Not My Plans

We've been having an occasional, but necessary deep discussion about the future. They started about two months ago about school and have continued about what we want.

My husband will be in September. That means he is in the latter years of his career. There are some things that we have to be absolutely serious about if we want to have any kind of working plan for life.

We both feel called to be diligent with our finances and control our debt. It was 8 years ago that we were over $150,000 in debt. That was a loan on one car and all the rest was credit card. I won't belabor the point, but probably 90% of the debt was created through credit card fraud by my mom. It took place over about a years time and was taken in large cash advances.

We assumed the debt and I assumed responsibility. We took a second mortgage on the house and a 401k loan from ourselves to avoid financial ruin.

We lived on a tight budget for years, saving any extra for vacations. My husband worked three jobs at one time so we could have vacations. Then we had to sell our house. Through that, we were able to dump our debt and second mortgage. However, we had to pay nearly $30,000 out of pocket to clear our house. The move created a laundry list of surprises. A trashed house that didn't appraise high enough, making us pay more down. Replacing all appliances. Repairing, cleaning and refreshing the house that was trashed. Repairs on the home we sold. Failed contracts that meant we paid three mortgage payments for six months.

My husband is the only income, see why we are still in a bit of debt recovery mode? It's much easier now, but our goal has to be to spend wisely and not accrue debt.

School at any kind of track to graduate in the next 3-5 years means accruing debt. That's not going to work. School is $20,000 for me to finish. Don't forget, we want to get serious soon about adoption. That is another $15-30,000. We can't swing it all on a fixed budget.

Here's the question my husband posed to me. If you graduate next year, are you going to get a job to pay off a student loan?

I've been thinking and praying about that. The answer is clearly no.

Last semester showed me that I am no where near ready for a 30-40 hour work week with strangers. My PTSD alone with no current counseling leaves me a bit incapacitated at some point most days. Do I think I'm closer to maybe working minimal hours in a safe environment? Yes, much closer to that. So I have to fully admit that ther is no reason to rush through a degree that I'm not going to immediately use.

He also asked me what kind of mom I would want to be if we adopted. Again, I've spent a lot of time with this. I've said for many, many years that I would want to be an involved parent. I would want to be available to volunteer at school, attend events, be home before and after school and possibly home school, depending on our location.

Those things matter to me, a lot. If we are going to be serious about adopting a 5-10 year old child, then a degree is going to sit for a good 8-13 years. Is $20,000 of debt worth that? Do I need a piece of paper worth that much money sitting on a shelf collecting dust? I have to consider what is really important.

I still feel called and have a heart to walk with women and girls through life, especially the tough stuff. My heart still longs to teach and lead. I'm not afraid and I want to serve women of every age. It's possible that God has a plan for that which doesn't involve a degree. I know a degree seems to bear weight in the church world.

The truth is that I don't know what the plan is for our lives. Each time I think I know, it changes or the path looks completely different than expected.

Court Decision

Last Friday, the Supreme Court overturned the states rights to determine same sex marriage laws. If you've followed along, I have a lot to say about and not what you'd really expect from a conservative Christian with a strong faith in the bible.

I feel like this decision is something I want to pick apart a little.

To start, I have a huge problem with this decision. Not the problems my Christian counterparts have, but should. By making this decision, the high court is unequivocally telling voters that their votes and opinions do no matter. They don't count. States have voted. Some have approved gay marriage and others have not. That's sets a dangerous standard for our states, government and people.

Beyond that, I'm ok with the law and here is why.

I've covered this before, but a reminder. I have friends and family who are gay. I love them. I want them to live their lives with the same protections and expectations of the law as I do. I believe when two people live a life together, they deserve to have protected assets and be able to have legal abilities to make decisions. They need to know that their lifelong commitments to each other are protected if something happens to the other.

Do I think being gay is ok? Well, I struggle with that biblically. The bible is fairly clear that sin is sin. If being gay is sinful, how is that any different than me telling my husband a lie or keeping the extra dollar the store clerk gives me? You might think that my sins are far less, but they aren't. In fact, my sins have much more weight.

I'm a Christian. My sin is weighted against God and has implications on my Christian walk. A person sinning who is not in a relationship with God, well it's sin but they have not expectation for repentance and forgiveness. They've not made a decision for Christ and their standard of life is different. I am held to a higher standard.

Gay marriage laws have no bearing on my marriage. The laws don't redefine my marriage and they don't change my marriage. My marriage is defined by the bible, not by a law.

Now let me touch on the responses of both sides.

Don't get me wrong, there have been loving responses from both sides.

I've seen hateful from both sides.

Gay people, you seem to want to cram this down every bodies throats. Some, not all, seem to think that raising hell is somehow going to make this transition easier. It's not. You're expressing hate to the same people you are pissed that hate you. Hate and hate isn't going to fix anything. As for the gay pride parades, enough! If you want to be recognized as everyday citizens with equality, then it's time to stop setting yourselves apart. Heterosexuals don't thrown big parades and you should seriously stop.

