Into His Arms…

I have to start out by telling you I have consumed my happy juice and am a bit crosseyed at this time.  But praise Jesus, for he has given us every herb, plant and fruit bearing tree so that we will live healthy, peaceful lives.  Medicinal.  Used for my CPTSD, it can take me from despair to joy, and that my friends is worth its weight in gold.

I’ve been thinking about what is happening in this world, and obviously, it all but freaks me out.  After watching a video I shouldn’t have, I was overwhelmed-feeling as if the entire three ring circus was on my back.  First sad.  Then frantic.  Then Jesus.

I tell him, Jesus! I am clinging to your robes today, I need you badly!

These are the times when I run, full throttle, all engines on to God.  I picture myself running in to his amazing hug, and hear him say There, there child.

I can’t do this Jesus.

I know too much, why do I know so much and when did you make the decision to take a scaredy cat like this girl, and lead her in the direction of Doom.  Real news.  Investigative reporting.  I have felt the Holy Spirit driving me in this direction, and some days?  Down with the ship I go.

He never pushes, never demands.

I come to the realization that He alone is my Lord and Savior.  He will not leave me nor forsake me.  He is in control.  

I take a long hot shower.  I plug in my tiny white lights strategically placed all over my home, to give comfort.  Put some cinnamon on the stove.  And then He takes me back to who I was before I got clean.  I am profoundly grateful.

I fall into His arms.

Trust the Plan, Man

Lordamighty, it has been a trying week.  I have wept so often I have a dehydration migraine going.  And the toxic people in my life aren’t helping; neither is my Irish temper.  After three days of emotional roller coasters and half assed hostessing–I did the unthinkable, had two dinner parties back to back on consecutive days–I am planted firmly on my assets, and plan on absolutely nothing for duration of today.

So, my girlfriend Lynn came to dine on Tuesday.  We have recently reunited after a not so pretty breakup, and I was just as much to blame as she.  I have few regrets in this life, but they all involve my inability to have compassion or patience with people I loved dearly.  It still kicks me in the stomach now and then.

Lynn is my friend that respects me enough to believe me when I tell her what is going on.  She takes it in stride, and I believe it to be her strong and abiding faith in Jesus.  For when we are weak, then are we strong stuff.  She is lovely, and very fragile with health problems.  I worry and pray for her, and I believe she will be healed.  She knows what it is to be trampled on, then shunned by family members.  One of these members happens to be a pastor who tapped her phone and hacked her Facebook account.  He then publicly humiliated her in a sermon, and had the entire church shun his own stepmother.

I got noting on her, for sure.

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Found these sweethearts on the side of the road, they didn’t live long-but they lived with purpose and joy.

I didn’t really trust it, at first-the friendship.  I had cared for her mother in Lynne’s home, and she had helped me during a full blown nervous breakdown-she was my angel.  She fought with my husband over allowing me to smoke, stuck up for me in church and social circles, and had the biggest heart I’d ever seen.

Familiarity breeds discontent.

I ran into her at the grocery store, and stopped to chat for a bit.  To be frank, my force field was in full operation.  I had no intentions of trusting her, or hoping it would go further.  I am so much stronger than I was then, the breakdown coming after I decided to go off of my Lexapro-cold turkey-because I believed it made me gain twenty pounds.  Sadly, I almost did the same rodeo show with my Zoloft-I came to my senses after two days.

Time to admit that you have a chemical imbalance, are prone to serious depression and anxiety after a lifetime of abuse, CPTSD.  There, that wasn’t so hard.  Don’t get me wrong, every ridiculous and harrowing ride I have ever taken in this glorious life brought me to the point of now, and praise Jesus!  I am stronger, more resistant.  I speak my truth, and as is my wont, publicly and at volume eleventy hundred.

Alas, over the last few days we have bonded due to extremely trying times, for the both of us.  I lost my best friend to cancer, she her health concerns and loneliness.  It’s not that she doesn’t have people around her, it’s just that they don’t understand her.  Not like I do.

Anyway, I brought up the Reptilian convoy.  Interestingly enough, she didn’t blink an eye ball!  How could this be, my thought cloud read.  She didn’t bat an eye, because she knew a woman who worked at Hershey Medical Center.  This woman is a nurse, and she confided in Lynne that she had cared (meaning on multiple occasions) for people with “claws for hands.”

If you are as repelled and horrified as I am, well, God bless ya.

