“..harmonious combination of words”

I am reeling from the chaos around me. I am stressed out. My heart rate is 99 – my resting is usually 63. I have this lovely residual from Covid – I get this tingling all over and it starts making me feel so agitated and restless and then my heart rate goes wonky. And to top that off, I am disturbed by comments around me, that I heartily disagree with. And the sound was loud and it was obviously meant to rankle me and it did what it intended.

Cacophony – a harsh discordant of sounds.

Euphony – the quality of being pleasing to the ears, especially through a harmonious combination of words.

Lexico – Powered by Oxford

I am finding that more and more, there are people around me who I believed thought like I do. I am learning, however, they do not. Oftentimes they do not offer a solution, just a comment meant disdainfully to bother me. And it becomes like noise. Absolute noise. Cacophony.

As this world spins (well, that’s a discussion for another day) out of control – as the euphamistic saying goes – I am continually looking for something to hang on to. LOL. My beliefs are challenged almost daily. Things I took for granted are being discovered to be all lies and made up to convince the unsuspecting populace to survive as just fat, dumb, and happy. They are waking to alarms and going off to jobs, working their brains to numbness, and going back home again, only to do it all the next day.

I listened to a posted tik-tok video the other day. The gentleman put forth the idea that we are all being farmed. Just like in the matrix, but it is for our time, treasure, and talents. We are raised with indoctrinated education, which steers us to a pre-set series of career choices, and then we are led to a specific job, meet the prerequisite spouse, and we procreate. Then we dump our kids into the system. It’s a never-ending cycle. We constantly supply fresh meat to our overlords.

Our time is stolen from us. We live where we live to make it easier to get to WORK. Not because we particularly like the area or housing choices – it’s that commute we mostly choose our living situation upon. We rent the apartment that is closest to the office so we are not on the road as much. We buy the house as close to town as we can get so those freeways are not too large a portion of our days. Lucky is the man who can work from home and have his home wherever he chooses – that is the exception and not the rule. Our time is stolen from us – do you think we are more efficient now we have computers for everything? I could disagree ad nauseam about that. We then are taxed on our wages – so many ways. Income tax, sales tax, inheritance tax, use tax…on and on it goes. Why do you think tax codes are so complicated it takes tax specialists to maneuver through it?? Look at how large the IRS has become. And it was supposed to be temporary!!! And then we get evenings and weekends. We cram hours of TV time in the evenings, enjoying program-ing! We listen and soak in all the media feeds us. On weekends we spend our days prepping for the coming week with laundry and groceries. We might try to clean the house. We may attend a little league game or dance recital for the kids. We crash on Sundays, perhaps squeezing in some time with God, and psych-up to start the treadmill of life again on Monday mornings. What is all this for?

Today was interesting because I just stopped. I mean, in my tracks. I chose to leave it alone, grabbed some Skinny Pop popcorn, and took a seat. Because I realized the cacophony of sound around me was not bringing me peace. None. And I longed for a euphony of sound…something melodic and pretty. Something to soothe the soul. I chose to (a) unload on my blog, and (b) open windows and revel in the sunshine and breezes. I watched my brother-in-law stack firewood he graciously split for us. I watched as my hubby reconnoitered a new drip system for our veggies; choosing how it dripped, calculating gallons per minute, as well as placement. And I began to gather that peace. It is that simple. You walk away from the chaos. You choose not to get involved by engaging. You let the others yell on social media, and you disengage.

Even though it’s program-ing, I am obsessed with this TV show. I know it is not a good choice for many reasons, but nonetheless I am still obsessed. It is Yellowstone and it is on the Peacock Network – free streaming. Kevin Costner stars as the patriarch of this ranching family, whose land sits just outside the gates of Yellowstone in Montana. The vistas are incredible. The characters suck you in. There is violence – lots of that. There is intrigue. Some sexual content, yes. Like I said, regardless of the reasons why I should NOT watch this show, I watch 1-2 episodes every night. There are 4 seasons and season 5 is now filming. I am on season 2. In season 2, there is a character named Monica. She is a Native American who is married to Costner’s son (in the story). She is a college professor, although most in the community think less of her because she is native. She is teaching a course to college students and asks them to meet her outside for their class. She arrives and they are all sitting around, no one talking to the other one, out in the beautiful landscape of Montana, on their phones. She chastises them about not even talking to each other. And she goes on to say something to the effect of: I can’t believe you think it is more important for you to like a photo of someone who you do not even know; and that it’s important they like your posts. You have no idea what is going on in the real world, and more than that, you don’t even realize it, and you don’t even care. I don’t know why I waste my time with you.” Sadly, she walks away and the kids return to their phones, like she never said a thing.

That scene keeps replaying in my mind. Why has our social media presence become so very important to us? What is with phones??? On Peacock, it is free, so you have commercials. I don’t normally watch Peacock (brother-in-law downloaded it for us) and am not used to commercials any more. Loe and behold! Commercial after commercial from different providers, all offering amazing deals if you just get the newest phone version. Why is that?? Why do they want us continually updating our phones? Why the built in obsolescence? I’m nursing my 8+ and my husband is nursing his 8 so we don’t get the new ones. We also blocked all the updates. There are so many monitoring systems on our phones, that I just don’t wanna play. I met a man last week, who was a guest speaker at our food sustainability group, who actually got rid of his cell phone. And he is a cervical chiropractor by trade. It’s only been 3 weeks but he was happy he had done it. My next step may be a flip phone – True Talk has some that look pretty cool. It would force my hand. My brother-in-law doesn’t have any apps on his phone. He can talk, text, and share photos. That is it. He does everything else on his laptop and he says it helps monitor his time on social media. I desperately want to do that, but I don’t know if I could. How sad is that?

Walking away

Many of our friends thought that when we relocated up to Alaska, that we were walking away. In some profound ways, we were. We left all our friends in the lower 48. We joined our son and his family, and brought our youngest son with us. So we were not alone. Some friends we have had for decades had moved here before us and were always encouraging us to come up here. For the most part, we are very happy we did relocate to such a remote place. Once you are here, you do not feel remote. We have grocery stores and Target, McDonald’s and Costco, even restaurants like Olive Garden and the Outback Steak House. LOL. We live in a housing tract. We drive regular cars. The list is endless in how we are like everyone else. We did not walk away, we simply relocated. And we are still the same people who used to live in CA and Washington State. But there are particulars that are unique to living here. Isolated in the sense that it is hard to get here, but we are united with emails, phone calls, and social media. The point is that you can never flee anywhere where you won’t find yourself, because you take you, and all your history with you. You cannot escape yourself. And we all seem to stay connected, if that is what we truly want.

I can choose to isolate myself in a myriad of ways. I am at home alone a lot. I can disconnect from social media and work in my garden. I can choose to disengage in the public discourse. I can refuse to feed their anger, their nasty comments. I can choose the better portion. I can allow the euphony of sound that can truly only be found in God, to envelope me and comfort me and be my portion. I can choose faith over cacophony. I can choose wisely. As can you.

The better portion – God

And in despair, I bowed my head; “There is no peace on earth,” I said; “For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth and good-will to men!” Then peeled the bells so loud and deep: “God is not dead nor doth He sleep; the Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, with peace on earth, good-will to men.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, on the civil war

Advertisement

“I dipped my toes into the water and I got soaked to the bone…”

I dipped my toes..

As many of you know who read this blog with any regularity, I had my mom living with me, and she had end-stage Alzheimer’s. It’s been a year this month that she passed away. And I still have my dad. He lives on the other side of the country. His wife and stepdaughter had him admitted to a memory care facility. And he is mad. I mean he is completely pissed off.

He called me – twice in 5 minutes – yesterday, pleading for advice for a problem he doesn’t have and only imagines. Delusions are a part of his daily living. He ranted and raved at me for 1 hour and 35 minutes. I barely got a word in. Entering into Alzheimer’s World is like Alice going down the rabbit hole. I have been down some amazing rabbit holes with my mom, to be sure. But she got kind as the disease progressed. She passed over angry right around the time she was diagnosed. She accepted things. It still made her angry, but in some odd way, as she approached death, she got quiet and comfortable with herself. And she was great to be around. Not my father. My relationship with him has been chaotic at best. So very stressful. And each time he would nose his way in, my family would suffer. Because he treated me so poorly and my kids and husband despised him for it. And as this delusional aspect of dementia has grown stronger, he is more and more difficult to deal with. And I have not seen him in over 20 years – he lives on the opposite side of the country and was always too busy for me and mine. But now that he is alone in a facility, he wants me, his oldest daughter, to make things right. Like I have any authority whatsoever. He signed all that away years ago to his wife and his middle stepdaughter. Because of Hippa – I have no rights where he is concerned. And he is mad I cannot fix things.