The most disappointing response have come from my fellow Christians. I have seen hate spewed. Hate! Jesus didn't spend his time on earth working a ministry of hate. He was here because God loves the world. This decision isn't comparable to a Christian hollacaust. Christians aren't and won't die because of gay marriage. If Christians disagree with the direction of government, then they need to band together even tighter to be heard. But even that's hard. Some of the most outspoken Christians are filled with hate and it's hard to get on board with that.

Ultimately, Christians need to stop being self righteous within the debate over gay marriage. It's a heart and sin issue. Their hearts have not been convicted that their love is wrong. We have to admit that even churches struggle from one to another over whether homosexuality is sin. I'm often not aware of my sin until the Holy Spirit convicts me. How can we expect their lives to work any differently and why would we ever think they would respond to hatred over their sin? We have to be careful that we don't forget that we are all ALL sinners. The only difference is that their lives and sin have been in the spotlight.

There is an appropriate response that we, Christians, are called to loud and clear in the bible. God sent his son for everyone. We are to speak truth in love to everyone, not hate. We are called to love one another, our enemies and those who oppose us. Judgement is not ours. Judgement day lies firmly in the hands of God. We need to be concerned with our own sin and our own thorn in the flesh. None of us is holy and righteous enough to take on another persons sin without invitation or love. We are commanded to share truth, but we cannot force Jesus on anyone. Lastly, we pray. God is in control, but we can ask for guidance and softened hearts toward those who oppose Christianity.

There's so much more than can be said. It's obvious that I still struggle with parts of this and can only approach with the heart God has given me.

Busy Weekend

Unless we are traveling, it is absolutely rare for us to have weekend plans. We don't know enough people and have an extremely empty social calendar. We also have a summer of empty calendar. So, this weekend is a rarity for us.

Starting Friday evening, we have a list of things going on.

Friday, we will try to get over to an antique tractor show. If it's not raining, we will spend some time walking through rows and rows of old tractors. I never thought I'd enjoy it, but I do. The history of the tractor is amazing, just as its part in the growth of our country. It's relaxing and interesting.

Saturday is completely full. My husband's company has their annual picnic at a lakeside waterpark. It'll be good food and a time of fun. It's a long drive, but worth it if you enjoy waterparks. While he attends that, I'll stay behind to attend a wedding.

The wedding is one of the girls from next door. The first time we met her last May was the evening she got engaged. Her and her fiancé have moved to a country house not far away. They are planning an outdoor wedding. This girl, she is the sweetest! We have a common love of animals and often discuss our adventures as dog moms.

From there, we will go to the church picnic. Now would be a good time to mention that we are forecasted to get up to 2" of rain Saturday. We definitely need to rain, but every one of these activities are outdoor. It could make for an interesting day.

On Sunday, we will head to church. Then, we will grab a couple dogs and make a two hour trek north to buy a lawn mower part. Exciting, I know. Actually it is. It will cut down on the time it takes to mow this massive yard because it will cut more at once. A bigger, better mower is on our wish list of we stay here.

I don't necessarily wish that every weekend was so busy, but I do wish that things were more active in our lives. Crazy because I know most people have the opposit problem and wish for quiet weekends.

Perverted Religion

Having very little to keep my mind busy this summer has led to an increase of memories and mental processing of trauma. It isn't anything major, but definitely something I am doing alone because I have never found any professional counseling here in Ohio.

None of the memories have been shocking or completely new. They have been additional memories of things I already knew or sequential to previous memories (meaning same or similar but a different time than previously remembered). I say that with the caveat that it isn't shocking to me, but would be for most everyone I know. Even though I know what I survived wasn't normal, there is a very normalization of the memories as just something that has happened.

One of the cop drama shows was on today while I was cleaning house. They were chasing after a priest who was forcing exorcisms on victims and killing them in the process. Obviously, that hasn't been my exact experience, but those are the things that trigger real memories for me. 

My dad was involved in satanic worship. Like I've written before, I have witnessed sacrifices and other satanic rituals. At times, I was forced to take part in the activities. This is also an area where I don't have a lot of absolutely clear memories. 

A lot of my memories have come back slowly, but completely. By the time the memory is complete, I can give infinite details about smells, sounds, physical feelings, emotions and sights. There are a few areas where the memories have only come in bits and pieces. Those include abuse related to my youngest brother, abuse committed by my grandpa and witnessed by my grandma, satanic activities and a few others. 

The show today triggered memories for me about my dad and the extent of his satanic worship. He always treated me as though I was broken, like I was somehow beyond repair. It was more than him calling me retarded or a reject or evil, three of his favorite words. He truly believed it. The truth was that I was a bit eccentric and often struggled to balance my own intelligence with his words. The only mental issues I had were a direct result of the hell my life had forced upon me. 

My memories today were of a few times when my dad had me bound while him and others beat and tortured me in an attempt to remove the evil and retardation out of me. I'll spare you the actual details. Those can stay in my head for now, they don't really need to haunt anyone else. 

