DON’T FEED THE FEARS….

I took my third dose of Doxy today, and admittedly I am feeling better. I can tell you that the biggest red flag for me, when something is wrong with my body (she’s been through a lot)is emotion. Whether it be mild irritation, weepiness, or flat out rage-this is my indicator that something is amiss. Believe it or not, I am not a weeper. But I’m not afraid of my tears, we need the release as anxiety and depression often rule the day.

I had big plans for my husband today, BIG PLANS I tell you. First stop-Good’s store in Schaefferstown. I rose at 6:30 this morning, eager to get out on a Spring-like day. My mood had vastly improved since yesterday, and my attitude was decent as I descended on the store. We get anything and everything at this little Mennonite boutique, from paint to outdoor wear, to kitchen appliances. I love their clearance department, and together, Dwain and I have spent approximately three million dollars on necessities. I was there to pick up a few cards, gifts and mainly-to return my husband’s dress pants that I had purchased at Christmas-they didn’t fit, but the tags were there-as was my receipt of purchase.

I was dealing with a sweet young girl, Olivia-she was telling me that she had to have a manager look at the pants before we could do an exchange. As I was leering at the candles (please, I have SO MANY candles, but for whatever reason-I always want more)when a gentleman in his forties called after me.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?,” I associate that name with little old ladies, and even at the age of 56? It isn’t palatable, from anyone.

“We cannot exchange these pants. There is a hair on the pocket of the brown pair, and the blue have a few hairs on them.”

INCREDULOUS, I told him the pants had never been worn, just tried on.

“Maybe if you took them home and cleaned them up?”

It took all of three seconds for me to go from status quo to flat out deranged angry. The cashier behind him, mildly alarmed at the tone of my voice, busied herself with a return.

“Sir, I panted, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MONEY MY HUSBAND AND I SPEND IN THIS STORE???????,” I half screamed in indignation.

“Sorry, Ma’am, these can not be sold again.” I felt the rage wash over me like hard rain. I counted to ten. I took a deep breath, but none of these things helped to quash my Irish temper, and only now, looking back, do I regret the way I acted.

“I WILL NEVER, EVER, EVER SPEND ANOTHER BLOODY RED CENT IN THIS STORE!!!! I HAVE NEVER BEEN TREATED IN THIS MANNER BEFORE, AND I HAVE HAD IT WITH THIS F***ING, PIECE OF SH*T STORE, NEVER!!!!!!!!!”

My words echoed in my head as I headed to the parking lot. I almost broke the sliding glass door on the way out, and for that I am sorry…..but I pity and I mean PITY the jerk who sent me reeling. While at the grocery store next door, I bawled into the phone whilst standing in the dog food aisle. My poor husband, furious as well but trying to calm me down, told me he didn’t need a Valentine’s gift, that I was enough, to stop crying and go home and rest.

And I didn’t hold back a giggle when he said, “I’ll stop in with the man on my way home tonight.”

Like I said, I pity the fool……….

They Do the Sharp Turnoff…..

 

 

Just back from an uneventful walk in the woods. The poor dog, he can hardly stand waiting for ol’ grandma to catch up to him on the trails. He keeps turning around and looking at me, like, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY HUMAN? This too shall pass.

Today I want to talk about all of the talk, innuendo, and just plain information there is out there-about God, Jesus and the Kingdom of Heaven. If you listen to Oprah Winfrey (please don’t :))you may believe that there are many ways to Heaven, that Eckhart Tolle and Abraham Hicks have all the answers, and that there is no such thing as Hades.

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. JUST PLAIN MISINFORMATION, OR PURE EVIL?

That’s right kids, I am getting on my high horse for a moment. And no, I am not judging a single person, far be it for me, a lowly sinner to pass judgement on anyone…..it isn’t my job, it’s God’s and only God’s. The ONLY way to HEAVEN is through Jesus Christ-asking Him to come into your heart and life, giving your worldly life to Him only, and through that spiritual and personal relationship we can enter God’s presence, and the eternal kingdom of heaven.

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There is no such thing as “Christ consciousness.” Jesus is NOT an ascended Master, He is the one and only son of God who put on human flesh, suffered human despair and longing, and carried His cross throughout his life-never pretending to be anything more than what he was, our Lord and Savior. He died on a cross to pay for our sins. That’s right, we are covered by his blood and thus all of his children will be forgiven their confessed sins, and given a fresh start. The word repent? I used to hate it until I found out what it meant in terms of Yeshua. Repent means “think anew,” leave your sinful ways behind and do your very best (we are human and God knows we will sin again) to be the hands and feet of the man who sits at the right hand of the Father, and who will one day return-to bring justice to those who have harmed his children.

He’ll be back with a vengeance one day-and the Good News? He’s taking his beloved with him, to paradise-to live for eternity in the land where milk and honey flow like water, and reunite us with our families and loved ones alike.

