title it...done

WE ARE ALL HUMAN…

I have crazy ridiculous faith.

I know it makes no sense…it is by mere definition lunacy…they all called Him crazy…

My battle to free the victims…

I have a person that I know. He is not a friend. He is not allowed around my girls. He is not allowed to know where I live. He is just a guy I know.

The year after our court battle was bizarre and surreal.

I met lots of characters.

Before this time my thoughts were black and white.

Your wrong. You did a bad thing. You must never to be looked at again. End of story.

Then that mystical, rapturous, ever pressing God made me open my eyes.

His people. His people were all victims…even if they victimized others…first they were victims. So, how do I draw the line in the sand.

Ahhh that’s a biggie isn’t it.

Let me tell you about Crazy Roy.

I’m not being derogative…he asked me to call him that…and trust me friends and neighbors…he is a crazy man!

I met him and he was merely annoying, dirty, bothersome…just weird.

But I had trained myself in the study of sexual predators…so many different kinds. I was not going to be fooled again! I was an expert in the field…my field. I knew he had red flags…I knew he was a situational molester…heehee, I really did have categories of molesters...I could quote statistics too…I was an expert bore from utter fear.

Anyway, when he found me somewhere and endlessly talked to me…I could hardly hear what he was saying cuz I was so busy hearing the bullshit instead…its like you gotta be real dude cuz I cant hear your babbling anymore…you gotta come clean…and he did…he told me that yes he did do that, and he fought the urge everyday…and he had been questioned about it…never charged tho, just like so many…never charged…cuz no one wants to admit his nastiness was near them. He is a real character. So just questioned . Then we broke through the bullshit that ALWAYS follows the admission. He gave me every tag line…every excuse they always give …I don’t really want to go into all that. Because its boring to me now.

But trust me, he is a sexual deviant…and you should never try this at home because he is a very, very dangerous individual.

We cut through all his bullshit…and …and…well, I didn’t run away from him. I did however put very bold, strong boundary’s around him, cuz I am not an idiot.

I remember once I was busy paying and he was in the store, he saw that I was busy and ran, literally ran out to the car to talk to my girls,(A real deviant) I wasn’t afraid I stood at the window and watched and laughed. I watched Fate push the button that automatically rolled up the window and locked the doors. She wasn’t afraid, her face was a mask of pure nothingness. She had to fear of him…just total mistrust. Hehehe…I met him at the car still laughing. I said she aint going to talk to you…she KNOWS you. Groom away…you’ll be talking to air. I talked to him a bit longer then told him to be good…like I always do…be good,Roy. No fear.

Over the years…I have so many stories about him.

Once a tornado knocked a huge tree into my door blocking the path in and out. I had to use the back door. I am a single mom I have no resources. Crazy roy pulled up in his hoopity wagon and got out a handsaw…yes a handsaw and went to work. It took him more then a week to get it gone. The tree was twice the size of him around, and he had just a handsaw…but he kept at it everyday till it was gone. No fear.

One time I came up to the store and he was ,um…outside his ever loving mind…he was past psychotic…and he was scaring everyone…badly. I distracted him with my bullshit. He didn’t even know who I was…he was so gone inside his mind. I motioned for the clerk to the store and she called the police. I kept him talking…cuz he was clearly sick. When the cops appeared, he of course tried to flip out . I yelled for fate to get down in her seat…roy reached into his truck and pulled out a gun…I calmly told him that he was being ridiculous that we were helping him…he put it back and with that patented roy shit eating grin, and told me there were no bullets…The cops pulled in and I went to them and explained that he was very sick and needed an ambulance… He was crazy yelling again and blocking my path to my car. He hadn’t seen fate cuz she was hidden. I was stuck. I watched the police try to talk with him…then they had to man handle him down to the ground…it hurt my eyes, but it had to be done. I explained to the police that he was altered …not himself…didn’t even recognize me…they took him in patient…and he got better.

Next time I went to the corner store he ran out to me . I was trying to get gas. He took out a dirty tattered 20 and told me he was paying for my gas. He apologized for being crazy…it told him it was fine, he wasn’t in control….he bought my gas the next few times…It made him feel good.

I had treated him as a human. He had told me his dirtiest deeds (no details tho…I am human too), he had done some very bad deeds…Then I had seen him acting badly….still I smiled and looked him in the eye. I didn’t just talk at him…I listened to him…and it was always painful to listen to him. He stuttered and his face would freeze trying to get the hardest words out, but I was patient. I used my patience not because I would get something out of it…Not even the good feeling you get when you help someone. With him I never received that release of feelings. With him…I don’t know he just makes me smile. He is dirty, smelly, psychotic, …not sure if he could be redeemed in this world…he is so very lost…

….He confounds me…I don’t know why I treat him human…I just do… with him there are no little moments of ah ha. With him, I will never have a oh! I finally said the right word in the right sequence moment …With him, I don’t know…He is my thorn in my side…He is a rapist, pedophile, attempted murderer…and now finally murderer. He just continues to make horrible choices that effect so many people…Yet….he worked for over a week on my damn tree. He used money he did not have to buy gas for me so I could work. He is a real deviant.

No one will testify against him…because trust me, the dude would fucking kill you…no problem.

His blue eyes twinkle when he talks to me.

He reminds me of Santa Claus….he’s got those wrinkles round his eyes…

He is never to be trusted…not ever.

He and I understand each other.

He is a true predator.

He has no feelings.

He has no deep emotions.

He is an empty, scary individual.

…and he makes me smile every time I see him.

My Gideon battle…

Here is my thought for the day…I always try to end on a happy note. I do a lot of peer counseling. It’s my title. it’s my rank. But it is really unimportant…because really it is who I am. Who I have been, Who I will always be.

It was a huge struggle to get me here, but I am comfortable here, so I think that I will stay. I have two stories in my head. I am not sure if they are related, but I will begin cautiously with this one and I have an open page for the other…they may melt together…they may not!

Gideon had built a large army, and God said wait! Do not take all your soldiers into battle. If you win this battle with this large army it would be a worldly battle. If I am to be glorified…it has to be all about me….the world will not see my might if it is all your warriors…I paraphrased but my point is I want to tell you what I learned and pass on, as a ,peer councilor’ to the hurting broken around me. In the middle of the monstrous battle in front of you, you must let Him lead you. Even when the battle makes you feel crazy, even when everyone looks at you with the saddest eyes…battle on…

I had a huge battle.

My children were raped when they were four.

I hope you never have to know how hard that was to type.

So many thoughts, but I will reign it in.

If your reading this chances are you have read the previous blog.

So, you already knew this information…

I was utterly alone.

The very worst thing had happened to us.

Our five year court battle was not even the real battle.

It was a priceless exercise to find our peace.

I have written a lot about these moments, so I wont digress.

The battle really was about not letting my girls, my young ladies continue to be victims. That is my daily battle.

If we had won the court battle…it would have been a worldly battle. We would have been justified. Everyone would have seen the outcome, but the outcome would have been so menial compared to the real release, the real ‘win’.

God ….the Alpha AND the Omega…the creator of heaven and earth….saved me and then saved us from ourselves. I wont go into the words….so many words…I am so very tired…

My daily battle is to try to show His mighty love to the victims I interact with everyday. Not in a corny ,fake kind of God loves you way…cuz that shit used to piss me off to no end. “God won’t give you more then you can handle’ bullshit…really fuck you, how do you fucking know what I can handle…and the utter despair of the battle…the depth of the pain is to deep…so fuck you . You have no idea, of the pain I can handle or not fucking handle. Let me know when you hold the body of your lifeless child who is still breathing, still fighting to breath through… ya FUCK YOU!

Maybe your better at ignoring the pain and despair around you…I am not! I react, I fight, I pray, I teach, I remind, I love…

I remember trying to walk out of the courthouse…I could hardly stand let alone walk. Workers came out of their offices to watch me try to make my way out of the building…I walked alone. They wore such looks of shock, and despair…utter confusion to match my own. The word had quickly spread that the ADA had already quit her job…she couldn’t fight another day. It was to ridiculous. Everyone had to see the tragedy walking out… No one spoke , they merely stared with their quiet support. I can still see the rows of women standing up and down the hallways. No one was whispering to each other, it was just silent. There was no need for words. Everyone knew the travesty. I could hardly open the heavy door. I faltered. No one came to help me, it would have been offensive to help me. I had begun the battle on my own. I would finish it….on my own.

The sunlight was extremely out of place when I stepped out into it. I looked up to the sky, as if for the first time. I in actuality expected God to show Himself. I wanted Him to show himself in all His mighty anger at what had happened… He did not.

I kept glancing up trying to see His mighty arm stretch out from the heavens…He did not.

There were groups of people standing around…watching.

I didn’t know where I was going.

I could form no thought to how to step down the stairs. No one came to help , they merely watched with agonized faces. I finally made it to the ’smoke bench’ outside where our little ‘witness group’ had gathered. My girls were safely stashed away. This was the second day of testimony and they had already said their part. I remember several people handed me cigarettes. I just stared at them, the smokes not the faces. I couldn’t look at their faces…My ears were trained to the heavens…I knew He was coming. Cuz there was no way the world could continue to spin.

Silence…

Excuse me ladies and gentlemen this is a train wreck…you will have to back away…there is nothing to see here…Groups of three and four gathered on the outside circle of us, witness’ . Our case was not spoken of but everyone knew of it. It was a biggie. The judge had said in open court that he believed all the witness’ but he just didn’t think it was a crime worthy of punishment…

…..so rape of children was ok….

My brain could not wrap itself around that.

God was on His way….He had to be…I could not figure out a way to breath again in this world.

He did not come.

I don’t know who it was but several people gave me pills.

I don’t know what they were. I’m sure they were xanax or something…I think I remember that. I must have looked pretty…bad. I dropped the pills on the ground and everyone took a collective step back. I still couldn’t focus on the faces around me. I couldn’t stop looking for Him… He was so late already.

