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.


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… 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.


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.

Joy and Peace


Two years ago, right before our 24th wedding anniversary and subsequent trip up to the cabin in Potter County-a man I called friend, shot his ex-girlfriend at point blank range:  in broad daylight, with children everywhere, at the Jigger Shop in scenic Mount Gretna.  Patrick then put the gun in his mouth and ended his mental anguish forever.  His ex died on site, and she left two heartbroken children behind.

I met Patrick and his brother Mitch when first dating my husband.  They were dear, uproariously funny and rebellious.  I left the Philadelphia area to get away from drugs, namely-cocaine.  Working at a Houlihan’s in the King of Prussia mall, I had developed a habit, and I had just shaken an addiction to methamphetamine months before.  Coke was the perfect substitute, and it was very, very easy to score.  When my then fiancée asked me to move with him to Pennsylvania Dutch Country, I jumped at the chance.  It wasn’t long before I met my current man, who, unfortunately, had a behemoth of an addiction himself.

Patrick and his brother, Mitch, were the local suppliers.  Patrick and his wife were the first friends I made out here-it wasn’t long before the midnight phone calls began-Liz, out of her mind frightened, as Patrick would come home drunk and ready to rumble-waking his wife and infant, smashing Christmas trees, and yes-he hit her.  More than once.   I would come and talk him down.  But I began to loathe him-domestic violence is no joke-I have been a victim of both emotional and physical abuse.  I stuck with Liz, but Patrick faded away.

At one point I heard he was doing jail time, for beating the crud out of his new bride, who just happened to be an attorney.  But nothing stuck, and his actions-combined with the mentality of local police and judges alike-would be dismissed out of hand.  Thus the murder-suicide.  Tragedy is an understatement, this rocked our collective worlds.

At that time, my sister was also creating in me a downward mental spiral.  I hadn’t even heard of Narcissistic Abuse; it was on this vacation that I found information that would, two years later, set me free.  Yet my state of mind when we arrived at the cabin?  I believe I was in shock, grieving and mentally/physically at my limit.

As we entered the cabin, Dwain went to turn on the water, heat and other appliances.  I went for the bottle of Tequila, and sipped slowly as I read the news from home.  I mixed the liquor with Juicy Juice, so my husband wouldn’t suspect anything.  I had been sober for the past nine years, but I made the deliberate choice to drown my sorrows,  I didn’t get drunk on this vacation, but it was enough to remind me how booze can take away the pain.  A reminder I didn’t need at the time.

Standing in the kitchen, just a few days ago, my husband asked a question which led to my confession.  The only person I had told, previous to this conversation was my friend Joyce, a fellow recovering addict.  In the rooms, we are told to make amends, absolutely, but not if the process would leave the person hurt.  I had thought of coming clean many a time over the last few months and years; I just couldn’t do it to Dwain-and no, it wasn’t an excuse.  I was afraid he wouldn’t take me to the beloved cottage in the woods of Potter County.  I was in fear of the truth marring his memories of our anniversary.  To tell him would be cruel, not?

I answered his question, then turned my face in his direction.  I confessed.  And it hurt him, very much so.  He screamed he couldn’t trust me, I screamed back.  I cried big, fat, ugly tears that evening-angry with myself, angry with my addictions and yes, even angry with my loving husband-who doesn’t deserve the likes of me, and never did.

The moral of the story is this:  yes, we want to be truthful, as Christians-it’s a pretty serious matter.  But the past is the past.

Keep it there.  Ask Abba for forgiveness.  And swear an oath of secrecy to Jesus, to yourself.  The past is just that, but the future awaits us-like a diamond in the rust.  Polish that stone often.  Don’t look back, for you are a child of God-and your remorse and repentance is more than enough.


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~

Got Flonase?


I can laugh about it now, so that means I can write about the crazy ass allergies I have experienced this Summer.  Not since my first hay fever attack (I was ten and I thought I was dying-my father had just mowed the grass, and my eyes sweat tear after tear, then shut, completely)  have I experienced more than a sneeze or two.  This year?  Holy optical migraine, Batman!  What, please tell me, are they putting in the air?

By 5:00 p.m., I literally had to don sunglasses, IN the house.  My husband teased me relentlessly, and I did wish him bodily harm, as there was no way on God’s green earth that he was going to give me some compassion, hells no!

“What, may I ask, are you doing?,” he asked, one evening last week.

What did he think I was doing?  Practicing to be a starlet?  Trying to look super Coolio for the dog?  Possibly practicing some form of ritual to erase my many wrinkles?  NO.

If you, like me, have allergies-you will want to get your ass to the nearest pharmacy and buy some Flonase.  I did just that a few days ago, actually I went to Wal-Mart, but that fiasco is a story for another day.


Yep, by late in the afternoon I could feel the melodious pull downward, and not just my sinuses.  The pain would begin in one dry eye (causing a pretty obvious eye twitch) and then proceed to the other.  Seeing, well, anything became a problem.  I found the idea of going to bed (most depressives will tell you that bed is depressing.  We associate bed with melancholy) absolutely loathsome.  So, I donned my red wayfarers and took up my cross, no matter the cries of protest-it was all I could do not to shoot myself in the nasal cavity, let me tell you.

So, if you got allergies-you got troubles.  Something wicked this way comes.  Do yourself a favor and buy the juice-the sweet, healing nectar will reduce the inflammation.  Your dog, cats and husband will be glad you did-take off the sunglasses, that is.  🙂




Remember early on in years
I carried you and
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
and cared for what
I thought to be
my forever

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

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

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

The time will
I’ll be long gone,
at home and loving

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

I Am Warrior….


I dropped off Jesse at the groomer this morning.  The groomer is my gal pal Sherry, and her husband Scott.  I was privileged  to work for them six years ago, and even though they live less than a mile away?  I hadn’t really known them until I became one of their dog walkers.

Scott has been given six months to live.  He had oral cancer sixteen years ago, and the miracle is that he is still among the living.  At 60, he is not willing to have any treatments; his body has been through enough.  I have wept a million tears over this, but the good news is he is now using CBD oil, and I am asking for as many prayers as you can give:  we want a miracle, and I believe in the power of prayer.

After the initial cancer diagnoses, after the treatments (his face is unrecognizable to some, but to me, it’s the only face I have known) he became a born again Christian.  He drove around the tri-county area, stopping in with people he felt he owed an apology.  He began loving everyone and every minute of life he was granted.  He is as strong as they come, physically and mentally.  I don’t want him to go, I can’t lose another friend.  And my heart absolutely aches for his wife.

The good news is that he is trying a round of CBD oil, just recently prescribed.  Sadly, it took months to go through, and his first attempt wasn’t very pleasant.  He took a small dose the first night, then for reasons only know to him, he tripled the dose.  Too stoned to move, he lay in bed for two days.  He swore it off, but God had other plans and he is back on the small dose.

Life is so precariously short-I try my best to put aside petty differences, and forgive quite easily-I want my father in Heaven to forgive me, and the hardest thing I have ever done is forgive my sister.  But here’s the thing: we have a God to go to, our Lord and Savior-Jesus.  But what about those who don’t have the faith?  Well, our prayers mean everything.  I am living proof of that.  He is mighty and loving and all seeing.

And I am his warrior, from now until eternity.