A few years ago, I had someone tell me that there was no such thing as an atheist. His argument was that even someone who is against God has to believe there is a God to be against. That might be true. I argued that my dad believed he was the one and only god. I've since come to understand that he was neither. He didn't believe there was a God to be against. He didn't believe he was a god. What he believed was that he had thrown his lot in with satan. He was against everyone and everyone was against him. It is completely different. 

There is a satanic bible, rituals, expectations and gatherings. On the surface, it operates much like any normal religion. But, it is a perversion. Satanic cults pervert the truth to entice those who reject organized religion. 

I can't help but wonder if he still believes satan is the ruler of the world and deserves to be worshipped. As I watch the nightly news and see the evil of everyday life, I know so many people do subscribe to evil both directly and indirectly. It is possible that he still does, even though he looks so normal on the surface. 

Breakdown

This has been a week. More than. More than the usual unnecessary business to avoid depression and loneliness.

We both started the week off with food poisoning. Not that you need much detail on that, but I will say that it took almost a week to shake off the effects of it.

Tuesday, I had to schedule my cancer check/biopsy. I know, I shouldn't let that bother me. My results last year showed unusual cells, but no cancer or precancerous cells. But things can change in a year. The biopsy is also incredibly painful.

We also made the trip to Cincinnati to the back surgeon for my husband. He will get an injection next month to see if we can avoid surgery. Good news! But the experience was awful. The office was disgusting. Dirty and smelled really bad. The AC was broke, so it was a sweltering 85 in the waiting room. The restroom was something like you'd find at a gas station with outdoor amenities. The staff was unpleasant and we never did see the doctor.

The next day went fairly smooth until I slammed my little finger in the sliding glass door. Accident prone me followed that up by breaking a toe on Thursday. Friday, I left a sweet orange hue on the car because it wasn't far enough away from the tray I was spray painting. Saturday brought more fun as hot grease splattered on my hands, leaving me with blisters.

And today. Holy crap, where do I start. It's Father's Day. There's not much good to say about that. It's like a dagger to the heart to see my brother praising my dad for being the best father ever. As I thought about this at church today, all I could think was that if given the opportunity to say anything to my dad, it would be....fuck you. Yea, I suppose I still have a touch of anger toward him. I don't understand how my brother and I can have such differing things to say to him.

Speaking of church, it was another miserable experience for me. It's not the church, it's the climate and me. I don't need to go into detail, but it's a struggle to find the motivation to keep going.

Immediately following church, we grabbed sandwiches from the local Subway. Enough points for a free lunch...score. Except the girl making mine did a terrible job and didn't close mine. When I opened the package, half my sandwich dumped out onto my shirt.

Seriously! Yes, I'm ranting! It's been a crappy week.

Welfare Drug Testing

In our area, drug use is an epidemic. The drug of choice is heroine. Have you ever been around anyone on heroine? It's tragic.

Heroine is 97% addictive on first use. That means after first use, most people cannot stop without intervention. It is also extremely lethal because overdose comes too quickly. Emergency personnel carry Narcan to reverse overdose and save lives.

Everyone here knows someone who is or has been an addict, from what I've seen.

You can also imagine that leads to a lot of resentment amongst many hard-working, tax paying citizens. There is a push here, and I'm sure elsewhere, to require drug testing before welfare benefits are given. They want benefits to be refused for anyone who tests positive for drugs.

I sort of get it. They are creative. They trade benefits for drugs or drug money. It's a viscous cycle for addicts.

But there's a side that everyone is missing. Drug testing might be the answer, but a simple denial of benefits isn't the answer.

Like usual, I find myself on the opposite side of popular social belief and for good reason.

When I was younger, my family was poor. My mom worked part time jobs or not at all. She was a sorry example of a stay at home mom, but that's what she did when we were young. She didn't go to work full time until I was in high school.

My dad worked a factory job and usually in management. However, his pay was low. Not nearly enough to support a family of five.

For a lot of years, we were on welfare. My mom used to go once a month and stand in line for bulk items. She got cheese, rice, peanut butter and whatever else was offered. Sometimes those were the only things in our house to eat. She got a small amount in food stamps. She used those to buy things for her and my dad.

My dad was involved in drugs. I don't know exactly what his usage was like, but it'd be odd for him to not have used at all.

Granted, it wasn't much, but welfare fed us kids a lot of our younger years. We got handouts from my grandma. She'd buy cereal and milk. When my mom worked at the grocery store, we'd get meats that we're going bad or other items that couldn't be sold.

I have to believe that if drug testing were a requirement back then for welfare, ours would have been denied.

The problem with this methodology is that the people who would suffer the most are the kids. We wouldn't have gotten fed.

Stopping welfare benefits for families when the parents are drug users only complicates life more for innocent children. We would effectively make children deal with drug using parents on empty stomachs.

The theory is flawed. If there is mandatory drug testing, our government needs to be prepared to remove and care for children when the parents test positive. I'm not sure that our government agencies are ready for that influx of foster children. The courts would be inundated and the children would get shoved back in the home and without food.