The following video if from a man I like to call friend.  He is a respected scholar in this field.  He lectures all around the country, is an Irish Catholic like myself, and takes his work very seriously.  I caution you to not rebuke this information, because these are facts, not fiction.

May we as Christians, brothers and sisters in Christ who are privileged to live in such a time as this, where we are witnessing biblical spiritual warfare-and we are winning.  Bigly.  May we all come together, forget the political drudge that is meant to separate us.  For we are much stronger together, and now is the time to love one another.  Love out loud.  Reach out to those around you who are having a hard time with the facts.

Our biggest foe is the Mainstream media.  They are keeping those yet awakened in the dark, after years of brainwashing and demoralizing-they are lying just as they are living.

Future proves past.

Ask Jesus into your heart, ask for discernment from the Holy Spirit.  I do this each and every day, but you don’t have to.  There are no rules.  If you call on the name of Jesus, He will be at your side.  If you draw closer, and believe that He is the one and only Son of God who came in the flesh to sacrifice for our sins so that we may be forgiven?  Whisper, shout, whatever you have to do, I am telling you.  Just twelve years ago I was a hopeless addict, strung out from PTSD, sitting in the ER with a cop at my door.  Suicide watch.  I had zero self esteem, and had been an unknowing victim in my sister’s narcissism.  I was at bottom as bottom can get, my marriage in turmoil, my mind a backlog of grief.

I was terrified of feeling the pain.  Terrified.

Today I am free from the guilt, the shame and the grief.  Because of Him I am stronger.  Because of Him I am an adult, wide awake but fearless.  I trust my Abba.

I trust the plan, man.

 

 

Into His Arms…

I have to start out by telling you I have consumed my happy juice and am a bit crosseyed at this time.  But praise Jesus, for he has given us every herb, plant and fruit bearing tree so that we will live healthy, peaceful lives.  Medicinal.  Used for my CPTSD, it can take me from despair to joy, and that my friends is worth its weight in gold.

I’ve been thinking about what is happening in this world, and obviously, it all but freaks me out.  After watching a video I shouldn’t have, I was overwhelmed-feeling as if the entire three ring circus was on my back.  First sad.  Then frantic.  Then Jesus.

I tell him, Jesus! I am clinging to your robes today, I need you badly!

These are the times when I run, full throttle, all engines on to God.  I picture myself running in to his amazing hug, and hear him say There, there child.

I can’t do this Jesus.

I know too much, why do I know so much and when did you make the decision to take a scaredy cat like this girl, and lead her in the direction of Doom.  Real news.  Investigative reporting.  I have felt the Holy Spirit driving me in this direction, and some days?  Down with the ship I go.

He never pushes, never demands.

I come to the realization that He alone is my Lord and Savior.  He will not leave me nor forsake me.  He is in control.  

I take a long hot shower.  I plug in my tiny white lights strategically placed all over my home, to give comfort.  Put some cinnamon on the stove.  And then He takes me back to who I was before I got clean.  I am profoundly grateful.

I fall into His arms.

Chimes of Freedom

I had meant to publish this on the Fourth of July, but for some reason it lay dormant in my drafts file.  I am incredulous at how Jesus has kept me strong through the darkest days of my life-but I know, as I know my surname, that He never, ever left me.

I haven’t written as I’ve had no inkling to, and I try not to force myself to do more than I already force myself to do.  OCD, it’s a silent killer, man.

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We weren’t in the door after a trip to the beach, when I received a text from my dying friend, Scott.  Actually, it was from his wife, whom I correctly assumed despised the absolute crud out of me.  Pure, unadulterated hate.

STAY AWAY  STAY AWAY

My friend and I had said goodbye about a month ago.  He had told his wife that we had a special bond-which added to her ire, I am quite sure.  You see, Scott and I weren’t allowed to see each other for two years, because she thought we were having an affair. She would drive by my house frequently, and when I happened to run into him he acted as if he was being chased by the Nazis.  It made me sad, to see him so isolated.  You see, I knew back then that his wife was a narcissist-but not to the level I have learned, and the hard way.

When I dropped by that day four weeks ago, Scott warned me about coming around.  He was very frank about his wife’s disdain.  We rode on the golf cart, around his beautiful acreage, where he pointed out the area where he had thirty dozen tulips planted as a surprise for Sherry.  We wept, and spoke as one does in a situation like this.

My friend was alone and terminally ill.  He told me his wife had pushed his entire family out of their lives, the same with the kids and any friends he may have loved.  He was utterly alone.  The news that I could never come back to the house hit me hard.  I wept for three days.

