The conspiracy of distance and time

Ever wonder why things take so much time for you?  It always seems as if things continuously workout quicker for others.  When it comes to you, there is always a waiting period.  It is even less satisfying when you have absolutely no clue about where you are going, where you are headed, and why you are even on this path.  It is the constant struggle between distance and time.  We are told to be patient, that things will work themselves out…as if your problems could think on their own.  WAIT A MINUTE!

That’s why!  If your problems can work themselves out, perhaps this is because they do have a mind of their own.  They emerged from somewhere.  Of course, you had something to do with facilitating their coming to existence.  Yes, you knew  and had the feeling that you should not do this thing, yet you did it anyway.  You get it, you take responsibility for it—but does it have to be this hard?  Isn’t what you are going through enough?  Didn’t you pay enough already?  The mess of being a believer.  WE THINK TOO MUCH.

There is a conspiracy that brings together two things that shouldn’t even relate to one another:  distance and time.  There is a distance between you and the solution…if there’s a solution.  Because, we should always understand that the answer to our prayer may be a lack of an answer.  However, you are in this to win.  You don’t care about what it takes to get to the end.  You know you screwed up, yet you also know that there is this thing.

This…this…DISTANCE.

Then to make things harder on you, there’s another concept called time.  You see, you know that you will get somewhere.  Whether it is bad or good, you’ll get somewhere.  This is not the question; the question is truly ‘when.’  Because when refers to time, and distance of approaching the solution depends on the timeline.  The time, the conspiracy.

WAIT

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Answered prayers

If I could accurately describe the prayer life that I have, I’d say that it is at a medium well steak level.  Mind you, I am a vegetarian.  Yet I can honestly speak of what’s on the inside.

I used to believe that God was not answering my prayers; yet found that it is all that He has been doing all along.  The thing is that I was not careful about what I asked; He is giving abundantly.

I pray that He will also give me the courage to sustain the injuries of growth, and the certainty that I will prevail.

Lord, let me be strong.

Private prayer…starts ok, then I screw up

Private prayer:

Lord, thank you for blessing me.  Thank you because your blessings are never small.  Just the fact that I know you are in my life is incredible enough.

Yet Lord, please help me have grace and not get so easily frustrated.  I can be a dick to people; especially those that love me.

Transform my heart, and allow them to have grace with me when I fail.  Allow me to have grace when my own desires lead me to  be an ass to those that surround me.

I know that you listen to prayers; I know that you perform miracles.  I ask you, Lord, to please look at my needs vs my wants.  Whichever you prefer to provide, I will accept humbly.  The things that you do not grant me, I will not take for granted.

Jesus,  I know that you see me and that you love me.  Please guard my heart.

Why is the world so broken?

“Why is the world so broken?”  This is a question that is often asked, and it comes in many different formats.  As a Christian, I would give you the answer that the world is breaking since sin entered the world.  That the enemy, Satan, is doing precisely what he promised he would do with all of us:  steal, kill, and destroy.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” John 10:10

But I believe we need to take this a step further.  For instance, a lot of people state that they can be good without God.  I have tried this lifestyle before.  I have tried other religions, and have also attempted to live without religion.  I have personally found that there’s truly no hope in the nothingness.  How can one be “good” without having something greater than then self to draw knowledge from.

In the movie School for Scoundrels, there is a quote that actor Billy Bob Thornton’s character, Dr. P, says that resonates with this whole “learning from me” or “I can be good all by myself” type of mentality:

“You can’t help yourself because yourself sucks.  If you’re helping yourself, that means you’re being helped by a complete asshole.”

The world is broken, to me, partly because people are not seeking out healing.  There seems to be more intention in placing blame, than in allowing forgiveness to take root in our hearts.  We seek “justice” and in that effort, we stay low on the dirt.  Things cannot change because once a fight is won, its time to go fight the next one.

But what if we lived in a world that got completely obsessed with healing from the deepest inside, towards the most external outside?  This is the part where my broken little self decided to change something.  Perhaps I would never get justice for the unfairness that has taken place in my life.  Perhaps the bad things that were done to me as a child will be just that:  bad things that nobody can/will/want to take back.  So what do I do?

