A new beginning

Yesterday I had an appointment to get my hair cut at noon. I was taking stuff to Habitat for Humanity; so I drove the truck. And, I turned on the radio. The ad was for the place where I was getting a haircut - and they were having a benefit for Breast Cancer. So, I arrived there. Found that two of the people there have breast cancer and one is not doing well. So, I had my head shaved in support of all the people who have had breast cancer.

And, I had my head shaved because I have a new beginning. Yesterday, I began more in-depth therapy after answering that blasted questionnaire about the important events of every five years of my life. Seems I had forgotten to tell my therapist that I was raped at 14. Hmmmmmm. It's age, really it is - a simple brain fart.

Anyway, at least my head is nicely shaped. And, the face will decrease in roundness (somewhat) as I continue to lose weight. Not sure what will happen to the jowls and the wattle under my chin. LOL Wonder what color the hair will be that grows back.

Why I call myself a Christian

Ummmm. Today a friend sent me a forward entitled "When I say I am Christian", and it was lovely. But, when I say I am Christian, I mean that following Christ's teachings makes more sense to me than anything else. I mean that I believe the Christ is God. I mean that I'd rather take the Judeo-Christian history and writings and try to make sense of them for the here and now than to write my own concept and history of God. It's easy to say.

Living out my Christianity is much more difficult. Love your neighbor. Okay. That's easy, I see him about twice a year and he's a good neighbor. Not difficult. Christ as manifested in Jesus says that I have to love my enemies, too. Doesn't say I have to agree with them, be around them, tolerate their insanity - but Jesus does insist that I love them. I love Osama Ben Laden. He's a child of God, however insane I may believe him to be. He deserves the love and grace of God just as much as I do...though i freely admit that I've never ordered the murder or destruction of anyone. My anger does not rage that strongly. I have wished someone would have a bad day, but I don't think that counts as more than a venial sin or simple idiocy - as if to believe that I had that much power.

Power, that's what living my Christianity is about. Power, what I have, how I use it, where I bestow it, how I rein it in, when I turn it loose. Okay, I tried to skip what I mean by this business of power and Christianity. In this world each person has a certain amount of power. For some power is perseverance - the squeaky wheel gets the oil. If enough people write to congress, congress eventually listens. That's power.

Power is being aware of all the benefits I have had in my life because I am white and intelligent and well educated (in spite of having gone to school in Mississippi). That's when I learn to rein in the power that I have.

Power is about choices and how I can help others have choices. My personality is usually an assertive woman. I am strong, and I can speak well and for others who have no voice or are ignored. I am compelled by my Christianity to open my power to be used by those who are mistreated, ignored, hungry, homeless, powerless.

Power is abused by every one of us. Ted Kennedy in settling his complicity in a woman's drowning. Presidential candidates in slinging mud at one another. Charismatics who draw people to them with false promises and use the people for their own ends. Fanatics, tyrants, ordinary white women, me.

Power gives a person control and choices. I like to think that I have control of my life. (Give it up, sharecropper, you know better.) See my rational self knows more than my emotional self sometimes. And, I like to think that I don't need to control, but, if I think that, then I have choices that keep me from being trapped.

My Christianity says that I have lots of choices. I can choose life or I can choose death - figuratively and literally. Death is the ultimate choice, but I have lots of choices to choose a slow death by ignoring the needs of others, but using my power for my own self aggrandizement. And, I can try to control others through my power.

I'm not about control (though I fight it a lot). As a Christian, I am about feeding the hungry (sending a godchild a grocery card, donating to a food bank, inviting friends for dinner and companionship). Hunger is not simply wanting or needing food. Hunger is a longing for love and acceptance, too.

So, dear friend who sent me the "spam" about Christian, I mean that I am called to live my life by using my power to benefit others. I am called to control my insanity so that I can be a living example of what is good and right. And, I am called to love not only my neighbors and my enemies but also myself. I am called to forgive as I am forgiven - freely, graciously, and without fear.

Being a Christian means that I take account of my life on a day to day basis. Praise myself for the good, rue the bad, accept forgiveness and go on to the next day.

Someone chided me today about not posting - soooo

Tomorrow I get to see my psychiatrist and my therapist. I haven't had my bloodwork done as a baseline for the psychiatrist; so I'm not excited about seeing him.

As I enter into a deeper kind of therapy with my counselor, I have filled out innumerable pages of information about me and my family. the last three pages are divided into little sections - one for every five years of your life. You are supposed to note everything that was important to you in that five years - in less than 2 inches of typing paper space. I don't usually write small. Ha!

And, How do you remember what happened of importance when you were 36-40 when it's twenty-two years later? I completed this section and laid the paper aside. As I thought of important things in my life, I wrote between the lines and in the margins. I don't know if she'll be able to read all the jabbering, but she will have a fairly good picture of my life...well, except for some childhood years when I remember very little - and there's lots of space left to write in those blocks.

And, why does this matter?

