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St. Patrick’s Day

I love St. Patrick’s Day.

I don’t drink green beer or believe in leprechauns or 4-leaf clovers or pots of gold at the end of the rainbow.

But I love the story of how the grace and mercy of Jesus compelled a man who had everything ripped from him and who was sent to another country for the purpose of being sacrificed to the gods, to go back to the place of his greatest pain so he could tell the people who hurt him the most about how much Jesus loves them. I love how that one choice changed the trajectory of a nation. Patrick saw the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. He saw redemption. He saw freedom, both for himself and for the nation that had oppressed him.

Whether you know it or not, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day is celebrating the grace and mercy of Jesus. You’re celebrating the freedom and life that Jesus gives.

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Posted by on March 17, 2019 in Profundities

 

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The Least of These

My church talked about what worship means today. And that got me to thinking about the different ways churches I’ve been part of have viewed it.

There are many ways to look at worship. People who teach primarily from the Old Testament talk about worship as a series of postures, attitudes and sounds. David danced naked before the Lord in worship. You’re supposed to raise your hands. Kneel. Clap your hands. Dance, shout, and if you’re a little Charismatic too, shout or sing in tongues.

The Old Testament is all about the rules and having a theology of worship based on the Old Testament will give you a legalistic, rule-based worship model that can feel very chaotic at times.

I attended a church like that for a while. When I attended this church, there were several times when revelers took me aside and scolded me for not being “worshipful” enough. One particular incident occurred when a woman pulled me aside — actually taking me outside the building — to talk to me about how I was sinning because I wasn’t dancing and she wondered if I was “really saved” since I was living in such rebellion. I am a contemplative person. Worship aerobics is not my thing. Running around like a chicken with its head cut off does not bring me closer to the heart of God. It just doesn’t.

John 4:24 says  “God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.” I don’t claim to be a great theologian, but my understanding of that verse is that God is saying that He wants our worship to be honest. If we want something to touch the deepest part of the Spirit of God, it needs to come out of the deepest part of our hearts. Wild gyrations and screaming at the top of my lungs isn’t in the deepest part of my heart and my behaving that way in worship does nothing to sway Him because He hasn’t put those things in me. If I did those things, I would be allowing myself to be manipulated into being something someone else wanted me to be instead of being who God created me to be. I don’t think God responds to or cares for manipulation or worship birthed out of manipulation. Most of the time, I was adamant about not participating in this ritual because it did not feel genuine to me.

I moved to my current location 7 years ago and the culture here is so different. No one cares what I do in church. For the longest time, I would find myself bawling in church because I had the freedom to be who I am. No one cared if I raised my hands. No one cared if I clapped my hands. It was pretty normal to not dance or gyrate or holler in church, although sometimes it happened. But no one expected it and no one cared one way or the other. It was a very liberating experience for me because I was finally allowed to be myself in church. It was a beautiful thing.

If those things are your thing, then by all means, knock yourself out. Not literally. But, if God made you a dancer or a shouter or a tongue-speaking screamer, then by all means, you just do you. No judgement from me. I love to see how people are different. Everyone is unique and no one’s personal worship style is wrong or bad, unless it contains things like murdering children or seducing or raping people. I draw the line right there. Treat yourself and everyone else with respect and you’re good.

But, as I was talking with a couple of friends about this today, one of them asked me what I think worship is. If screaming and jumping around isn’t your thing, then what does it really look like?

And I said, “I have no clue.”

I mean, I probably could have thought of something if I had had more time. But in that moment, I wasn’t coming up with anything. This is what I came up with later:

One of the verses discussed in the sermon follows:

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Romans 12:1 (NIV)

True and proper worship involves offering your bodies as a living sacrifice. Once again, I am no great theologian. The original scripts are Greek to me (and probably everyone else too, since I think that verse was actually originally in Greek) and I can only draw my conclusions from English translations. That’s the best I can do. To me, offering yourself as a living sacrifice involves sacrificially loving and serving those around you. It means going without something you might want so you can provide for someone else’s need. It means taking two minutes to sit with a blind person and describing the sunset so they can experience it too. It means taking a minute to tell a child who can’t talk that they are so very important and so very loved. It means sitting with an elderly woman who lives with dementia and is terrified because she can’t remember. It means buying lunch for a homeless person or sitting in silence with a mama who has just lost her unborn baby and doesn’t have words to describe her grief and hopelessness. It means sometimes taking a minute away from those needs to attend to your own needs so that you can be a truly living sacrifice because if you run yourself into the ground, you might be sacrificing, but you’re not truly living in the process. Self care is actually a service to God. Taking care of yourself is worship.

