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.

Something Keeps Calling Me

I don’t know if I said this before, so I will try and communicate it now:  anything and everything I write that means something comes directly from the Holy Spirit.  My blogs aren’t written off handedly-there is a spiritual connotation, God gives me the song, and when the synchronicity becomes too much to bare?  I cave, and I write.

Right at this minute there is a war going on:  for your soul, your mind and your faith.  God promised us in Revelations that the enemy can’t take your soul, but what would happen, say, if you sold it?  That’s right-to the other team, the spiritually corrupt enemies of Jesus Christ-they are working non stop to control your thoughts, prayers and mind.

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Some of us have known Jesus our entire lives.  It’s not that we knew who He was as tiny tots, but it is my belief that we knew His love from the word go-I am one of these people.  One of my earliest memories is that of sitting on the pot as a small child.

Please let my family be happy, healthy, holy and safe.

How many toddlers come out with that?  And how many knew at a very young age that they were loved and protected by a gracious and loyal God?  My mother raised us in the Catholic church-and if we learned anything it was to FEAR Him.  At 5 years old I was petrified to step on the crack of a sidewalk, as I assumed that it would, indeed, break my momma’s back.  But when I was alone?  In the quiet, by myself I felt  the love of Jesus.  I don’t think I would have managed the childhood drama trauma if I didn’t know that at the end of the day, God was in control.

And yet, as I grew older, I became an anxious bundle of phobias and limitation.  We were raised to be alarmed at anything and everything.  My very own sister was in a high chair until the age of twelve, but that’s another story for another day.  I remember my first kiss, Tom Shunder-the absolute crush of my life.  I was fifteen and knew that I could not tell my mother.  She had actually told me that you can get pregnant from kissing boys-and I believed her!  So there I was, the next day, looking up French kiss in the Encyclopedia Britannica-it makes me sad just thinking about that day.

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If you give it your all, this precious thing called Faith will suffice.  God’s grace is sufficient.  There is nothing to fear.  If something doesn’t sit well with you?  Call out His name.

 

The Turning Point

There comes a point in one’s life when they stop fighting.  You know the person because, hopefully, you are the person who may be the family oddball, black sheep or scapegoat-primarily because you can think for yourself.  When you break the chains of codependency, you truly live in a land of freedom; but may I caution you to maybe, if possible, not argue, harass or demean anyone for any reason-especially for their political or private beliefs.

The past three years have hardened our determination to fight for God and country.  Yet we are weary and battle fatigued; some of us have PTSD, others family in the military.  Basically a group of anonymous patriots who want our God given rights to be protected, our children safe, human trafficking ended.  Our families divided, our friendships lost-it adds up and it is my belief that most of us just want the truth to come out.

Yet we remain in suspended animation, awaiting the other shoe dropping-the one that will send the people you love reeling in thoughts of hopelessness, or helplessness.  I have learned a few things about the Great Awakening, and in so doing Jesus has shown me how to overcome any thoughts of enmity or rage.  I have come through to the other side, through persecution and great grief-and now I want nothing but God, love and peace in my life.

I’m not perfect, I still fight dirty on Twitter when I’m fatigued.  I can meme with the best of them, but I try to do it with humor.  I will not fight, condemn or fear another man.  Simply put?  Don’t harsh my mellow man.

You hide in your mansion, with young people’s blood…   – Dylan

For every fallen angel, demon and predator-to those of you who hide in the dark alleys and crawl the crevices-God have mercy on your souls.

The best we can do, as soldiers of Christ, is allow His love to fill our hearts, His grace to calm our souls.  We need to love one another back to health, one day, one need at a time.

The Storm has finally arrived.

I hear it’s going to be biblical~

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Life During Wartime

 

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around..

I saw a video this morning that kind of, sort of, somewhat saved my sanity.  Her name is Polly, and I had subscribed to her two years ago, while up in the mountain cabin we call our second home.  We don’t own the cabin, but our friends are generous enough to allow us free reign, and for that we are incredibly thankful.  Here’s the thang:  I didn’t remember following her, and I saw her in a new light as she was doing vids on The Great Awakening.

 

What is the Great Awakening?

Many people mistake this movement as a blatant political statement geared towards wiping the planet of liberals:  I caution you not to fall for that, as this movement does not discriminate exclude anyone, of any denomination or political affiliation.  Quite simply?  We have been lied to, manipulated, and poisoned-literally-by the people we were taught to trust.  Once you go down the Rabbit Hole, so to speak, you cannot unlearn what you are faced with-and afterwards?  After you are AWAKE (I believe God chooses when and if we are to awaken, and frankly?  It has been an ongoing process: it begins where Elizabeth Kubler-Ross left off-you will grieve, you will deny, you will bargain and in the end?  It is up to you to decide what your heart and soul are telling you.

Discernment.

Patriotism.