Internet photo – but it looks a lot like my dad!

I tried to reason with him and finally got quiet. I had him on speaker on my laptop and actually played solitaire while listening to his rant. I didn’t bother commenting – it did nothing but fan the flames of his intense anger. It may seem strange that I am this bothered, but my dad has always been just out of reach for me. I never performed quite good enough; I was never thin enough; I didn’t become a doctor; I homeschooled my kids; we attended the wrong Church…it goes on and on. And my entire life I have tried to be the daughter that made him proud. Now, at 95 and in end-stage dementia with delusions, he tells me he loves me, he is proud of the life I have made, he thinks our kids are amazing adults, but he’s mad he has no relationship with any of us. His rant was pretty thorough yesterday. At one point he told me he never wants to talk to me again because I always make him so angry; in the next breath he says I’m the only one he ever wants to talk to because I challenge his intellect. *Sigh* It was a long, long, conversation.

The inner me…

I know he gets to me because I am still that 6-year-old girl trying to gain daddy’s love somehow. Dad was always working. And when he came home we were instructed to be quiet and not make noise or upset him. Mom had his gin-and-tonic waiting, all dressed and cleaned up, dinner cooking. Everything had to be clean and neat, because he was under so much stress. We had to be clean, dressed, and playing quietly, homework done, in our rooms. Dad was working most of my childhood on getting a man into space before the Russians. We lost that race; he had a mental breakdown. I was around 9 or 10 years old. Then we had to be really quiet! As my brother and I entered our teens, dad changed careers and had his own business. He was even more busy. Our lives were the dichotomy of feast or famine. LOL. We’d have lots of toys like boats and cars, and then we’d get food stamps. It was chaotic and nothing we could count on. We were forced to work at his plant on afternoons and weekends. It was all or nothing. And it still feels like that rat race when I speak with him. He is still on the treadmill… I wish he could have read, “Who moved my cheese?” It truly may have helped. I think dad is totally the “hem” character. If you haven’t, you should read the book!

Still chasing my cheese…keeps moving…

And so how do I help a 95-year-old who has delusional dementia, and who lives across the country? *sigh* For me, I go back to my faith. I have no authority in dad’s life to make any changes, for better or worse. That is in stone. I live literally 1000s of miles away and have not seen him in over 20 years. We were estranged for several years until this past year. Our relationship is basically one where he rants and I listen. I cannot affect any change in our relationship. My brother says we can never get our dad back, nor have any real relationship with him, other than to listen. Soon, we both believe, he will forget about us all together. Maybe that will be a blessing. And then we would wait for that final telephone call. I’m not sure. But I know this – God is merciful. My dad needs abundant mercy. And so I pray for that. For him. For me. For my entire, extended, messed-up family. I came across these lyrics today, and they made me smile and feel the love of God in my life. I will end this reflection with them:

I dipped my toes into the water and got soaked to the bone; I turned my gaze to my Father, and suddenly I was home.

I gave everything away and I became rich, indebted to the abundance that You so readily give.

I became obedient and my freedom flourished like a bird; I became selfless and fell even more in love.

I dipped my toes into the water and was soaked to the bone; I turned my gaze to my Father, and suddenly I was home.

Dipped my toes by kinnship

“…my soul has hoped in the Lord…”

Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday has always been so special to me. I loved the act of washing the feet – Christ was truly a servant to all of us. Our priest used to choose different parishioners and often a deacon or two. And the reading of the Gospels about the inception of Holy Communion, well, it has always moved me. The part I don’t like to dwell on involves Judas. Betrayal like that is so very difficult to comprehend. The Vespers of St. Basil on Thursday concentrate on this betrayal and some of the words resonate deeply with me, and yet, I somehow am able to understand it, too, in light of this world. The lesson for me here, is to forgive and to allow people to treat me as they see fit, when they are acting as a betrayal to me, and the person I am. There are so many factions in our world today. Tempers are high. And things are tense. But, I allow that action of others to walk with me, while I accompany Christ on this Holy Week journey. I do not try to correct them – it is done. Just as Judas was thrown his silver. And I walk with Christ, towards forgiveness of others. “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”

30 Pieces of Silver

In today’s world, we sort of have religious-light. We don’t want to look at the ugly side of our faith. The things that happened to the faithful, and what they had to overcome, is almost beyond our comprehension. We are pretty wimpy these days. The hardships in both Old- and New Testament times are outside our common experiences. Very few people live in dirt-floored houses where they have to wash their feet when entering and leaving. And that aspect alone separates us from the reasoning behind why Christ washes the feet of His Disciples. Plus, we are a throw-away culture and we are, in many ways, a simple culture – we get up to our alarms, we cram some breakfast down before that drive to work, we then work and commute home, we eat our dinners, watch the tube, go to bed, and start all over again tomorrow. In addition, we readily believe pretty much anything we hear from government officials, pastors in pulpits, the news programs blaring on and on…we accept so much at face value. Very rarely do any of us dig deeper than the headlines for pretty much any topic. And to be honest, the preachers up front in most our Churches know our attention spans are short and we prefer to not have our feathers ruffled, as they say. Well, Holy Thursday is one of the first moments when Great Lent starts to lead us towards the ultimate sacrifice – Christ, Who offered Himself on the Cross for each of us. Holy Thursday introduces us to service – Christ, our God, washes the feet of His disciples. Then He institutes Holy Communion, and promptly following that, Judas betrays Him. And this day is all about betrayal. Judas breaks bread with the Lord and “so, too, this Godless man, while still bearing in his mouth the heavenly bread, contrived the betrayal of the Savior.”

Judas’ Kiss

Weirdly enough, we have all experienced some of this same trauma in our lives, perhaps even a very deep betrayal. We also know people who are walking miracles, and yet we aren’t even aware of it. Some of us carry scars no one can see. The “walking wounded” are all around us. This Holy Week, we are given an opportunity to identify our pain and our wounds with that of Christ. He came to bring peace, and love, and hope. And He was betrayed, scourged, and hung on a cross – all because He loves us that much. Oddly enough, I find Good Friday one of the most peaceful Liturgies to be a part of. It follows on the heels of betrayal and it is a sobering Liturgy. The prayers are deep, the Church is dark, the lonely sounds of the nails being hammered into that wood. I cry every time. Holy Week should be a week that stops us in our tracks and leaves us feeling so lonely – the only time Christ is not with us is between His Death and Resurrection. The Church is truly empty. And we leave Good Friday feeling bereft and alone. We are suffering in the loss of our Savior. And we can identify deeply with Him. We should also be able to feel our own pain intertwined with Christ. But the ultimate joy of Holy Week is that the sun does rise on our sorrow, and Our Lord is again with us. There is joy in the Son Rise.

Blessed Holy Week

The pain of memories…

So some days there are moments when your head just explodes. Sometimes it is a result of not enough caffeine (rare in my house) or not enough sleep (becoming the norm), and sometimes it is fall-out from interacting with others. For me, it has been a combination of moving (the physicality of it all, in addition to the emotional stress of relocating) and of trying to restore order and normalcy to our life habits, in addition to the preparation for my mom to come and live with us. So much change!!

My true pain came from a FaceTime session with my ailing mom. I realized how much this stupid disease is stealing from us all. She had no idea who my grandchildren were, nor did she truly understand what she was seeing. I took her on a tour of our new home, and showed her the room she would be living in, as well as her bathroom. Her comment was, “Well, at least I don’t have to go outside in the snow to go pee.” And we chuckled at it. (She has some odd, but common, misconceptions about life in the “Last Frontier”).  And then, as I walked from the bathroom, around a corner, to the living room, she asked me, “Are you ever going to move to a bigger house?” She was back to the house we just moved from, in her mind. It took about 3 minutes. And when my sister and I reminded her that she could not stay where she is, she said, “I’m not leaving here until I die.” And she was adamant about it. My sister and I exchanged looks, knowing this will be such a hard transition for her – for all of us, really.

But what prepares us for this process? Not much, really. I have not taken a course on caring for aging parents (I probably should look into that). I know my mom will probably become a toddler again, in some ways. It hurts my heart for her and her dignity. And dreams we all had of growing old and sharing our children and grandchildren. I am hoping that being around my grandchildren will energize her (or wear her out! Ha-Ha!).

