Heat Wave!

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It’s hot! It’s damn hot!!

In the land where I’m from we’re currently experiencing a heat wave.  The mercury has hit 100ºF(38ºC) for the last few days and the heat index has been between 105ºF(40ºC) and 107ºF(42ºC).  The humidity is…wet.  And thick.  You could cut the air with a knife.

If this is any indication of what hell is like I think I better get right with gawd. :mrgreen:

 

Blindsided

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(TW: Suicide, depression)

Clark was beautiful and charming.  When I say beautiful I mean a heartthrob.  A real heart-breaker.

He loved to work out; lifting weights and building muscle.

At sixteen he’d lived more of a life than a lot of people at sixty.  He’d seen more, been exposed to more, and had more than enough heartache.

His father was a looker too.  A body builder.  A dope head. He’d gone to prison when Clark was just seven.

The other kids at school teased him unmercifully about his jail-bird daddy.  What do seven-year-olds know about jail-birds? They probably just parroted whatever they heard their mamas and daddies saying.

Clark found a way to deal with the bullying.  He found a hand-gun underneath his grandmother’s bed.  He slipped that hand-gun into his back pack and took it to school.  When the kids picked on him again he took that gun out of his back pack.

He pointed it at them and then at the teacher who tried to stop him.  The gun was loaded.  The only thing that stood between a seven-year-old and revenge was the safety.

At seven he was promptly expelled from the public school system in that county.  None of the parents wanted Clark in a class with their kids.

His crack-head of a mother made a half-hearted attempt to keep him in some kind of school.  But out of work and a convicted felon, herself, she struggled to even get out of bed in the mornings.  She couldn’t afford a private school and other public schools in the area hesitated.

For a while he managed to stay in school, even scoring a spot on the football team.  When he got caught selling drugs at school that ended that.  Expelled again.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been selling drugs but at thirteen, most likely, he didn’t have a choice.  Not one that he saw anyway.  A thirteen-year-old needs to eat.  A thirteen-year-old providing for his mother.

By the time he was sixteen he’d lived an entire lifetime.  He was trying to get his life together.  He’d gotten legitimate work in construction and was quite talented for it.

One brisk November night, two days before Thanksgiving, he and some friends had a bonfire.  By all accounts they were having a good time.  Clark waxed serious and cryptic, muttering something about there having to be more to life.  He decided to go to bed.

Minutes later his friends heard the loud shot ring out.  They ran inside to find the door to Clark’s room locked.  He wouldn’t answer.  He couldn’t answer.  By the time they broke the door down he was gone.  The shot-gun he’d lodged in his open mouth lying next to him on the floor.

We never know the pain of another.  I’ve always mourned the loss of a life so full of potential.  Clearly he didn’t see it that way.  He didn’t see anything better.  I’m sorry for that.   I’m sorry his pain was so deep he could not bear it.  And I’m sorry we were oblivious to it.  Blindsided.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

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Photo Credit: Ruth

Photo Credit: Ruth

 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
 

Prayer.  It’s supposed to change things.

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

Elijah was a human being, even as we are. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops.” James 5:16-18

When I was a Christian I prayed every day.  Several times throughout the day.  Before I got out of bed I started praying. I talked to my imaginary friend about, well,  everything.  I could tell him anything.  Why not?  He saw it all anyway.  It was an internal dialogue that was continually going.

Whatever thoughts I had, some scripture would come to mind for me to apply to that thought.  I was ‘taking all my thoughts captive to Christ’ (2 Corinthians 10:5).

I prayed for change within myself, to become more like Christ, to be less of me and more of him.  I believed that “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30).  In fact, I believed that the only way he could increase was for me to decrease.  I wanted there to be nothing left of me.  Slowly, over time, this did begin to happen.  I put myself away and made more of Jesus.  Or at least what I thought was Jesus:

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,  gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22-23

But I also prayed for some very real, very tangible things.  Salvation of loved ones, healing for the sick, my step-children, my then-husband, ministry opportunities.  Oh, sure, I prayed the selfish prayers too.  Though I never really expected the selfish ones to come to fruition.  I knew when I was praying selfishly.

The only prayers that were ever answered in the affirmative were the prayers to change me and the selfish prayers.  Never, in 20 plus years, were any of the prayers for salvation, healing, the suffering in the world or other non-selfish prayers answered in the affirmative.

I consoled myself on the healing prayers with platitudes about it not being God’s will.  I told myself and others that the person who died from their ailment received perfect healing rather than divine healing.

The lack of affirmative answers on prayers of salvation were always the most perplexing to me.  If it is God’s will that all should be saved and that none should perish, then why would that prayer not be answered?  At least some of the time?  It wasn’t for a lack of my attempting to evangelize them.  I didn’t just pray about it.  So then I would console myself in the knowledge that I had planted a seed and it was God’s job to water it.

I consoled myself that the suffering in the world was part of God’s plan to get his people involved in his work.  That God wasn’t in the business of snapping his fingers to alleviate suffering.  He expected us to do it.  Then why aren’t we?