Come as you are. He isn’t picky. He loves you more than you could ever imagine, and this I know, this I have experienced.

The Sunny Side of the Street is Dark

My stomach is in knots.  My heart is racing.  I feel panic rising from deep within.  I am paranoid in as much as I can’t blame myself, as although I take full responsibility for my part in these relationships-I have been “programmed” to respond like this.  It took me several minutes to realize why I was feeling so distraught-and I could smell a dirty narc from miles away.

 

My close friend Sinead is also semi-close with my in-laws.  She was like a daughter to them, much more so than I.  They called her every few days (I never received a phone call, for years) took her out to eat, treated her just like their own.  But lately, something has been hanging in the air between them: Sinead is as much in the dark as I am, and she was due to have lunch with them today.

We have been discussing this ad nauseum.  Not to be blunt, but I asked her today why she puts up with their mistreatment of her.  She was nervous, and  left our exercise class early, to lunch and learn with two of America’s finest.  Here’s where the torment comes in:  I have called and messaged my friend.  She has seen my message yet not returned it.  It is my belief, or fear if you will, that my mother in law has struck, again.

I found myself in literal tears, until the Holy Spirit spoke:

“You have done nothing wrong.”

No, I have not.  Sinead is very sensitive, and I fear that monster has said something random, hurtful or off the cuff.  She has tried to come between myself and others in the past, and this is pure narcissist triangulation at its best.

What if Sinead is angry with me?  I cannot apologize for what I didn’t do.  So be it.  If my heart and friendship truly matter, she will calm down and call a spade a spade.

I am at peace in the knowledge that God’s got this.

No longer will I fight, for any relationship.  I just don’t have it in me, nope.

Stay away from narcs.  They’re the Jezebel Spirit personified, and they will eat you up, and laugh as they spit you out.

 

 

Love Is Wild……

What is love, really? And how do you know if you’re on the right track, if you are loving someone enough, or …in a way that tells them they are loved?

Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love does not anger,
nor does it boast.

This is what we find in our bibles, and make no mistake-God meant what he said, but how many of us can rise to that place? For me? Love is compassion. Love is validation. Love may take it up a notch or two-as lovers are passionate, and the frenzy can make us crazy. My husband and I still rant and rave, but at the end of the day? Love, somehow prevails. I remember not so long ago the days of begging him to love me, and now the tables have turned-love doesn’t hold anything over your head, and if you wax and wane poetic, but have no understanding or compassion, what does it amount to? Dust. Dust in the wind.

True love allows the other person breathing space. It listens, nods its’ head in sorrow, puts you in the shoes of the lovee.

Don’t you speak over my words. My reality is hard won, and I won’t trade my newfound jewels for stones-not today, not ever~

RAGE……

Remember early on in years
I carried you and
swiped
your tears.

The party days left long ago
perhaps the only time
we grew
close as sisters should be.

I rushed to your side
at each
birth,
and cared for what
I thought to be
my forever
family.

Then things changed,
they rearranged
and sister turned
to sinister.

Most days
are fine,
and love remains
the answer to the
question.

You haven’t only
kept me from
the children who
adored me-
you took their right
to family;
Oh
Jezebel, you
have
scorned me.

The time will
come-
I’ll be long gone,
at home and loving
Jesus.

And you’ll
be left the memories
of ruin and resentment.

HEROES

I volunteer in a local Emergency Room.  I was scheduled for yesterday afternoon, 12 to 4, and no matter how hard I tried?  I could not muster the enthusiasm to take a shower, let alone go to work.  I picked up the phone several times to call off, but something made me put down that phone, and I am here to say, Praise God I did.

Used to working the morning shift, I had no idea what to expect.  As I approached the double doors a sense of purpose filled my veins, and what I was about to walk into was the most horrific day of my entire nursing career.  Every room full, I immediately went to Room 14, as I heard wails of agony and pain.  The man in the bed was in his nineties, and he was hysterical.  I introduced myself, but he couldn’t hear me, he was too far gone.  

I asked his son and wife what was going on.  His son shook his head, wiped away a tear and told me that this was NOT his father.  He was a good Christian man who was beloved in his community and family.  His dad was strong and stoic; I could tell the family was terrified.

“Oh Jesus, take me now.  I am so sorry.  I am dying.  My legs are on fire.  Please, take care of my wife and children….my grandchildren, OH MY GOD, WHY?  I AM DYING, PLEASE GOD, I DON’T NEED GOLD WALKWAYS, JUST TAKE ME NOW………”

This went on for another twenty minutes.  I spoke to him, loudly and clearly.  What have you seen?  Why are you so frightened?  You aren’t dying, your stats are perfect…..he was white as snow, tormented…..and then I knew.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what was wrong. 

“The Diablo.  He is making me curse Jesus, think terrible things about my Lord.  I deserve to die, TAKE ME OH TAKE ME JESUS,”

I closed the curtain.  The nurse administered a sedative.  I asked the family to shush.