I share all of that to give you something to think about. Think about those things when you are electing politicians who want to pass bills on this. It's coming. It's an ongoing issue that has to be addressed. Make sure your asking your local politicians who's going to feed the children before they deny benefits.

Comforting Fears

There is probably no more appropriate way to follow my last post than this. 

Since we don't have kids, all things come through a dog mom perspective. 

As I vacuumed this morning, the puppy ran from one room to another. He'd sneak around the couch and then back to the bedroom. It wasn't the first time, he does this every time I vacuum. The little guy is pretty fearless. 

Even when he was 2 lbs, he wasn't afraid of the bigger dogs. He had kind of a badass puppy mentality and feared nothing. You can imagine how the other dogs took that. The more mature dogs quickly established their dominance and let him know who was boss. More than once, he got snapped at. Nothing destructive, but they put him in his place. 

He started to learn that he could get hurt. He began to see that world is a lot bigger than him. He started to show fear. He's not anxious, but he does have some fears. Some are very similar to what I've seen in children. 

Obviously, he's afraid of the vacuum. He's scared of thunder. When we leave him in his kennel, he's fearful we won't return. I know because he won't leave my side when we get home and he cries when I get him out. A couple times, he's choked and come running. He wasn't in any danger, but he was shaking with fear. 

Today, after the vacuum was put away, he jumped in my lap. I could tell he was relieved. I patted his little head and told him that the vacuum was harmless and I'd never let anything hurt him. He doesn't understand my words, but he understands that I'm a source of comfort and safety when he's afraid. He knows in my arms, bad things won't happen. 

That's true. I love him and all my dogs. I made a decision to love and care for them and I take that seriously. Our pets aren't something we have just because it's a social norm. We've carefully chosen and committed to caring for them to the best of our ability until their last breath. That means we comfort and protect. 

We have four dogs. I know all of their fears. Lucy is the oldest. She is afraid of strangers, animals bigger than her and tractors. Gizmo, our other boy, is afraid of machines of any kind. The poor guy runs away from the mixer. Winnie, our tiniest and most traumatized rescue, is afraid of men, leashes and stairs. We've comforted them all at different times. 

We aren't sure what drives their fear, but know they have nothing to worry about. We will protect them to the best of our ability. 

As I thought about that this morning, I think that's something I've been missing my entire life. Up until I was 32, I never had anyone comfort me through any of my fears. Nobody to really protect me. When I finally had one or two people who tried, I never believed them. It's something I've desperately needed this past year and didn't have. 

It's funny, I know the typical Christian response to what I'm saying. God is sufficient. He is the answer. He is the comforter. Take all your fears to Him. I get it, I really do. 

But...

I'm a slave to my flesh. Even though I know truth, I still need and desire an earthly comforter. I don't think it's wrong to want comfort in earthly form. I think it's a very real form of the hands and feet of Jesus. I guess what I'm saying is that the desire is absolutely normal and God can use anyone he'd like to be just that. 

I'm 40 years old. I'm probably too old for anyone to pat me on the head and tell me it's ok, the vacuum or thunder won't hurt me. But even at 40, I still want that comfort when fear overwhelms me. 

Wanted: Dad

Since I grew up void of any real father figure, I rarely miss having a dad. I never knew what it was like, so not having that relationship has never felt like much of a loss. Maybe because I'm a female, the loss/void of a mother-daughter relationship has always been a much bigger whole for me. 

This past year has pushed me more into those feelings of wishing a had a father figure in my life. It isn't because we moved or even because it's been so difficult. 

I think it's because this last year has made me long for someone to help me maneuver marriage and male issues. 

My husband is ten years older than me. That means he's going to fall apart ten years faster. Besides that, he's had a myriad of self esteem problems and self doubt. He's questioned himself. He's questioned us. He's been super low. He's had more anxiety and fear. 

I've desperately needed someone to listen and offer advice on how to handle these things. 

Tomorrow we head to a back surgeon. The second ortho specialist for him this year. He didn't need surgery on his arm, but I'm not sure he will be able to avoid it. He has four bulging discs in his back with arthritis present in all of them. One of them is pinching is sciatic nerve. Something has to be done. Of course I'm praying for the least invasive, but will encourage whatever route is going to end the pain he has been in since last September. 

I'm fearful. We are here alone. What am I supposed to do if he's down for weeks or months? I've not driven in city traffic for over 8 years. I'm fearful of even getting him to and from a surgical procedure. 

It's all made me wish I had a male figure in my life to trust and lean on. Someone to count on. Someone who can step in and help if he's out for a while. I don't have that. I have brothers who don't care. He has brothers who can't and won't make the trip to help out. 

We've recently been discussing whether to stay or leave. We are leaning toward staying, but I hate how alone we are. I hate that this is one of those times when I'm not really sure how things will turn out. I also hate that this kind of thing pushes me into a desire I've never had nor wanted. 