No, the only prayers that were ever answered in the affirmative for me were the ones that I had control over.  Not all of my selfish prayers were answered.  Only the ones I could make happen.  And as for transforming my inner self.  Well, I did that too.  Using scripture and prayer I was able to change myself until there wasn’t much left of me.

So when I began to doubt, to question, and to learn that maybe everything I had once believed wasn’t true, it was somewhat of a relief to learn that the reason my prayers weren’t answered wasn’t because God didn’t care.  It wasn’t because God was ignoring me.  It wasn’t because I had some secret sin in my life that I had wracked my brain to find which was prohibiting God from hearing me.

It was because imaginary friends just aren’t very powerful in the lives of others.

Take A Deep Breath

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There’s some kind of critter playing peek-a-boo with me.

I’ve taken a brief hiatus from religious writing. It’s been a struggle to find the time – and more specifically the motivation – to adequately research my projects, but I’ll get back to those and publish the rest of the series I was working on when that happens.  Sometimes it’s just good to take a break to breathe in some fresh air and recharge my batteries, and do some thinking.

What is strong atheism? From the StongAtheism website I found the following definition:

Strong Atheism is the proposition that we should not suspend judgment about the non-existence of a god or gods. More extensively, it is a positive position against theistic values, semantics and anti-materialism, a rational inquiry in the nature of religious thought, a new way of thinking about religious and spiritual issues.

This doesn’t seem to be completely where I am.  I’m…ambivalent.  Ambivalent about being hostile toward theistic values and anti-materialism because ultimately that means being hostile toward people.  Perhaps it’s because I spent so much time there. Maybe that’s not even what’s meant by having a positive position against theistic values.  It seems to be the tactic that’s taken against theists, though.  I’m not even absolutely certain that I’m a materialist, though I don’t think I have to be to make a rational inquiry into religious thought and to develop or have a new way of thinking about spiritual issues.

I do feel I have rational reasons for believing that the God of the Bible, nor any god that has been proposed to date, exists.  If there is a “creator” I don’t think it’s those gods.  At the same time other people who I would call rational come to vastly different conclusions about that.  Does that mean that they are wrong?  Or that perhaps I am?

According to many sects of Christianity, if I am wrong, I’ll have a high price to pay.  Which is one of the reasons I don’t believe that god exists.  BibleGod is invisible.  BibleGod has left little to no empirical evidence of his existence – just possible footprints(because there’s stuff we don’t have empirical evidence of) – which may or may not be his(or some other god’s or gods’).   BibleGod says that if I don’t believe in what I can’t see I will spend eternity in hell.  That doesn’t square with a just deity. With the stakes so high it would seem that justice would call for his existence to be less ambiguous, less fuzzy.  I digress…

I’ve watched, and participated in, the back and forth exchanges between atheists and Christians.  It’s been…difficult.  It’s been heartbreaking, infuriating, and frustrating.  It’s left me with a really bad taste in my mouth for what any one of us calls debate.  I thought debate was clearly presenting facts, viewpoints, and opinions drawn from those facts and viewpoints in the affirmative and the negative by opposing parties in a clear and concise manner for the consideration of an audience.  I think with the advent of opinion news shows it has become increasingly more adversarial with insults and taunting rampant.  That is disappointing.

It’s disappointing and, for me, particularly disturbing that adults cannot seem to speak to each other with respect and treat each other with dignity simply because of a belief or lack thereof.  It doesn’t have to be this way.  And if someone has researched enough that they feel firm in their position, how is that derogatory of those who hold the opposing view?  It isn’t.  Why can’t we seem to discuss these issues without vitriol, name-calling, questioning the integrity of those who hold an opposing viewpoint, or insulting their mental acuity?  And I’m not just talking about the Christians here.  Atheists:  if our evidence and reason are strong we shouldn’t need insults and derogatory rhetoric, should we?

Ridiculing people for believing things that you don’t is not persuasive.  It isn’t conducive to productive dialogue and, frankly, I’m a bit ashamed that I allowed myself to be drawn into it.

Another Day Older

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DSCF1288I woke up yesterday morning and made the sleepy descent from my bed to the living room where I found this lovely vase with those strangely died mums(?) on the kitchen counter and a card propped up next to it.  TheBrit can be so sappy.  I love that man.  I would’ve taken a picture of them there, on the counter, but…well…I live in my house.

I added a number to the times I’m holding onto thirty-nine.  I’m not saying how many numbers I’ve added.  It doesn’t really bother me, though.  When we were out to a fabulous dinner with friends and family last night one of them asked if this made thirty-seven. Ha!  Somewhere slightly north of there.

My brother-in-law, who knows very well many this makes, told my six-year-old nephew to ask me.  As if that were a dig.  I proudly announced how many this makes.  Bring ‘em on, I say!  Bring ‘em on!  If I stop having them it’s gonna mean I had a really bad day.  Really.Bad. So keep ‘em comin’!

