Danger

I am taken advantage of often and most times, I don’t see it coming.

I’m not gullible, quite the opposite actually. I’m pretty keen to behavioral problems and patterns–correction–certain problems and patterns. There are some that slide right by me. Probably because the neuro-pathways in my brain have been trampled down with these particular issues, so much so that they’re “normal” to me.

danger

That makes me judgmental.

A bitch.

I fully admit it.

I feel the overwhelming need to protect my family and myself from certain types of people.

But I fail.

and often.

I fail and I let these people in and I think I let them in because my brain craves challenge and figuring out their motives (I think) is why I dismiss or ignore or don’t recognize their harmful, toxic patterns. I think sometimes my brain often fails to alert me to certain things so that it gets to figure out the puzzle.

Yes. I do talk as if my brain and I are two autonomous beings.  And this is where I totally understand the apostle Paul says

Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?

See. Paul gets it.

So while I know and I mean I KNOW that certain types of people are toxic, sometimes, I miss the signs.

And *most* of the time I blame it on this idea that if I’m Christian I must accept any and all people into my life lovingly and willingly. And truly, that’s just bullshit of the highest order.

I have to convince myself (like now) that it is OK to keep unsafe, emotionally unhealthy people out of my life. It is acceptable.

(and then I feel guilty because how many times do you forgive your brother. 70 times 70 and all the other rhetoric dished to me like manna, like it would sustain me when it really just destroys me emotionally and takes me away from my family and distracts me from God)

It is like Jesus in the desert being tempted by Satan with Scripture.

There are people in this world that ONLY Jesus can deal with and I’m not called to fix them or figure them out or allow them to trample over my precious time.

So why do I keep allowing it?

I have no freaking clue.

But it’s a pattern in my life. Some emotionally needy or spiritually needy or physically needy person enters my life, I feel empathy and sympathy for them, they weasel their way into my inner circle, and then (like leaven, yeast) they expand and blow up and how do you take yeast out of already risen bread?

You don’t.

You don’t let it in (in the first place) You keep it out.

How?

I have no freaking clue. But I’m working on it. But I’m buying a book called “The Sociopath Next Door.” Because I think I’ve had a few in my life and truly, I want them out (and they are out, but only after exhausting, time-consuming drama) so I’d like to not let them in…

starting now.

 

life: unmasked

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The Cynic

Oh the cynicism that runs through my brain.

I saw a FaceBook comment today that said something like, “Please pray for so and so’s child. The child is making bad decisions and I love the family.”

My first thought? Maybe you should be praying that the child learns some life lessons. Maybe the family needs to go through this. Maybe it’s what God has in store for them later?

Maybe I just lived a painful, pitiful existence and I’m too cynical to think that life can be lived without pain.

Or.

Maybe I know the truth and everyone else needs to catch up.

I’m all for praying. But some of the prayer requests I hear on Facebook make me want to vomit.

That’s probably bad. Right?

Feeble Prayers

Scattered words and empty thoughts

Seem to pour from my heart

Even when people I love commit suicide

I Still Believe.

I’ve never felt so torn before
Seems i dont know where to start

Even when best friends die of breast cancer
I Still Believe.

But its now I feel your grace fall like rain
From every fingertip washing away my pain

When grandmas find their youngest sons, dead by their own hand…when those grandmas slip into dementia and mini-strokes overtake them, even when special grandmas die
I Still Believe.

Though the questions still fog up my mind

With promises I still seem to bear


When moms have brain tumors and lymphoma and when prognosis looks good and things are hopeful hopeful. Even then, when she dies anyway
I Still Believe.

Even when answers slowly unwind

It’s my heart I see you prepare

When friends…people who call themselves friends, kick me while I’m down and knowingly inflict unbearable pain
I Still Believe.

But its now that I feel your grace fall like rain

From every fingertip washing away my pain

When I run away from home because I’m too pissed off to be around “friends”
I Still Believe.

The only place I can go is into your arms

Where I throw to you my feeble prayers

When You say in no uncertain terms, “Go back to your friend. Put up with her abuse.” I understand you are Jehovah Roi, the God Who Sees Me
I Still Believe.

In brokenness I can see that this is your will for me

Help me to know you are near

When I submit to Your authority and go back–and I hit a fawn still new with spots and it flies in the air and smashes down on the top of my car and I see it hit the road in the rearview mirror. Even when I see it’s mama right behind it. Even when the pain is too great to bear and I can’t see through my tears
I Still Believe.

I still believe in your faithfulness

I still believe in your truth

I still believe in Your Holy Word

Even when I don’t see

I Still Believe.



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Hey Church People.

* * *
Note: I originally wrote this in February 2009, but it applies to another friend today, so I’m reposting.
* * *

Y’know. I can handle it better when you pick on me. Leave my friends alone okay?

Why is it you’re in this to crush people’s spirits? Yes. I said Crush. When someone volunteers to do something in GOD’s church you don’t get a say. When are you going to learn?

They’re working for God, they’re following the prompting of the Holy Spirit, they’re trying to do something God has called them to do and all you can do is put them down?! How dare you.

What are you doing? Are you helping them? Are you encouraging them? Why no. You’re not. You’re in the background attacking their character.

They’re doing God’s work.

Whose work are you doing? Tell me, because I’d really like to know.

Church people–sometimes you need to shut your big ugly mouths.

I remember when you, dear church people, made me cry. When you sat in your circles and accused me. You had that look in your eyes, like if you’d have had a rock in your hand you would’ve stoned me.

Now you’re making my friend cry and it pisses me off even more to know you’re still at it. To know you still show up every Sunday and sing your songs and say your prayers and to know your heart is still full of vile nastiness.

Why? Why do you do these things?

You, church people, the ones who SHOULD be supporting other church people, are instead breaking people’s hearts.

I just don’t know how to love you right now.

God forgive me if I’ve ever been a church person. Help me to never, ever crush someone’s spirit.

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Amazing Grace

In September of 2008, God allowed me to sing my grandma into eternity. She was a strong woman and fought to the very end, but went peacefully. A gift such as this would come along only once in a lifetime.

Not so much.

In the wee hours of Monday June 7, 2010, I was getting ready to sleep for a couple hours in the adjoining bed in mom’s hospital room. In these final days, we all knew her time was short, but only God knew the minute and hour he’d call her home. The nurse came in to take mom’s vitals. Asked me if I needed anything. I brushed my teeth. I leaned over mom and talked to her. Told her I was going to nap in the bed next to her, I wasn’t leaving the room, I’d be right there.

In that moment, her respirations dropped in half. I got closer, kissed her forehead, caressed her cheek, told her I love her. I said, “Ok mom. I’m not going to sleep. I’m just going to stay right here with you, ok?” And I did. More talking. More kissing. More breathing in her scent.

Without even knowing what was happening, I said, “Mom? I don’t know if you want me to sing to you like I did grandma, but I sure will.”

Amazing Grace
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me

Mom’s mouth moved for the first time in days, as if she was singing with me. I started over because I couldn’t remember any other words.

Amazing Grace
How sweet the sound

And she breathed her last.

Twice in a lifetime I sang the two most important women in my life into eternity. There is no such thing as coincidence.

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