Should I seek out revenge against every man out there that has ever crossed my path?  Should I join a women’s movement in which men are discussed as being beneath women or as our equals?  For what is equality if the ground is uneven?  Where do we begin?  Healing is needed to proceed with clarity.  I’m am selling you a concept that I have personally failed to establish.  I am certainly not against groups that seek out justice in an area, but be fair.  If you seek out equality, give it.  If you seek out love, give it.  Being argumentative and combative have been my instruments of war.  I know firsthand that a fighting attitude many times gives you what you want, but not the peace that you truly need.  Fists are up every single time.

Yet, the times that I gave healing a try I saw something different take place in me.  The things that stressed me out before, that hurt me, that brought anxiety to my heart began to dissipate.  It got to the point where I did not recognize myself.  Who is this person?  I started to question whether I had become weak.  A sucker.  A push around.

However, if feeling that level of peace meant that others would see me as weak, a sucker, and a push around:  so be it. This is the part where, in order to heal, we need to learn another little skill called:  not taking to heart what others say.

Heal.  Breathe.  Live.

Mother, Rape, Healing (GRAPHIC)

I forgive you, but I have to heal.  To heal, I have to tell you that you hurt me deeply.

ANGRY CONVERSATION WITH MOTHER

You did not protect me, although you encouraged me to be a better person.  As a child, I saw you completely lost.  At age 7, I felt that I was your mother.  You were so tired all the time, when you worked those 2 jobs because daddy disappeared.  He took the long walk, and he forgot the way home.  Those times when you left me with that babysitter…the devil visited me.  But you had to sustain us.  You see?  Grandma was mad at you for what you did.  You chose the wrong daddy for me.  The crazy one.  He didn’t love you enough.  He had other interests, and we all got in his way.  You tried so hard, but your love was limited by your youth.  You wanted more out of life, but you also wanted me.  You wanted my brother. Or did you?

No.  You wanted to be young.  You wanted to have fun; a good time.  You liked boys.  Wait…no.  You liked men.  The scary men that took your heart.  The ones that you slept with in front of us.  You put us in bed, then you’d go next door.  But we could hear you.  I never felt more afraid.  Mom, you took my innocence.  Whore.

I wish my eyes and memories could replace the darkness that you introduced into images of sunsets.  By images of the Fall.  But that can never be, because your depravity and insecurity as a woman fills all of my childhood memories.  Your lack of self worth.  You passed that onto me.  I became, in my 20s, everything that I said I would never be.  Daddy’s rejection became my defense weapon.  If my own father never cared or wanted me, then who else would?  So, I went into the world with a hidden heart and a fake smile.  I was bullied as a kid, all the way up through high school.  You don’t like to hear this stuff, but I think you just feel guilty.  Weak!  I became an extension of you.

Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore.  Just like you.  God only knows how many times I felt His voice calling me, but I didn’t have time for him.  “I’m busy, Jesus.  I’m enjoying my life.  Later…we’ll talk later.”  It didn’t feel good.  I didn’t want to be touched by men.  I was so lonely; I filled my free time the way you taught me.  It was not that many, but I had promised myself to have just one.  It was a goal to not be like you!  But, I was…

Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore.

The price that we pay for being so unwanted.  For being the child that ruined youth.  I came first, then came my brother.  But you see?  I broke ground; he didn’t.  I had this pressure on me.  I knew that you would never be happy when you looked at me.  You said that you loved me, but I didn’t believe you.  The words did not reach your eyes.  The love words did not reach your face.  Empty words spoken into the air.  God only knows how much I have hated you.  Hated you for so long.  I don’t even want to look at you!  I don’t want your opinions!  Don’t ever touch me!  Why did you sleep with my father?  Why did you bring me here?  I am NOTHING.  Nobody has ever wanted me.  I’m a fucking illusion.  Smoke that will soon dissipate.  

Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore.