I’ve really had a month-long celebration.  ‘Cause that’s just how I roll! Seriously, TheBrit had a fantastic idea for a birthday present.  I couldn’t be happier with what I got.  So we went together to pick it out.

 

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Give me food because I’m cute!

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Meet Miss Sara.  We went to the local animal shelter to find her. She was listed as a Boxer/Beagle mix and was only a few days away from her limit at the shelter.  Isn’t she the cutest thing?  And she’s the perfect companion to Dottie.

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I haven’t had my coffee yet – don’t eff with me!

Dottie had been with other dogs, best as I can tell, her whole life.  Her foster family had other dogs and she missed having a companion.  She was kind of sad.  So I had to get a dog for my…dog.  Having another dog around has helped Dottie to come out of her shell some, too.  It’s obvious her first owner either abused her or allowed her to be abused.  She’s still a tiny bit skittish if we walk directly toward her head-on, but other than that she’s golden.  Dottie has mellowed out so much and I don’t think she’s done.  She loves TheBrit to pieces now, which we were unsure about her coming around to.  She got a bit jealous of the new girl and decided to join in on the lovefest! :)

Happy Birthday to me!  Four legged friends make me happy.

I can’t leave you without a song, though.  Here’s my birthday theme song for this year:

 

 

 

Random Disappearances

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randomSo there are a handful(I think) of blogs that I used to follow that just randomly disappeared from my “Blogs I Follow” list. I don’t know when this happened, why it happened, or how.

I don’t understand.  Is this a joke I just didn’t get?  Natural selection? Are any of you having this same issue?

Anywho, I just re-followed a couple that I recognized were gone.

Also, when did the “New Post” module change?  I know I haven’t been posting much lately, but sheesh…

*Edit:  My “a” seems to be disappearing as well.  The first title to this post was Random Disappearnces.

I Want to See Blood!

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kidsfighting

My sister, Karen, was four years older than me. As a result anytime mama was at work or out for any reason Karen was left in charge.

Now, I’d like to be able to tell you all that I always did just what Karen said, but that would be a bold face lie right here in black and white.  In fact, being the little sister who resented having the big sister in charge, I most definitely did not.  I usually did exactly not what big sis said.  Maybe not the exact opposite, but not what I was supposed to do.

And, Karen, being large and in charge really didn’t mind lording it over me either.  She dealt out demands and instructions with impunity.  Naturally I thought she was being militant and doling out more of the chores to me than she had for herself because, well, she was in charge.  And who could stop her?

She would give (cough)instructions and I’d say, “I don’t have to do what you say. You’re not the boss of me!” She would get angry and chase me down and I’d stick my fingers in my ears.  I spent a good portion of the time when mama was working with my back on the ground, Karen on top of me, using her knees to hold my hands down to keep my fingers out of my ears, pointing in my face and telling me exactly what I’d do when we got up.

When mama was home we’d bicker.  A lot.

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Stop!”

“I’m telling mama!”

“Go ahead you little brat!”

“You started it!”

“Nuh-uh, you did!”

I am quite certain that my mama earned every grey hair she had.  I’m sure there were times when she wondered why on earth she ever had us!

One day we were going on with such childishness – we were children after all – and mama had clearly had enough.  Who knows how many times she’s told us to knock it off.

She ordered both of us out.  “Out! Go on!”, pointing to the front door.  Karen and I, still bickering and mumbling all the way, went out the front door.  Now mama stood in the hallway and we stood on the front stoop, with only the screened door between us.

“Fight, dammit!”

Karen and I looked at each other perplexed.

“None of that, now.  Y’all have been bickering all day long and I’m tired of hearing it.  Go on, fight!  I wanna see blood!”

Now we were looking at each other slack-jawed.

We didn’t fight.  We didn’t know what to make of whatever that was.  We stood there and looked at each other for a good ten minutes, I guess.  It might have only been two but the tension made it seem like at least ten.

I don’t think we bickered anymore that day.  A new day dawned, though, and we were right back at it.

He who fights and runs away, may turn and fight another day.” – Tacitus

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*Inspired by the recent grown-up version on various blogs.  Now I know why my mother told us to duke it out.  Sigh…

Keep on Going

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Those of you who have read here for very long know that I’m not really into Country Music.  You also know I don’t believe in a literal hell where people are going to burn for all eternity.  But you also know, as is the case for just about everybody, I’ve been through my fair share of hell right here on Earth.  Which is why the symbolism and the imagery in this song resonates with me so strongly and why it makes it a power ballad of sorts for me.

That why every time I find myself in another dark, smokey place, I’ll just keep on going.

Yeah, I’ve been there:

Well I been deep down in that darkness
I been down to my last match
Felt a hundred different demons
Breathing fire in my back
And I knew that if I stumbled
I’d fall right into the trap that they were laying, Yeah

But the good news
Is there’s angels everywhere out on the street
Holding out a hand to pull you back upon your feet

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