As fate would have it, my husband insisted that I sit down and talk with Sherry alone.  I had no desire whatsoever, after the dozens of previous conversations that did nothing but give her supply, and make an ass out of me.

And so it was that we ended up stopping in, at Dwain’s insistence.

She’ll be fine, he said.

She won’t be there, I said.

Scott text me to come before three, when Sherry would be home.  We came before three, and if you could have seen the look on my face?  You would have thought I had seen the Boogey Man, right then and there.

And so I talked to the wall again, and she blamed it on Scott confusing his thoughts.  Then she asked if I would like to care for him three days a week, and I foolishly accepted.

Long story short?  The sorrow in my heart for him waxes profane.  I am helpless and so is he.  I pray he goes home quickly, he has suffered far too much in his life, married to an emotionally abusive ice cube who taunted and ridiculed him for thirty five years.

I can give it to God, which I have.  And one day, oh one glorious day?  She will have to answer to the Most High.

Damnit, I wish I could be a fly on that wall.

Below, the blog I wrote on July 4, 2019

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I don’t care how strong or stoic you are; when it comes to your heart, or the breaking of it; your grief will find its way. Losing my ability to run from my emotions today, I finally let go and cried on my golden retriever’s neck-is there any better place for waterworks? Your canine/feline’s neck? Sigh.

The fall weather makes my heart sing-I love the cool air, the life transforming sunsets, and the harvest of a hard Summer’s work. Everything, from hay rides to pumpkins-it’s all good, I treasure every day. Big blankets, cinnamon burning on the stove, my pup at my feet. A Holy Bible. A Dean Koons. A warm cup of cocoa next to the fireplace, even if it is just gas. Our wood stove in the kitchen, cranking out heat so strong I walk around buck naked some days: the hot flashes don’t bode well with my husband’s desire to warm his feet, which have no circulation due to frostbite obtained in a long ago hunting trip.

My day turned from glorious to harsh reality in ten seconds flat. While hiking at Speedwell Forge, a beautiful but far away place. We go there maybe every two weeks, and due to recent flooding-we hadn’t been in months. Halfway through the trek I took out my cell. A screen I had seen only once before appeared; some sci-fi looking alert. I couldn’t turn the stupid phone off, and I was set to take pictures of an ethereal waterfall. I knew I was being targeted, and I was wild.

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I took my phone apart and head out towards the jeep. I was furious. Speech is not free in America, and hasn’t been for some time now. If you have a voice that goes against the mainstream media, you will be silenced. Period. Not only will they shadow ban on social media, but they will fuck with your electronics until you’re at the point of pulling your hair out. Literally.

Do you have any idea of how long it takes me to write a blog? Hours. The screen will go blank just as I am getting going, suddenly I will lose my work-even after I have saved it. It sounds silly, but after two years of this crap, I am beyond angered, frustrated, homicidal. Okay, not homicidal, but seriously?

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I have taken on an assignment from Jesus. For two years I have been led, by the nose at times, on a quest for truth. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS (the deep state contains more than a few Republicans, Mike Pence being a satanic, POS pedophile himself-and yes, I have proof)and due to the successful mission of Project Mockingbird-the media is full of CIA operatives, who are trained to “brainwash” the lowly general public. I will write more on this subject, and include research affirming my statements.

The point of all of this is that while I have no choice in the matter; while I don’t go down the rabbit holes with any joy in my heart; the fact is, this is how God wants to use me, in the here and now. He has been preparing me for such a time as this. Losing friends and family has been hard on my psyche, and three are days when the loneliness and isolation leave me breathless and weeping.

No. I didn’t ask for any of this, but I sure as hell fire will do my very best, to be the hands and feet of my Lord and Savior, Jesus.

Untouchable

 

We are back from the beach, and safe.  I thank and praise God as I feed my cat community (sixteen fixed and beautiful babies, three are crippled but please don’t tell them that) and comfort my newest adoptee-Miss Maybelline.

Maybel.

I did not ask for these kittens, they asked for me.  Some drop offs, some rescues, and all loved beyond comprehension.  I rush to the kitten, make her purr soft and thick.   The deal was that Dwain would leave the garage door up a foot, and we would place the cat food in said space.

When my husband is going on vacation?  He is in such a mad rush, all besides himself.  Poor guy literally trips over himself in excitement.  I’ll never forget my grandmother’s funeral, and one of the reasons I won’t is because of Dwain’s utter joy at arriving in his first ever hotel room.