“You have no authority here, Satan.  No authority.  Drink the blood of Jesus demon and be gone.  Jesus is here, God is holding you.  Drink the blood of Jesus……”

I was convinced the doctor and nurses would think me insane and fire me as soon as I walked from beyond the curtain.  I waited and continued to pray out loud.  Within moments he calmed down.  Enough to listen to me.

Who is the father of all lies?  Satan is toying with you, but once God has you no one can ever take you away.  Do you understand me?  God loves you, and so does your family.  Listen to me…….”

I retreated for another warm blanket.  As I walked passed the gawking nurses, (and I mean every single one of them had their jaws open) I didn’t make eye contact.  I couldn’t.  I walked back into the room.  He was given another sedative.

There are things that I cannot divulge, but may I say this?

Praise, Glory and Honor to the Most High, and thank you Jesus, for your love and strength.

I walked Bob out to his car with his oh so thankful family.  He was dapper and strong, laughing at our jokes, and he kissed me on the cheek…….

“I don’t know how to thank you,” his son and wife said.  It wasn’t me they owed any gratitude, it was our heavenly father and Yeshua.  But they knew that.

And as I walked into the ER, prepared to be told to leave, the doctor said this:

“You are worth your weight in gold.  You couldn’t pay someone to do what you just did.”

I kept walking, straight to the nearest empty room.  And I got down on my knees and wept.

 

Seven Sad Forests…

I wrote a blog the other day entitled A Hard Rain is Gonna Fall, speaking of the coming Easter weekend.  Yes, I know that Easter is a Pagan holiday, but I believe that if you believe you are celebrating the resurrection of Christ, his crucifixion and the deep betrayal, the crushing pain, the glorious freedom we now have in Jesus?  The demons have taken enough from us, and they ain’t getting my holiday any time soon……who’s gonna do that?  I love everything about this holiday, and have since I was a child-the egg hunts-my brother and I could hardly wait until mom parked the car, we were so competitive and so excited to find the intricately painted eggs.  I would happily eat hard boiled eggs for eternity, so after I ate mine, I usually had theirs too, as my siblings weren’t fond of them.

Hard boiled eggs, martini onions, broiled liver and onions, chocolate mint ice cream-bizarre cravings, yes, but to this day I love each food group, equally, as I am an equal opportunity lover.  I was going to write about how really bad this Easter went; how Dwain’s son broke his heart, and mine by insisting he did not owe me an apology for the incident.  Rather than talk to my step son, my in laws decided to let two hours of his company go by without saying on word about his behavior.  They then went on to invite Brad to Easter, knowing full well that we would not be attending if this was ignored, swept under the rug or avoided.  My husband and I went away for the day, as family gathered down the street.   Bradley was there for a total of 5 hours, and my husband just shoved aside, like so much hair on the floor, like an untouchable-he now knows how they have made me feel for the past 27 years, and he knows that I will not pretend anymore, not to or for anyone.  I have never tried harder in my life to love the people that are his kin, but time after time, slight after narcissistic slight, my husband would ask me to let it go, or tell me I was paranoid-I ate so much crow that I no longer hungered for manna, I’d forgotten the taste of love and acceptance.

I knew this would happen, even after we pled with them to ensure that Brad was accountable for his actions, apologized and hopefully got some help, with our support, of course.  I was this close to being committed to the local psychiatric facility as a result of his rant, very ill at the time with Lyme, my body broke down and I developed an infection in my lymph node, and suffered a relapse due to the stress.  I prayed about filing a Protection From Abuse, and only avoided it out fear it would ruin his life.  Excuse me, but isn’t that a trait of a psychopath?  No remorse.  No accountability.  I look back and remember the time, when he was a child.  He lost a board game, and kicked our dog.  I flew out of the house like a screaming banshee, and my heart races in the retelling of this story, I can feel the rage, the fact that I wanted to ring his arrogant neck, the wariness I felt from that point on.

But rather than dwell on the fact that for all intents and purposes we are the only family (we are quite close to our brothers, praise GOD) we have, I decided to concentrate on the incredible blessing and amazing life he has given us.  The last holiday I enjoyed was before my father became ill, almost twenty years ago.   My husband’s family is so incredibly different than mine, dysfunctional in ways that my family wasn’t.  I have drank to excess just to be in their presence.  I have been strung out on pain pills, high on weed, and even sedated to get through family gatherings.  And I now know why:  I knew I wasn’t accepted, and that I was resented (I couldn’t have children and my mother in law was devastated) and that they thought Dwain could do much better.  Little did they know that he was abusing me as well, at home, behind closed doors.  More evenings than not?  I drank alone in my bedroom, as Dwain and his son carried on, laughed and talked hunting for hours.  I was incredibly alone, and to this day I thank Jesus for healing his heart.  I was not an angel, not even close.  But, as God would have it, I was convicted, repented and redeemed.

And for that?  Oh for that I am incredibly grateful~

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