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.
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
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.
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?
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.