Someone asked me ,ever so softly and gently where the girls were…

Suddenly I took off running…I had to get to them before… Before some one else told them… I had to get to them…the thought of them brought the floodgates of tears, the tears that would not stop…

My little group followed after me running and yelling my name. still no one came close enough for me to swing. I was an injured animal, not to be trusted. He must be waiting to show Himself…He is just late…but He is coming…I wanted to be on the highway when He came…I wanted to see all His glory appear in the heavens and see Him take their car and hurl it….

“…It would be better a millstone be tied…” I could see the actual words written in the sky…He was on His way…He was merely coming in His time…But He WAS coming…He had to. The world was upside down and inside out…this was the nonsense world the last chapter of His book talked about.

………………………………................................GASP………………………………..........................................

Gideon built his army and God said…God said, no…It has to be about me……………

I could not wrap my brain around His will. I am the great manipulator…I tried to force His will into my existence…He didn’t fit.

I tried to control His glory, He was to big.

I tried to twist His logic to fit my own, HE IS GOD.

My battle was not as I expected…If we had won we would have been vindicated in this world. This world is not relevant to the spirit…the spirit is only relevant to the natural.

All the pain, suffering despair, turmoil, harassment, cruelty, rage…

It took me a year to get it.

To understand His will.

I see them everywhere…my victims…..His beautiful victims.

Reminds me of a dream I had during the darkest of my days. I was on a beach walking along the tide. I little girl ran up to me. She took my hand and thanked me. I was confused. I didn’t know why she had said that, she pointed behind me…I looked and there was a long, long, never ending line of children…she said, “they are yours….they all want to say thank you…but keep walking…we are following…”

……….So I keep walking…I keep moving forward….that had NOT been my battle…It would have been about me had we won…besides, by this time I hadn’t wanted repercussion…I wanted freedom and peace and new life for my injured children. I wanted them to have freedom from their pain…from their despair…and I wanted to love the dirty, broken around me because there are so, so many.

….so that is the battle…and no one knows of me….so it is all about Him….and we walk forward…each of us….each of the victims who become victors…we walk forward.

holidays are hard for me

I have a hard time during the holiday seasons.

My girls don’t. I made sure of that…I’m a great bullshiter. They know, they just let me lie and move on.

Holidays are hard for me.

I have had some rough holiday seasons.

I had to call out some pedophiles one time.

I had to put them on blast.

They in turn…turned a complete community against me successfully.

My holidays sucked for several years…during the trial days… five years of them.

But I couldn’t let my girls be unsafe.

I couldn’t allow them to be around negative, disbelieving, and unsafe people.

So we, my little family and I did holidays on our own.

Me and two little girls enjoyed the holiday season.

When cousins got old enough to drive…as this went on for five years…they would drive over and spend a little time with their cousins on the holidays.

Such sadness.

I merely stated the facts I had been told…and our entire world turned inside out.

People…professional people kept telling me the same thing…”I have never dealt with this before.”

I understand, I really do understand, your need to tell me this…but this did not help me process the fact that I had never been through this before either. And if you ,who is guiding me, has never done this …then how the hell am I supposed to act or react….hmmm.

I’ve journeyed forward for many years trying stubbornly to not look back at separate issues, but today… today I cry.

The first year on my own…all alone for thanksgiving…was something I had never done before either. I had two little ,tiny girls, who were five years old and just wanted to be excited like their classmates about the holidays. But we were separate, segregated, alone. We were victims. We were hard to look at. We had to much pain to look directly at for to long. No one knew what to say. No one knew how to act. We were untouchable. We were dirty…unclean…we were victims.

It just hit me the other day…We were on the outside because our perpetrators were not the regular perps. Our perps were nice church going head of the nursery, great pillars of the community perps…not your ordinary hide in the bushes, drug induced bad decision making perps. These were Christians for Gods sake. How dare I spill dirty laundry in their church. In their community…in their presence.

A wise women told me years later…after the smoke had cleared…after I had picked up the pieces of my broken life…She told me, “You know that an entire community can be groomed.” yes…yes, I know that. First hand I know that.

I shake my head today as I watch people try to decide if a victim is trustworthy or lying…Sometime it makes me scoff, and sometimes…ok ,sometimes I wanna punch them in the face.

A community can be groomed.

What does that mean though?

What is grooming? Grooming is a word people in the field use to describe how a perpetrator gains access to our children. Sadly I could teach a course on this , sadly I could quote statistics to you…but I’m so tired anymore…it no longer feels relevant to me now. As, I know what I know…and it is what it is.

Grooming though goes beyond getting access to your child…it s getting access to a community of children.

During our FIVE year court battle several less privileged victims came to confess their abuse by those same perps…but since we had been so harassed, ridiculed, and subjected to such hate…how would they fair in the coming forward for justice. You pick it up and move…and that is what they did, they merely wanted to stop by on their way out of town and let me know that I was right…that these people had perped on their kid too… hope everything works out for us, but if the community acted so vehemently against me…how would they ever fair against them.

When we told the truth…

We were asked to leave the house we were renting…we had two weeks.

We were asked to not come back to the church.

I was told by my pastor that he had nothing to say to me.

My family was tore apart…no longer a safe place for my girls. The perps were a part of all those things…and they won the battle. We were the poster child to what never to say or do to victims.

So in the short time between my daughter telling me horrendous life altering things that a five year old should never know…I had become homeless, without family support, with out a church, without a pastor, and without the new friends I had acquired through the gospel of Jesus Christ…

I was utterly, and completely ALONE.

I was forced to live in a one room house. We had been kicked to the curb, and since we were homeless my father had to step in…a little. So the very least because I was his daughter, but he didn’t have to do more then just enough…because he was a great and mighty man of God, and he had to show love to the other victims…the perps. ( I have to inject a thought here, when we finally go to trail these perps had successfully turned the entire community against us and the world saw us as the assailants and the poor accused as the vicitms. This thought was so well groomed that on the day of the trail when their legions of support came to support them they walked into the victims room in the courthouse. because the perps were considered the vics. Go ahead and say wow! Cuz it really is amazing)back to where I was forced to live. There were other rooms but we were not allowed to clean it out…as, we were unworthy of the full use of the house. As a parent he had to give us something as we were about to live in my car, but we were not worthy of the whole house…only the living room and bathroom. There was no gas in the house and yep you guessed it…it was November. I cooked on a hotplate in the living room. I bought a little dorm refrigerator. We had one bed that we all three had to sleep on. The expensive electric heaters merely kept us from freezing to death…we could see our breath as we sat huddled together, licking our wounds. We slept with five heavy blankets on us for warmth.

So when you see us today and you think...wow! Those girls are very close…oddly close…yes we are we went through hell together. And I never disbelieved them. I never questioned the validity of their words. I never questioned the emotions they were going through...I just showed them love and understanding. I was Jesus to them in the worst possible moment in their life.

The shack they allowed us to stay in was placed right next to their brand new three bedroom house they had just had built. So I could hear family and friends come to them…to give them support in THEIR time of need. My girls ,like any other five year olds would get excited to see someone they knew…”Mommy, Mommy….this person is at grandmas.” and I would answer, “come inside Fate, they aren’t here to see us…we got a lot of stuff to do here…lets make a collage.” The pastor came to pray with them…not us, my poor parents, their church friends came to help them stand up…and family came…to stand with the parents….not the victims, because somehow my mother had made the entire debauchery about her…so each time I redirected my babies and we sat huddled under piles of blankets and cut out pictures to glue on paper…I made hell fun! Because I am the SHIT mom…and I would and did fight the world to save them.

Holidays are tough for me.

Easter was no better. By this time I died inside a little each time one of the great and mighty church members came to fellowship (can you see my sneer when I say that?) with my parents…so easter we spent in a hotel hiding eggs inside the hotel lobby…cuz my babies did not understand why their life, their family and their everything had changed. So the very next time you hear that a victim ‘recanted’ don’t get all jumpy with the idea that they had lied the first time…persecution is not a warm ,fuzzy feeling to have and when you’re a five year old you cannot fathom why things are very strange now. Still it would be another 3 years before our lives calmed down enough to even get to that level of process’ that a rape victim goes through. These were the very early days of the telling.

Did I ever tell you that the police department threatened to take my children if I did not produce them to be interviewed? I continued to hold them hostage anyway…I KNOW my fucking rights! I refused to take my tiny, delicate babies to big scary police department to be locked in a room away from me all alone to tell a secret to three… THREE police men...in uniform something that had made her mom so sad that her mom could no longer function as a rational human being.

I knew I looked like a raving lunatic…I resembled a hurt mamma bear striking out at anyone daring to come close…cuz so far no one had been rational to me…so far no one had ever said, Its ok…I’m going to walk with you through this fucking scary process…no one said I know what to do…NO ONE tried to make me feel safe. So I could make my babies feel safe…everyone just kept attacking me, threatening me…

So I called bullshit to their vacant threats…

…and we had no dearing house…we had no child advocacy…we had no real concept of a victim yet in this area… we were the first…

Did you know that for five years…the sound of me throwing up EVERYDAY was the sound that my children woke to? Five years like clockwork. My damn eyes would open again and reality would hit me…it wasn’t a nightmare I was enduring all alone…this was real and I had to deal with it, so every morning that wave of reality washed over me and bile rose until I couldn’t swallow it down and I ran to throw up…each and every morning of our lives for five years. Sickness and sadness were my only feelings for five years. Oh and manufactured laugher…I’m a great bullshiter.

I light another Marlboro and I ponder…what else do I need to cleanse to make this delirium moment pass from me.

Mostly I see fates huge brown eyes…

I see her remarkably great brown eyes watching me.

She wouldn’t tell for three years…she wouldn’t tell until she knew I could handle it…until she knew I wouldn’t disappear into a dot and cease to exist anymore…cuz that, my friends and neighbors is what I wanted to do.