Embarrassing Mom

For the past two years, we've enjoyed watching the show the Goldbergs. It's set in an era when we were just kids. There are so many things that remind of us the crazy things about growing up in the 80s and 90s. High hair. Station wagons. Kids that stayed kids for a lot longer than they do now.

My husband likes it because it reminds him of his family. It's always chaos with something happening. The boys pick at each other with tiny signs of loving each other.

I like it because it's nice to see how a family, even a functional dysfunctional one works.

If you've never seen the show, the mother is constantly embarrassing her kids. I suppose that's just part of being a parent and child. They call her the hover mother though. She over encourages and praises her children and knows everything.

Last night as we watched a repeat, we started discussing moms. My husband says his mom never did anything embarrassing. She had plenty of opportunity since she was the school secretary. It kind of made me sad. He struggles with the lack of involvement his parents had in his life and not knowing if he was loved. Maybe silly stories like that might have been a reminder to him that they did care and were present.

Like usual, I didn't have anything positive to offer.

My mom never cared enough to be a part of my life. It was hard and still is.

But don't think she wasn't embarrassing. She was! Just not in a kiss you on the cheek when you're 16 in front of your friends kind of embarrassing.

Until my senior year of high school, I was a total wall flower. I was an excellent student, but blended into the masses. We all did. I was the intelligent one with straight As and an honor student. My middle brother was the track star who broke school records. My little brother was the golf standout who was a sweet kid. None of us ever got into trouble, but we weren't well known either. We didn't take similar class loads. So, most teachers and other students either didn't know us or didn't even know we were related. They still don't.

There were times when I was known by upperclassmen and I wished I weren't. When I was a freshman and sophomore, my mom worked at a local grocery store.

She worked there with juniors and seniors. She was also loose and carefree with her actions when she didn't think anyone was looking. She hit on students and kissed customers and employees. I'm positive it didn't stop there. She had multiple affairs that I knew about.

The upperclassmen didn't hesitate to tease and taunt me about my mom, the whore. That was most definitely embarrassing. I remember telling her that the guys from school said she was a whore. I remember so well that she said they hit on her. She thought a lot of herself.

It's so funny that those things aren't terribly disturbing memories for me and aren't often thought of. I suppose it might have been different if she'd been single. She wasn't. My parents are still married. Frankly, I don't know how or why.

Little Lives

Between Facebook and the local news, I hear about a child's death or major, life-threatening illness all the time. It seems like there's a new one daily. 

This past year, there's been so many on the news. A grandmother in Indiana decapitated her grandchild and a mother in Cincinnati did the same to her baby girl. A set of parents tortured and starved their two year old. It was horrific. The medical examiner said there was no food in her Stacy and air in her intestines. There's several more. 

The young couple here lost their four month old. A couple back home lost their daughter this weekend when her heart stopped. 

I have friends with children fighting cancer, heart problems, spina bifida and a variety of other things that are potentially life ending. 

Despite the heartache and stress, most of these parents handle themselves with grace and confidence. That's not to say they don't worry and breakdown. I know they do. Their hearts grieve for what they've lost or how there children struggle. 

I don't have to have children to know that these things are some of the most difficult of their lives. I know many of them, in their private moments, wrestle with what has or is happening. 

As a bystander, encourager, somebody watching from afar, it's a struggle for me. I feel like these are the things that make me question God's soveriegnty the most. How could a loving God? How could a Jesus who loves children? How could they? 

God formed each of those children. He knows every hair on their head. It's hard to understand why some babies come out perfect and live a seemingly perfect life, but others have such a long fight or lose the fight before their first breath. 

If you wade through the pain of each individual situation, you'll see the many ways God has worked. He works in the child's life, the parents life and through the child. If you look past the pain, you can often find a perfect plan and understand that life couldn't have been any other way. 

But on the surface, I know my heart struggles to really get it. I suppose I have to go back to the blind boy. The one where Jesus made it very clear that he was not blind because of his or his parents sin. It's obvious that his blindness was used to glorify God and show the works of Jesus. 

I think these things are in front of me constantly so that I will continue to remind myself of truth. When disease or death comes to an elderly person, it's a bit expected, even through painful. Those things don't push me to consider Gods plan or truth. The truth seems to be in the circle of life. But, children aren't the same. They haven't lived a full life. They haven't experienced enough. 

I would never say I'm thankful for any child's or parents pain. However, I have to be mindful and thankful for the many ways God uses the pain and situation. I have to be thankful for the many ways I've seen God glorified and prayers answered in so many of these. 

Not Gone and Not Forgotten

There's absolutely no denying that this past year has brought an enormous amount of healing. Moving so far away from family, triggers and constant painful reminders of a life stolen has given. Me new hope, a new start. God has done amazing things in my life. Even through great struggles, there has been a great deal of positive change.

All that to say, I'm thankful for the changes. However, I've not forgotten. I have not forgotten that the bottom line has not changed.