And I am confused, as well, by all this information I keep seeing about why the preponderance of dementia and Alzheimer’s disease is so rampant in the USA – some link it to our diets, some to our sedentary life style, or processed foods, or the mercury in all those old vaccinations we were forced to get in the 40s and 50s and 60s. There are now so many dementia patients who are only in the their 40s! And it is not in Europe or elsewhere as pronounced as it is in America. I question standard medical practice and embrace much that is considered alternative. Why? Well, I grew up around medicine and I know they play at it. I have seen doctors create solutions on the fly, going against normal procedures on a whim, and having it work out better than what they would have achieved, had they not been creative. I have seen chemical mistakes turn into cures. My brother broke his hand – crushed his fingers – on a Saturday afternoon when he was, I believe, 14 or 15. He was one of the star running backs at our high school. Did my dad rush him to the local ER? No. He drove him about an hour away, after having called his friends (no cell phones in those days) who met him at the hospital where they all had faculties, and they experimented and came up with a casting system (it was replaced several times during the season) that would allow him to pass the referee’s requirements thereby keeping the season intact. Did my parents pay for that? They did not. Did my brother get excellent medical attention? You bet he did. But medicine and research of his incident was used as the payment. He was their guinea pig. My point? Science can be flexible. There are thousands of stories of doctors and staff using their families as guinea pigs. So I know there is stuff going on out there, for this horrid disease. I also KNOW that big pharma has a hand in all of this. Why cure Alzheimer’s and dementia when there is money to be made off the victims? Why cure many of these horrible diseases when healthy patients don’t need to see their doctor or take their medications as often or as long? When did medicine become pharmacy instead of prevention?? When did dietary and exercise advice become a prescription or a surgical procedure? When did doctors stop treating the person and just focus on the symptom?? It makes my head spin.

After my frustrating FaceTime with my mom, with my head exploding, I laid down on my bed. I diffused lavender essential oil on my dresser. I cuddled with my cat. I cried for my mom. I cried for my kids and grandchildren, too. I have a parent with Alzheimer’s, which means it is more likely I may get it, too. My dad has Parkinson’s Dementia. (I am not sure about my possibility for Parkinson’s, but it is out there). But it seems like the medication he is taking keeps him more with us than when he was first diagnosed. (Shocking result, to be honest. I seriously doubt our pharmaceutical world). He is having more Parkinson’s symptoms and less of the dementia, although he had to stop driving. He has a hard time even walking some days. His speech today was slurred, but as we spoke longer, his voice got steadier and we had a great conversation. I cried. I know my parents are leaving me. And I realized how lonely that can leave you, even with a spouse, children, and siblings left behind with you. And I cried for my future. How long do I have with my husband and children, and grandchildren? Moving exhausts you; it truly does. I am pretty spent. And the future is just so cloudy, surrounded by lots of tears.

I will rise up. I know I will. My exhaustion brings on melancholy and thinking. Ha-Ha. Maybe I just need that cup of tea and a break! I know my world will continue through my sons, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren. And I know I have lots of time to spend with them, making memories for them to hold after I am gone. Right now, I am still facing a garage full of boxes. Many of them contain my memories. So I will bask in those wonderful memories, as well as embrace what is before me. I will also prepare for my future. My hubby and I realize we need to return to our Whole30 eating regime and add back in some supplements for our future health. We need to stop being lazy in food and meal prep, as well as getting ourselves healthier. Mindwise is back on the menu for me!

I still may have to escape to the mountains for some much needed respite. And believe me, I know that sounds funny, coming from someone who lives in Alaska, in a town of just 8,845 people! But the mountains do call to you! Almost as much as all this green growing all around me gives me peace, the mountains give me stability. I know I am tired. And I know I am blessed. I also know summer is coming. The sun will help. So does God. 

 

 

“…break off and have a cup of tea.”

God is so good. I am loving my journaling experience so much, and I am filled with hope, and joy. I am so beat-up tired, but I am happy. Exultant, even. I am so over moving. I truly hate packing stuff and shoving it into a box. I really do. I am, however, looking forward to our new home and putting down some roots. It feels good.

And then my day got going. And I had a fairly enjoyable time, enjoying breakfast with my kids and grandkids, getting some stuff we needed at the store, gas in my car, and resting up a bit (it was Sunday). And then we headed over to our son’s home, where he is installing a fence.

Sunday was a feast day – the celebration where the Apostles were filled with the Holy Spirit. I mean, I can sort of relate to how the Apostles must have felt. They had followed this Man who filled them with joy and awe. He was healing people and speaking truths they had never pondered. He was doing and saying things that normal men could not do. Who was He? Was He truly God Incarnate? Their lives were up-ended and completely changed. And then He was crucified. It was a horrific death. And the politics were crazy at the time, too. They ran; they hid; they were afraid. He promised He would return, and He did! He showed up in their midst with the holes in His hands to prove it was Him. But then He said He had to “go home” to the Father. And they were, once again, afraid. He also promised to send them the “Holy Spirit,” Who would fill them with love and be with them always. And we celebrated this on Sunday – the Descent of the Holy Spirit onto the Apostles – Pentecost – 40 days after Christ rose to be with His Father, our God. And we believe the Holy Spirit is still with us, protecting us and enervating our lives. We keep this sense of the holy within us. We celebrate how the Holy Spirit resides in all peoples, across the world. Some believe that can only happen if you accept Christ as your personal Savior. Others say only 144,000 will be saved. (Had that argument a time or two). Still others say that only if you are baptized in their church, are you “saved” and going to heaven. Yeah; I have other things to say on that.

People teach their children by their words and their actions. And if you keep them at home to school them, you are their sole example of life. That is it. I know many homeschoolers who isolate their children from the world, thinking it will somehow save them from being affected by it. I have known homeschooled kids who also snuck off every free moment to do drugs and have wanton sex with many partners, while teens, and while being perceived as “innocent” and “precious darlings” by their naive parents. Boy, were they surprised (and frankly, so was I about some of them!!). And I have known many publicly schooled children who were far better saints. I believe it has something to do with how you model life for them. How you are in front of your children, when no one else is there. Those precious, teachable moments. Those moments cling far more than an English paper they were forced to write, prayers they had to memorize, or keeping your kids away from other children who are being raised differently than you are raising yours. We chose to homeschool for the academics, and the faith followed. But we never isolated our kids. For most of their pre-teen years, we had no network TV. However, they played baseball, soccer, ice hockey, and even rugby. Our kids were always in this world, but we taught them to not be of this world. And I saw character in my kids yesterday, and I was proud of them.

I was, however, profoundly disappointed in myself yesterday. I was angry. I was not carrying a palm branch for peace to anyone. I was not an example of the Holy Spirit to anyone. I was a mother bear and I was going to bat for my kids. And my kids have kids. They are adults. They are married. LOL. It doesn’t matter one iota. Someone has been attacking my family and I was protecting them. Trust me. Do not harm my family. Ever. But I am disappointed that I allowed my protectiveness for my family to over-ride my faith. I know Jesus lost His temper many times. And He was totally justified. I am not sure I was. I did not model a decorous, peace-loving, quiet hearted, Christian woman. Rather, I was a shouting, angry, protective mother. Not good. My heart was racing and I as so very, very angry. It has taken about a year to build up, with my kids being insulted and spoken down to; having their dreams shattered at the hands of people who say they are one thing, but act totally the opposite; and having people do little things to place yet another pea in the mattress of my kids’ lives. And when I received a call with an hysterical, sobbing, daughter-in-law on the phone, I reacted. We raced to their sides. (We discovered my new car has a lot of “pick up and go”!!) We defended our family. And their legal rights. And their character. And we tried to shelter the little children from all of it.

The truly sad thing is that these people did not shelter their kids, at all. And they affected my grandchildren. Ugh. I get angry just reliving the moments. And I missed going to Church, trying to calm everyone (and myself) down; trying for a compromise with people who don’t understand the concept of what that truly means; and trying to help my own kids feel like they were not bad people, after having their very character called into question. It devolved so badly, it will now be in the hands of their attorney. (They already consulted with their attorney and KNOW they have all the rights and these other people have no leg to stand on. And yet, refuse to accept the legality of it. Raspberry bushes and fences – disrespectful people and little children run astray. It could be a soap opera. And now we start the next phase. So so sad!). And my grandson, last night, asking his dad if he was all those things the neighbors accused him of being. Broke our hearts.