She would just silently tend to us, her twin and I, as we suffered through the worst of it. She brought throw up bowls and wet washcloths to us as I held my limp, life less child after she had gone through yet another round of horrendous panic attacks that threatened to take us all away. The utter, sheer and complete panic on my 6 year olds face as she clawed at her throat because she couldn’t breath…her body suddenly rigid from my mere touch…her eyes would suddenly glaze over and the whimpering began…the whimpering/howl sounded like an injured animal…and she fought like hell to get out of it…valiantly she fought…it always ended in bile emitted from her tiny mouth…like clockwork fate and I had it down…miraculously fate would appear with the bowl….throw up…then the wet wash cloth to lay on her wet head… so no Fate didn’t tell me for a long time.

…we missed a lot of school…

She was so tiny…

Dark circles under her eyes…

I can’t recall now how she looked as she lay in my arms...I really don’t think I could look for to long…I watched Fate…watch us.

Today….today…we are relaxed and comfortable in our own skin…Lyric has so much grace and integrity that I am blown away by her enduring faith on a daily bases. And Fate, well Fate never wavered…even though she was so frightened she had to break 30 seconds into the trial. And she ran wailing into the back room to be calmed by the ADA and the victims asst. she stood boldly and told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…

….so today in live in awe of the graceful splendor that they wrap themselves in. Today s a brand new day. Today is freedom. Today is peace. Today is laughter.

They saw their perps the other day…

Riding down the street in a car on their way home from church, A church they had chosen on their own…(I still suck at church.) My ladies were riding along and looked over at the persons next to them. It was their perpetrators…

Lyric used words like...mesmerized…transfixed…to describe her moment. She said she didn’t know who they were or why she couldn’t stop staring…she just felt transfixed by their utter sadness…she said they, the people next to her looked so dark black and sad….then she slowly realized who they were…she turned to look at her twin and she was looking too…and she was just as surprised…they both excitedly exclaimed…hey that was them! Did you see how dark and sad they look… Lyric later told me that she had prayed for them cuz they looked so lost and miserable. Yes that’s right…their victim prayed for them…because they looked like they were in pain…

…That’s MY God…My God makes your enemies your footstools! My God calls you out of your death clothes and brings you back to life! My God will give back to you seven fold what the enemy took from me! That’s My God, merciful, giving, enduring, loving, ravenous…yes, that’s my God…He made victims victors!

holidays are hard for me

I have a hard time during the holiday seasons.

My girls don’t. I made sure of that…I’m a great bullshiter. They know, they just let me lie and move on.

Holidays are hard for me.

I have had some rough holiday seasons.

I had to call out some pedophiles one time.

I had to put them on blast.

They in turn…turned a complete community against me successfully.

My holidays sucked for several years…during the trial days… five years of them.

But I couldn’t let my girls be unsafe.

I couldn’t allow them to be around negative, disbelieving, and unsafe people.

So we, my little family and I did holidays on our own.

Me and two little girls enjoyed the holiday season.

When cousins got old enough to drive…as this went on for five years…they would drive over and spend a little time with their cousins on the holidays.

Such sadness.

I merely stated the facts I had been told…and our entire world turned inside out.

People…professional people kept telling me the same thing…”I have never dealt with this before.”

I understand, I really do understand, your need to tell me this…but this did not help me process the fact that I had never been through this before either. And if you ,who is guiding me, has never done this …then how the hell am I supposed to act or react….hmmm.

I’ve journeyed forward for many years trying stubbornly to not look back at separate issues, but today… today I cry.

The first year on my own…all alone for thanksgiving…was something I had never done before either. I had two little ,tiny girls, who were five years old and just wanted to be excited like their classmates about the holidays. But we were separate, segregated, alone. We were victims. We were hard to look at. We had to much pain to look directly at for to long. No one knew what to say. No one knew how to act. We were untouchable. We were dirty…unclean…we were victims.

It just hit me the other day…We were on the outside because our perpetrators were not the regular perps. Our perps were nice church going head of the nursery, great pillars of the community perps…not your ordinary hide in the bushes, drug induced bad decision making perps. These were Christians for Gods sake. How dare I spill dirty laundry in their church. In their community…in their presence.

A wise women told me years later…after the smoke had cleared…after I had picked up the pieces of my broken life…She told me, “You know that an entire community can be groomed.” yes…yes, I know that. First hand I know that.

I shake my head today as I watch people try to decide if a victim is trustworthy or lying…Sometime it makes me scoff, and sometimes…ok ,sometimes I wanna punch them in the face.

A community can be groomed.

What does that mean though?

What is grooming? Grooming is a word people in the field use to describe how a perpetrator gains access to our children. Sadly I could teach a course on this , sadly I could quote statistics to you…but I’m so tired anymore…it no longer feels relevant to me now. As, I know what I know…and it is what it is.

Grooming though goes beyond getting access to your child…it s getting access to a community of children.

During our FIVE year court battle several less privileged victims came to confess their abuse by those same perps…but since we had been so harassed, ridiculed, and subjected to such hate…how would they fair in the coming forward for justice. You pick it up and move…and that is what they did, they merely wanted to stop by on their way out of town and let me know that I was right…that these people had perped on their kid too… hope everything works out for us, but if the community acted so vehemently against me…how would they ever fair against them.

When we told the truth…

We were asked to leave the house we were renting…we had two weeks.

We were asked to not come back to the church.

I was told by my pastor that he had nothing to say to me.

My family was tore apart…no longer a safe place for my girls. The perps were a part of all those things…and they won the battle. We were the poster child to what never to say or do to victims.

So in the short time between my daughter telling me horrendous life altering things that a five year old should never know…I had become homeless, without family support, with out a church, without a pastor, and without the new friends I had acquired through the gospel of Jesus Christ…

I was utterly, and completely ALONE.

I was forced to live in a one room house. We had been kicked to the curb, and since we were homeless my father had to step in…a little. So the very least because I was his daughter, but he didn’t have to do more then just enough…because he was a great and mighty man of God, and he had to show love to the other victims…the perps. ( I have to inject a thought here, when we finally go to trail these perps had successfully turned the entire community against us and the world saw us as the assailants and the poor accused as the vicitms. This thought was so well groomed that on the day of the trail when their legions of support came to support them they walked into the victims room in the courthouse. because the perps were considered the vics. Go ahead and say wow! Cuz it really is amazing)back to where I was forced to live. There were other rooms but we were not allowed to clean it out…as, we were unworthy of the full use of the house. As a parent he had to give us something as we were about to live in my car, but we were not worthy of the whole house…only the living room and bathroom. There was no gas in the house and yep you guessed it…it was November. I cooked on a hotplate in the living room. I bought a little dorm refrigerator. We had one bed that we all three had to sleep on. The expensive electric heaters merely kept us from freezing to death…we could see our breath as we sat huddled together, licking our wounds. We slept with five heavy blankets on us for warmth.

So when you see us today and you think...wow! Those girls are very close…oddly close…yes we are we went through hell together. And I never disbelieved them. I never questioned the validity of their words. I never questioned the emotions they were going through...I just showed them love and understanding. I was Jesus to them in the worst possible moment in their life.

The shack they allowed us to stay in was placed right next to their brand new three bedroom house they had just had built. So I could hear family and friends come to them…to give them support in THEIR time of need. My girls ,like any other five year olds would get excited to see someone they knew…”Mommy, Mommy….this person is at grandmas.” and I would answer, “come inside Fate, they aren’t here to see us…we got a lot of stuff to do here…lets make a collage.” The pastor came to pray with them…not us, my poor parents, their church friends came to help them stand up…and family came…to stand with the parents….not the victims, because somehow my mother had made the entire debauchery about her…so each time I redirected my babies and we sat huddled under piles of blankets and cut out pictures to glue on paper…I made hell fun! Because I am the SHIT mom…and I would and did fight the world to save them.

Holidays are tough for me.

Easter was no better. By this time I died inside a little each time one of the great and mighty church members came to fellowship (can you see my sneer when I say that?) with my parents…so easter we spent in a hotel hiding eggs inside the hotel lobby…cuz my babies did not understand why their life, their family and their everything had changed. So the very next time you hear that a victim ‘recanted’ don’t get all jumpy with the idea that they had lied the first time…persecution is not a warm ,fuzzy feeling to have and when you’re a five year old you cannot fathom why things are very strange now. Still it would be another 3 years before our lives calmed down enough to even get to that level of process’ that a rape victim goes through. These were the very early days of the telling.

Did I ever tell you that the police department threatened to take my children if I did not produce them to be interviewed? I continued to hold them hostage anyway…I KNOW my fucking rights! I refused to take my tiny, delicate babies to big scary police department to be locked in a room away from me all alone to tell a secret to three… THREE police men...in uniform something that had made her mom so sad that her mom could no longer function as a rational human being.

I knew I looked like a raving lunatic…I resembled a hurt mamma bear striking out at anyone daring to come close…cuz so far no one had been rational to me…so far no one had ever said, Its ok…I’m going to walk with you through this fucking scary process…no one said I know what to do…NO ONE tried to make me feel safe. So I could make my babies feel safe…everyone just kept attacking me, threatening me…

So I called bullshit to their vacant threats…

…and we had no dearing house…we had no child advocacy…we had no real concept of a victim yet in this area… we were the first…

Did you know that for five years…the sound of me throwing up EVERYDAY was the sound that my children woke to? Five years like clockwork. My damn eyes would open again and reality would hit me…it wasn’t a nightmare I was enduring all alone…this was real and I had to deal with it, so every morning that wave of reality washed over me and bile rose until I couldn’t swallow it down and I ran to throw up…each and every morning of our lives for five years. Sickness and sadness were my only feelings for five years. Oh and manufactured laugher…I’m a great bullshiter.

I light another Marlboro and I ponder…what else do I need to cleanse to make this delirium moment pass from me.

Mostly I see fates huge brown eyes…

I see her remarkably great brown eyes watching me.

She wouldn’t tell for three years…she wouldn’t tell until she knew I could handle it…until she knew I wouldn’t disappear into a dot and cease to exist anymore…cuz that, my friends and neighbors is what I wanted to do.