I got to thinking about my work. I truly have the best job in the world. I get to sit with a sweet little boy all day and play and read and have dance parties and sometimes we just work really hard at breathing, because sometimes that is a very hard thing to do. A lot of times we snuggle and share lots of love and stories and music. Sometimes we talk about all the things that matter most, like life and love and happiness although his part of the conversation is hard to understand sometimes since his language is smiles and giggles and grunts and moans and moving his arms and legs. But we talk, and everything he says matters. Everything he does is noticed. We giggle together. We talk. We sing and we just have fun.

And all of it. All of it. Everything I do with him is worship.

I was reminded of this passage:

Then the King will say to those on His right hand, ‘Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.’
“Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’ Matthew 25:34-40 (NKJV)

And the awesome thing about it? None of it is hard. It comes out from the deepest part of my heart and it blesses my little guy. It blesses his family. And it blesses the Father, who put that kind of worship within me with the intention of seeing it flow out of me from morning until night, every day of my life. He didn’t put crazy, boisterous stuff in me because “the least of these” that I am around every day don’t need boisterousness as much as they need gentleness and kindness and attention and love.

True worship….It’s being who you are and loving those around you.

Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.
James 1:27 (NKJV)

 

 
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Posted by on June 3, 2018 in Current Events, Profundities

 

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Married People are Insufferable

I am not here to complain.

I consider myself to be more of a truth-talker than anything.

I will tell it like it is. I don’t sugar-coat it.

Married people are insufferable.

Some of the married population never really knew what it was like to be single in the first place. I mean, come on. If you married your high school sweetheart, you have no idea what it’s like to be single because you have never had to do any part of what the kids these days call #adulting without someone else by your side. If you’ve never “#adulted independently of a romantic partner, you have never been single.

#SorryNotSorry

If you got married in college or before you had to start being responsible for your own finances, you probably don’t truly know what it’s like to be single either. College, for many people, is an extension of childhood during which a student still enjoys being on their parents’ insurance, Mom and Dad help figure out the finances and the car and some parents even do their college student’s laundry. I’m not saying this is bad or wrong. But if you fit in this category, you haven’t #adulted today. If you got married while you still had this level of support from your family, you don’t know what it’s like to be single.

People tend to forget what singleness is like the instant the engagement ring goes on the finger.

Some forget what it’s like to be single as soon as the relationship is defined as a bona fide relationship.

If the selective amnesia doesn’t kick in instantly, it does come eventually, most often by the time the wedding band slips into place. In some cases it lies dormant until the first big fight or until the monotony of having the same person waking up next to you morning after morning begins to set in.

It doesn’t much matter how long it takes. It comes eventually.

And it is insufferable.

They complain about how horrible it is to be married.

Or they sit with a single person and they chide said single person because they don’t love the “freedom” of being single.

A married person might listen to a single person, feigning great interest in their circumstances and when the single person stops talking, offer a condescending remark about how they need to get right with Jesus because they have a “horrible attitude” about their lives.

The previous example happened to me recently. Today, in fact.

Someone made the statement that the book Redeeming Love (Francine Rivers) is a wonderful book.

I contributed to the conversation by saying that it is a brilliantly written and excellent book, but it is extremely frustrating for single people who don’t love being single.

They told me that I didn’t understand the story.

I understand it completely. I have a degree in reading (in the words of my brother) and in the many, many literature classes I’ve taken, I learned to recognize symbolism and find meaning in places the average person wouldn’t find symbolism and meaning. I also know the Bible. I know it quite well. I am very familiar with the story of Hosea and how his life was a foretelling of the redeeming love of Jesus. I understand that both Hosea was and Jesus is a man who loves people regardless of what they have done. It is beautiful and I love the concept of redeeming love very, very much.