And so, how do I find peace? How do I relate to the Holy Spirit in this conflict? I was told many years ago, by a priest, that sometimes we are called to be elsewhere, doing other things, and not be attending Church, and, that at those moments, we are BEING Church. Like when you want to be a part of the Liturgy, celebrating Easter (this totally happened to us) and have a VERY FUSSY BABY, that will not be calmed by anything other than a nice stroll in the sunshine, outside of the Church building. And your priest calmly telling you that at that moment, pacing with your baby, you were doing exactly what God called you to do, and that is BEING CHURCH. Not attending, and barely even taking anything in, but BEING what it means to be called, “Christian.” And through my anger yesterday, I knew I was off the rails a little bit. My presentation lacked. But the message was the same. (Stop spouting things at people, being a hypocrite and not living the same things you pretend you are. Stop accusing and manipulating your children; stop acting out like a child yourself. Take personal responsibility for raising good, Christian kids, like you say you are.). I said many things that were truth, but they perhaps were lost in the presentation, and for that I sought forgiveness. Not what I said, but how I delivered it. And in the end, I felt the hand of God on our family. The Spirit was there. (Perhaps in overabundance of fervor and zest, but there!).

We all learned something about ourselves yesterday. We truly, truly love one another. We will be there in a pinch. When the chips are down, we know we have one another’s back. We are blood – by birth or choice – and we are united. In all of it. And for that little test, I am supremely grateful. Our family is strengthened and was proofed in fire, so to speak. Thanks be to God.

I also learned that sometimes my sense of family, and my protective instincts, get the better of me. And I need to work on that. There are so many wise Church Fathers who exhort us to let the things of this world pass us by. And I forgot it all yesterday. Which means I have so far to go in my growth as a good, solid, Christian woman. And for that, I will redouble my efforts at finding that sweet spot between being in this world, and becoming a part of it. The Saints really had that down – our recent, modern day martyrs for the faith in the Middle East and elsewhere have exhibited it, far better than most of us, up until experiencing even death for their faith. I fell remarkably short.

Father Vasile Tudora posted on the Orthodox Christian Network. In an article about Depression, he wrote:

“So what to do? In an interview I recently read, the Archimandrite Sophrony Sacharov, of blessed memory, at that time a younger monk, was asked by a visiting priest: “Fr. Sophrony, how will we be saved?” Fr. Sophrony prepared him a cup of tea, gave it to him, and told him, “Stand on the edge of the abyss of despair and when you feel that it is beyond your strength, break off and have a cup of tea.” Obviously this was a very odd answer, and the young priest was definitely confused. So off he went to St. Silouan the Athonite, who lived not far from there, and told him everything, asking for advice. Long story short, next day, St. Silouan came to the cell of Fr. Sophrony and the two started a conversation about salvation. The beautiful fruit of their conversation was an unforgettable phrase that I would like to also offer as the answer to our conversation today about depression: “Keep your mind in hell and despair not.”

At first glance, St. Silouan’s take on salvation is not less strange that Fr. Sophrony’s initial answer, but it actually makes great sense. In traditional Christianity, the difficulties of life, the hardships are assumed as part of our fallen existence. Our bodies and our minds suffer the torments, but this is nothing but a temporary stage. The ascetic Fathers considered them as tests on par with the athletic exercises, very useful in practicing and improving the powers of the soul like patience, kindness, hope, faith and so forth. We keep our mind in hell when we consciously assume the pain of living in a fallen world, when we learn from this passing agony to avoid the even greater torture of an eternity without Christ. But there is hope in this suffering because Christ himself has suffered them first and has opened for us a way out of despair, a way out of pain, a way out of death. Christ is the well of life, the bread of eternity, and the only Man we need.

So as Christians we keep our minds in hell and we despair not, but courageously give glory to God in all things, even in pain, hoping, always hoping, in our Savior, the only One who can take us out of the brink of despair and set us for a new life in Him. In Him we put our hope, in Him we find our purpose, and on Him we set our goal.”

And today, I take solace in loosing my temper, in being a poor example. Because today, at 4:30 am, awaking from a fitful sleep, I realized that the great work of my salvation is far from over. It is still a work in progress. I did not accept Christ into my life as a one-time experience and was then perfected. He snuck into my heart, little by little, embedding Himself in the nous of my existence. And He exhorts me, even in my sleep, to reach for better. To keep getting up again, retrying my salvation in light of this world, and to learn to be thankful each time I do misstep and fall, because He is there, helping me back up. And the Holy Spirit is in me, whispering for me to rise up out of my bed and deal with the things that flutter in my heart, causing me unrest; causing me to rise with the bleak rainfall and see the green that is growing around me, the world that is blooming after a harsh winter, giving me courage to keep trying. Hope. It is still there, and I am smiling again today.

“Open your mouth for the mute…”

I am constantly amazed how people can say one thing, purport to be one thing, and yet are completely different. When the “real’ person comes out, it can be so shocking. We have been experiencing this over the past few years, over and over again. I just wish people would be exactly who they are. I know so many people who change their faces, even their voices, depending on their audience – they have a work self, a homebody, a person for their spouse, and another type for their friends. That must get confusing. I have always been the same, regardless of my audience. I suppose that can be good, or bad.

I’ve always been told to put on clean underwear in case you’re in an accident. So I do. (My mom should be proud I still do that! I almost hear her when I am dressing! LOL!)  I can wear clothing appropriate for situations. And as I have gotten older, I choose comfort over style most of the time. But that does not mean I change the person I am, nor the values I believe in. It just means I dress appropriately for the occasion.

There are people in our larger faith community who dress a certain way, wear their hair a certain way, and always wear a symbol of faith on their person. For them, it symbolizes their modesty and simplicity, and their beliefs. (My sons referred to it as my “Little House on the Prairie” days! LOL!) However, many of these same Christian families do not allow their children to interact with “public school children,” nor do they allow them to play sports on public league teams, or have friends outside of their strict faith circle.  Some do not allow their children to interact with anyone who does not attend their same church. But we are exhorted in the scriptures to live in this world and to deal with others. We cannot learn, being hidden away. “My child, if sinners entice you, turn your back on them!” (Proverbs 1:10)  It is biblically, and scripturally, incorrect. We are not called to be separated from our neighbors, but rather we are called to participate and be the “light” and the “salt” in this world.  The godly are called to be as bold as lions (Proverbs 28:1) There are so many instances where we are asked by Our Lord to involve ourselves in our communities and neighborhoods, for the good of everyone.

We are not instructed to alienate or shame, either. When parents are teaching their elementary-aged children to speak to adults/neighbors like the “Inquisition,” there is a problem. Pre-teen children should not be telling their neighbor adults that they are going to hell because they do not attend a particular church. That is learned at home. When adults act like they reside on a higher plane because of their religious beliefs, they are not being Christ to others, or when they act superior because of their careers and income levels, they are not being Christ to others. When they wear crosses on their chests or the back windows of their cars, but yell, shout, and belittle their neighbors, they are being a false witness to the faith. When they don’t like something their neighbors are doing, and threaten law suits, or offer monetary rewards to make it go away, they are being dishonest and are actually being a briber. And that is not a Christian act. At all.

When we act a certain way in front of our children, we are teaching them. They watch our bodily actions and they listen to our words, and they pay attention to how we treat others. And unfortunately, quite often the adage, “Don’t do as I do, do as I say” ends up falling far short. Children are great imitators. They will act and speak just like their parents. If you want to know everything there is to know about a family, talk to their 10-12 year-old. You will know it all. So people ought not to fool themselves into thinking they are making a certain impression in a community. Their false-face is there for all to see. And when they parade through their parishes, the hypocrisy is unnerving.

“Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all the unfortunate. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and defend the rights of the afflicted and needy.” (Proverbs 31:8-9)

The Lord asks us, so many times, to care for others. For those who cannot care for themselves. I have thought about this a lot lately. What does it mean that someone cannot care for themselves? Quite often we look to the easy example of the poor, the handicapped, the elderly, and the pre-born baby. But as I thought of this, caring for ourselves can often be beyond some of us. We simply don’t know how. And caring for myself means I make sure I have food and shelter; I help myself become more skilled at what I do; I work constantly to grow in wisdom and love. But what if I can’t really do that? What if I am hurting inside and cannot help myself? What if I have never been taught the love of Christ and His forgiveness, and all I am exposed to and see is my neighbor? What if I am one of those who cannot care for myself, one of the needy? What if my neighbor, who says they are a wonderful homeschooling, Catholic, Christian family, is my only exposure to those things? Then my neighbor becomes my school. I learn from watching you, and from interacting with you, just as your children do. What it is to be those things, I learn from watching you. And when you belittle others and exclude the neighbors because they don’t “measure” properly, what sort of example are you? You are a false one. And you are causing people to stumble. Some of those people are your own children. And I am angry. I admit it. I am royally, beyond the pale, mad.