She would just silently tend to us, her twin and I, as we suffered through the worst of it. She brought throw up bowls and wet washcloths to us as I held my limp, life less child after she had gone through yet another round of horrendous panic attacks that threatened to take us all away. The utter, sheer and complete panic on my 6 year olds face as she clawed at her throat because she couldn’t breath…her body suddenly rigid from my mere touch…her eyes would suddenly glaze over and the whimpering began…the whimpering/howl sounded like an injured animal…and she fought like hell to get out of it…valiantly she fought…it always ended in bile emitted from her tiny mouth…like clockwork fate and I had it down…miraculously fate would appear with the bowl….throw up…then the wet wash cloth to lay on her wet head… so no Fate didn’t tell me for a long time.

…we missed a lot of school…

She was so tiny…

Dark circles under her eyes…

I can’t recall now how she looked as she lay in my arms...I really don’t think I could look for to long…I watched Fate…watch us.

Today….today…we are relaxed and comfortable in our own skin…Lyric has so much grace and integrity that I am blown away by her enduring faith on a daily bases. And Fate, well Fate never wavered…even though she was so frightened she had to break 30 seconds into the trial. And she ran wailing into the back room to be calmed by the ADA and the victims asst. she stood boldly and told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…

….so today in live in awe of the graceful splendor that they wrap themselves in. Today s a brand new day. Today is freedom. Today is peace. Today is laughter.

They saw their perps the other day…

Riding down the street in a car on their way home from church, A church they had chosen on their own…(I still suck at church.) My ladies were riding along and looked over at the persons next to them. It was their perpetrators…

Lyric used words like...mesmerized…transfixed…to describe her moment. She said she didn’t know who they were or why she couldn’t stop staring…she just felt transfixed by their utter sadness…she said they, the people next to her looked so dark black and sad….then she slowly realized who they were…she turned to look at her twin and she was looking too…and she was just as surprised…they both excitedly exclaimed…hey that was them! Did you see how dark and sad they look… Lyric later told me that she had prayed for them cuz they looked so lost and miserable. Yes that’s right…their victim prayed for them…because they looked like they were in pain…

…That’s MY God…My God makes your enemies your footstools! My God calls you out of your death clothes and brings you back to life! My God will give back to you seven fold what the enemy took from me! That’s My God, merciful, giving, enduring, loving, ravenous…yes, that’s my God…He made victims victors!

holidays are hard for me

I have a hard time during the holiday seasons.

My girls don’t. I made sure of that…I’m a great bullshiter. They know, they just let me lie and move on.

Holidays are hard for me.

I have had some rough holiday seasons.

I had to call out some pedophiles one time.

I had to put them on blast.

They in turn…turned a complete community against me successfully.

My holidays sucked for several years…during the trial days… five years of them.

But I couldn’t let my girls be unsafe.

I couldn’t allow them to be around negative, disbelieving, and unsafe people.

So we, my little family and I did holidays on our own.

Me and two little girls enjoyed the holiday season.

When cousins got old enough to drive…as this went on for five years…they would drive over and spend a little time with their cousins on the holidays.

Such sadness.

I merely stated the facts I had been told…and our entire world turned inside out.

People…professional people kept telling me the same thing…”I have never dealt with this before.”

I understand, I really do understand, your need to tell me this…but this did not help me process the fact that I had never been through this before either. And if you ,who is guiding me, has never done this …then how the hell am I supposed to act or react….hmmm.

I’ve journeyed forward for many years trying stubbornly to not look back at separate issues, but today… today I cry.

The first year on my own…all alone for thanksgiving…was something I had never done before either. I had two little ,tiny girls, who were five years old and just wanted to be excited like their classmates about the holidays. But we were separate, segregated, alone. We were victims. We were hard to look at. We had to much pain to look directly at for to long. No one knew what to say. No one knew how to act. We were untouchable. We were dirty…unclean…we were victims.

It just hit me the other day…We were on the outside because our perpetrators were not the regular perps. Our perps were nice church going head of the nursery, great pillars of the community perps…not your ordinary hide in the bushes, drug induced bad decision making perps. These were Christians for Gods sake. How dare I spill dirty laundry in their church. In their community…in their presence.

A wise women told me years later…after the smoke had cleared…after I had picked up the pieces of my broken life…She told me, “You know that an entire community can be groomed.” yes…yes, I know that. First hand I know that.

I shake my head today as I watch people try to decide if a victim is trustworthy or lying…Sometime it makes me scoff, and sometimes…ok ,sometimes I wanna punch them in the face.

A community can be groomed.

What does that mean though?

What is grooming? Grooming is a word people in the field use to describe how a perpetrator gains access to our children. Sadly I could teach a course on this , sadly I could quote statistics to you…but I’m so tired anymore…it no longer feels relevant to me now. As, I know what I know…and it is what it is.

Grooming though goes beyond getting access to your child…it s getting access to a community of children.

During our FIVE year court battle several less privileged victims came to confess their abuse by those same perps…but since we had been so harassed, ridiculed, and subjected to such hate…how would they fair in the coming forward for justice. You pick it up and move…and that is what they did, they merely wanted to stop by on their way out of town and let me know that I was right…that these people had perped on their kid too… hope everything works out for us, but if the community acted so vehemently against me…how would they ever fair against them.

When we told the truth…

We were asked to leave the house we were renting…we had two weeks.

We were asked to not come back to the church.

I was told by my pastor that he had nothing to say to me.

My family was tore apart…no longer a safe place for my girls. The perps were a part of all those things…and they won the battle. We were the poster child to what never to say or do to victims.

So in the short time between my daughter telling me horrendous life altering things that a five year old should never know…I had become homeless, without family support, with out a church, without a pastor, and without the new friends I had acquired through the gospel of Jesus Christ…

I was utterly, and completely ALONE.

I was forced to live in a one room house. We had been kicked to the curb, and since we were homeless my father had to step in…a little. So the very least because I was his daughter, but he didn’t have to do more then just enough…because he was a great and mighty man of God, and he had to show love to the other victims…the perps. ( I have to inject a thought here, when we finally go to trail these perps had successfully turned the entire community against us and the world saw us as the assailants and the poor accused as the vicitms. This thought was so well groomed that on the day of the trail when their legions of support came to support them they walked into the victims room in the courthouse. because the perps were considered the vics. Go ahead and say wow! Cuz it really is amazing)back to where I was forced to live. There were other rooms but we were not allowed to clean it out…as, we were unworthy of the full use of the house. As a parent he had to give us something as we were about to live in my car, but we were not worthy of the whole house…only the living room and bathroom. There was no gas in the house and yep you guessed it…it was November. I cooked on a hotplate in the living room. I bought a little dorm refrigerator. We had one bed that we all three had to sleep on. The expensive electric heaters merely kept us from freezing to death…we could see our breath as we sat huddled together, licking our wounds. We slept with five heavy blankets on us for warmth.

So when you see us today and you think...wow! Those girls are very close…oddly close…yes we are we went through hell together. And I never disbelieved them. I never questioned the validity of their words. I never questioned the emotions they were going through...I just showed them love and understanding. I was Jesus to them in the worst possible moment in their life.

The shack they allowed us to stay in was placed right next to their brand new three bedroom house they had just had built. So I could hear family and friends come to them…to give them support in THEIR time of need. My girls ,like any other five year olds would get excited to see someone they knew…”Mommy, Mommy….this person is at grandmas.” and I would answer, “come inside Fate, they aren’t here to see us…we got a lot of stuff to do here…lets make a collage.” The pastor came to pray with them…not us, my poor parents, their church friends came to help them stand up…and family came…to stand with the parents….not the victims, because somehow my mother had made the entire debauchery about her…so each time I redirected my babies and we sat huddled under piles of blankets and cut out pictures to glue on paper…I made hell fun! Because I am the SHIT mom…and I would and did fight the world to save them.

Holidays are tough for me.

Easter was no better. By this time I died inside a little each time one of the great and mighty church members came to fellowship (can you see my sneer when I say that?) with my parents…so easter we spent in a hotel hiding eggs inside the hotel lobby…cuz my babies did not understand why their life, their family and their everything had changed. So the very next time you hear that a victim ‘recanted’ don’t get all jumpy with the idea that they had lied the first time…persecution is not a warm ,fuzzy feeling to have and when you’re a five year old you cannot fathom why things are very strange now. Still it would be another 3 years before our lives calmed down enough to even get to that level of process’ that a rape victim goes through. These were the very early days of the telling.

Did I ever tell you that the police department threatened to take my children if I did not produce them to be interviewed? I continued to hold them hostage anyway…I KNOW my fucking rights! I refused to take my tiny, delicate babies to big scary police department to be locked in a room away from me all alone to tell a secret to three… THREE police men...in uniform something that had made her mom so sad that her mom could no longer function as a rational human being.

I knew I looked like a raving lunatic…I resembled a hurt mamma bear striking out at anyone daring to come close…cuz so far no one had been rational to me…so far no one had ever said, Its ok…I’m going to walk with you through this fucking scary process…no one said I know what to do…NO ONE tried to make me feel safe. So I could make my babies feel safe…everyone just kept attacking me, threatening me…

So I called bullshit to their vacant threats…

…and we had no dearing house…we had no child advocacy…we had no real concept of a victim yet in this area… we were the first…

Did you know that for five years…the sound of me throwing up EVERYDAY was the sound that my children woke to? Five years like clockwork. My damn eyes would open again and reality would hit me…it wasn’t a nightmare I was enduring all alone…this was real and I had to deal with it, so every morning that wave of reality washed over me and bile rose until I couldn’t swallow it down and I ran to throw up…each and every morning of our lives for five years. Sickness and sadness were my only feelings for five years. Oh and manufactured laugher…I’m a great bullshiter.

I light another Marlboro and I ponder…what else do I need to cleanse to make this delirium moment pass from me.

Mostly I see fates huge brown eyes…

I see her remarkably great brown eyes watching me.

She wouldn’t tell for three years…she wouldn’t tell until she knew I could handle it…until she knew I wouldn’t disappear into a dot and cease to exist anymore…cuz that, my friends and neighbors is what I wanted to do.