I've been having emotional and mental flashbacks to bad things that happened in my childhood. For instance, we were eating our usual Sunday evening supper of bacon, eggs and biscuits (sometimes pancakes), and I remembered as I chomped on a good piece of bacon that I didn't particularly like eggs in my childhood. We always had eggs; somebody in the neighborhood had chickens even after we got rid of ours. And, I always had biscuits, bacon(sausage or ham) and molasses for breakfast. However, some mornings we didn't have meat - some evenings we didn't have meat. And, Mom would offer me an egg. I don't like eggs without meat. Bleah. So, I'd eat my biscuit and syrup and catch the schoolbus.

Okay, this memory took about 10 seconds or less. And, I jumped into wondering if we were that poor - and, yes, I remember Mom buying me a new dress so that I would look like everyone else at times when we probably didn't have meat. She wanted us to look good even if we were dirt poor. Then I realized that I must have gone to school hungry sometimes. A biscuit and syrup isn't really enough breakfast for a schoolkid. But, I don't remember being hungry. And, how many other families were as poor as we were. I could think of only two that might have been.

Then I jumped from there to other times when Mom tried to keep up appearances. Dad was a drunk...a very talkative, and, by the time I was 13-15, a very verbally abusive drunk. He had hallucinations and delusions by then. And, he would declaim in a loud voice right after supper that he had seen me in some juke joint having sex with some guy or in a car by the juke joint. Places that he might have been at some time in his life, but long ago.

So, Mom would give me her car keys (a little 49 Ford named Freddie) and tell me to go away and come back after he was asleep. That was usually around 9 pm. So, I would drive the back roads of Quitman County, Mississippi, from about 7 until 9 - just to avoid my father's verbal abuse. Fortunately, I discovered that others were in similar situations - not people in my school, but other schools and other ages. We often gathered on the side of a road to shiver when it was cold and to talk and laugh and avoid talking or thinking about why we were there. But, sometimes, the roads were long and lonely, and I felt very homeless.

In the space of less than 30 seconds, I went from enjoying Sunday supper to crying and being afraid of being homeless (not likely to happen now - not sure about then).

There are other less graphic times of flashbacks when a word, a look or tone of voice triggers the emotions of "then" and I respond in "then" not "now". I'm getting better at recognizing some of these times, but mostly they catch me (and often my partner) unawares. And, they hurt. The feelings I feel hurt, and the way I respond hurts my partner. And, I want them to stop.

So, I've tried to write the important events of every five years of my life down on paper. And, I've cried a lot. I've hurt a lot - for me, my brother, my sister-in-law, my cousin, and my Mother. I don't know what pain they had. They are all dead except my cousin. I can't know what caused Mom to be as she was about appearances, but alcoholism wasn't really a word then - My Dad was the town drunk. He wasn't sick. No one knew about Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and what World War II might have done to him. They only knew he was drunk. And, that was shameful.

That shame is punching me in the gut occasionally. It hurts as much now as it did then, and I want it to stop.

So, if I'm silent a bit, I'm just working on getting better and not hurting.

Friday Night Musings

We have a new floor in the condo - vinyl that looks like wood - ash, I think. It's got some blue-gray streaks in it. Some Wal-Marts have it on their floors. We chose a slate vinyl in similar colors for the bathroom and laundry room. But, the installation was one of the poorest I have ever seen. Lisa arrived at the condo to find none of the furniture put in place - bookshelf in front of the sliding doors, dining room chairs in the guest room. I won't go into the details of our discussions with the flooring company owners or their installation person. However, nothing can be done about the lumps and bumps in the floor - or nothing that we are willing to do now. The furniture is back in place, the glue is mostly off the floors. The floor leveler is mostly off the walls, but the baseboards are still in horrible shape.

Welcome to Good Friday.

On a more positive note, the flooring is beautiful and greatly improves the appearance of the condo. Area rugs will help all of that. In a few months I will be over my anger and be content with the beauty and easy upkeep of the floors. They really are gorgeous.

And, we have a new kitchen range and vent hood. Replacing the countertops will be next...someday.

I am home and getting ready for Easter. Each year, I hide plastic eggs in the house and invite adults (usually women - this year we have one man who is coming) to eat lunch and hunt Easter eggs. I have made an Easter basket for each person - filled not only with some candy but with some totally useless junk and some wonderfully useful stuff like bag clips, sticky notes, scrapers, body lotion, cat treats, and the requisite Easter stuffed animal.

We are having baked ham, potato salad, cole slaw, corn-on-the-cob, and Laura is bringing a pecan pie. No pressure there, dearie! LOL. I have so many new places to hide eggs now that we have renovated the house. What fun that will be!!!

My internal clockwork is not running very quickly right now. It's anxiety - generalized anxiety. And, not sure I've mentioned this, I think I'm having some flashbacks to the bad times of my growing years. These emotions and thoughts affect what is happening now - so I'm in a different kind of therapy - one that will deal with the bad childhood adn growing years...and look at how that's affecting me/us now. Meanwhile, I'm supposed to be taking my anti-anxiety medicine more often, but I forget to take it. So, I'm spending time anxious when I might not be if I'd taken my medicines. Bleah.

Today was so beautiful at the beach. We had a wonderful storm Wednesday night with lots of rain and wind, and the ocean was roiling. The pelicans were fishing Thursday morning in the troughs of waves that were easily eight feet high sometimes - mostly six footers with the wind whipping the tops of the rolls into wonderful mist sculptures that disappeared before I had time to think of what they looked like. Then the wind died down, and the ocean calmed down, and today has been so wonderful with the oceanside door open. I had a long period of aloneness with my knitting the ocean today. It was great to contemplate how little my problems are in the perspective of the ocean.