“Look, honey!  We have a sitting room!  Wow, look how big that bed is?.” he yelped.  It touched a place in my heart, you know?

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Fall is just around the bend-my favorite time of year. And no, I don’t allow satan to ruin my Halloween. I absolutely refuse!

So, as it turned out?  Dwain left the garage door open alright, but about 4 inches at best.  Meaning that the skinny ones may have had a chance, but our big old farmhouse cats?

I didn’t see this until I jumped out of the truck upon arrival, and noticed my entire cat population was giving me the hairy eyeball.  I mean, I never felt so bad for an animal in my entire life, and I’m the idiot who always feels sorry for animals.  See: crazy cat lady.  Actually, my brother gave me the greatest gift before he moved to LA and broke our collective hearts.

The Crazy Cat Lady action figurine, complete with cats, a litter box and a zuit suit that cracks me up every time I see her.  Wild blond hair, I mean, it’s me, what can I say?

I always learn something new about myself, my faith, when I’m away relaxing.  Problems are solved, a new awareness of my humanness, my weaknesses and strengths.  As we drove home, I was saddened for more than one reason.  As much as I adore my man for booking my first ever house on the beach?  I can’t just do three days.  I have had a love affair with the sea since early childhood-I bloom at the beach.  I need at least a week, before I feel compelled to even think about leaving.

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And I did so love the house, the people we met along the way.

God has a way of showing his immense love for me in ways I could never had noticed when I was using.  As I strolled through the woods with my pup this morning, I thought about how much I prayed that people will turn to Jesus if they haven’t already-and know that peace and joy that surpasses all understanding.  I almost wept, thinking of the lonely, the homeless, the ostracized.   If you would just give your life over to Abba, there are no words in the English vocabulary I could use to describe the peace that a life with Christ provides.

The house was jaw drop beautiful.  On the bay, with our own private “beach.”  I thought we were on the ocean for the first two days, until a neighbor said to my husband-

“This isn’t the ocean?”  The look on his face so comical I had to change my panty liner.

But Jesus was there in a multitude of ways, blessing the crud out of us.

The rainbow the first night, confirming our faith and our love for one another on our twenty seventh wedding anniversary.

My childhood furniture in one of the bedrooms, a painting of a golden retriever above the fireplace mantel.  The perfect cloudy weather that makes me come alive.  The opportunity to help a sister awaken, and the beautiful child Aria-the granddaughter of our new friends-who absolutely flit like a butterfly, alighting on each new discovery with child like abandon.

She and her eyelashes?  Restored a part of my heart I never, ever thought would heal.

nature red girl model

On the drive home I felt troubled.  What did I learn about myself?  What new revelation about my walk with Jesus?  Was three days insufficient?  Maybe I wouldn’t have that aha moment this time.  It didn’t matter really, but it was there in the back of my mind.

When we left on Thursday I was a triggered nub of nothingness.  Between the drama involved in trying to help a friend who was dying of cancer.  His wife was not happy about me being there, and the situation was toxic for me.  One day into it he offered me a morphine pill, and I took it.

I relapsed.

He was putting me in between he and his wife, complaining about her and manipulating my emotions.  I was enabling him, buying cigarettes and feeding in to his story that his family ignored his presence, wouldn’t buy him groceries, showed him no sympathy whatsoever.  I didn’t just take a drug, I had relapsed into my old codependent ways of thinking.  I was a human punching bag, it seemed.  He was constantly telling me that his wife didn’t like it that I was there.

Hold on, his wife asked me to be there.

I dreaded coming home to this, as if I had no choice.

Last evening I contacted him, and explained the reasons why I simply could not be his hospice “nurse.”  I told him that I didn’t want to come between he and his wife, nor could my CPTSD handle the constant high drama.

As I finished the text, my Maybelline screamed outside.  She had food and water, and I shushed her mouth, with a firm I. will. see. you.  tomorrow.

It wasn’t until this morning that I realized what had happened.

God grew me a backbone.

Turns out, there was only one set of footprints on that beach-and that was because He was carrying me.

Calmed and Broken

Every once in awhile, I think Jesus likes to remind me of something:  I am not of this world, meaning I don’t fit in and have no intention of changing one thing about myself.  I have never fit in, but today the point was driven home in a cruel and devastating way.  It may be the enemy in attack mode, but I am a work in progress, and I am God’s work in progress.

I don’t want anyone to think I pity myself, as I find that a very undesirable character trait.  Spend enough time with the narcissist population and trust me, you’ll feel the same way.   However, I will say that I was pushed to my very limit this afternoon, resulting in a public display of rage and a headache at volume eleventy.  The following story may sound shocking to you, but I have learned to expect the ludicrous, as apparently that is my cross to bear in this dimension.