She would just silently tend to us, her twin and I, as we suffered through the worst of it. She brought throw up bowls and wet washcloths to us as I held my limp, life less child after she had gone through yet another round of horrendous panic attacks that threatened to take us all away. The utter, sheer and complete panic on my 6 year olds face as she clawed at her throat because she couldn’t breath…her body suddenly rigid from my mere touch…her eyes would suddenly glaze over and the whimpering began…the whimpering/howl sounded like an injured animal…and she fought like hell to get out of it…valiantly she fought…it always ended in bile emitted from her tiny mouth…like clockwork fate and I had it down…miraculously fate would appear with the bowl….throw up…then the wet wash cloth to lay on her wet head… so no Fate didn’t tell me for a long time.

…we missed a lot of school…

She was so tiny…

Dark circles under her eyes…

I can’t recall now how she looked as she lay in my arms...I really don’t think I could look for to long…I watched Fate…watch us.

Today….today…we are relaxed and comfortable in our own skin…Lyric has so much grace and integrity that I am blown away by her enduring faith on a daily bases. And Fate, well Fate never wavered…even though she was so frightened she had to break 30 seconds into the trial. And she ran wailing into the back room to be calmed by the ADA and the victims asst. she stood boldly and told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…

….so today in live in awe of the graceful splendor that they wrap themselves in. Today s a brand new day. Today is freedom. Today is peace. Today is laughter.

They saw their perps the other day…

Riding down the street in a car on their way home from church, A church they had chosen on their own…(I still suck at church.) My ladies were riding along and looked over at the persons next to them. It was their perpetrators…

Lyric used words like...mesmerized…transfixed…to describe her moment. She said she didn’t know who they were or why she couldn’t stop staring…she just felt transfixed by their utter sadness…she said they, the people next to her looked so dark black and sad….then she slowly realized who they were…she turned to look at her twin and she was looking too…and she was just as surprised…they both excitedly exclaimed…hey that was them! Did you see how dark and sad they look… Lyric later told me that she had prayed for them cuz they looked so lost and miserable. Yes that’s right…their victim prayed for them…because they looked like they were in pain…

…That’s MY God…My God makes your enemies your footstools! My God calls you out of your death clothes and brings you back to life! My God will give back to you seven fold what the enemy took from me! That’s My God, merciful, giving, enduring, loving, ravenous…yes, that’s my God…He made victims victors!

understanding my musings

Lots of talk this weekend about narcissism.
I think that I have at the very least a glancing romance with the concept, ailment, self preservation.
I meet most interesting people everyday…
You will never know them…I do not write from their position…I write from my perception of…and my parallelism to them….narcissist! It makes my writing safe. I give nothing up of their anonymity. Their confidentiality is well protected.
….cuz all my writing is ultimately about me…and what I may have learned from the most interesting person in front of me!
So with that disclaimer attached...I can begin.
Re-reading my last blog I wonder what I was trying to say…I had started it before and then went back and finished it later. It leaves me wondering if I made my point, if I got to my thesis statement…idk.
What was my point? I think my original thought was the difference between loving God and God loving us…
Me loving God would never have changed the outcome in that little room so long ago. I loved a lot of things …they didn’t matter as I burned my life up.
I think the thought that someone, a deity or something bigger then me….could truly love me. Really love me. I had NEVER felt that before…not really. The extent of love always ended all sweaty and sad because it was not truth. It was a way to release pent up feelings to feel good for a couple of seconds.
Love was a used up word that had no power.
But this love that preacher man spoke about was so abstract yet so visceral that it boggled my inexperienced mind.
Why has always been my ever constant question…I went in search of the reason why This God could love me… why when I was trying so hard to be unlovable.
When I started digging…I found…I found this unqualified love that the world still cannot grasp. I know they don’t know, even though they proclaim THEIR love for God…but how about HIS love for them! I think that is the correct way of thinking…or maybe I’m wrong.
If you walk into a crack house and tell a scared fucked up girl to love God. It falls so very short. How can she love if she has no history of it. But, to tell her of HIS love….that is life altering. No reason for Him to. He doesn’t have to. He chooses to…that is all.

I sat backed up to a darkened corner of the last room in the house and felt a thousand eyes watching my every move. Simple thoughts had ceased to resound authenticity as my manically overdriven mind attacked itself. I had been up for too long. Any guess at how many weeks would sound like pure lunacy. Days had stretched into weeks and weeks had become months, Impossible ,I know but when you live by the little hand held mirror and it’s little white lines become big white lines; time ceases to exist.
Backed into a corner of a darkened room because the tiniest sound surrounded my ears and became a mocking sneer at the paper world around me. I could find no safety, no comfort. My nose bleed freely ,but the real problem was the panic that filled my very essence. To much, to much, to much … I was busy trying to shrink from existence. I was very small by this time. The last time I had eaten was just a memory. Beer had kept my stomach from growling…that and the ever appearing white lines harnessed my appetite. I was a small form in a darkened room, whimpering at the sounds and darkened shadows around me. The very few people who had stayed to watch the total dismantling of my mind stood just far enough away from me to be safe, yet watch out for me.
They had called a preacher, weather to give last rites or to exercise the demons, that they could clearly feel, that were raping my mind, I’m not sure which.
I shuddered again and again. Racks of shudders attacked my body as I tried to curl further into myself.
A man, a stranger walked into that last room and stared down at me. His presence in the room made me feel embarrassment. Shame ran loosely through my thoughts. I was half clothed. Bikini top and cutoffs was all I had wore…for ever. hadn’t changed them since I had quit my job so many weeks ago. I say quit…I had just stopped going. I got lost the last time I had tried to go.
The man bent down to look into my eyes.
He was not made of paper…I could tell. He looked as if he were real. The shouting maniac voices hushed as he peered into my eyes. Even though I wore very little clothing, and felt such shame by that, he looked right into my eyes with such love that tears began to flow freely from my eyes. I wanted to rush into his arms, but my past abuses kept me backing further into the wall behind me. He leaned in, maybe sensing my absolute reluctance. “Jesus loves you Mary.” was all he said. But he spoke those words to me with such authority and conviction, that there was no room for argument. I looked down at the absolute nothing I had become, as shame tried to rape me again. “No,” he said gently as he reached out and lifted my face upwards. “ He loves you just as you are, dirty, and messed up. He came and died for you…YOU Mary! The power behind those words were the only thought that could pervade my delirium., Yet I quickly discarded the thought, anyway. My brain could not wrap around the idea of the child in a manger…The idea of a bruised and bloody man on a cross…the idea that this fictionist character could think anything at all. I had no history of a deity…beyond myself.
Still the thought tickled my mind.
Who was this Jesus.
And why would he care about me …here and now?
What did this preacher man mean?
My heart threatened to explode out of my chest…I had come to the end…
Lucid thinking wasn’t even a consideration.
Fear gripped me. My heart rapped against its enclosure as I tried to breath. The eyes were everywhere. Laughter echoed inside my mind.
I heard my friend tell me that I needed to eat. That I needed to sleep. My body twitched with the enthusiasm. I felt this at the thought of my own bed. I hadn’t been there in so long. I longed to see my apartment…my bed…my cat. The thought of my cat propelled me up. The rush of movement made my heart leap scarily. I steadied myself, and lurched out of the room. I ran to my car digging in my cutoffs for my keys. I got lost a couple of paces from the house and pulled over. I was completely overwhelmed with dread. I had no idea how to get to my house. Suddenly a mans face appeared in my car window, gently he spoke to me. “Follow me Mary.” “Just watch my red lights” It was my friends boyfriends face. He had saved me once before, when I had gotten lost trying to find my sisters house. That had happened several weeks ago. I was still out in the dark abyss trying to find my way back to the reality that I knew existed, but could no longer find.
I followed those lights all the way to my house, some five blocks away. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Nausea was a constant companion.
Laying on my bed…I was so afraid to close my eyes…I was afraid I would just stop being. My body twitched endlessly. Silent laughter echoed inside my mind…slithering voices taunted me, “You will die if you close your eyes.”
I’m not sure how I lived through that. Not sure how long I was outside my mind. I merely know that it happened just like that.
The people that were with me during that time in my life are always so surprised to see me upright and talking. Why did I live? How did I live? What kind of madness did I bring back with me? I can’t answer any questions about my time in my personal circle of hell. I just know that I sit in my living room with my children and I am alive. The weeks after my mental death was no picnic either. I certainly drug something back with me. Or maybe I am just completely mad now and remember things from my fucked up perspective. The question still remains constant…what came first the crazy or the way to cope with the crazy. I don’t know.
What came next was a crazy, crazy scary time. I was breathing yes, but I was by no means alive. That man who told me about that dude Jesus tickled my brain. Fear was my ever present emotion. Fear kept me awake at night…all night. The only reprieve I felt was during the day, that’s when I slept. The raucous sound inside my head drowned out everyone’s voice who tried to speak to me. I found a bible…the hounds of hell mocked me as I ran frantically from one reprieve to another. I opened the book, but it made no sense to me. I may as well been trying to read a foreign language. It was a different language for me. It made no sense. The only part that held my brain in any way was the red part. Little sentences. I still had no idea what it was saying, but I felt less uncovered when I read it. I slept with the book on my chest when I took my nap, always during the day. I had to stay up at night. Slithering, horrid voices mocked me at night, every night. Fantastical things happened at night. I pretended normalcy during the day. I stared at people and watched their reactions so that I knew how to respond. I was afraid , so afraid they would find out that I was lost. Even my footsteps were calculated. I had to focus really hard just to put one foot in front of the other. Sometimes I got tripped up as I tried to walk. The function of it confused me and I would stumble.
Slowly my real friends came around to see if I was back, I had always disappeared for awhile…just not as long as this last time. They tried to talk to me and I just smiled and stared. Gone in my madness I could trust no one. The secrets of hell were being whispered to me as I tried to concentrate on the words my friends spoke that became fat puffy words floating between us. I had swore off drugs, any drugs…and I was drowning in sobriety. Tracing the beginning of my madness is precarious at best.
My friend tried to get me a job. I couldn’t even walk let alone walk with a purpose. Her husband took one look at me and told me to call when I felt better. He saw the madness in my stare, I think. Still they took care of me. They brought me food, and smokes. I must have been a good person before I fell. Everyone wanted to care for me.
My journey to clear thought was long and arduous. I traveled to the recesses of my mind. I had before always been the fun party girl. The one who could drink more then anyone…toot more coke then anyone, stay up longer then anyone. Do the most outrageous things…and laugh as I did them. But now…now…I was altered, different. That part of who I was scared the bejesus outa me…I couldn’t go back to that…so I had to create someone else. Who would that be?
Id like to stop here and tell you that I found Jesus and my life became crystal clear and beautiful. It did not.
I did try to understand.
I could not.
I wish it had been so simple…a few words recited in my presence and BAM! Angels sing and all is well…didn’t happen my friend.
I did try…I really did. I mean if you had the demons following you around you would try the crucifix thing too right? that’s what all the scary movies say. Get a cross and all will be well. That was the extent of my knowledge of God…what the movies said about him. So I slept with the bible on top of me . I wore a cross around my neck. In the middle of my sleep I would wake to my body involuntarily ripping the cross from my body and hurling it across the room. So…what now!? Ya no movie had covered that yet?
Real madness was yet to come…I had invited evil in and evil had come to stay… They fight voraciously for one of their kind. I would cry incessantly, please…I didn’t know…and laughter surrounded my mind…I couldn’t even listen to music any more…I could hear their tittering under the sound…and it sounded like they were plotting something…
You don’t know real crazy until you become very intimate with it…and feel you need to be kind to it…so that it doesn’t take you completely away.
Shiny Christians baffled me.
Smiling faces looked like sharks ready to eat my pretty face.
Their fear of me was apparent, I stupidly thought it was because I was evil…not because I was pretty. My perceptions were still not to be trusted.
I had to many questions for them. I really just wanted to know. I was not mocking…I was merely ignorant of truths they had learned as a child. I had not the same history. I was so thirsty.
So I read…when my brain could hold a thought for more then a second…I read…
I would no longer be…the dumb party girl…the giggling stupid girl…the girl who would only wear the latest fashion…I didn’t want to be pretty. I wanted to think. I could actually feel the lines forming in my brain as I read…as I learned. I read everything from C.S. Lewis to Dante. I tried to read the bible…eventually I grasped the concepts…on my own. As always on my own. I didn’t just read one version…I read everyone’s version and what they thought about it…I trusted no one…no one would EVER tell me anything…I had escaped my ring of hell and on one man would ever take me back.
….. I had escaped the lunatic in the mirror…
The battle remains constant…I am now a warrior…I choose my battles when I must. I see the debauchery around me…I still cant stomach shiny, fake…Jesus loves you thoughts. He does…I know He does…and I reconcile that I will never know why…but He really does. The knowledge I carry inside is deep and penetrating…He didn’t save me, when I asked…I didn’t even know at that time what I wanted saved from…But He did save me. He saved me when I screamed loud enough for Him to stop ignoring me and turned around to look at me laying on the floor. Not all at once. And not the first time I asked.
So when you look at me and think that you know what you see…remember that you do not.
When you stare into the abyss of who you are…the abyss stares back at you…
……answers aren’t so simple when you cannot ask the exact question.