Faith.

A purpose driven quest to get to the truth, no matter the cost.

In my case, as in Polly’s, I lost my family.  Everything I thought I knew fell away.  At first, I was screaming the facts at anyone who would listen.  I made mistakes.  I wept daily.  And to this day I am alone in my fight, to be a seeker of the God’s honest truth.

I don’t try to red pill anyone any longer.  You can use this information in any manner you choose.  I don’t write on it very often as I am still working on a way to begin a blog under an assumed name-my life is no longer my narcissist’s business, but she is loathe to understand this concept-and reads my writings daily.

I pray we can all come together, as a nation, as a people, as God’s children.  For only then will this bitter war of words and flesh end; for the good of all nations under our mighty Savior.

Say brave things-you have a roaring Lion inside of you, and he is begging to be heard.

 

Hydrangeas

 

 

I have talked about caring for my friend Scott, who has end stage cancer.  Allow me to go back to the beginning, as the background is important.

In 2009 I worked for Scott at the dog lodging business he owned.  I hadn’t really any interaction with him or his wife until this job.  Although they lived down the street, we didn’t see them out and about-ever.  I grew close to his wife, or so I thought.  The job ended badly, for various reasons.  My hours were wrong, and I called to talk with Cheryl about the discrepancy, the mistake.  The conversation ended badly, and I was very upset.  I had thought us friends, but her reaction to a simple request sent my mind reeling.  What had I done?  

The very next day Scott came to the house, and offered to pay me the difference.  I had grown fond of him, and I felt badly for him-he seemed so jittery-as if he was afraid someone might catch him in the act.  We became friends, and in time the four of us would dine together, mostly in the Summer.  In the Winter months Scott would call and say his pond was ready for ice skating, we were good.

Long story short?  I received a text from him one day in late Spring.

“I’m sorry, I can’t be around you anymore.”

I Sherlocked the shit out of that scenario, and my gut reaction was correct-Cheryl began driving by our house, to check on him, make sure he was following “the rules.”  I ran into her mother in the grocery store one day, and sure enough, I was told that her daughter thought I was having an affair with her husband.

I confronted her, and believed her when she said all was good.

Two years pass and my friend is on his death bed, his cancer has returned.

I am called to his home, to say goodbye.  When I arrive I am confused, he seems well.  As well as we would have expected.  He is alert times three, his vitals and coloring are good.  We hold each other, cry on and off.  He gives me a golf cart ride around the property, shows me where the garden will be planted.

So, next Spring, when Cheryl looks to the pond, she will see hundreds of tulips.  I paid the neighbor boy to plant bulbs.  What do you think?

I feel nauseous, as if he is hiding something.  I can’t ask because my tears have created so much snot in my sinus cavity that I fear I will snot all over him.  We say our goodbyes, again, and I stop and turn towards him-the questions of a thousand lifetimes shadow my face.

I know you love Hydrangeas, please, pick some.

And with that I am too far gone to gather flowers.

I’ll plant my own garden, in Heaven, where all tears will be wiped from our faces.  And I will once again be free from the shackles that bind my heart.

woman with black and red flower tattoo standing behind blue flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

News to Break Your Heart

This news broke on the Patriot hour not 45 minutes ago.  Please be forewarned: the information is raw and chilling, but in order to ensure this never, ever happens again-we must face the music.

Our children and future generations deserve this.

Rating: R  Not intended for children.

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God will have His victory over evil, and that’s a threat, not a warning.

Slap Me With the Splintered Ruler

 

Good Saturday morning to y’all.  I need you to know that I only have a laptop on the weekends, as mine took a crapola last week.  Of course, my husband offered to take me to Best Buy this weekend, but I am not ready.  Very interesting…a week ago I felt like someone took my nubby-How Will I Ever Exist?  I won’t be able to write, go on Twatter, see the REAL news.  Yet God, in His infinite wisdom, had much greater plans.  Goosebumps….

Let’s just say that I had been way too preoccupied with the web, and with my addictive personality?  I had cut down on pc time, but still carried the computer with me, room to room.  True confession time:  I took it to the bathroom with me.  Don’t judge me, that room is the only room in the house with a door!  Sometimes a girl needs to breathe.  So, while my husband, friends and support network were extremely concerned (I have to say, my brother was probably ready to send for the men in white coats-haha!) Wouldn’t that be special?  My sister tried to have me committed to a facility the night I tried to take my own life-wise, you are saying to yourselves.  I just covered my ears until the social worker on duty promised me there would be no psychiatric institutions.  The very next morning they released me, gave me an Atarax (boy, if I could get my hands on some of those babies-but nah, just the drug addict in me) which allowed me to sleep my entire first day of sobriety away….giving my man time to drain the booze, and anything expensive was given to the neighbors. 