This week, I heard about someone receiving the same diagnosis I did in 2010. While I don't know the person, my heart instantly broke for her and her family. I don't have to know them to fully grasp the pain, confusion and struggle they will face in the days, weeks, and lifetime ahead. I don't have to know the underlying issue that brought this young lady to where she is now, to intimately understand how trauma has impacted her life.

In full disclosure, I'll tell you that I won't fully disclose this part of my life. It's still too painful and misunderstood to trust the general population with it. There are only a few people active in my life who know and even they struggle to understand at times. A dozen others who've walked through parts of the past eight years with me know, but have no part in my life now. Nobody here in Ohio, except my husband, know the full story.

It's rare, only .01% of the worlds population has been diagnosed. There are more undiagnosed, but easily confused with other illnesses. Mine is complex enough that it will stay with me until the end of my days.

In times like right now, I'm ok with that. It's not a present problem and on the surface, I live a perfectly normal life. It's easy to shove it aside. The lack of mental health care available, makes it easier to set aside. However, I know I'm in trouble the second I can't keep it at bay.

Interestingly enough, I still can't get life insurance but I could buy a gun. Crazy, huh!

I could say that I began this journey eight years ago, but honestly the journey is life long. The healing began eight years ago. It's a process. Healing hasn't come easily and until this year, has never come quickly.

There's no medication for this illness, but it's not terminal. I hate that anyone ever has to hear their diagnosis. I hate the pain that brings them to that point in life. I hate that it's an illness that there isn't a textbook fix for. I hate that it's so misunderstood that people, like me, can't share with the general public. I hate that it's an isolating illness because it's not better understood.

Even though I live as if I'm normal, I've not forgotten. I've not forgotten this part of me. I've not forgotten that I still have a ways to go before I'll be made whole from all that broke me apart.

The Movie

Well, I did it. I paid the $1.50 at redbox and rented 50 Shades. We watched it for our Friday movie night. I've definitely got some observations.

You won't see what I've previously said, because I removed the posts. However, I had a definite opinion about all the negative hype. In short, I read the books and found the story to be one of restoration and beauty.

After watching the movie, I understand why people were so up in arms over it being pornography. The movie focuses on the sex part of the book and leaves out so much context. I would never want to watch this movie with anyone but my husband, as it is soft core porn. The movie actually degrades the book because it is so focused on the sex.

I still stand by my original opinions that at no point in the book or movie is rape portrayed as being ok. There is no rape and nobody is taken advantage of at all. The woman is a willing participant and the two are in a monogamous relationship. I ask my husband, who hasn't read the books, and he concurred. It was two adults who were consenting and only with each other. He too had no clue how anyone could say that rape was involved.

Here's something else unexpected that I got from the movie. There's probably a reason I can understand the back story and sexual activity as something more than just being about sex. I realize that it takes someone who can truly identify with the story to understand it. If you don't, it's probably going to be nothing more than smut. Another conclusion that my husband agreed with. He agreed that if the movie put more emphasis on the back story, he'd have understood more. And that I probably got it more because of how my life has gone.

I won't be rushing out to buy the movie and is still never recommend it to anyone. I too would shake anyone who allowed their children to watch it. However, I still stand by the idea that our past warps us and in some cases that manifests in obscure sexual behavior. As long as that behavior isn't deviant, then it's nobody's place to judge.

I'm good and you?

No matter what we are going through, that's always the response we give when someone asks how we are doing. How are you? I'm great. I'm doing well. And yourself? It make take every ounce of energy we have, but we smile and give the conditioned response.

What are we truly saying when that is our untruthful response?

We are saying that we don't trust the person asking. We are hiding from truth. We don't want to allow that person to show any sort of love or compassion for us. We pridefully don't want that person to help carry a burden. We don't want to allow the person to pray for us or experience joy when they see God work in our lives. We put up a wall to everyone. We indirectly tell that person that it's better to lie than tell the truth. Likewise, we are conditioning them to give the same response despite what their life holds.

Why? Why do we do that? Why aren't we honest?

There's so many reasons. We simply don't trust. We don't feel loved. We don't want to burden as the other person surely has much more going on in life that is far more important. We aren't important. We will be judged or considered a complainer. We are conditioned to know that's the expected response.

This, my friends, is why people think they are the only ones who struggle. Especially in church!

The past four times in church, I've done exactly the same thing with the few people who ask how I am. Fighting back tears, sucking it up, I smiled and enthusiastically said I was great. It was a complete and utter lie.

The first two of those Sunday's, I was mentally preparing myself for the death of my friend and the trip back. The past two, I've struggled with her death and being lonely. Nobody would know, except my husband. He's the one who sees me struggling to maintain a routine because of depression. Nobody else could know.

When I'm asked, I don't say that things are ok but I'm lonely and grieving. So, things aren't really ok, they kind of stink right now.

That's not what people want to hear. That kind of truth scares people. Freezes them in the moment and they don't know what to say. There are wrong responses in that moment. I've heard them. But most people know how to show compassion in that moment. Even if they don't, there's grace to fill the gap.