I'm back at home tonight. All is well. The cats are happy we are back. And, I am glad as well. Have a happy weekend!

He thinks too much

"Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look; he thinks too much; such men are dangerous." Dangerous not only to others but also to themselves. Those of us who are alone so much tend to think too much. We live inside our minds, and minds are notoriously irrational. Just think about your dreams. Some dreams we can interpret easily - they relate to events of the day, concerns of the week, a recent happening or what you ate for dinner. Other dreams are bizarre and seem to have little relevance to anything. That's where we can go astray when we live in our minds.

Just thinking about God and praying silently in our own words can distort our perceptions of God until something jerks us back into the reality of The Other. We tend to anthromorphize God just as we do with animal stories. The reality of God is we don't know a whole lot about God. We do know more about how wishes us to act and live - and alone and in our own minds isn't it.

When I read the beginning of the "Big Book" in Alcoholics Anonymous, back when my father was trying to get sober and failed, I was amazed that the way to their "salvation" was to find another drunk and try to help. To seek out others, to put self behind the needs of others. Jesus said, "Inasmuch as you have done to the least of these, you have done to me." A maxim that's difficult to follow.

For the past three years, I have been living in my mind. Yes, I have contact with others on a regular basis, but not much. I am not "out there" doing things. In consideration, I have been quite ill. Now that I am better, I realize that I've been living in the mind of a crazy person, which is dangerous. My thinking is skewed to think only of me. And, I leave myself wide open for all the cantankerous and disturbing memories of bad events in my life. They were mostly in my childhood. I haven't acknowledged or taken responsibility for the bad events since then. Not my fault - all because I was emotionally abused as a child. Yeah. Right.

I've been depending on medicine and medication to lift me out of my quagmire of mind and body and deposit me on sane, happy and populated ground. Realizing this, I snort-laugh. How dumb can I be? How blind am I to all that I know and feel? This quagmire isn't going to get drier or smoother without my help. I can't sit here and knit and expect to be transported to another state of mind.

And, God. I've had what I thought were lots of conversations with God, times when I spoke, and times when I listened. It's possible that what I heard was my own voice from deep inside my mind telling me to wait, do nothing now. And, it's possible that God was working inside me to ready me for this moment of realization that now is the time to act. Not solve all the problems at once, but to inventory the situation and work toward resolution of the snags and peek through the doors that I've closed. I'm not ready to give up my isolation, yet. However, I think it's time I entered the world again...slowly. I'm fearful of doing anything too quickly...might be just my crazy mind steering me down the primrose path again.

Today is the first day of my new exercise program. I will get on the treadmill every day for at least 10 minutes. For me that's a quarter mile right now. I'm winded and breathing hard at the end.

Today is the first day that I will read prayers from a written prayer book every day.

Next week I may make more changes in my routine, but this is enough for today. Oh yeah, I recharged my iPod again, and music definitely helps. And, another thing - I just saw the osprey returning to the next across the creek as I was on the treadmill. Yahoo. Spring is here!

Quit new medicine

The Cymbalta is causing jitteriness and inability to connect words. can't even knit. So, I will not take it in the morning. Psychiatrist appt is Wed. Not working tomorrow.

Think that I will ask psychiatrist about using exercise and music instead of anti-depressant if he thinks that anxiety is a more major problem than depression.

Think that I'm not thinking all that straight right now anyway. Good night.

New Medicine

New psychiatrist, whom I like very much. New medicine added, Cymbalta. One medicine discontinued. Began taking cymbalta on Thursday. Now Sunday, am experiencing the jitters and inability to focus and hand coordination. I've been trying to learn some new knitting stitches and I keep dropping the needles and shaking when I try to knit. So, I thought I'd write about this.

I seem to be highly sensitive to SSRIs; so maybe the depression is not treatable that way. I also tried Wellbutrin with this same effect. An increased does of Prozac (currently 10 mg) did the same thing.

My insides feel as if they were shaking.

Other than that I feel pretty good right now. It's a beautiful sunshiny morning. Partner has gone to church; so it's very quiet. The creek emptied yesterday with some storm activity just offshore, and we had about 10 feet of sand from our seawall to the water. The stump that give us the gauge of how deep the water is was completely on land and additional stumps could be seen poking out in a line near the channel. At least we know more closely where the channel really is. The shoreline around the cypress trees was littered with logs and branches.

This morning the water is up some. Only half the stump is visible, and all the little pokies running out toward the channel are underwater again. As you might imagine, boating on a creek is an iffy proposition, but these little fishing boats just zip around. Of course, they have almost no draft at all - like our jet skis. But, the kayaks are best for poking into the nooks and crannies of the creek. You do have to watch out for snakes in certain places, and I've had some tell me that snakes have fallen out of the trees on them. I would think the snake would be as scared as me if it fell out of a tree. We have cottonmouth moccasins here. I am certainly cautious of them.

