And She Was……

There is a well known fact in this household, rarely spoken of, but my heart beats for him continuously, and he has earned my adoration.  David Byrne, MARRY ME.  🙂  I had the pure privilege of seeing the Talking Heads at Emerald City in Philadelphia, circa 1980.  Front row.  The rolling melodies and heart thumping bass can still be heard in my head, and I am dead serious when I say that the female guitarist made a pass at me.  Ah, the good old days when rock was rock and  a spade a spade.

I had a horrible nightmare last night.  Or I should say this morning-Dwain had decided to go to work, despite the blizzard conditions-he wasn’t answering my calls, he was nowhere to be found.  I awoke in a cold sweat, extremely anxious and confused.  Moments later, while sipping hot coffee, I phoned my husband and my nerves were calmed just by the sound of his voice.  Strange way to start the day…….

As I walked down to the garage, to feed the feline community, I felt it-or, perhaps didn’t feel it is a better way to say this.  No pain.  During Lyme flares, my feet are constantly in pain.  Bone pain, muscle pain-I don’t let it slow me down, but the mere fact that I was pain free was reason enough to look up at the sky and praise Him.  My lymph node has diminished, and there is even a noticeable lift in my loafers.  Oh, how beautiful life is.  And here’s the thang-none of us are promised more than this day.  We have a choice-to be positive among the chaos and confusion, carpe diem,  or, as I did yesterday-we can pout, stomp our feet and be a miserable pain in the ass in general, bringing everyone around us on edge, walking upon proverbial eggshells.

I fail Him each and every day, by thought and deed.  I repent, ask for forgiveness, and concentrate on my future-with my main man, golden retriever and Yeshua-and between the four of us?  We have this, He is working in our lives, whether we see rainbows or coffins-the choice is ours, and I choose life-oh, my dear friends, I choose life~

 

 

Dance Me to the End of Love…

 

 

I really wanted to bring you an uplifting blog today-a humorous take on some trivial human habit that amuses me.  Alas, I have nothing to give today.  They say you reach a certain age and the people you have loved, for better or worse, begin to disappear-making your world a little bit sadder, lonelier and bereft of spirit.  In our selfish take on loss, we forget about what our beloved friend, sibling or parent is gaining; and that would be the Kingdom of Heaven.

I want to talk to Scott, I want to talk to his wife-but here’s the thing-every time I even begin to think about getting in touch, I cry like a child who lost her blanky-and how appropriate, because that is exactly how I feel.  They live less than a mile down the road, and need comfort now like never before-why can’t I step up to the plate?

A lily of a day, is fairer far in May;

And though it fall and die at night, it was the plant and flower of light. – Ben Johnson

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In the meantime?  I will howl like a wolf at the moon, and pray like there’s no tomorrow.

Take nothing and no one for granted; one day the loss of them will be unbearable-

A Pool of Tears

 

Not complaining or anything, but I have an optical migraine-technical terms for a headache in my eyeball.  Given an antibiotic a week ago, and yes, I am my own worst enemy!  I am going to buckle and get Thee to a pharmacy; this is a bowl of crap chowder, and I have not been able to shirk one, not one responsibility-and it feels awesome and exhausting at the very same time.  I loathe whiners, too much to be grateful for, why concentrate on the one bad thing when there are millions of good and great things to be thankful for?  But since my husband won’t listen and I would never bother my social media with such rhetoric-well, you guys are my tribe-and hey, you owe me that!  🙂

This day was more, oh so much more, than I had bargained on.  Toying with the idea of skipping my Thursday exercise class (it was pouring down rain, and I felt so fatigued.)  I went up to brush my teeth, and found myself dressing for a workout, so there’s that.  After class, I go downstairs to help with a weekly free meal in the same church as my class.  I have grown to love these ladies in a matter of weeks, and feel shame and embarrassment that I hadn’t known them earlier-I was a drunk and an addict; who in the conservative area of Schaefferstown would even bother to give me the time of day?  People knew nothing but rumors, and most of them untrue-I was too busy self medicating to set them straight.

wanted to go home and lay down with my golden, on my new and comfy sectional sofa-the first in twenty-seven years of marriage.  I headed for the jeep, one of the women from class called out to me. We stood and talked for some time.

“They aren’t having the free lunch today are they,” I prodded.  “I didn’t smell a thing in class.”  My head pounding, sweat pouring from each and every orifice, I awaited her answer with just a little too much hope.

“Oh, yeah, they are.  I saw only three, they really need help.  Don’t you volunteer today?”

Like Charlie Brown, head hung low-I walked back into the church.  I should have kicked my own ass in the process.  Wimp.  One of the women I work with is the mother of a dear, dear friend of mine.  He is one of my rocks, and I know that if I ever needed anything, well-he would be there.