“If anyone causes one of these little ones–those who believe in me–to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.” (Matthew 18:6)

I am angry because you are being this poor example to my children and grandchildren. You are turning them away from Church. You are turning them away from learning to be good neighbors. They are becoming exclusionary because it is safer that way. When they let you in, or allow you to come closer, you hurt them, again. They are not excluding your children, because this was not caused by them, but they are no longer happy to see them walk up the driveway. They no longer really want your children teaching and interacting with their children. Why? Your children tell them everything you say in your home. They know how you really feel. They share freely what your opinion of my children and grandchildren really is. And this is just wrong. So very wrong. And you are hurting others. You are hurting my family.

When we will be honest with one another? When will we learn to grow and become better people? Just because you want things to be a certain way, does not make them that way. What is, well, it just is. Some things we can affect a change on; others we have to accept. Wisdom is knowing the difference. Temper tantrums, in front of the children and the entire cul-de-sac, cannot change what is. Shame on you. Shame.

I am struggling to not go barging in to situations that are not about me. Being a parent does not stop when they leave your roof. You are always going to be protective of your kids. When my oldest son went into the Army, in my mind, all I could see was my 5-week preemie. In my head, he was not well over 6-feet tall, but barely old enough to be born. And even though my kids are all adults now, I still worry about them. And when others array themselves against them, this mom goes all “shield maiden” on them! (I love the Viking stories and lore surrounding Shield Maidens. They were so awesome!). It is also like being a mother-bear…watch out!

The Christian in me longs for peace. I long to be able to share with these people the error of their ways, in a godly, Christian way. But I have been the victim of these sorts of Christians for more than 25 years. And it pretty much follows a pattern. It is ugly, it is predictable and I am thankful beyond thankful that I was able to extricate myself and my family from that environment and be more of a presence in this world. But I never lost my faith, nor my values, nor myself. Dante says, “The darkest places of hell are reserved for those who remain neutral in a time of crisis.” He is telling us we are not to abandon the world when it needs us the most. We need to insert ourselves into everyday life, as Christians, bearing a true witness of the love of God. If we are to be that “light” and “salt” in this world, we cannot bear false witness. We will lead others to hell. Proverbs instructs us to be people of character, above bribes, and to be honest in dealing with everyone. It is laced all through the Book. Because, “If the godly give in to the wicked, it’s like polluting a fountain or muddying a spring.” (Proverbs 25:26)  We cannot become like the world. And we cannot sit back and allow evil to muddy our springs. Sometimes we have to speak up…or in my case, vent!

“So we are Christ’s ambassadors; God is making His appeal through us. We speak for Christ when we plead, “Come back to God!” (2 Corinthians 5:20)

And how are we doing? Have we truly accepted the Word of God for our own lives, thereby being an honest witness of a believer? Is this posturing? Make believe? Are we charlatans? Or are we modern-day Pharisees, praying on the street corner for all to see??

“And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.” (Matthew 6:5)

I am done venting. I am retiring to my chair where I can drink a cup of tea, and cuddle with my cat, enjoying our spring mix of rain and snow. And I will pray for these people, to be honestly who they are, to be kind before all else, as well as to be a Godly witness and not a false one.

I feel like I went off the rails a little bit in this post. Maybe I did. But sometimes I just want to shout it from the rooftops: ENOUGH! STOP!  And so, proverbially speaking, I have done that. Back to normal, now!

“…handle what we are given…”

Today has been a rough day. Today I had to take two dogs to the groomers. The one pictured above is Chet. He is 15 years old now. He is stubborn. He runs away. He has dementia. Today he took off, in falling snow, running away from me. I was finally able to step on his dragging lead and stop him…in snow up to my knees. I was not a happy mamma. And then he planted his behind and refused to move. So I dragged his butt so far, until he was under the snow and gave up and walked. He had yanked so hard against me, he lifted two of my fingernails. Ugh. I wasn’t going to pick him up, because he was soaking wet. I had on ankle boots and leggings – the snow was up to my knees, still falling, and I was soaked. Our other dog (God bless her) was running around, having a ball. She was teasing Chet and me, loving being in the snow, having her leash on, knowing she was going for a ride. She is over 10, but was acting like a puppy. Poca is our sweetheart. She is such a “velcro” dog – she wants to be with you and would never run away. (That’s her below). Not like Mr. Chet – Mr. Independent; Mr. Stubborn; Mr. Goes-His-Own-Way. He’s been that way since we got him at 6-weeks old. Runs away the first chance he gets. He’s done it so many times and it’s always at the most inconvenient time. Like today. I tried not to be too mad, because he has doggie dementia and a bad hip, but he sure seemed fine as I was trying to corral him today!

So we get to the groomer’s, after slipping and sliding through town. I go to get the dogs out of the back seat and notice that Mr. Chet had not moved, and he had pooped in my new car. He pooped in my car. I was beyond frustrated. And wet. The groomer, bless her, had cleaner for me, so I could clean up the mess and remove the odor. In my new car. Ugh. You’d think it was a Monday. Ha-Ha. But no, just a snowy, cold day in Alaska!

And so I called my husband. And he laughed. And and it made me laugh. And then we spoke about his mom, who is ill and was rushed to the hospital early this morning. My anger dissipated in my concern for her, and for her children, and our children. She has been an integral part of our lives for so long, that in perspective, my morning was stupid to worry about, let alone get so angry about. (Although dog poop in my car is something I can get angry about, right???).

I have been thinking so much about how invested in this world I have become. There are memes galore about wasting our time online. About forging relationships that are not real, but seem to be, because we are not out and about, investing in personal relationships. Even if you are out in the world, working every day, how well do you invest in your co-workers and people you see every day? I saw a sign a preschool posted, asking parents who were picking up their kids, to not have their phones with them. And it hit me. We all grab our phones, looking at the latest post or text, over being present to the people we are with. Some people are creating phone “stations” where guests and family alike are asked to deposit their phones when they walk in their homes. I am leaning that way.

I have been influenced by the sites I have allowed in my life and the things I give great importance to. Each day, I get my coffee and eagerly await the morning press briefing from the White House. Why is that? I don’t even check the weather! LOL! I check statuses and notices on Facebook and voila! Two hours have passed. That is insane. I read news bits after news bits. I see videos and sound bites. Are they making me a better person? Are they edifying my life? Are they helping me to achieve my daily and lifetime goals?

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be obvious to everyone. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think on these things. Whatever you have learned and received and heard from me, and seen in me, put these things into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” Philippians 4: 4-9

One of the things I believe is a catalyst to the further downfall of our society are “reality shows.” I know so many people who cannot get enough. Who tape them and binge watch  them for hours on end. Who comment on reality star’s Facebook pages like they are personal friends. Who share their status’ like it is their own information or status. Who somehow relate and feel attached to these people. Most of us could never emulate the life styles of these mega-rich stars who are rich just because they are famous…and famous because they are rich. It’s so weird. I have some friends who discuss actors and actresses who appear on soap operas and care about who plays the role and who they are replacing and it is a life-or-death event. I just don’t get that. But I see it influencing people around me. I see people forming relationships with famous people, or people they have met online on some forum, or gaming site, and feel like (and treat it like) it is a real relationship. And when you look around, they don’t have very many actual friends they do things with. Or friends they call and chat up about life. Or friends they go to the movies or dinner with. No; their friends are all online.

Lent is fast approaching and I am attempting to do something for myself that is so very difficult. I am going to attempt a Facebook fast. I am already getting rid of groups and news in my feed. I have blocked people who make me worse, and not the best I can be. I am endeavoring to listen to better things than what I have. I love the local Christian Radio station here called Air1. They have such great music. I am going to try to listen to that more. I am trying to adjust my online experience to one that makes me a better person. I need to stop being a slave to automation. I need to be more present to my home, taking care of it and my family, and I need to read more and watch less. We all get to a point where we realize we are sinking and not being the person we could be and that is one of those “man in the mirror moments.”

I’m gonna make a change, for once in my life
It’s gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference
Gonna make it right…

As I turn up the collar on my favorite winter coat
This wind is blowin’ my mind
I see the kids in the street, with not enough to eat
Who am I, to be blind? Pretending not to see their needs
A summer’s disregard, a broken bottle top
And a one man’s soul
They follow each other on the wind ya’ know
’Cause they got nowhere to go
That’s why I want you to know

I’m starting with the man in the mirror
I’m asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
(If you wanna make the world a better place)
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change
(Take a look at yourself, and then make a change)
(Na na na, na na na, na na, na nah)

I’ve been a victim of a selfish kind of love
It’s time that I realize
That there are some with no home, not a nickel
to loan
Could it be really me, pretending that they’re
not alone?