I do look forward to the water getting warm again. Our kayaks are the sit-on-top kind and have holes in the bottom for drainage; so I don't kayak until the water is warmer. A cold bottom is not my idea of fun. But, I have been known to jet ski fully wrapped in ski mask, hat, coat and long warm pants. Soon, very soon.

UPDATE: Am seeing psychiatrist tomorrow. Jittery symptoms better today.

Why I blog meme

Well, I've been tagged by Juanuchis for this meme.

Why I blog:

1. List three reasons for your blogging
2. List the rules
3. Tag three others with the thread

1. Three reasons why I blog:
I like to write.
I need a place to express my thoughts and feelings.
I type easier than I write; so this is my journaling.

2. See above.

3. I tag Wormwood's Doxy, Mystical Midget, and TTwo Fruits in the Sukka.

The Religion of Family

I have a first cousin who was adopted into my family when she was four years old; I was sixteen. My aunt and uncle were so thrilled to have a daughter, though I had been their surrogate daughter for many years. The year she was adopted was the year after we left my father, the year after my brother died, the year after my nephew was born, the year after my mother made my brother marry the mother of my nephew...not all in that order. So, I wasn't particularly interested in a four-year-old. Finally, I wasn't the daughter of the town drunk; so I was enjoying my junior year of high school. I did see this adopted cousin several times over the next few years, and when I was 27 she came and spent two weeks with me. We had a good time. I think I've seen her twice since then.

She spent her after school time with my grandmother, who had been bitter about the troubles between my mom and dad. Consequently, I didn't spend much time with her. My uncle Myrvis lived with my grandparents and was an integral part of this cousin's life - as he never was part of mine. He and my Dad tried to out drink one another.

(I know this is rambling; hang in there with me.)

Myrvis is 89 years old now, and his health is failing rapidly. I knew enough of the relatives to follow him as he left his family home and moved into the Veterans Nursing Home and subsequently to an assisted living facility near his cousin, who cares for him. The adopted cousin did not know these people, and she has lost touch with my uncle.

This adopted cousin is not someone that I want in my life. She stole money from my aunt, was involved in drugs, birthed a child who was addicted and very much a problem in her teen years, and thought that I hung the moon. She chose her profession in life because that's where I was working the summer she visited me. She knew about my life as I grew into adulthood while I was totally uncaring of her existence.

As a thoughtful, caring, loving person, should I track her down and let her know where Myrvis is? What is my spiritual obligation to this family member? Myrvis was never terribly fond of this adopted cousin or me. I don't know if he would want to see her, and he doesn't talk on the telephone much; so I can't ask him. I asked the person who cares for him tonight; she said, "I don't know. You just have to do what you think is right."

So, what is right?

The religion of family. I want to pick and choose which members of my extended family that I want in my life. To a great extent, I believe that is a choice I can make even as a loving, caring person. I don't have to invite everyone into my life - that includes the ones who are family. Where do I get to set boundaries? What might be good for her, might not be good for me.

Perhaps I shall check the phone directory in the last place I knew she lived. Then, I'll make a decision. Meanwhile, I'm praying about this.

An hour later - I found a phone number that could be hers; I called, and I got no answer and no answering machine.

Recipe for Chocolate Chip Muffins

Preheat oven to 375-400 degrees. Spray muffin tin with baking spray or grease and flour. (I used Pillsbury spray last time and the muffin sides were good.)

2 cups self rising flour
1plus teaspoon baking powder (I take no chances)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup shortening (I use Crisco, butter works okay)
1 egg
3/4 - 1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup mini Nestle semi-sweet chocolate chips
3/4 cup pecan pieces

Sift dry ingredient together in bowl. Cut in shortening (fork or pastry cutter). Make a hole and add egg. Beat egg slightly. Add milk gradually while mixing until batter is a thick cake-like batter. Beat well for one minute. Add vanilla, mix well. Add chocolate chips and pecans.

Spoon mixture into muffin tin. I fill cups to the top. Bake 15 minutes or until cookie brown on top. Remove. Let cool slightly. Muffins will overflow tops and you may need to use a knife tip to loosen them slightly.

Eat with butter while they are hot. Rewarm in microwave as needed. Or cut in half (top to bottom) and toast in toaster over for crispy outside.

Makes 12 fat muffins. According to the online recipe calculator, these muffins are 4 points each without the pecans. (I'd add a picture except that I ate them all in two days - not recommended.)

The Lord's Prayer

And, now in the words our Savior taught us, we pray......

Who is present at every meeting....

Let us open by saying....

...Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as in Heaven. Give us today our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.

Different words, same meanings in various places. The first part is what Jesus said in response to the plea: Teach us to pray. The second part was added later.

This is a Hebrew prayer. Jesus was a Jew. Jesus was not a Christian. This is not a Christian prayer. This is a devout prayer of an ancient Jewish man.

Assumptions that everyone who says this prayer is a Christian are usually wrong. It is not a prayer said in temples or synagogues, I would guess. Though some might see it as rather presumptuous, I suspect that David or Solomon, composers of many psalms, might be comfortable with it - they spoke with familiarity about the daily woes and the not-so-daily trials and blessings of ordinary people, using some quite graphic language to do so.