The day that you did not protect me was truly my fault.  I walked into the boy’s house; I knew he wanted something physical from me.  I was afraid, but my soul was in pain.  You were so busy with your latest guy.  I needed to feel loved, accepted.  Touch is such a powerful thing.  He locked the door behind me; I was lost.  I wanted you to save me.  I had made a terrible mistake.  Why?  Get me out!  I prayed to God, but He didn’t come for me.  I let it happen; I didn’t even whimper.  I was thrown in a corner of a small room, trapped between a bathroom door and a hallway.  Legs perfectly spread.  Easy access to a boy that had done this before…clearly.  But there was a window.  I looked into the sky, and whispered:  Jesus.  It was over before I could say Jesus a third time.  I pretended to be okay, walked home in shame.  Blood on my legs, I was wearing a skirt but I managed.  So much pain?  Was that how people made love?  What was that liquid that the boy threw between my legs?  Wait…the boy.  He didn’t take me home; he had homework.  That day, rage took a hold of my heart.  I walked home, covered in blood with zero feelings.  However, rage was there.  It was like thin/white anger.  The one that comes to you peacefully and takes a hold of your heart. 

TODAY 

I hated you.  I hated God, but I was still afraid of Him.  This was how God showed me how much I was unwanted.  This is what happens to unwanted children; we get what we deserve.  Someone save me!

But there is something.  Something happened to my soul.  In that darkness, I found release.  I had so much inside me.  This event was awful, catastrophic, but it opened my eyes.  Ma…you were cared for and loved by both your parents, but you were not treasured.  You didn’t know that you were worthy of love.  To your mother, you were a building that needed to be built beautifully.  While she built you, she disregarded your heart.  She took your heart, and she buried it deep inside of you where nobody could find it.  You could not see how valuable and beautiful you were.  There was this light inside of you; good things.  You just didn’t know.  How could you know, ma?  How could you know that you were God’s treasure.  You are a treasure.  Grandma is not here now, but I want to tell you on her behalf:  I am so sorry.  You deserved more.  Please, forgive me.

You see?  I had this story all distorted.  The parts that I have hated so much about you, ma, are the very parts that I have loved.  Ma, you were wonderfully and fearfully made.  So was I.  How could we have known?

Ma, we needed to find each other.  You had to have me to know this.  I had to see the darkness to get you.  I am not your rescuer, but I am a raft.  The darkness of a rape was the connection.  God did not plan this, but He is using it for something that is so much better than a perfect life.  In the darkness, I remembered.  In that dark cave of all my secrets, I found restoration.

You loved me from the first time.  The love was in your eyes, but you were sad.  That sadness was a veil to a baby, to me, your child.  I couldn’t see you because you lived in a tunnel.  A dark one.  But you are coming out.  You wanted something better for me, for us…but you couldn’t give it.  This is not an excuse made for you.  I see you.  I love you, although it is still hard to show you physical love or to tell you.  I am getting there.

I get it.

I was never just Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore.

I am wanted by the Maker of the world, God.  One of His chosen…clean.

Ma, so are you.  

 

The Story of Together

(Read to Song for Rome by Brian Crain)

In her mind there is a fantasy.  A world where all offenses were erased and everyone started new.  She can see a staircase from which people of the past come to see her.  There are smiles and stories shared.  There is laughter, and exchanged smiles are not frozen in time.  In her story, everyone got the opportunity to apologize from the heart.  Transgressions were erased, and there are no scars that are either visible or remembered.

They all come, it is quite the reunion.  There is that staircase; it shines of clean white light.  All of come to gather one more time to be happy, be together.  They have come to write the story of together.

The story starts to be written.  The beginning is beautiful to her.  They are all together, sharing their love for company.  Sharing the good times, and the memories.  Once more, she has them all together for the first time under the same roof.  These are not the missed old days.  These are the good days.  The ones that happened many holidays ago.  When mom and dad cooked delicious dinners in expectation of hope, and new things to come.  Those days are gone, yet the staircase has brought goodness back.

And she wonders as she watches them come down the staircase.  Yes, that beautiful staircase that emits such a wonderful, clean white light.  The air is clean, they are all dressed in pure light or is it white?  She never saw such beauty.

They come in, hug her, tell her that all is well.  They bring their permanent things, and wear a permanent smile that says “I will never leave you.”  There are so many of them, where will they go?  Yet the house expands as far and wide as the staircase.  It can accommodate all.  Because we will never be alone again, we will never be separated.  We will have those good times when mom and dad cooked the foods that brought the neighbors, friends and family to their home.  Back when there were the good days.  The uncomplicated days.