A willow deeply scarred, somebody’s broken heart
And a washed-out dream
(Washed-out dream)
They follow the pattern on the wind, ya’ see
’Cause they got no place to be
That’s why I’m starting with me
(Starting with me!)

I’m starting with the man in the mirror
(Ooh!)
I’m asking him to change his ways
(Ooh!)
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
(If you wanna make the world a better place)
Take a look at yourself and then make a change
(Take a look at yourself and then make a change)

Those are the lyrics to the song by Michael Jackson – the Man in the Mirror. And I really feel like right now, in our world, we could all take the time to reflect on the “man in the mirror” and “make that change.” I know I need to hit the brakes before I become someone I would not like to be friends with…someone who disregards what she knows is right, what is true, what is God’s plan for me, rather than the world’s. Satan is working overtime right now, trying to destroy us all. It’s the game plan and we witless idiots are following it like it’s tattooed on our foreheads.

“For the time will come when men will not tolerate sound doctrine, but with itching ears they will gather around themselves teachers to suit their own desires. So they will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.” 2Timothy 4:3-4

And so I would like to challenge those who read this to think about changing the direction in which they are going. Perhaps just change the way they are going, to the goal they have. My ultimate goal is to be in Paradise with the Creator of the Universe. Between then and now, my goal is to edify God and myself, by being the best person I can be, to those I bang into every day. And to that end, I need to make changes. Those changes are to what I see, watch, listen to, what I read, and those I associate with. Man, is it going to be tough. Because it is so much easier to be lazy and simple and follow the lemmings over the side of the cliff.

From Wikipedia, we find the history of the saying, “They way to hell is paved with good intentions. And it is this: The saying is thought to have originated with Saint Bernard of Clairvaux who wrote (c. 1150), “L’enfer est plein de bonnes volontés ou désirs” (hell is full of good wishes or desires). An earlier saying occurs in Virgil’s Aeneid: “facilis descensus Averno (the descent to hell is easy)”. In any respect, we know that it is far simpler to be bad/evil than it is to be good. I know being a Christian is far more challenging than being a hooligan, protesting and rioting in the streets. So we are called to transform ourselves from our lowest common denominator to our best selves. We are not guaranteed our next breath, as Fr. Justin Rose is fond of saying. And we are not. Little things get in our way and make us lesser beings…the peas in our mattress of life. We allow the setbacks to be stumbling blocks. We come to expect less of ourselves. And every, single year, the Church, in her Wisdom, gives us the period of Lent to reflect and reform ourselves. We have this 40+ day period to stop, reflect, and reform ourselves into the people God calls us to be. And I met the “man in the mirror” today and I know I need to change.

“…in Him all things are held together…”

My computer is being weird today…it’s probably my wifi…my computer is a pretty, purple Mac lap top and I love it…so it can’t be that! Ha-Ha!

Purple is my new color and I find it everywhere. I got a tattoo on my 60th birthday of the Jerusalem Cross – purple.

I joined a group that helps women be safe around guns, and work towards certification on our conceal-carry permits, as well as marksmanship. Everything about them is in purple. I recall the days when women would add this toner or something to their graying hair – it was purple! Ha-Ha! And then there is the “Red Hat” group that proposes wearing a red hat and purple clothes.

I’m not onboard with purple and red, quite yet. My husband bought me a new hat, but it is purple – and I love it! I am not a hat person, per se, but when it was -23 outside, it sure did feel wonderful.

I wish I could say that is me, but sadly, it is one of the gorgeous models for the Copper River Fleece company. But that is my hat! And the jacket is next in line. They call it “razzleberry” but I call it purple. Ha-Ha!

My point in all of this, is that we can see something all around us, and not realize it is there, everywhere, unless someone points it out, or it catches our eye.

“For in Him all things were created, things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities. All things were created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things held together.” Colossians 1:16-17

Sometimes we cannot “see the forest for the trees” and we all get frustrated and angry. We want more than what we can see in front of us, or what we can even imagine for us. And I am like that in many ways. I sometimes cannot see another person’s point of view.

I attended a meeting last night which featured Glen Klinkhart, author of the book, “Finding Bethany.” (The book is on Kindle and Nook, as well as in paperback and is being considered for a movie). His talk was so good. And one of the things he spoke to was imposing ourselves on a situation. In the case of law enforcement, they are to be observers and discoverers, unbiased, and not imposing themselves onto a situation. He found it hard, at times, to not react as he does in his personal life, when addressing a victim or suspect, or when visiting a crime scene. And that spoke volumes to me. How often do we project what we are familiar with onto something else? Perhaps without proper thinking or researching? How often do we assume others need our verbose education in order for them to “see the light” of our argument about something? We often refer to it as prejudice. And prejudice is defined as:

noun

1. an unfavorable opinion or feeling formed beforehand or without knowledge, thought, or reason. 2. any preconceived opinion or feeling, either favorable or unfavorable. 3. unreasonable feelings, opinions, or attitudes, especially of a hostile nature, regarding an ethnic, racial, social, or religious group. 4. such attitudes considered collectively: The war against prejudice is never-ending. 5.damage or injury; detriment: a law that operated to the prejudice of the majority.

How often do we treat others with a sense of prejudice – we are pre-judging them based upon our own notions – before allowing them or their words to enter our lives? I know that when certain terms are used, certain nouns to describe groups of people, I have an almost automatic reaction, devoid of much reason. When you are learning to shoot a gun, for example, the instructors talk about “muscle memory.” Most athletes train endlessly for that automatic function in sports, using pure muscle memory, so they don’t have to stop to think about it. Firemen train endlessly so they grab a hose and put out a fire, without thinking about each step. Doctors can diagnose or prescribe based on knowing medicine, without having to research it, in particulars. I think diagnosticians are pretty amazing people – it’s as if they have en encyclopedia open in their minds all the time. And we are like that, as we deal with others and with life.

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Philippians 2:3-11

If only we treated one another like this. The current political climate in America is rife with discord. I do believe much of it is created, to foment distrust of the government and its new President, as well as the new Executive Branch and its appointees. Things are being signed at a rate unheard of in politics, but common in the business world. People are used to committees and conferences and taking time after time after time, to come to consensus. This President is acting on campaign promises and so many people were not prepared for a man of action. Many say he is a horrible man, and point to his many marriages and infidelities as making him unfit for office. I find most of that hypocritical, at best. I do not hold myself competent enough, nor holy enough, to judge that about him. His salvation and his soul is just that, his. He is a baby Christian and has surrounded himself with people who are good people, and people whom he trusts to advise him in all matters, with a Christian influence. And this culture was just not ready for this. At all. We were not prepared for his election, nor for his action after he was elected President.

There is a book entitled, “Who Moved the Cheese?” by Dr. Spencer Johnson. This book was required reading many years ago in corporate America. I wish more people would read it. It explains fairly simply and concisely how to deal with change. In your world, your workplace, and your life. It is a parable with 4 characters in it. They are, by name (and fairly self-descriptive ones) “Sniff, Scurry, Hem, and Haw.” There are so many ways we can react to change, most especially when it is major change. (Think of those names when you think about how you react to change). The ability to realize change is coming, and to adapt to it, to discover the “new cheese” and learning to enjoy it, is the heart of the book. Anticipating change is something very few people were doing this election cycle. Lots of us were holding our collective breath until the day Mr. Trump took office. And since that Friday, just two weeks ago, he hit the ground running. Many of us could, once again, breathe and celebrate. However, so many in our country have lost their cheese and have no clue to where to even start looking to find their new cheese. Instead, they are clinging to the old, decaying cheese, trying to vociferously get us all to go back to that old cheese. I, for one of millions, is not interested. But I know what it is like to have someone yank your cheese away, and to lose my way. For once, I am on board with all this change happening.