If you are in a meeting, a worship service, a group gathering, or a retreat where this prayer is said, don't bother looking around to see who is Christian by watching who is really saying this prayer. You'd be wrong.

Some may be translating it in their minds to fit the God or Goddess or Higher Power of their understanding. Some may be saying it just because it's expected. Some may be saying it to be part of the fellowship. Some may be just saying words they memorized long ago. (That's why the changes in wording of the prayer in the 1979 Episcopal Book of Common Prayer cause such mayhem in gatherings of many generations.)

It is a prayer for the things that we need to sustain daily life - safety, challenge, food (clothing and shelter), and forgiveness. Recognizing what is necessary for our daily life is a basic assumption of this prayer...our daily bread, forgiveness, freedom from temptation and lack of evil.

But, what do I really need for my daily life - what is my daily bread? Brother Dave Gardner said, "Man does not live by bread alone; he must have peanut butter." And, some people don't live by bread alone, they "need" escargot, truffles, steak oscar, and chocolate surprise. But, back to the question: What is my daily bread?

I do need challenge - temptation is great when I can resist it. Baking a dozen chocolate chip muffins and eating them all in two days is not resisting temptation. It's a pound and half on the scales and a horribly terrific sugar high...and a stomach that balks at everything I put in it now. But, they were soooooo good, and I enjoyed every bite...even the ones of hard muffin - I just thought "cookie". I don't regret (at least not much) that episode. But, I do wish the stomach would get back to normal.

And, temptation to sit on my bottom when the treadmill is now ready to go. But, I'd have to move some rolling storage bins to actually plug it in. And, they have stuff stacked on top of them that needs to be put somewhere. And, that somewhere has not made itself apparent to me yet. I have successfully resisted the temptation of exercise. Doing laundry doesn't count as exercise since I have had a washer/dryer for many years now. Neither does loading the dishwasher.

I suspect that exercise is one of the parts of my daily bread. Just like wholesome food in reasonable amounts - with an occasional splurge.

Forgiveness. The more people you see, the more you're liable to need and use that.

Evil. lurks everywhere. That's why a good review of the day before I go to bed is necessary to make tomorrow a better day. I can see behind me much better than I can see before me...don't even need glasses for the hindsight and they don't do much good for foresight...or even now-sight.

Our Father - Jesus said "Daddy". Doesn't fit for me, neither does Mother. But, God - ah, that's the word. Adonai. And, truly holy is the name - all nine million names of God. The goodness in that word, the purposefulness of creation encompass the "kingdom", the realm, the universe of God's dwelling place...and we ask that earth be included in that dwelling place.

When I say this prayer, I don't ask that all people become Christian; I just ask that they have the things they need for life, just as I have the things I need for life. A good argument against that is made in the book Illusions, but I'll take that up later. I don't ask what image or concept others have to fit "Father", I just say the word and translate it into my own soul's creator.

When we meet and say this prayer, I don't care what you believe. I do care that you show reverence for the holiness that I am calling to be present. I do care that you respect the intent of the prayer. And, I do care that you, whoever you are, are present in the fellowship that brings us together.

May God give you today your daily bread.

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Judgmental

Judgmental - doesn't that word have such a negative connotation? And, I am sooo judgmental. Today I was sitting in the Chinese fast food place waiting for a take-out order, and I watched some people walking across the parking lot to the sub place next door. One woman had her mouth open and a vacant stare. She also had a strange hairdo and was grossly obese. I immediately thought that she wasn't very intelligent. I don't know her, never will, but I judged her intelligence on the way she looked.

So, I began thinking about other visible characteristics that connote both good and bad things to me. Frizzy hair on a white woman says "ditzy" to me. Think of Phyllis Diller, if you can remember that far back. Punk dressed kids make me think of drop-outs.

The stereotyping game is alive and well in my head. I deliberately lost my Southern accent (for a while) so that I would be more respected. And, I dyed my hair so that my seminary friends wouldn't think I was old and stupid...just stupid.

And, I saw a bumper sticker with the Confederate flag on it and "Heritage not Hate". Yeah, maybe that's what it means to you. Indeed, the Civil War was fought over states' rights - but mostly it was the right to enslave other people. When I was growing up in the segregated South, the issue with most people was "You can't tell me what to do." Rebellious rednecks that we were. And, I still feel that way to a large extent. "Don't tell me what to do" - that teenage growth spurt that I never resolved.

Some stereotyping is hyper-intuition. Growing up in a home with an alcoholic father, I learned quickly to read signs and looks and sounds in ways that would protect me. I can make some assumptions about the woman in the parking lot. Perhaps her mouth was open because she can't breathe well because she is overweight because she has diabetes or some other disease. And, wild hairdos are not automatically anything unless other signals go along with them.

Nonetheless, all the signs taken together, I'd still say that woman was probably not terribly intelligent. So, how does that affect me now. Well, I certainly wouldn't confront her about much of anything. And, I'd not look her directly in the face. I have some fear of large stupid people. Frankly, I have some fear of large people...even as feisty as I am.

Christians probably ought not to do this kind of stereotyping, but survival instincts create certain images that we avoid. I wouldn't walk at night in some neighborhoods. For that matter, I no longer drive at night in certain neighborhoods. As I get older, I avoid groups of young people - maybe that's because we often made fun of old people when I was young and stupid. Maybe not where they could actively hear us, but they got the message.