Ana Mae was sitting in the kitchen when I arrived.  As I busied myself with my hairnet, she spoke softly.  I had to sit down next to her and ask her to please try again, I hadn’t heard her.

“They have given Scott six months, he is training his wife to take over the business.”

I felt winded, as if I had been dealt a low blow.  I jumped up and ran to the back of the kitchen, trying to hide my hysteria, trying to regain my composure in order to comfort her-the woman who will be losing her son.  I tried to hold her as she cried, but she wasn’t comfortable with that, so I just left my hand on hers.  My heart broke into shattered pieces, lay on the floor for all to see.

“I will pray for a miracle, put him on our prayer list, visit with them this weekend,” I wept openly.  She nodded, gracefully, resigned to the notion-I would have given anything to tell her she was wrong, misinformed, just misunderstood Scott’s words.  I could do nothing of the sort.  I pulled myself together and went to serve pot roast.

These gypsies who gather each week in a tiny basement of a small town church, well, they have become family, and I went in search of a lively conversation.  I like to get them riled up, and as clumsy as I am, it doesn’t take much.  My eyes caught sight of a gorgeous silver necklace, and I stopped to admire and compliment.  This woman was younger, no one I had met before.  I told her how exquisite I thought her jewelry, she broke down into tears.  My thought cloud read, sweet Jesus, what now?

She went on to tell me that she lost her son just two weeks ago, and that his ashes were inside the shell on the chain.  She said he died of a heroin overdose, that her young son was battling both pain and addiction-he was doing well with oxycodone, until the pharmacist decided not to fill his script.  Her son had come by his addiction honestly-by a physician over-prescribing narcotics after a sports injury.

“He just wanted to take the edge off.  He didn’t die from the heroin, it was laced with Fentanyl.”

Again, we sat crying together.  I understood that her son made bad decisions.  I also understood that she adored him.  The loss was just too much to bear.  I thought to myself, I hope she has faith, I pray she finds comfort in Jesus-I hope she doesn’t give up on life, like so many of us yearn to do when the pain rips our souls apart.  I was ready to succumb to the pit of despair, survivor’s guilt mixing with sorrow-the day ahead loomed like a giant black cloud, just waiting to burst open and rain on my parade.  Again, I found myself crying.  And then, well then I felt a little nudge, to give this woman another look.

And as I lifted my eyes I came to her belly, which was full of promise, renewal and a new life to love~

 

 

 

I’ll Give You Fish…

 

Well, I am supposing everyone (or most of you, I didn’t even know what it was until this year 🙂 ) has heard at least some grumblings after the IG Report came out last week.  Yes, the Inspector General variety.  I am disheartened that the information is so redacted, but I believe our president is testing the waters, so to speak.  I do know this: at long last I have a few friends, coming to me behind the scenes, with their SHOCK and OUTRAGE.  No, not about Comey, it’s the other C-word.  I hate her like poison.

These are a few of the FACTS, ma’am:

The NYPD was holding onto a tape for when the time finally came to indict H.C.   I don’t speak her name, or write it; kind of like NO NAME McCain, if you catch my drift.  She and everything she stands for (Satanism, Pedophilia, Murder, Obstruction and much more) things I cannot and will never abide in another human being.

So, and some of you will know this to be true already-the tape the police had in their possession was watched by the entire NYPD.  This was in the Summer of last year, and to this day?  Many of them are in therapy, on medication, quit the force or have been diagnosed with PTSD.  Grown men were crying, vomiting and running from the room.

What could possibly make a grown, veteran detective behave in such a manner?  What could this tape possibly reveal?  You won’t get the right answer on Snopes, so don’t even look-they are propaganda and anti-establishment, they lie for a living.

According to the David Zublick news channel (and afterwards, many, many vloggers and conservatives alike) the tape was listed on Anthony Weiner’s lap top as “INSURANCE”-you see they never, ever thought Trump would win.  But Anthony wanted to ensure he wasn’t a member of the Dead Pool, so, he kept this little number on his laptop.  The video, and this is hard for me to say, contained footage of HRC, Huma Aberdeen  and a nameless four year old girl.  Think about that little girl while I prepare my next sentence.  Eventually, a highly edited version will be made available to the public-a public that will recoil in horror and shock, and for that reason, I tell you this now-to prepare, educate, enlighten.

The women were playing a game of Comet Ping Pong.  They had sex with each other, then took turns having sex with the child.  As adrenochrome can only be obtained by terrorizing the victim, the pair sliced the baby girl’s skin, right off of her face-filleted it if you will.  The only other fact we are being told at this time is that HRC made a mask of the flesh and wore it to further her plight.