today...

Rewinding myself…
Leaving my disarray behind me I journey forward to find a new color for my kaleidoscope of thoughts.
Unpacking my old feelings to see what will fit with my new thoughts.
Evacuating simple for more complex.
I take my backward glances to the imminent.
Like the Cheshire cat…I disappear…again. But just like Alice, if you are constant I will reappear again.
My focus changes like the wind, as it gently guides me forward.
Losing pieces of me used to be so painful…I gently remove the deep fingers of fear.
Cascading into oblivion I seek his essence in others.
Heroes come and heroes go…
My roots stay with me to expel inside my now.
He has become my constant… he journeys through without to much commitment, without any consequence. Is that what I needed all along?

this is today...

Adam, Where are you?
As I reread the pages of my past I wonder how we ever got to be where we are today… on or own.
God said to Adam, Where are you?
I try to answer the question for ourselves…”where are we?”
We are smack dab in the middle of today.
Not yesterday and not tomorrow.
Today.
Today we are healthy…more healthy then we have any right to be.
Today we choose to do the right thing.
Today we strive to be better then before.
Today we have a deep understanding of who we are and who we were called to be.
Today we are not angry that life has crapped on us. Today we use that said crap and turned it into real beauty and share it with the world around us.
Today we make no excuses.
Today we do not whine about fairness, and justification.
Today we march forward and ignore the pleas of the lazy, those that refuse to wear or seek the truth inside pain.
Today we dance.
Today we see the world in a way that we pray you never have to see from our perspective.
Today we love abundantly and exclusively those that have been betrayed by their circumstances.
Today we love.
Today we choose to laugh at the terror that tries to replace refuge.
Today we silently smile at those that wonder why we continue to go our own way.
Today we are disciples.
Today we have utter knowledge of truths we would never have chosen for ourselves…but desire to live it anyway…in spite of them.
Today we do not naively see the world through religiosity or uninformed listening to random truths.
We seek the answers for ourselves from authentic study and seeking of the reasons given to us from He who knows all the circumstances.
It has been quite a journey. We began our authentic study four years ago…it began in a quiet park doing specific studies, and trying to fit the truths into our personal existence. T hat has grown into a personal study of all truths from beginning to end.
From “Adam where are you?” to a deeper search for truths as they chose to slay us in the middle of our search.
I have read where we have come from…
Utter despair…true anguish…to silently picking up our cross and bearing the burden of unknowing judgments. We have come to a time of…such a time as this.
People that I know and trust have come to me and said, “I hope my child is like yours one day.” I keep hearing that, and I know that it is not lip service. I know because I want to be like them myself. I know they have been through fire and been through rain. And what they see is the end result of ugliness that has no boundaries. They became disciples of a God that is the only thing that can make sense to them in a world that continues to confuse them. Keeping it real in a façade of religiosity. We are shunned by the righteous, ignored by the good, and judged by the sanctimonious.
Meanwhile, The real deal hurting clamor to find the truth we easily share. The broken and bruised seek to touch the realness of who we are. They, the broken, instinctively know what they cannot know…but they do anyway. The hurting seek the absolute truth we can give…love. To authentically give yourself until you have nothing of yourself to give…begins the beautiful tapestry of giving them Jesus. The real deal Jesus…not the super shiny I love you , you love me kind of religious smiling to your face and ripping out your soul kind of beginner Christian.
I am no longer angry. I know that they just do not know.
I am so glad the religious Christians shunned us…we would never be where we could do the most good. We seek the truly troubled, and offer hope. We live inside authentic belief, despite unspeakable horrors…we could never have be both, church Christians and authentic disciples.

today

Perpetual motion.
Cyclical ponderings.
Ideologies of truth.
Wanton desires.
Aerobic nuances.
Brandishing love against the hate everywhere.
It is my weapon of choice.
The armor of truth. And the sword of rightousness.
Do I feel it every second…
Psht no fucking way.
My only hope is in the middle of my humanness I leak truth and love…and utter peace and safety.
The story inside my head wants…no, begs to be said…
It follows me to sleep and gently wakes me in the morning.
Collecting the tapestry’s of my mind to swallow the normalcy, I strive toward the goal…
Finding the wholeness of the story beckons me when I sit silently.

……
I have cut this out of a very large blog...I think in total it was about 24 pages...this is the point I finally got to...after ripping everyones heart open to get to my own pain.



