing everything, children are being beaten to death. While they fill their bodies with food and nourishment, people are dying without a bit of kibble to bite on. While they’re off laughing and enjoying poking fun at people, there are people being battered and bullied physically.  

Before laughing at all of the crazy crud going on in the world take action, not words and memes but first, take a look inside yourself and see what is bullied and battered and why you feel the need to poke fun at others. Maybe you’ll see a way out of that pit you find yourself dwelling.

Matt. 18:33 “Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellowservant, even as I had pity on thee?”

Enough is Enough

Exodus 15:6 “Thy right hand, O LORD, is become glorious in power: thy right hand, O LORD, hath dashed in pieces the enemy.”

There comes a time in life when you have to just say enough is enough! What am I referring to? Being too nice. I’ve hit a stumbling block where being too nice oftentimes gives people the false impression that they can use and abuse my niceness and I’m left standing defending myself from an enemy I didn’t welcome.

Sometimes I can be an inspiration, encouraging, a guide and most definitely a friend. But there are people who will take advantage of that niceness relinquishing me to not wanting to ever help and be nice. That’s just wrong.

I have been with my husband for over thirteen years and he is MY strength, MY inspiration and MY reason to be who I am! If it were not for him I would have never had the confidence to write, to share, to give, and guide. And do you know the one thing he gave me the most of, his trust!

My ex never trusted me explicitly and with my husband I have 100% trust and because of that I’ve grown. The only setback is that I’ve grown too much, too nice, too naïve, too trusting of others when in reality I should always keep my guard up and be on the lookout for the enemy who wishes to gain entrance into this pure soul.

Have you ever sat outside on a warm summer evening and saw lightning bugs lighting up the night? Your first instinct (for some) is to catch one of those bugs, place it in a jar and just enjoy the beauty of such a little thing lighting the night. I don’t say this conceitedly but from my experiences with the world, I think myself a lightning bug (to some). They see my light whether it is in my writing or something I’ve said and they have a forehead-slapping moment and want to contain me in a little jar.

I’m sorry friends, my light is so bright it cannot be contained. That’s like saying you can write the entire Bible in one sentence, it just can’t happen. When someone says I’m a beautiful person, I think they are really seeing the beauty of the Lord shining through me, not my physical appearance. They see the pureness that the Lord instills in me and they too want the same thing. Yes, this is why I said I don’t say these words conceitedly, because I see the Light shining from others as well.

My last post was about the Walking Dead – Zombies if you will. Again, the definition of a zombie: a.the body of a dead person given the semblance of life, but mute and will-less, by a supernatural force, usually for some evil purpose.

b. the supernatural force itself.

We live in a world where people appear to be human but really they are guided by a supernatural force, a dark force. We can see it, just as the lightning bugs fly around at night; we can also see the bats swooping down to eat them.

While I love watching the bats, I never cower because they are there, I’m just cautiously aware of their presence. I have to be this way with humans too who think they are above all forces of nature.

So to you my friends I’ll say, while we’re living in evil times, never cower because someone or something wants to snatch out that light within you. Instead trudge on and shine brighter than before and pull all the forces of Light around you. Not only will your friends shelter you with their armor, the armor of God will boldly protect you as well as His blinding shield of Light!

God is real! God is good! God is faithful! God is my strength! God is my shield! God is love! Most of all: God is ALIVE! ~Amen!

1 Cor. 15:22 “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.”