I came here from the Philadelphia area, to Lancaster County-by all appearances the quaintest of the quaint.  Loads of history, horse and buggies everywhere (I never tire of it) and a few of the finest restaurants around.  Beautiful countryside, small town charm, the whole shebang.

There is something disturbing about these people.  Not all, I have met some very lovely people and you know what?  They are almost always from somewhere else.  Living on the Main Line was different for me-I had many close friendships.  I didn’t realize how very accepting these fine people were, until I entered the Twilight Zone that is this one horse town.

I don’t keep up with the Joneses.  I keep to myself, unawares of what other folks are thinking.  I go to the grocery store without  makeup, usually with my stained hiking clothes.  Not a touch of makeup.  My long hair tied in a knot, lucky if my socks match to be frank.  This isn’t to say that I don’t clean up pretty, but when I do?  Vintage clothing, the more unique, the better.  My mother was a fashion plate, but when it came to me?  Let’s just say she liked to experiment.

I remember the first day of seventh grade, because mom made me wear velvet purple knickers, matching shirt and white lace up boots.  The kids were vicious, the taunting and pointing went on all day.  It didn’t bother me as I had become accustomed to children taunting me, as they did in elementary school-simply because I did not conform.  I was my own person, never a follower of anyone else.

I am helping out a close friend, he is dying of cancer.  For the second time in a week I was a hot mess in mucks.  I entered the house to a very angry man.  He told me he had just told his wife and son that he didn’t care what they thought, he wanted me to help him.  The narrative goes back and forth between everything’s groovy to his wife hates my guts.

“Now what?,” I asked.

The other day while in the grocery store, making conversation, I told the cashier I was helping out with Scott.  Apparently, she ran with this information (wow, scandalous I know) to Scott’s mother in law, who immediately phoned her daughter.

“She’s mad because her mother told her that you were in Dutch Way, bragging about how you’re taking care of me.  I just screamed at her and told her I didn’t care that she thought you were crazy, I wanted you around, period.”

“Can you please go back to the ‘crazy’ part?,” I stammered.

“You know, your hair isn’t perfect, everyone thinks you’re crazy.  Not many people in this town like you, who cares?”

I left the house enraged.  Truly enraged.  I drove to Dutch Way at eighty miles an hour, peeled into the parking lot, barely stopped the car before getting out.  I stormed in and asked for Cindy, the cashier, who had left earlier.  I then asked for the manager, and was directed toward the office.  My friend Lu Anne stood there, looking at me with anticipation.  I told her what happened.   I was shaking and livid.

“I want her job.  I want her job.  She is FUCKED!!!,” I screamed.

I felt their eyes burning holes through my backside.

I drove home, hugged my pooch, cried in the shower.

Children of God need to realize that they will be persecuted, rejected and even shunned because the “worldly” don’t understand us, they despise us because we frighten them.  They are broken people who’ve never truly known Christ in their heart.

I pity them.

 

 

 

Into His Arms…

I have to start out by telling you I have consumed my happy juice and am a bit crosseyed at this time.  But praise Jesus, for he has given us every herb, plant and fruit bearing tree so that we will live healthy, peaceful lives.  Medicinal.  Used for my CPTSD, it can take me from despair to joy, and that my friends is worth its weight in gold.

I’ve been thinking about what is happening in this world, and obviously, it all but freaks me out.  After watching a video I shouldn’t have, I was overwhelmed-feeling as if the entire three ring circus was on my back.  First sad.  Then frantic.  Then Jesus.

I tell him, Jesus! I am clinging to your robes today, I need you badly!

These are the times when I run, full throttle, all engines on to God.  I picture myself running in to his amazing hug, and hear him say There, there child.

I can’t do this Jesus.

I know too much, why do I know so much and when did you make the decision to take a scaredy cat like this girl, and lead her in the direction of Doom.  Real news.  Investigative reporting.  I have felt the Holy Spirit driving me in this direction, and some days?  Down with the ship I go.

He never pushes, never demands.

I come to the realization that He alone is my Lord and Savior.  He will not leave me nor forsake me.  He is in control.  

I take a long hot shower.  I plug in my tiny white lights strategically placed all over my home, to give comfort.  Put some cinnamon on the stove.  And then He takes me back to who I was before I got clean.  I am profoundly grateful.

I fall into His arms.