When I awoke that stormy October afternoon, back in 2007?  I went directly for the booze cupboard, searching for something-anything alcoholic-to my surprise I found a jug of white wine.  I sat that baby on the table and we had a talk, until Jesus intervened.

My precious child, when?  When will you say enough?  How much more of this life will you waste?

That did it.  I put the jug back where it belonged and waited it out.  This would be the beginning of years of cravings, big and small.  Relapses.  Drinking upstate without my husband’s knowledge-at the beautiful cabin we are gifted access to from time to time-I knew that was a big bowl of WRONG, yet I couldn’t, or wouldn’t give that once a year libation up-and one day, I thought of all of the miracles that Jesus had performed for me, personal triumphs, freedom from cancer, the very fact that I was alive and breathing spoke volumes to me.

What if I made a covenant with God?  What if in exchange for all He has done, I put away the thought of ever drinking alcohol again, and prayed for Him to give me the strength to do so.

That conversation took place a year ago.

Not.  One.   Craving.

 

 

I could not give up on the worldwide web, the loss was profound…and if I can tell you anything about myself, I can tell you that I am highly adaptable to almost any situation.  They say it takes two weeks to form a habit, and that is why I said “No thanks,” when Dwain offered to buy me a lap top.  I am perfectly content writing on the weekends, and once I am convinced my internet addiction is tamed?  Only then will I purchase new equipment.

It turns out?  I have a life to live.  I cannot fathom the chunks of time I wasted, sitting in my hidy hole, rehttps://youtu.be/aTgrASzzUXUading every bit of the Great Awakening news I could find… I went down Rabbit Holes no person in their right mind would want to travel.  And again, once I got the monkey off of my back?  I began getting things done.  Actually working on the farmhouse, baking, cooking, finding me again.

My husband drove out to New Hampshire for a business trip last week.  And so it was, on Monday evening, the house quiet, no music, no television-that I found a picture of me and my father.

“Wow.  I always hated this picture of myself.  Not so much anymore, huh dad?  Umm…it’s/been/hard…”  The words tumbled from my mouth, and before I knew it, I was crying-my body wracked with emotional pain, I sensed something huge was in the air.

Jesus spoke to me again.

Child, it is time to let go of your shame.

Was I hearing Abba correctly?  Why, I didn’t realize I still carried it with me, the deep seated self loathing.  It took some time, but everything came together, as if a giant piece of the puzzle had been found.  I turned the pain into gratitude, as I remembered why I had such shame to begin with.

As a child, I knew shame.  My mother would go for days without speaking to me, and for the life of me, I truly never knew what provoked her ire.  I stopped a moment to think about what deep shame could do to a child in her formative years.  Eventually, I would buy her a card or pick her flowers.  I came across one such card in my mother’s bible just a while back.

Mom, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I love you very much.

Your daughter,

Michele

In school I suffered total shame because of my weight.  The kids were cruel, and the taunting was so persistent?  It took me well into my thirties before I could jog or walk past a group of teens.  No matter that I had lost the weight, I still felt the shame.

In High School, considered a jock and oddball, (Varsity Crew Coxswain) I began to realize that this wasn’t going to resolve itself, but I had no idea where to begin.  At Villanova, my shame came from not having or being enough.  Surrounded by incredibly wealthy and beautiful people, I made up a story about being a Jontue model.  Unfortunately, people not only believed me, they spread the word.  I mean, who doesn’t want to be friends with a famous model, right?  In college I learned to reinvent myself, and the only person I was hurting was me.  Why wasn’t I enough?

After college, my drinking career became legend in some parts of King of Prussia.  I began seeking attention (love) through a series of promiscuous love affairs-and the reputation stuck.  I began doing cocaine as a way to lift my spirits and self esteem; what could possibly go wrong?

The day I found myself on the doorstep of my rented home, due to losing an eight ball of coke.  I had given my brother a birthday party, and while I had my back turned, one of my nearest and dearest friends (I had only invited people we were very close to) had lifted the bag I had hidden, way in the back of my closet, under a stack of love letters.  I had promised Ted, my landlord, that I would sell it all that night.  There are no words to express my horror at finding I had been robbed.  I had no money to give him, and that didn’t sit well, not at all.

Ted sold drugs for the Gambino crime family.

I went on the run.  My room mate and best friend, Mel, beside me-we drove away like bats out of hell, and didn’t look back, not once.

So, with my worsening alcoholism and drug addiction, there were reasons to be ashamed.  And as I sat in my bedroom, weeping between the litter boxes, I asked myself this question:

What is there to be ashamed of now?  Why do you feel unworthy?  Why do you punish yourself for simply existing?

Let me light my lamp, says the tiny star; and never debate whether it will dispel the darkness.

– Rabindranath Tagore

May you shed your shame like the cloak of darkness it has become.

You are special, unique and loved-let your freak flag fly, baby~