Several months ago, I had a few moments of complete honesty with strangers. It was truthful, but maybe not shared in the kindest of ways. My emotions were raw in all areas of my life. Lonely. Two losses. Illness. I'm not making excuses, but explaining why the emotions were so surface and deep. I'm not sure anyone considered or even bothered to ask what was at the core of the emotions. It was also a time that grace didn't really fill in the gap.

I share that only to say that our personal experiences also condition us to hide the truth. Why we choose to hurt in silence and lie to people.

We know this world is broken and constantly kicks us. It happens to each other. About half the people who say they are great, really do mean it. But the others are hurting and struggling.

There is a lady who sits in front of us at church who lost her brother recently. I only know that because her brother was my husband's coworker who died in an auto accident. Every Sunday, she smiles and says she's great. That maybe true. I don't know her personally. I still pray for her while I'm sitting there because I know she is at the very least living a new normal and missing her brother.

We want people to be compassionate and extend grace, but it's going to take a lot of change before we  allow that to happen. Dear Lord, let us be more honest and compassionate to those who struggle. Let us see each as Jesus would if he were sitting next to us.

On Fire

Those aren't my words, but a song I heard today. The song talks about how once you had a fire for the Lord and weren't afraid to tell anyone. Now the fire has gone out, but the Lord wants to start it again. That's a quick summary.

As I listened to the song, I couldn't help but look back at my time as a Christian. I've seen two ways people come out of baptism or accepting Christ. They either don't know what to do (which are usually kids) and people who are on fire (those are usually the adults).

I believe an acceptance and baptism as an adult comes with a greater understanding and capacity to know the depth of change this will create in life. That is because rarely does an adult come to know Christ by accident not by boredom. Nobody ever says, hey my life is going so good I think I'll add a little Jesus. Most come to Christ understanding they are broken and their lives are messy.

Learning that kind of hope in the midst of mess leads most people to have a fire in them. They have found this thing that infuses their life with light in a dark world. Most people want others to know that kind of hope and love because you begin to see just how broken the world is.

I had that once. I wanted to shout it everywhere. I joined the witnessing team. I stood amongst gangsters and at bus stops with homeless people, sharing the hope they could have in Jesus. I replaced filthy cartoons on my desk with crosses and scripture. I did the same in my home with random pictures. If the church doors were open, I was there. I stood up to anyone who told me I was wrong.

But my fire fizzled.

Why?

The church.

Ok, so not the church as much as my spoiled idea of what Christians were like. Maybe more accurately, it was a sullied idea of how Christians would treat me.

When I went with the witnessing team, I was constantly told I was doing it wrong. I was told I needed to tell people they were sinners and going to hell. I couldn't do it. If someone had presented the gospel to me in that way, I'd have run the other way. It was so offensive. Not that the bible isn't to sinners and those apart from God. It is. But I needed to be able to present a more passionate God, the one I knew, before telling someone they'd surely go to hell without an immediate conversion.

After silently handing out tracts that were tossed on the ground two feet behind my back, I knew this wasn't the place for me.

One day at work, I had an employee sit in my office and tell me that she no longer wanted to hear my music and found my crosses to be offensive. I'd have been able to take that but she was screaming and about a foot from my face when she went into full attack mode. Having just given up my family for Christ, this felt like a brutal attack on an open wound.

I was at the church when the doors were open, but I constantly questioned why. The information was so foreign to me. My first bible study was Beth Moore's Daniel. It was tough for mature Christians. I was lost. The first time I tried to eat dinner with other ladies, they weren't nice at all. Another lady told an entire group of women that of girls wear short skirts they deserved to be raped. Touchy subject for certain.

I often sat in a corner alone because nobody talked to me. When I finally started making friends, I bounced from one disaster to another. Seriously. You'd not even believe me if I told you cause they were that jacked up.

While the fire was fizzling, our pastor left and thus began the ordeal with leadership and next pastor. It was a crazy time. It was also a crazy time in my personal life.

The fire started to come back as a renewal of my relationship with Christ began early last year. Things were great and I didn't hesitate to tell anyone what God has done in my life. God was the leader of my life and I had a confidence in Him I'd thought was once lost.

Then I went into our church here with that confidence and fire, but it was the wrong setting and timing. I was an outsider and the people are different. Not bad, just different. My confidence was offensive and so was I. My confidence made me more like a bull in a china shop.

So, the fire fizzled again. My bible gets opened on Sunday's when I remember to take it. My study bible gets touched when I dust. I pray, but with a lack of enthusiasm.

Going back to the song. I hope it's true. I hope that God continues to pursue and has a plan to start the fire again.

Sounding Board

Today is one of those days when I wish I had another outlet. Social media is just a bad place for it cause then people think I've gone off the deep end or I'm promoting some righteous religious judgement. It's not any of that. There are things I can't wrap my head around and frankly, piss me off.