She turns around, the house has expanded from a five bedroom to a comfortable building of apartments.  She cannot quite tell whether these are townhouses, yet it matters not because they are here to stay.  For the upcoming good days.  The forever days.  There is no more pain, suffering, or bad memories.  They are all improved, and this is what she believes heaven shall look like.  They are so glad to see each other.  She is so glad to have them near.  So close that she can touch them.  She no longer imagines the good days, because they have come.  She is relieved.  She can breathe again, deep into the diaphragm.  Down into her soul.  Down into her healed heart.

They have come to write the story of together.

Apology Letter 1

Hi Shannon,

I never got to properly speak with you after the debacle.  You know you had it coming.  It had been years of abuse and trashing other people.  You were rather liberal with the truth, and it finally caught up with you.  You know?  I used to admire you from afar.  There was something positive about you; a light that I felt you gave away.  I was so wrong about it.  You were a bitch.

Oh, sorry…that doesn’t sound like an apology.  STARTING OVER!

Hi Shannon,

How have you been?  Oh, don’t leave please.  I need to apologize to you.  Its been a bit over a year since we last interacted.  Perhaps I did not understand where you were in your life at that time.  But was it my responsibility?  I, after-all, worked for you.  I remember how you lost all that weight, and started wearing red lipstick.  I remember those weird shoes that you used to wear to work with the prints all over them.  The shoes reminded me of the Mad Hatter’s outfit in Alice (you know, the one played by Johnny Depp).  It was all so strange.  You took that long vacation, and I knew right away that you had potentially had some sort of cosmetic surgery.  Oh, but Shannon…that modification did not help you with your attitude.  You see?  Treating the surface stuff never helps.  You gotta get deep in there, but you never did.

Do you know what we all thought of you?  That you played ‘flavor of the month.’  This referred to how you got every time a new employee joined us.  You were a fan for like 3 months straight…then, it was all over.  It was frustrating.  You were the boss!  I mean, would you play favorite with your kids?

Anyway, I’m so sorry that I had to call the cops on ya.  You cornered me; I was afraid of you.  So powerless.  Shannon, filing racial discrimination complaints is a right that all citizens have.  You mistreated me for my nationality and background; I was cornered and had to do something.  You betrayed my trust; I used to look up to you.

My complaint was not the only thing that got you fired from your job; it was the complaints of so many others.  Yet, we did not all come together as a team.  You played us against each other.  You were bad business.  In the end, your own boss could not wait to see you go.

I am sorry that things did not work out between us.  I apologize.  No, the letter does not resemble an apology letter, yet I had to put my feelings out there.  Shannon, I really hope that you have found God.  I hope that you left all of the fairy and witch stuff go away.  I pray that you have changed.  I also pray that if you did not change, may the Lord set you aside to a place where you cannot damage anybody else.

Cheers,

Me

Apology Letters / Thank You Letters

I am not sure how or why I came up with this idea; I’m certain that I am not the first person to think of this.  Last night, I was praying and thinking of all the suffering that is currently taking place around the world.  Yes, we’ve had suffering for a while, but I was specifically thinking of the events in Mexico, Puerto Rico, and finally Las Vegas.  It is just a LOT to take in.  So, I thought about writing apology letters to the people that I think, sense, and feel that I have done wrong in the past.  A few years ago, I thought about writing 10 Thank You letters to random people but never did.

I am not suicidal:  although I’ve been there.  These are not goodbye notes; my family needs me okay!  I’m narcissistic enough to say that out loud.  A year ago, I felt different.  Today, I’m in a better spot.  Anyway, join me in reading the good, the bad, and the nasty that I can bring as a human being.  I will say what folks think yet do not articulate.

Cheers and blessings 🙂

What losing hope looks like

It all started a couple of years ago for me.  It built up from somewhere.  I cannot identify today when exactly it all started, but I do remember the feelings each time I felt it.  In spite of all the things that I have gone through in life, I never lost my hope in people.  I always looked first at the good side of people; it felt right.  In time, I realized that I was wounded over and over again.  In response, I wounded back.