Shocking?  There’s more.

This pure evil is happening in our own backyards.

The Elite=Illuminati=Cabal=Deep State=9/11=Satanists=Pedophiles=SCUM.

There have been mass arrests and incredible developments in Trump’s fight against human trafficking.  But once this tape is released (please don’t go looking for it on the dark web: you will be arrested within hours, as watching pornography is, of course, against the law.  I, for one, will never watch this video.  I have neither the stomach nor heart to see such a despicable, evil act…not now, not ever.  I am here to tell you that I have spent many an hour crying for that poor little girl, and the thousands and thousands more like her.

They say that the truth shall set you free.  God asks us to be “seekers of the truth,” and I have been on this quest for my entire life, only now?  Getting the truth out can be a very dangerous proposition, indeed.

***If you would like more information on this subject, may I suggest the following YouTubers?

The Patriot Hour

SGT Report

Dustin Nemos

McAllister T.V.

These are the channels that have been proven to be untarnished-meaning that they are not propaganda, and have not been bought out to spread the lies the Mainstream Media is so very fond of doing.

We can’t afford to waste a minute, must not squander these precious daylight hours in frivolity and indulgence, in sleeping around and dissipation, in bickering and grabbing everything in sight….Dress yourselves in Christ, and be up and about!  – Romans 13:13-14

My Weapon of Choice…..

Scrolling through videos this morning, waiting for inspiration. This video caught my attention, and it is just perfect for the topic. What is your weapon of choice when the haters are getting you down? How do you escape the bullets shot in your direction? What do you do when cruelty and evil darken your door?

Of course, my weapon is the full armor of God. At least that is the first place I go…….for strength, love and compassion-wisdom, grace and peace. I
submerge myself in the scriptures, and there I find truth, a rare commodity in this day and age: but always on pointe, never changing-it comforts me to know that Jesus knows my heart, inside and out. I have faced challenges this past year that would break Hercules, yet I am stronger by the minute, so much so that I am not the same person I was mere weeks, months or years ago.

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He keeps me strong. On the straight and narrow. Do I slip up? Often. Does He forgive me? Indubitably.

And after I come out of my bible-induced trance? Why, I dance…..of course!

Let The Chains Fall

 

After the dreary Saturday drama, I had given up on any chance for Father’s Day redemption.  Dwain apologized in the morning, and we drove to church:  him talking, me screaming, kind of, sort of-I will love this man o’ mine until the day I take my last breath, if he doesn’t kill me first.  🙂

Our pastor gave a sermon I will never forget.  Afterwards, we covered each other in essential oils, as in Mary anointed Jesus with her most extraordinary perfume.  When my turn came, I was surprised that JoAnne, our loving pastor, asked if she could put the oils on me-a most wonderful act of Christian love, and later-I was asked to anoint a dear friend, who has been through the mill-it was such a healing service.

Dwain was so down, so depressed that I feared for his well being.

“What do I have to look forward to this Father’s Day?  I mean, I don’t have a son,” he said, with a catch in his throat.

Anyone who loves another knows the deep pain and sorrow we feel when that beloved is breaking, or broken.  I wanted Dwain to go into the prayer closet, but I was too nervous to ask, he was that fragile.  Even though the day before I had been so angry-I had to put myself in his shoes, and it hurt.  I ached for him, but what could I do?

Home from church, getting into comfy clothing, the Spirit spoke to me.

“Talk to your son.”

I immediately text him:

Bud, can you find it in your heart to come today?  Your dad is in a bad way.

Pouring my third cup of joe, Dwain asked me:  “Do you mind if Bud and Kristen come over later today?”

DO I MIND?  I was hopelessly, deliriously happy for my man.

“It may not go as well as you seem to think it will,” my husband stammered.

And then, in a matter of minutes, my step son walked into the home he grew up in; the dog looked at me as if to say:  Do you SEE, do you see my Bradley is here, momma?  Yes!  Yes I see baby, isn’t it a miracle? 

We fell into a natural conversation, even laughter.  It was like nothing had happened, and after he left?  My husband fell into a deep, healing sleep-something he had been unable to do since February.

Do we need an apology to forgive?  What if the person who has harmed you is trying to make it up to you in other ways?  What if a little birdy told you that he was indeed sorry, but didn’t have the words?  What if he reached out to you on Mother’s Day, and your birthday?  Isn’t that enough?  Enough to know he cares, he’s trying……..

Later, after Dwain awakened from his nap, he sat me down.

“What do you think?”

I think you need your son and your son needs you.  I think this is a miracle, and we should be incredibly grateful.

Let the chains fall.  Come stumbling in like a prodigal child, let the gates of mercy open wide.