So I'm stuck on the crap surrounding Bruce Jenner. Yes, his name is Bruce. He was born a man and that's how God made him. Honestly, that's as religious as this is going to get. I don't really care what people choose to do to their bodies or how they live their lives unless it has a direct effect on my life. This doesn't.

You can go back and read a previous post about how I can't understand transsexuals. I somewhat get homosexuality even if I choose to live a life that is completely different. I don't understand and that's as simple as it gets. That's not even what this is about.

I'm disgusted. It's disgusting how people have embraced and praised this man.

Another blogger pointed out that it's offensive for women and I'd agree on general principle.

But it's disgusting how he's receiving so much attention and positivity for this.

ESPN is honoring him with the Arthur Ashe courage award. Courage for what? Living a lie? Arthur Ashe was an excellent tennis player who contracted HIV through a blood transfusion during an open heart surgery. He died with dignity and was honored for his excellence.

Becoming a tranny isn't doing anything courageous. What about today's athletes who are courageous? There's a young man who hears nothing and will be playing in the NFL this year. Our area lost a young basketball player to brain cancer who raised millions for research in her dying days. There are multiple professional athletes battling disease or have overcome drug and violence infested homes and streets. There are so many people who are far more worthy.

Our president sends form letters to families who lose loved ones in combat and in service to our country. However, he took to social media to call Jenner a hero. What? Hero? NO!

Heroes are fireman, police officers, service men, everyday people who do extraordinary things like pull people from burning cars, help blind people cross intersections, or stand up to drug dealers on their corner.

Jenner was an Olympian and should be recognized as such. Thousands of people have been Olympians since him and have done far better. His only claim to fame now is the family he married into who are known for what?

What the hell? These aren't the messages I want presented to my nieces and nephews. They need to know what real courage is and who real heroes are.

You aren't a hero and you're not courageous just because you grow breasts with hormones, have reconstructive surgery to make your face look feminine, curl your hair or hide your dingaling in skimpy clothing for a magazine cover.

What We Say

This maybe a subject I've covered many times and if I haven't...well I should have. I need this reminder. Often!

Have you ever considered what you're saying to your spouse? I don't mean the actual words so much as the the messages you are sending them? I don't mean just verbally either but non verbal too.

If your spouse was apart from you, what would they say their interpretation of what you think of them would be?

Of course, all of us would want their spouse to have only favorable things to say. Right? I know I would. I want my husband to always feel loved by me and I always want him to have a positive view of how I feel about him.

I know I'd want him to say that he is loved and cared for all the time. I'd want him to feel like the best husband ever because that's what I'd want my messages to convey. Likewise, I'd want him to say he has the best wife ever.

Do you think if he were being completely honest that he'd really say that? What would your spouse really say?

Marriage is hard. It's a lifetime melding of two completely different people and there's going to be a lot of clashes in that process. It seems like this perfect gathering at the beginning because we romanticize marriage. Then we learn that things aren't perfect and neither are people. It's work. It's hard work. One of the hardest parts is learning what the other person needs and how to adequately encourage them. I would even guess that those things don't even become a priority until you learn how to live with wach other physically.

Don't get me wrong, marriage is still a beautiful thing. It may seem cliche, but the greatest growth comes in the most difficult trials. The process, grace and forgiveness are all beautiful parts of marriage, despite the painful road to get there.

So, I told you what I would want my husband to say. However, if I'm honest, why would he really say?

He would probably tell you he's the worst husband in the world. He can't do anything right. He doesn't know how to love me like a husband should. He would probably tell you he feels like a failure and be down on himself physically.

Is that because those are the messages I'm sending? Yes, sometimes. In his case, I don't get all the credit. He has a very low self esteem and has several areas in his thinking that come out of his childhood. I could blame it all on that, but I won't. I own responsibility.

Despite my best efforts, I've still not learned the best ways to encourage him knowing his predisposition to low self esteem. I also let my own selfishness and emotions to say things that pick at his insecurities. I'm not careful enough and I'm certainly not loving when I most need to be.

Needless to say, I have a long ways to go before those messages are translated to what I'd really like him to feel and believe.

A wise person told me once that if I see an area of concern in my marriage, I need to spend some time considering how things look from the other side, his side. That's what I've tried to do here.

This weekend, I found myself feeling very down on who I was as a wife. Why? Because of the messages I get from my husband. My interpretation of his messages verbal and non verbal are that I'm a horrible wife and person. I'm not desirable and am unworthy of everything I have. I am unlikable. I'm lazy and could never do enough to have a clean or presentable life.

I won't go into it, but most of that comes from very verbal messages. Yes, even at nearly 17 years, we struggle to just be nice to each other at times.

I'm definitely not a perfect wife, but I do have to consider how I've been lately. It's possible that my messages need to change. It's possible that changing my messages may alter what I receive.

I wish I would have written down my ideas of marriage when I was 23 and thought I'd be a perfect wife in a perfect marriage. I'm sure back then, when I had it all figured out, my perceptions were way different. I don't have to remember it perfectly to know that I've matured a lot and learned it's a process not a perfect story.