I did not realize that I was playing a survival game.  You see?  When you have no choice but to be in a situation, in the company of certain people, you learn to cope.  You learn the triggers.  You learn the ‘what to’s’ and the ‘what nots.’  It is all a survival game.

Yet, it was not until last year that I fell entirely.  I was paranoid, I could not find one person to trust.  Here is the worse part of it all:  I didn’t even bother going to God.  I did not pray about anything because I had become so self-sufficient.  I mean, I had the “fear” of God, as Christians define it…but I did not “go to” Him.

The day that I realized I was pretty much mortally wounded, I couldn’t fathom just how much blood I had lost in the game.  I was dehydrated, malnourished, unprepared.  I fell on the ground with a fatal wound to the heart, the chest, and my soul.  I realized that I had lost my weapon in the field of battle.  I had no energy.  Gone.  Dead.  A zombie.

Yet, I disappeared into the desert.  There, in the solitude of all, I started to gain strength.  I stayed there until my legs could carry me.  I questioned God a million times.  I learned that God does not answer all prayers.  I learned that God grows quiet.  I learned that the more I screamed at God, the less He spoke to me.  I learned that going to God with “me” or “I” does not get me a quicker response.  I learned to live, breathe, and wait every day.

Learning that God does not answer all prayers has been hard.  It has given me the ability to survive with what I have.  For the first time in my life, I have no clear path.  I don’t know who I am.  I don’t know why God is keeping me around.  You know how Christians speak of how God has a greater plan?  They speak of how God has the situation?  How God has prepared the way?

Well, sometimes I feel that God’s purpose for me is to make an example out of me.  That perhaps all of these dreams in my heart are meant to break me.  That I think too highly of myself.  That I have no right to dream.  That I do not work hard enough for those dreams.  I mean…what is a dream if you do not work towards it?  I mean…didn’t we need Judas to betray Jesus so that we could all be saved?  I’ve heard that Judas had a choice…but did he?

What about David and Goliath?  David wouldn’t be so famous if he didn’t kill Goliath.  So…didn’t he need that giant then?  Later on, the stories of King David would not be so great had we not known of his biggest enemy:  King Saul.  So, would King David’s deeds be so big had it not been for King Saul?

Is my destiny to be someone’s Goliath, Saul, Judas?  Am I God’s “what not to do” special?

I am not trying to kill your faith with this.  I am questioning  what has happened in my life.  Why did I end up here?  Like this.  Some may say that I need to pray more; yet the truth is that I pray everyday.  On my knees, I humble myself.  I do.

Because believe it or not…God is all I have left.  Last year, I fantasized with sleeping and never waking up.  These days, I wake up with a lot of pain on my chest.  I believe that the many blows to this heart of mine have left a bruise.

I have managed to stay away from people for close to a year now.  It has been healing, yet I realize that I am still too sensitive.  Opinions bother me, I am disappointed in myself, I cannot find a recruiter that will call me (I am unemployed).  I feel like a slow train wreck.

Is there any hope that this will all end well?  Is there something good for me on the other side of the road?  Is God ever going to…?

Save me

 

S.O.S. by Indila

This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…
I’ve quited all but don’t resent me
Needed that I went, I was not me anymore
I’ve fallen so low
That no one sees me anymore
I’ve sunk in anonymity
Fought the emptiness and the cold, the cold
I’d like to come back, I don’t succeed
I’d like to come back
I’m nothing, I’m no one
I’ve all my sorrow as a kingdom
Only a weapon imprisons me
Seeing light through the bars
And looking how beautiful the sky is
Do you hear my voice that resounds (that resounds)?
This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…
Silence kills the suffering in me
Do you hear it? Do you see me?
He promises to you, makes of you
An object without brightness
Then I’ve shouted, I’ve thought of you
I’ve drowned the sky in the waves, the waves
All my regrets, all my story
I reflect it
I’m nothing, I’m no one
I’ve all my sorrow as a kingdom
Only a weapon imprisons me
Seeing light through the bars
And looking how beautiful the sky is
Do you hear my voice that resounds (that resounds)?
This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…