I have been “unfriended” on social media and have been attacked because, not only do I embrace this change, I support it wholeheartedly. I guess being “unfriended” means they were not truly my friends, as friends love you regardless of who you vote for. Your politics are probably not what drew you to one another, but it can divide people. I do not think that our country could have lasted much longer in the way it was headed, and still be America. I listened to an amazing presentation today about immigration. It was sobering. It was frightening. (Just google immigration and gum balls…seriously. Be sure you listen to both parts – 1 and 2). And it made me think about all of this angst. Ugh. We have so much anger floating around. Very few people have long fuses any longer. And I can pretty much guarantee it is not going to get easier. If we don’t make big changes in our world, our world will make so many big changes to America, we will no longer be us. We just won’t be. And it is not that I cannot see the other points of view; I can. I’ve lived with them in the public arena for years and years. All these things that I was offended by or disgusted by, they are now learning that their cheese has been moved, too. And so, I work to help in my little world, I try to affect change in my town, my schools, my area of influence, to assist those who need help. If each of us focused on our own families, friends, and city, this world would become heaven on earth.

“Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21: 1-4

We can affect change, we can choose to see the things around us that we have been blind to before. We can usher in “a new heaven and a new earth” by being people of God and loving our neighbor, regardless of their politics. We can feed the homeless and aid those who need us – right here, in our own cities and neighborhoods. We can be the Christ that sometimes will be the only Christ people will ever see. How are you Christ to those you meet along your way, each day? Are you seeing things you did not notice before? Are you offering love, unconditionally, to those who persecute you and defile you, and utter all hatred against you? (Matthew 5:11). God is so good and so much more than our puny selves. We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. (Phil 4:13).

I am filled with hope and joy for the first time in a long time. I am prayerfully confident Our God has His hands on all things and I trust Him implicitly. I do not expect our President to be my Savior…Christ is my God and my Savior. But I have hope and prayer, ever raising my voice and supplication to God.

“Not from the mouth of the Lord…”

I have once again had my tail handed to me – online – by people who assume it is okay to yell at others, slam their integrity, and impugn them. All without ever having met them, even being “Facebook friends,” or other social media connection. And man oh man, has the vitriol gone viral!

I find it interesting that when you disagree with someone, or even point out holes in their argument, they unleash the hounds of hell on you. Online. Wow. In a forum, someone was bemoaning the fact that people are constantly using the forum in place of google, as I alluded to (well, I actually said it) in a post yesterday. Today, I opined basically what I said on my own blog post yesterday, that perhaps if you find the information yourself, it becomes your knowledge. And that growing and stretching and changing is painful, but it is satisfying in and of itself. And then I was accused of a litany of defects, most of which were assembled around the fact that I cannot acknowledge that others have feelings, too, and are insecure and cannot function without seeking confirmation or ratification from others. And therein lies my problem with all of this.

“Thus says the LORD of hosts, “Do not listen to the words of the prophets who are prophesying to you. They are leading you into futility; They speak a vision of their own imagination, Not from the mouth of the LORD.” Jeremiah 23:16

When our society has continually lied to its people, and perpetuated false truths, the result of that can be seen in its young people. At 60 years old, I guess I am no longer a part of the “younger generation,” the “cool kids” like I was in the 70s and 80s. And I have seen the awful results of poor education through experimentation with what is presented, and how it is presented, in our schools and other institutions (even Little League and Pop Warner football). Everyone has to be treated “sensitively,” and we have to be sure “little Johnny” isn’t offended by anything. The false god of pride is alive and well in America and is manifested in our plethora of entitled youth. If “little Johnny” cannot read at grade level, well, we don’t want him to feel bad (and I, his teacher, am so overwhelmed with having to show good scores for my job safety) we promote him, even though he is not ready for it. There’s a movie I love, that is really inappropriate in so many ways, but I love it nonetheless, “Easy A.” I love that Emma Stone takes a stand against the gossipers, and that she “takes one for the team” of inept and socially outcast students, and eventually even a guidance counselor. I love how her parents (Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson) totally get her and support her, even when she changes her style of clothing and sews an “A” on everything. And I bring this up because a boy says he got a venereal disease from her, when in fact he got it from that guidance counselor I mentioned. And he is 21 years old, and only a senior in High School. The girl who likes him (Amanda Bynes) says it is because it is “his choice” to go slowly through school, so he can be a good role model and Christian (he belongs to a Christian group trying to have an affect on other students and it is woefully lampooned in this movie). It becomes obvious this kid is about as dumb as a rock, and that is why he is still in HS at 21 years old. He smoked way too much funny tobacco or something. It is played so well by Cam Gigandet, an actor I like, who was also in Twilight (but that is another post, Bryce. No, he did not sparkle). The guidance counselor (Lisa Kudrow) keeps saying that it is okay because he is over 21 (although it is still wrong because she is married – to her wonderfully unaware husband, played by Thomas Haden Church). He is caught by his mother (and doctor in an hilarious hospital scene) and sent to live with his grandparents in Arizona, where he sits, reading Scripture to them in a short clip.

The movie shows in so many ways what a massively wrong turn we took, as a culture, somewhere along the way. The fact that this movie, in all its graphic details, shows how kids treat one another, demonstrates why I was taken aback, but not surprised, at the attack on me today. After I shut my computer, I re-opened it and looked at the people lambasting me for suggesting they do their own research. I “Facebook stalked” them and looked at their profiles. Yeah, they were all young enough (or old enough, depending upon where you are standing) to be my children. At least my college-grad children. And I felt really sorry for them. They have probably been given “A’s” their whole life, along with participation trophies for just being on a team, let alone having to strive to be their best for their team.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” Psalm 32:8

There was a term recently coined during this election cycle and I chuckled when I saw it, and all the glorious artwork accompanying the term. It is, “snowflake.” Now, before some of you get all mad (in case you were not already) let me explain. I live in Alaska. I am around snowflakes all the time. They are beautiful, but extremely fragile. You can only see them if the conditions are perfect, otherwise they will melt away, or become joined by zillions of others and then you are in a snow storm and cannot see them. Right now, the snowflakes are all around us because we are having very cold temps, but no new snow. Everything is covered in this delicious coat of white. It is stunning, truly, to see. Everything is made new in freezing fog and ice.

Taken in the social construct in which it was termed, a snowflake is someone who just cannot handle the heat of this election cycle, or the fact that they are going to have to go to work, in order to succeed. One man, on a different site, bemoaned the fact that his 31 year old son was living on his couch and was still asleep at 1:00pm, and had no job. Tons of people jumped on that as a lack of this man’s parenting skills, whereas the man was blaming the system for his son’s lazy attitude of entitlement. I can honestly say I believe it is a combination of both. We ship our kids off for 8-9 or more hours a day to a federally mandated educational system that seeks to mold “yes men” and workers out of our kids. Not thinkers. No doers. People who punch a mindless time clock but don’t invent a new way to conquer cancer. People who do not question but just accept what they are fed. And when they have to step outside that comfort zone, and actually learn to think for themselves, they are unable to do it without constant social media support. And today, these youngsters were complaining about all the rules inherent in the Whole30 program, trying to bend them so they could “handle” it. Well, when you are used to being given everything, it is hard to do it for yourself. They hold up bottles and packages, constantly asking, “Is this compliant?” and when I commented that they needed to learn for themselves, they attacked. Boy, did they attack. And I realized it was because they are “adults” and know on some level they are not healthy and have been making poor dietary choices. And they do want to fix it. But these rules are hard. These words confuse them (galactose – okay…but I see “tose” and I know its sugar!!) and they cannot possibly read the labels by themselves. Wow. It makes me sad for them. How are they going to function as adults in this world if they cannot even follow a dietary rule, without social media help (and I’m sorry, but who checks Facebook in a grocery store????) and without attacking other people??

Psalm 143:8 says this: “Remind me each morning of your constant love, for I put my trust in you. My prayers go up to you; show me the way I should go.”

Our world is tanking, my friends. Our youth have been fed garbage in our schools and universities and us dumb parents have allowed it to happen. Why? We trusted our country and our politicians, our leaders and teachers, to know what was best for our kids. Well, I didn’t too much, as I opted to homeschool my kids. But still, those trophies were given out when our boys played sports. I do remember my oldest son, however, chucking a little participation trophy to the side one time. When we commented on it after his season-ending pizza party, he told us, “It’s stupid. We didn’t win anything. We came in last.” Out of the mouths of babes. These same kids, who all thought they were so awesome all this time, now cannot even follow a diet without a meltdown. God bless America and God help our grandchildren’s generation. I can only pray we bring back law and order, the right to say, “Merry Christmas,” and some industry and prosperity and pride. Perhaps they’ll catch on as they run to catch up.

 

“Lord, wrap your arms around those hurting today…”

In a roundabout way, I want to address the election, but on the other hand, I want to steer clear! Conundrum! Weather on! We are all in this together.