…………………….Our destiny of finding the beauty in negative spaces…
Where we came from to where we are today…
I have a story inside, but I am still afraid… and tired…
More water, I need more water… I think I am in love with water… seriously, I think I need a nightly IV of fluids…
Ahhh clarity of thoughts….
…water is sublime…
Page 7 and I am still trying diligently not to write what will hurt me…make me look bad… condemn me to the outer circle of hell, ahhh Dante…you really do suck…
Now that I have verbally shattered everyone else…I can rip my heart open…again.
Mending myself as I purge the haunting stupidity of my mistakes…
Guilt sucks…even if you don't look at it ..it lingers and festers and boils over until…
I am not a good mother.
I am selfish, I am weak, I am stubborn, I am arrogant, I think I am always right.
Trepidation is folly…
I was thinking about "G's" Grandma … Then my miraculously untamed mind went to …me, of course…me ,mememememe… (you kind of have to sing that, It's a Railey thang.)
…I almost strangled my child on her own guilt and remorse as I tried to refrain from seeing mine…
I thought about Judy… I thought about the time frame of knowing her… I thought about the circle of hell we lived through, my little village and I… watch and wait, watch and wait…
There are two stories that helped me see my frantic madness. (Don't let the normalcy befriend you ..I was completely mad.)
I refused to believe that I could not have the child back that had been lost to me… Steven Kings, Pet cemetery story made perfect sense to me…(If you don't get this part read the book ,but don't watch the movie, cuz you still won't get the allegory through the movie.)
You must truly see how deeply entrenched I was in the complete restoration of my child. Selfishly…I was completely prepared to tear her fragile, delicate heart open to see if she was still there. And She was just as completely ready to let me…I am her mother after all…mother knows best…I am such a bitch!
As I ripped and shredded all the crap from her while she lay perpetually bleeding inside the pain and trauma of my pulling and tugging at her soul…
She's ok…
She's ok…
She's ok…
Her twin remembers…running to get a bowl for her to throw up in as we lay on the floor curled into one another… feeling the trauma all over again…shaking with the velocity of the suffering… medicated and still, so scared…the only way through… is through …right???? again, I'm such a bitch.
Just when her sore would begin to scab over…I picked and picked at it until it bled freely again…relinquishing any of the old to make a fresh new one…only to be picked at again…complete restoration… a word I didn't know yet, but the concept was there. The jackals of hell sat perched next to us, as I washed her non- tear stained face with the fresh washcloth that Fate always had ready…the jackals laughed and told me I was killing her ...she would never be the same…she was damaged…forever broken, doomed to never truly feel anything…
Two stories collide inside my mind as they were told to me…
I had wrapped my baby up in her death shroud.. .her death clothes like Lazarus, believing that I would have her back, snarling and biting at anyone that told me I couldn't…Forcing everyone to do just as I directed…
…. Cocooned and safe inside our misery we clung to each other… all three of us…
…I sat cross legged on the floor of my bedroom looking through the box of pictures… I realized our life was distinctly cut into two separate lines. Before the rape of my children and after. I even had the pictures marked in that way. Metaphorically, One box of 'before' and one box 'after'…unknowingly…until the Spirit of God came and smacked me around a bit…
I sat and looked at the picture of a smiling carefree baby that I clung to...the four year old I craved to hold and smile at…
…and I went away… I lost myself…I caved inside my misery… I suddenly became less… I closed my eyes and saw… an alter… way past a field of green, green grass. I see the alter now… it was made of rocks. shaped from huge rocks to form the alter…I heard a thought inside my head… 'Can you lay her down? Can you put her on this rock and remove her death shroud? Can you put her there and walk away. Remove her clinging fingers from your flesh and walk away? Give her to me…GIVE HER TO ME. Even if it means her death…can you let me have her? Take me to where you lay down your faith and then remove her death clothes, even if she dies… Even if she dies, can you give her to me…'
… suddenly I came back to myself and I felt her real physical presence next to me. She sat with me cross legged on the floor of my bedroom, and held a picture of herself in one hand from the 'before' box, and in her other hand she had a mirror…She wanted to show me…She was practicing …"Is this how I used to smile mommy," and she pasted her little face with the same smile in the picture of before ,yet her smile didn't reach her eyes, still she tried it again and again as I watched I horror… I watched my eight year old try to become four again…right in front of me…she put a mask on for me… for me…for me… so I wouldn't be sad… sickened, and disgusted… I watched her in silence as my heart broke open and poured the pain and tears I had tried so hard to keep in check…
"….give her to me…now!"
…time would not go backwards for me no matter how hard I prayed…
…yet, I couldn't let go…
I closed my eyes and went… To the place…that place …there was no reprieve there either… I saw the alter, I looked down and saw that I held her and she was covered in white cloths. I held her close to me and I began to shred from her the small pieces of cloths…she frantically tried to stop my tearing and pulling… I refused to look her in the eyes…I couldn't, it hurt way to much…she trusted me. I tore the covering I had given her to exist in,
…The apathetic covering of waiting for the miracle of time going backwards for Mary…
I felt my tears in the natural world rain from me… I tore at the cloths as she tried to stop me, I could feel her fear, her disbelief…she had just been trying to please me… then I pushed her up to the slabs of granite… she turned to cling to me…she was naked, uncovered, unclothed…Confusion was the only emotion on her face… I tore her free from me and pushed her onto the cold grey slab…
…death would be better then this… We could no longer exist inside this apathy…
… I would see her again…
….I didn't understand what was happening, or how it could happen…
…just that time was short and I better hurry…
I pushed her from me… My spirit screaming for help…because I was literally drowning in my own tears…
…choking, I turned and walked away as I heard her pleas for me to get her…come and get her… mommy, come back…
…As I opened my eyes again in the physical world around me, she was gone…frantic delirium coursed through me as I stood to find her…
…didn't mean it…
…Didn't mean it…
She lay on the couch, her face and head wet with moisture…she was wet… but never with tears… she was asleep…
…Each time after, I had to give her to Him… it hurt less and less…
Again and again I had to metaphorically push her to Him… I couldn't mend her…He was the only hope we had of any appeasement.
…So I made her cry…
…I had to make her mad…
She was deficient to any genuine feelings…
…she had become quite good at mockery…
…Fake, Fake, Fake… not authentic, suppressed emotions to appear normal…
Anger was the easiest to discover inside her blank walls…
I had to make her angry, and hurt… I had to make her feel something…anything… If she couldn't feel she would never heal, or mend…She would be broken and damaged forever… I would not have that… she would be doomed to manufactured feelings…fake…
Naming emotions did not work. Showing her emotions did not work…blank words on a page… while other mothers showed their five year old the alphabet cards. I was showing mine pictures of emotions on peoples faces. To be real… to feel again…
…I pushed her away again and again… 'not me, I can't save you.' I would whisper wretchedly… I pushed her away… back to Him… It hurt so bad…and I was frozen inside my fear.
…back to Him again and again…
…slowly she began to appear…
………………………………...........Ok, ok…I'll be real, tearing the scab from myself is not as painful, but still very scary…This is how it really went down… no more bull----. This is how I ripped her soul open… disgracefully. This is me, no restraints, undignified and callous, purging to get to the truth at any cost…are you sure you want to know me? Of course you don't! the picturesque leaves are falling outside but, it sounds like hail. Yet, the beauty inside the fall is breathtaking… like that, baby. Just like that.
I sat on the couch. She blankly sat across from me staring at me as she always did… I prayed as I always did…I could recognize the urgency in the feelings around me… She stared at me and I talked to God inside my head…
…and the jackals laughed, 'now she is out there on her own…your not there, no one is there…'
……conflicting thoughts collided……..
…make her feel…something, anything… pick an emotion… my bones ached with constant fatigue…I felt so heavy, my body was beginning to match my soul…So large and bloated with the emptiness around me…
…so tired…
So very tired…
… I began the rant…I didn't feel the words, I contrived them like she did. I mocked the emotion to hurt her…to make her feel… it felt horrible, detestable, acid in my mouth…
…She looked at me suddenly with a new light in her eyes…"mommy, don't say that…" her little girl voice begged me to stop, but I saw the light and felt hope even as I felt complete loathing for the way into her darkened soul…I hated the way my spirit felt as I purged into her soul, hatefully … But I saw the light in her eyes, then the tears came…TEARS! Real honest tears…I ripped her soul open and saw her inner recesses. She was not gone! …just hidden.
…"baby, do you know what that is your feeling right now…" She looked at me as big authentic tears sprung from her eyes…"hate" …she replied… It was the easiest emotion to find.
Frantically I took back all the unbearable words and fell at her feet in a heap… I explained to her that we had just felt her first emotion since the dismantling of her mind and soul. (Some four years earlier. While your child was learning to ride a bike, mine was learning how to feel real emotions again. so you'll excuse me if I can't live in your random world of 'he likes me better then you.. No, he likes me better…STOP! …I please God; not man.) I told her, It feels bad now… but don't let go of it yet…ride it … don't let go…
… medication would be needed and upped at each new emotion we uncovered.(muah! to all the doctors involved and doing exactly what I directed as I needed it and never questioning the pathway back.) we would have to search and find, and bring the feelings back to us…with excruciating lethargy… We were on a journey to find my Lyric and she was well buried.
….finding the beauty in negative spaces…
The path back felt like an eternity, but I see now that it was less then a year. Not even a real year…just a school year… ha, those people at our old school NEVER want to see me again…They thought it would be a great idea to move to another district …yeah, don't fuck with a momma bear. She can smell fear and she will blissfully rip your throat out if you come after her cub… (Really, and not just with words either, I was utterly prepared to battle anyone who stepped in my way.) A wounded cub is not to be messed with.
…purging yesterday to conquer tomorrow…
The battle is bloody and strewn with ugly debris. The bodies you leave laying in waste while you journey on cannot be calculated or respected as you force your way to the other side of authentic belief. It's like I have told my girls and my nieces before them…
…beauty is never painless…
…Pretend is fun, but it's not real…
…Fake is a sad charade…
…Truth is vital and analytical …
…fallacy is a nocturnal obsession…
… deliberate excuses are dangerous…
…fighting defiantly to get to a place where you can rest, as you reflect on the importance of the journey is paramount or you will find yourself without passion, or flavor… salt with no flavor… I implore you to Find a safe place to rest your head… the journey is great; even as the suffering is vast.
************************DISCLAIMER**********************************
Purging and posting the essence of the existence I cruise around in is eminent to the whys I dream about when I am not dreaming of Him, the Holy one. He is the way… the truth…and the life… the same yesterday…today… and forever…truly! I am busy examining the whys, as I careen, headfirst and laughingly into the past of the life I tried to leave behind. Have no fear as I hold you up to the microscope of who you are, I am also diligently peering into the abyss of who I am. I love me even though I am a bitch…I can, because He loves me even when I am un-lovable. I also give you the same consideration. Whispered promises of tomorrow can only make sense if you analyze and dissect the past. Or maybe I am completely insane by now and I am really an old lady reliving my past as I want to see it… no, no I think I would make myself look better if that were the case.
Anyway, we journey through from the things that hurt, my girls and I, and we are busy praying for those that made a difference in our life. There are so many. So don't be a hater…Experiences are stepping stones and we have been sent to do greater things then you can even imagine. I want to be afraid…but He won't let me. I want to stop ,but He won't let go…I owe Him my soul, so I give it to Him as I beseech you to remove the tentacles of the past from my spirit and let us bloom. I can't be who I was…I can only be who I am…today. Pure of heart, full of grace, blissfully happy uncovering Him and understanding the love He pours forth to me continuously. What a God!
************my postings will continue……I have purged all the hate and reserved only the love, so I will diligently march forward into the journey He put before us. Forever resting in the scriptures Luke 6;22-23,27-35 and 2 Corinthians 4;8-10.

Peace and Love,
Mary the great

Man I am a manic mess sometimes...re-reading my rapid fire thoughts confuse me now...It seems I had a lot to say and such a short time get there before I went in another direction. How anyone could read me and not see the fractured thoughts...idk...still there is good stuff in the middle of my madness I think...so I will repost this one as well.

take a deep breath, it’s a long one this time!