I'm not sure what Christians ought to do and ought not to do. Stereotyping can help us identify possible dangers, but we can miss so much and be so wrong. Looking at me in the mirror, I see a very judgmental person, one who uses stereotypes, one who trusts gut feelings and intuition more than "facts". And, I accept that. God forgive me when I'm wrong.

Musing about the farm and its critters

This afternoon as I looked at the webcam of Zhen Zhen, the panda cub in San Diego, and pictures of Flocke, the polar bear cub in Germany, I was reminded of the dreams I had before arriving in New Bern. I dreamed that black bears were all over my yard and came into my house and just wandered around - not bothering anything. I was concerned in the dream but not very frightened. I tried to lock them out, but they just kept appearing. They didn't do anything except appear. The logo for New Bern (which means New Bear) is a black bear like Bern, Switzerland.

Then my cat made a plaintive cry and I remembered sitting on the bank of Coldwater River in Mississippi and watching several bobcat kits playing near a large pile of driftwood where their den was located. Mama Bobcat knew I was there, but I was very still and she didn't bother me. My smell was all over that area since I frequently spent large amounts of time there. Some of that time was on a bluff overlooking the river where I watched for the old gar to turn up - and I saw it a few times - huge and silvery on its belly. I often wondered that it didn't rob my Dad's trot lines.

We had pet cats, some outdoor, one indoor/outdoor, and a large pack of wild stray cats - some very large - began roaming our area. We tried to scare them off in various ways and make them leave the area. Some of our neighbors killed a couple of them as they attacked various farm animals. One of our outdoor cats disappeared. And, another showed signs of a great fight. Then, the cat food on the back porch began disappearing. We were poor and cat food was a luxury item. I worried about our cats. Night after night the dogs growled and the cats fought and the cat food disappeared. It was summertime and the windows were open. So was the back door with the screen closed to keep out the bugs. As we sat eating supper, I saw one of the wild cats come onto the porch and I shooed it off. This happened two more nights. The fourth night, I set my .22 rifle beside my chair at supper. When the wild cat appeared on the porch, I slowly lifted the rifle, aimed and fired through the screen. The cat flew off the porch and Mom would not let me go outside to see. The next morning, the cat was a few feet from the porch, dead.

I have never felt good about killing that cat, but I do understand why soldiers fight - to protect those they love. It's no cliche. And, no options existed in rural Mississippi for a pack of wild animals except death. The farmers and stockmen couldn't risk the threat to their livelihoods. And, youngsters like me didn't want to keep losing their pets. Cruel, yes, but I would do it again - and perhaps less cruel than a gas chamber in a shelter.

We were required to care for our animals, and, when the time came that their lives were over, we were expected to take care of that, too. Quickly, even with tears.

On the brighter side of farm life/country life, I've had the pleasure of petting raccoons, being almost bitten by an opossum, watching deer graze in our yard, seeing the bobcats at their den, being amazed at the size of that old gar in the river, digging for river mussels and finding ones with beautiful irridescent shells.

I've stripped bark from birch trees and written messages on it with sharp sticks. I've eaten fried catfish and hush puppies cooked in a dutch oven over a charcoal bucket at the river. I've walked from the river through the woods to our house at night, alone. I picked dewberries for the most delicious pie I've ever eaten. I've seen foxes slinking along the top of the levee. I've found rabbits under the shed out back, and I've dug in the corn crib for baby mice.

My brother, the hunter (ha, ha) killed a cardinal once. Mom told him that we only killed to provide food and to protect ourselves. So he cooked it over a fire in the back yard. Brave me tried to eat some of it - ugh. We were both sick.

I've been up close and personal with most kinds of snakes and never bitten. I've gathered moss and mushrooms and soft lichen and colorful leaves to take home as centerpieces for the table. I've leaned against a Jersey milk cow named Betsy and told her my troubles (just like Mom did every morning), I've fallen off a horse, I've stolen watermelons. I found my grandfather's and, subsequently, my uncle's still - fascinating mechanism. I lost a shoe in gumbo mud down in the new ground where I shouldn't have been. I've been chased by a bull and I've ridden a big sow whose name was Whitey. She didn't like me much after her babies were born.

I've shelled corn with a hand-turned corn sheller, which is probably in the garage. I've picked up pecans until I thought I was a permanent u-turn. And, I've snapped and shelled and canned every kind of bean and pea that will grow in Mississippi. I've eaten tiny ears of corn right off the stalk.

Ah, some very good memories. And, for these memories I am truly grateful. Amen.

Oh, Dear!

You're no fashion victim because you Stay Super Stylish.

Bright tunics, soft sweater dresses, and tweed vests? Yes, please! From your driveway to the dance floor, you know that the world is one big catwalk. Whether you're dressed uptown or downtown, a style-setter like you knows that being up-to-date on all the latest and greatest looks is always a surefire way to make a big impression. Where you got your amazing style is a mystery, but the natural fabrics and clothes you choose are anything but.