2 Chronicles 7:14 – “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”

I attended an evening of prayer and worship that was hosted at a movie theater, and was hosted by Kirk Cameron, of TV fame. I spent over two hours with other people, listening to Christian leaders talk about our country, where it was, and where it could go. We sang, we prayed, we listened. It was an amazing evening. And it was very worth my time. Being staunchly pro-life, I use that as my chalk line. As most of you know, that is an issue I do not, and will not, budge on. That being said, I could not vote the Democratic ticket. But neither am I a good Republican. I am too conservative for either, and find myself leaning more towards a Constitutionalist, rather than an Independent, although that is what I am officially called. But this time, I was in that “drain the swamp” mode and wanted a clean slate, from top to bottom. I don’t think either side truly represents me, nor the people of this country. Both sides are corrupt, with the exception of a few. But I also felt that it was time for a bull-dog business person to clean things up; to look at our country with a business eye. I certainly am not allowed to operate my household budget like D.C. has done with the Federal Budget. Oh my. How can you donate millions for war or earthquake relief when you cannot pay your own country’s debts? When you cannot pay for the basic necessities of your people? Why send billions overseas when there are needs at home? I do not advocate isolationism, although I am thinking that we live in a glass house and should not be throwing stones. We are not the world’s babysitter. We do, however, affect the entire world by how we manage our own affairs.

I’m not sure if this was the hand of God, or if the silent majority woke up and wasn’t going to stay at home any longer. The working man, who shoulders the majority of the burden of financing this country, decided that complacency wasn’t working any longer. That most of us were tired of political correctness. We were tired of paying more for everything and having something like 90 million out of work. And having so many of those even stop trying to get a job. Or the fact that Obamacare does not work and it is costing more than we have. It is cheaper in some cases to take the IRS fine than it is to pay those premiums! Or that we have had Common Core foisted upon us, and if the recent days of rioting by college students, and even high school students, is any indication, it is not working. We have been subjected to more than 40 years of the ideology of socialism and communism slowly seeping into our thought processes, that we did not even notice. Until this election cycle. Until Wikileaks. Until the media was shown to have lied to the people and been a part of this vast manipulation of our thoughts and actions. I do know that we were offered, time after time, the option to pray with others for our nation. We were offered olive branches from conservatives, across the aisle, only to have them slapped out of their hands. There is no camaraderie between the political elites and those of us who actually pay their salaries. They forgot who their bosses were – the American people. And we rose up and chose an alternate route. There are those who will say, but without the Electoral College, the other side would have won. But you know, watching all those polling places and the thousands of complaints about voter fraud, I’m going to err on the side of caution. I do not think the popular vote landed where they say it did. I think more votes will come in and need to be added. It takes months for the final count to be tallied. And I believe in our process. I believe in the Electoral College system. It truly works. Thanks be to God that New York or California cannot dictate to me, an Alaskan, what I can or cannot do. The time for the popular vote to count, for President, is in the caucuses and primaries. It is when we choose who will represent us. The popular vote only counts down ticket for federal and local representatives and issues we face, locally. We are not a democracy! We are a Democratic Republic. We select representatives who vote for us, who represent us in Washington. I wish people understood the process, because if they did, I don’t think they’d be rioting and burning the flag.

Sort of off-topic, but really not, is the issue today I stumbled across. Make up. Yes, cosmetics. Why do young women spend so much time, effort, and money on make up? They do it when their skin is at its best. Why cover that up? Why not be who you really are? You don’t wear it as a girl; I don’t bother with it as an older woman. What is the point? Well, it is to present our best self for the selection process. Not just for a mate. But we do it for jobs, for our friends, for peer pressure. We pretend to be who we are not. Red hair? Green hair? Covering our gray? Colored contact lenses to change our natural eye color. Then there is plastic surgery and tooth replacements. We wear wigs. We get “human hair” extensions. We pluck, we wax, we color. Why? Why not just celebrate who we are? I have a friend who always wears at least mascara. We became friends our freshman year in high school. I never saw her without make-up until college. It was un-nerving. She looked so innocent and young and beautiful, but she still doesn’t think so. Even at 60, she always has a full face of make-up. And then there is chemical enhancement. We are too nervous to be ourselves, so we take a drink to relax around others. We smoke pot. We drop pills. Anything to improve who we are and what we are doing. I think our country just learned what it is like to rip off the wig, the make-up, the false picture that was painted for us by stump speeches and op ed pieces and false data. The country has been laid bare and I don’t know about you, but it’s un-nerving and this is far more than mascara. We are a mess, my friends. Truly a mess.

This image is a few years old, but it meant a lot to me. Priests walking with the cross in amongst rioting in eastern Europe. Trying to bring sense to the situation; to bring the peace of Christ to a people who were starving for it and did not even realize it. What is America starving for?

I think we are starving for a place where we feel safe. Where each person is appreciated for their unique gifts they bring to the world. Where we can care for those among us who cannot care for themselves. Where we can offer a fair day’s wage for work. Where we can return dignity and love to places filled with gun shots and hatred, drugs and gangs. Where we can know the preciousness of each life, from a natural conception to a natural death. Where we can work with our hands and produce goods we can be proud of. Did you know that we, as a country, spend more on imports than on exports? We had $189 billion in exports as of September 2016. We had $225 billion in imports for that same period. So we bought more foreign goods than we sold to other countries. Again. Why? Well, it’s cheaper to produce products out of country than in. The costs to do business are so high here. Ask a small business owner. Ask them about Obamacare costs, and unemployment insurance, and minimum wage costs. We need to get back to some basics in our country.

When I was a kid, we went to school at 9 am and were out again at 3 pm. No longer. Kids go in about 7:30am (some places earlier) and some do not get home until 5 pm or later. Our local high school does lunch at 10:30 am. Lunch! Weird. Recess? Short. About 2 a day for 15 minutes each. Not enough to still wiggles in kids. So we medicate them. Yeah. Been there; done that. Had a child drool through two years of school until I just said no and brought them home. We are producing children who are not able to think for themselves, nor are they able to function in the cutthroat world of business. When you get a trophy for just showing up, it is hard when the real world tells you no. Look at our city streets the last couple of days. Millennials were finally told no. And they did not take it well.

When it comes to the elected officials, they will not affect how our children are raised. That is our job. How our children perceive the world is on us. Our families need prayer now more than ever. Our country needs prayer more than ever. If I saw a video on TV of college students rioting, and saw my child burning our flag and marching shouting the profanities they are shouting, I would weep at my own failure. Why would I think my child would react that way? Being upset about how things turn out is a part of life. Rioting takes this into another realm of unhealthy reactions. I wept when my candidates were defeated over the past two election cycles, but I did not burn my flag. I love my country; I just increased my prayers for her livelihood and safety. I did not threaten to leave (and not follow through on my threats) but I chose to stay and work to make things better. My children learn by my example, by the example of the adults in their lives. I share stories of heroes from history and scripture. I share stories of the martyrs for the faith; of those who gave their all so I am safe in my bed at night. I allow them to witness and experience dissent, but I never allow disrespect nor outright violence against others. I remember once when our eldest son was playing high school baseball. He got so angry at a poor at-bat that he threw the bat. His own coach kicked him out of the game. He told him that he needed to have respect for his teammates, for the game itself, the equipment he was given to use, the officials and their calls, and for himself. The error was his own fault. It was a wise lesson. It affected more than my son – everyone there saw and heard his discipline (he also realized that football, rugby, and ice hockey fit his personality much better). But he also learned to control his reaction to things. It’s something our hedonistic society has not taught our youth. And with so many parents partaking of the “me” generation, they think providing them with stuff and working, rather than being a parent first, is developing their children. It is not. Ask a teacher. We need to get back to family-first and times solely spent with our children. We need to reinstitute reasonable curfews and keep kids at home, rather than wandering the streets. We need to bring our faith back into our families. If you have not prayed for or with your children, or left the Church long ago, God is open-armed and waiting. Praying is nothing more than directing your thoughts to God. He is always listening.

We’re in a storm. That is evident. But we can be at peace. We can choose to be at peace. Each morning, when we rise, we choose how our attitudes will be. Start with a grateful heart (you woke up! That’s a plus!) and then move throughout your day, just saying thank you for the little graces thrown your way (the guy who lets you meld on the highway; the coworker who says good morning and means it; the short line at the grocery store; a parking place not too far away in a snow storm; a safe journey home at the end of the day; the family and home you have waiting for you). We can choose to become a part of the solution, or we can remain outside, and a part of the problems we are all facing. We have choices. I would say that America chose on Tuesday. How you choose to proceed is up to you. Choose wisely.