Back to the way back, baby…
Reflection of the truth I stumbled around a while back. Time has no effect on me, because it just runs away from me so quickly. My peeps remember with laughter how my clock is set to one time and one time only…I ,uh don't change the time during time change because it messes with my head…I lose myself…I must know what time it REALLY is…so they all call it 'Mary time'… but you just gotta add or subtract the real time or whatever…whatever that means. My clock doesn't change.
Yah, my new boss has only just met me ,but he already knows me better then most people… he told me the other day, 'why is it when I talk to you, I feel like I am chasing my own tail!' teehee… I am not sure if I am offended by that or not…hmmm. Funny thought though, I do know that!
Anyway, that was not why I started writing today. I saw a picture yesterday. It was a picture of the girls. It was taken on a day that haunts us when we sleep. Fate had found it and asked if we could throw it away…burn it…or tear it up? I wouldn't let her, because… They were so small, so young… strange how one picture in time can take you back to a place in your head…negating all the history and truth that pulled you out of the pit of nasty that in one instant tried to kick the breath outa ya the first time around. It's like in a movie, all you get to see is the tunnel vision…like everything zooms into that one instant. And the feelings you had in that one instant crashes into your now, overpowering the peace you tentatively hang onto. 'Breathe', the voice in my head shouts…'breathe…your not there , it's not happening now, your out… breathe, deep breaths.'
Uh, That's not the point either…
The point is… taking responsibility in my history. Remember random and purpose…yah, I wasn't insane when I wrote that...not quite… just chasing my own tail, man. (I have always understood the Cheshire cat in Alice in wonderland.) Random…random things causing chaos in spite of your purpose or maybe because of your purpose. I am not going to go back to read what I wrote…I hate to do that… my old writing is like smoke…or dominoes. I build upon them until I can get to the other side…right or wrong...I don't care… it's who I am …no apology's…please don't make me go back and dissect what I said once…It's degrading and demoralizing for me. I'm already way past it, baby…are you tripping over my thoughts of yesterday, oh well, wait until you hear what I think today! Psht… mortals, teehee …just kidding! Tina, if your reading this: I can feel your eyes rolling.
I like to read Lord Byron, right...he said one time when asked, why does he write , he said I don't want you to become me, or even like me, I want you to take my thoughts and find your own way there, or around them… if ya can…or not…your call. Ok yah, I paraphrased, but there it is. Ya know build your own history and if my thought made you think about something…then I am done. I feel liberated...again, no apology's. Chasing your own tail, right. If you don't like it then stop reading it…right, just because it's there and handed to you. you don't have to take a hit off it…right? Just say no…right? I can, and have said , no for over 11 years now, no thanks ,man I got a better high then you can find in this world!!!!
I digressed again, dancing around the pain in the telling of the truth.
It was my fault. I was the adult and I left my girls in the care of others, innocently.
We all have choices, right? Random will slap you silly… sometimes. But the truth inside random is that there can be a purpose to it, if ya let it. But first you must take the responsibility of your actions, however innocent, however simple it seems...people will sometimes get hurt... Even when you mean no one any harm. Your innocently trying to do what you think is best for everyone and someone gets hurt.. Random.
Take responsibility for it so you can move forward.
It's like this…
I didn't mean for someone to hurt my children. It was never even a thought in my head… innocently I took my girls to a free babysitter. Something terrible happened. I didn't cause it. I didn't ask for it. I didn't invite it. I didn't even fathom the possibility. But wham! Random came and brought its friend chaos and raped our collective souls.
Crying, no,no… screaming out to Him…. my love, the maker of my soul. I raged why… "Ripples…ripples from the pebble thrown into the pond." You throw two pebbles in, no matter how far apart their thrown, the ripples will eventually run into one another causing an effect, right? I could sit back and scream , I didn't mean for that to happen, but it wouldn't change their history, it would only cause them more pain? Denial is a real bitch. Just because I didn't mean for something to happen it didn't take away the trauma of the random happening. I had to take my part in their history, my bad choice, my decision, my pebble. I had to say my sorry… Our councilor argued… hell everyone argued…and we stayed in our own circle of hell, until I looked my daughter in her angry eyes and told her my sorry for my wrong choice. I meant no harm …BUT, my pebble caused a current that could not be taken away no matter what we did...it would remain…no matter how hard we prayed ,no matter how hard we tried to ignore it...it was there. No do-overs. History is complete in the instant you breath. You can't take back some things…you can't pretend it isn't there. What's done is done. Call it what it is. Take responsibility for it. Name it, tame it, but you can't control it…it is what it is. Cogs in the wheels right? We don't mean to hurt other people …we just do by mere randomness. Our intent must matter, yes , but responsibility of our misguided intent must be analyzed first.
Meaning no harm, but causing a ripple in the pond of our existence is our personal responsibility to learn from … or , comprehensively… to give into. Releasing yourself into the random, allows the purpose to emerge beautifully. Take a breath and allow the beauty of your ripples...it's like taking your hands off the death grip of yesterday to get to the promise of today. Ahhhhh. that's it, man. It's when I took my hands off my version of reality, and what everyone else was telling me, and let Jesus show me the promise He had for me… I saw the truth. Undoing me to find Him…oh, oh, oh that's it , man…teehee, I love living inside my head… or, ya know… you can just have another drink, smoke another joint, live inside your own pride, live inside your self created destiny, deny your responsibility in the chaos around you...ya know… whatever…Or take the truth and bring it very close to your face and kiss it seductively even when there is unbearable pain.. There is beauty in the truth however painful it is. When you come out from the dismal belief in a half truth you can find the inner working of the cogs and wheels and not be scared…
….if your scared…go to church… ha, ha, ha …sorry! inside joke…some of my readers will get that and if you don't get it … don't get offended … it wasn't meant for you, baby. Ahem, your not my only reader. Remember, I belong to heaven. I know who defines me! I know who I am…do you?
The end of my tail is simple, yet unyielding…I'm not gonna stop writing…it's who I am, who I have always been, who He created me to be. The Written word creates intimacy, between the writer and the reader...it always has…it always will. If you don't get that...I don't know why your even reading me! I read blogs all the time and I comment the writers…all the time. Intimacy is important for me, it propels me to new levels. I take full responsibility for the intimacy I relate and try to propel forward, but as a reader, you must take responsibility for your own passionate responses. Knowing the writer should not deviate the feelings of intimacy, or incur the wrath of the emotions that are provoked by the written word. That would be your bad… or your childish rejection of a innocent thought that got deep into your soul, in spite of yourself. Ya know, show you who you fear you have become. Muah!…always…muah!
Reminds me of the time I drove my friend through a group of protestors at an abortion clinic…they didn't know what was going around our heads.,…they didn't know as we drove away from them that she was still pregnant, because instead of me telling her and controlling her destiny and becoming her god I let Jesus do what He came to do. I let God be God, because I have complete faith in His abilities…and I know I am only human and mortal. I don't want to screw anything up He is trying to do and I know His ways are so way better then mine…yah, her baby is now almost one and everyone still wants to fight about it…
Mystical, really …holding a baby that you fought for; without saying a word…living and breathing His beauty, His love, His glory…not mine, not me… I'm a speck in the dust… but authentic beauty releases me to the truth of His love...and she now is one of us...whoop, whoop… who would have thought a thought like that… a nice complete family reaching out for the kingdom of heaven, maybe not from your history…not the way anyone thought they would get there…but getting there anyway…in spite of the obstacles. I took me out, I left me behind… I let my dramatic, and fervent prayers be answered and now we have one family more for His glory! Not mine…not me, man. Being a disciple to His people as He would if He were with them, instead of us; mere mortals trying to control the outcomes before us. If I have learned anything from my history it is that my way is not always His way…I don't get it when I am in the middle of the chaos or trauma that I feel around me…but I have utter faith that He will bring it to an end and I will have complete understanding if I take my death grip off of it and let Him lead me. It was a hard lesson for me, as I am such a control freak, and I know what should happen to make my picture perfect life complete. I mean I absolutely know what I want to happen to make everyone happy… but I can't make everyone happy.(I sooooo wanted to tell her exactly what to do…I mean I am older and wiser and…of course killing is wrong….but it wasn't about me, was it? ..I wasn't even a trespasser into her mind…I had to be a blank slate . He had to be there in my place.) Telling her what to do is not my job. My job is to love, indiscriminately…unquestionably…and absolutely. Bring the love ,baby…the rest will follow…let yourself go and become crazy in love…gotta ,gotta have it…I'm a love a love addict!!!
"Live vivaciously, love deeply, and pray fervently.
Remember to give with simplicity and serve with humility.
Still, observe that meekness does not necessitate weakness.
Therefore, when challenged by obstacles, fight with tenacity."
T.D. Jakes
Oh yeah! Nothing in the world more attractive than a man on his knees at the alter of Christ…oh yeah…It's a big world and I have seen many things lately …I glimpsed a piece of heaven last Sunday… I felt the pull of authentic belief as a young man , with not one thing left to him… let his face crumple into a mask of absolute remorse and fear. He stumbled to the alter of my God and lay at the feet of the only hope he could feel as his world collapsed into the oblivion he thought he had control of. The utter pain and humility and total disregard of anything else in this world receding from his tentative grasp on this world left him clutching and grasping at a Deity I intimately know and love. I was humbled…unreservedly humbled by the love of Gods grace and love…
humbling yourself to the will of Jesus Christ is a beauty that equates to nothing else. I've been roaming for awhile now. Roaming inside the confines of where He directs me to visit. Picking up pieces of life and discarding the negative as I go and seek His face, My Being a watcher into the service of other Disciples… watching those around me reach out to a Deity, that they know is the only thing that can save them when they are down to that last breath…ahhhhhh...That's my peeps, man… gotta, gotta have it. Love addict….That's where I want to live, and praise and love…A disciple… a revolutionist… absolutely, and utterly alive in a second of time. Breathing deeply the love that is offered, however tentatively and fearfully. Offering it anyway… There is ,I think authentic beauty in the stunning fear of the Deity that created me. Or ,ya know…I could be wrong…just a thought I am currently chasing. Wanna run with me????