What really sets you apart from the pack is knowing that looking great doesn't have to mean following every ridiculous fad to hit the streets. A savvy fashionista such as yourself can tell the difference between flash-in-the-pan trends and the real thing, which is why you'll never be caught in unflattering cuts, yesterday's looks, or mystery fabrics. Knock 'em dead!

Somehow this doesn't fit with my jeans and flannel shirts and hats.

This was easy!

Your Language Arts Grade: 100%

Way to go! You know not to trust the MS Grammar Check and you know "no" from "know." Now, go forth and spread the good word (or at least, the proper use of apostrophes).

Are You Gooder at Grammar?
Make a Quiz

Temptation

Joanna over at the Geranium Farm wrote today about all the temptations that we face and rephrases the Lord's Prayer to emphasize that God lead us away from temptation - an interesting thought.

One of my favorite bits about temptation is a phrase from "Somebody's Knockin'" by Terri Gibbs -
Somebody's knockin' should I let him in,
Lord it's the devil would you look at him
I've heard about him but I never dreamed,
he'd have blue eyes and blue jeans. Thanks to Levi's for the picture!
Evil and Satan are undercover agents - literally and figuratively. I always wondered if the reality of what was under those blue jeans was as real as promised. Now, I recognize that temptation comes in all sorts of disguises, and they are seldom evil at first appearance.

eBay is a wonderful example for me. I began looking on eBay for an out-of-date coffee mug for my partner. Then, I realized that others things were available at the touch of an icon. I need only input my credit card number to PayPal and go shopping. Now, we all know that shopping is one of my weaknesses - my retail therapy, my way of stopping the pain. And, the thrill of getting down to the wire in a bidding "war" to the last few seconds - ah, me. The innocuous eBay was my own temptation. After dozens of packages arrived, I realized what I was doing. I have not turned my back on temptation, but I can look it in the eye and said, "NO." Most of the time.

Laughing. So temptation comes in all guises. Food is another of my weaknesses. Today, I was out after therapy. Spent $26 and almost two hours in the bookstore. Then on the way home, I decided I'd like to have a Coke from the Mexican store near the interstate. So, I purred over there and bought two Mexican Cokes - made with real sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup - sooooo good. But, one of my favorite eateries is in the same area; so I sauntered down there - past the soon-to-be-open bakery where I used to buy cupcakes - and bought two cranberry muffins (probably just as many calories as the cupcakes). To make a long story short, I ate one of the muffins after I got home and automatically reached for the other one. God led me away from temptation right then. I put it down, folded the top of the bag and put it out of sight. For right now, I have had a reasonable amount. If I had eaten both muffins now, I would have been stuffed. If I eat it tonight or tomorrow morning, I will have done better.

Temptation. At therapy we talked about a problem I have contacting an old friend, who is dying of cancer. How do I tell her that just talking with her brings back memories that are more painful than I care to handle? I've been through therapy about these and I've forgiven and been forgiven, but the pain is still very real. It doesn't go away just because I understand it. I've left the situation with God and the pain still shows up with the memories. I know how I felt then. My therapist asked if I really needed to say that to her. The knowledge that her very presence in my life brings pain will not make her feel better, and I won't feel any better knowing that I have hurt her; so why say it to her? Let it be. Time will ease the situation and I will know what to do. But, I have been tempted to say, Just go away, Don't make me think of this stuff any more, Quit calling, I have nothing to say. So, if I have nothing to say, then I shouldn't say it. Temptation. Try to ease my own pain at someone else's expense. Giving in to temptation seldom works anyway - you're just miserable afterward.

How does your temptation appear? Blue eyes and blue jeans, speaking when being silent would be better, two muffins? eBay? Credit cards?

Lead me away from temptation - or at least help me to recognize it, Lord.

Bodies, thoughts, habits, and spirituality

Hmmmm. How to begin. I'm going to write this the way I'm thinking and then decide where my thinking has gone astray. After all, when I'm alone in my head, I'm alone with a crazy person!

I was supposed to go to a River Watch training session this morning at 9 am about an hours' drive from here. Sounded like a great idea when I signed up. Some mornings are good for me; some are not. Today was not. I had vertigo and stuffiness, some congestion. But, even last night as I sat cozily knitting in my favorite red chair, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to move. All I wanted was to sit quietly and knit my life away.

I went to bed at a reasonable hour, arose at 7 am, and literally stagged to the bathroom, holding onto my chest of drawers and the wall to get there - my head was decidedly not on straight. I perseved, telling myself that this would go away. I've had it for several mornings now, and it's gone away on its own. I drank lots of water, took my medicine, ate my breakfast and sat down at the computer. Then, I leaned over to pick up a tissue that had fallen on the floor. Wrong. Almost ended head first on the floor. Gently rose up. Called my partner and told her I couldn't go.

Guilt. This is something that we want to do together. She took the training last weekend while I went yarn shopping, rising at an early hour to drive an hour and half away. She spent that morning in a three hour training session. I was playing.

Okay, I've had a decongestant and an additional antihistamine, a nap and lunch. I feel okay but still a bit ditzy and a whole lot guilty. Why couldn't I do something for us that required getting up early, driving somewhere and spending time learning something I really want to know. I could get up early, drive somewhere and spend time shopping with other friends. So, why couldn't I do that for us this morning?

End of story.

First of all, using "supposed to" instead of "scheduled to" indicates a command or obligation - and signing up for the workshop was certainly an obligation. But, my mindset was that I should, ought to or some such idea - the presumption that I would be wrong if I didn't do this. My presumption. Taken to it illogical end, the thought of "supposed to" makes me unloveable if I don't do it. My mind knows that's not true. Not sure my guilt complex has gotten this idea yet, though.

Now, the "should have" part comes in several days ago when I really (for my own health's sake) should have taken care of the dizzy, congested feeling. I actually bought the decongestant a few days ago, but I didn't take it. After all, the dizziness went away - mostly. And, the congestion is something that I've lived with a long time and can ignore very well.

However, I did the right thing this morning. I did not drive when I was dizzy. I took the appropriate medicine and went back to bed. Feeling guilty for letting down the people who offered the workshop and my partner who is looking forward to our doing this together (and I am, too) is another story. Guilt is hard to give up.

Guilt is like resentments - they hurt me not anyone else.

So much for the thoughts. What does all this have to do with spirituality? Well, God doesn't make junk and didn't make me for junky thinking or acting. And, I've done a lot of both in my life. So much that it's hard to decide what is appropriate and what is junky. Right now, I'm feeling junky. Is the guilt appropriate? Did I do the right thing? What do I think/believe about myself right now? Failure - not just that I failed to show up this morning, but I am a failure. I never do anything right.

BS. Junky thinking. My body had warned me that it had problems. Junky acting that I did not take care of the problem when I got the signals. But, that's a bad habit of mine. I ignore signals that are important. I'm messy that way. Maybe I put most things back where they belong, but I choose to not see the signals until the body/ mind/ spirit is full of them.

And, the problem grows from a simple physical or mental one into a mess. A big mess. My spirit is somewhere besides with me or else I just can't feel/see/hear it. My God is off fishing apparently 'cause she's certainly not here either. Maybe they are taking a trip together.

Nothing is getting done today except that I did take my medicine, finally. Stress headache, lethargy, guilt, - what a mess.

So, I think that spirituality, honoring the spirit within me and the Spirit of God, is deeply connected to my body, my thoughts and my habits. Especially in this particular situation.

My solution to this is writing and doing. So, I'm now going to get up (carefully) and begin doing laundry.

Lent - What are you doing for Lent?

Seriously, folks, I'm interested in what your Lenten "discipline" is. Leave me a comment, please

My questions and thoughts about Lent

Lent. Lent. 40 Days not counting Sundays. The usual question from friends is "What are you giving up for Lent? The typical answers are chocolate, sweets, cigarettes, cussing, coffee (not too often). I once gave up Coca-Cola for Lent. Once.

Now we are three days into Lent and I have no Lenten discipline. We discussed this at dinner last night. One acquaintance is giving up some bad habits. That's a good start, but I'd just pick them up again after Easter the same way I did the Coca-Cola.

Traditionally Lent represents the 40 days that Jesus spent in the wilderness (desert). More than two months of his 3 year ministry was spent in the desert, perhaps the same desert where Moses and the Israelites wandered. I wonder if he went in circles like they did. Anyway. In the early church, those who were to be baptized at Easter had their own fasting and discipline to follow during Lent.

The apostles had their own Lent, each one different. Peter didn't know he could preach until after Easter. Mark was mostly a scribe until he wrote down the words and works of Jesus, the Christ. Matthew, the bookkeeper, was mostly good at keeping accounts before he gave us accounts of events and miracles. And, what happens to John, the Beloved? Exiled on Patmos, someone named John writes the most beautiful theology ever. Their Lenten disciplines varied...and some lasted a lifetime after Jerusalem.

Now, we think of Lent as a time of purging, fasting, giving up things. Others say that we should take on good habits or good works or special prayer disciplines during Lent.

I'm not good at giving things up. I'm not terribly good at taking on a discipline, like reading the Daily Office or even getting on the treadmill. And, if I'm going to give up a bad habit, maybe Lent is the motivation to do it, but can I keep it up?

So, here I sit. Pondering what I should do for Lent. This desert is hot and cold. The desert is dry with only a few oases. The desert is lonely at times and comfortingly quiet at others. I'm used to the desert, but.......

I guess I'm a strange one, but the resurrection doesn't mean a lot to me, and I don't believe in sacrificial atonement. I believe that the Incarnation was sufficient. Perhaps we needed the passion and the resurrection to keep the faith alive all these needs, but I just don't think it was necessary for salvation. Heretic that I am.

So, back to Lent. Purple - the royal color. We consider it as a time of mourning instead of a time of seeking in the desert. Yes, Jesus rejected things, power, godness, but isn't the desert for seeking?

I'm still in the desert - and likely to remain there. I know Jesus is with me, and I fear no evil (except maybe the presidential elections and global warming and violence everywhere). I think I'll keep on seeking. God called me long ago. I've answered that call in different ways at different times. Now I'm just puttering along from one oasis to another, seeking the companionship of those on the journey, assuring them of God's presence, accepting their company as right and good. I like journeying.

Tell me what you're doing for Lent. Thanks.

May the peace of God, which may not be exactly what you expect, be with you always.