But the book is frustrating. It brings that story into a slightly more modern-day time period and presents the “love story” between a man who marries a prostitute because “God told him to” with the intention of having his love change her into a woman of grace and beauty.

It’s a lovely idea.

I’m going to let my inner cynical old hag out, for just a moment, and make the comment that in the time period and geographical area in which this story took place, there were many more men than women. If this were a true story, it wouldn’t have been so much about a man proving a point as it would have been about a man who desperately wanted to have legitimate sex and operated under the delusion that marrying a prostitute would both provide him with legitimate sex and with a godly wife who had no interest in other men, simply because he picked her. If I remember the details of the biblical story correctly, it didn’t work out that way for Hosea. It didn’t work out that way for Jesus. It probably wouldn’t work out that way for anyone else either.

The book frustrates me because I’ve followed all the Good Girl Formulas. Things like:

Go to Church + Don’t Kiss Boys = Wedded Bliss

Pray + Dress Modestly = All the Men Want to Date You

Don’t Have Sex + Behave Demurely = Engaged by Age 22

Read the Bible + Don’t Talk to Men = It’ll Happen Before You Have Time to Wonder What’s Taking So Long

All the formulas. All of them.

I’ve learned that they are all lies. There is no such thing as quid pro quo when it comes to these things. God doesn’t do “If you do this, then I’ll do that” when someone else’ free will is involved.

I’ve had Christian men refuse to date me because I was too innocent. Or too godly. Literally, if I had been a prostitute, I would have gotten somewhere with those (Christian) men.

As I read Redeeming Love, I thought to myself, “The formula is to become a prostitute. Being chaste doesn’t work. Being godly doesn’t work. No matter what I do, I’m not good enough. So I might as well try being a prostitute. It worked for Hosea’s wife. It worked for the prostitute in this book. Why wouldn’t it work for me?”

Of course, that’s not the kind of person I am and I’m not actually going to become a prostitute — which makes it even more frustrating because the only thing I haven’t tried is something that I wouldn’t try. It really makes me feel like a victim of my circumstances. A girl can’t win no matter what she does because there are limits.

The other person responded by chiding me for making the story about sex trafficking (um…. the story is about sex trafficking) and told me I was being disrespectful to women who are trafficked (???) and the cherry on top was when she asked for permission to add me to her prayer list because she didn’t want to argue about it with me anymore.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

For the record, I wasn’t arguing. But you want to not argue? Just patronize me. Talk to me with a condescending tone. I wasn’t arguing. But now that you mention it…. Now I feel like arguing.

* * * * *

My response to the person’s preposterous statement was promptly deleted.

Further proof that married people are completely clueless about how truly difficult it is to be single, especially among married church people.

One might ask what my point is. Why make a ruckus about it?

I don’t talk about singleness every day. I don’t even think about it every day.

But having people shut me down as soon as I start talking about it gets old.

It says that my experience is not relevant or important. It says that my feelings don’t matter. It says that I don’t matter.

I’m sorry my experience is hard for you to hear about and watch. I’m truly sorry. But if you think it’s hard to listen to or watch and you feel the need to shut it down because it just doesn’t fit with your expectations as a Christian person…. you should really try living it.

You should try doing everything alone.

You should try coming home to an empty house day in and day out.

You should try having people pat you on the head and tell you you’re cute when you talk about it.

You should try listening to people tell you to get over it.

You should try talking about your places of woundedness and having people shut you down and tell you it doesn’t matter.

You should try having people getting in your business all the time because you’re just a little (single) girl and they don’t think you can do life without their input.

You should try to be an adult woman in a community that doesn’t recognize women as adults unless a man comes along and validates their existence by choosing to marry them.

You should try to function as a minister as a single person. Let me tell you — that does not go over very well in many circles.

You should try to live in a way that you understand to be godly and also try to date. (Hint: They either don’t want a godly woman or you’re not godly enough. There’s no winning on this one.)

You should try being not good enough and too good, both at the same time, depending on who you’re talking to, and rejected by everyone because of things that you can’t begin to comprehend.

You should try talking to people who have no concept of your circumstances and try to get them to understand.

They won’t understand. It is a truly frustrating situation to be in. You feel very isolated and alone and the harder you try to help people to understand, the more alone you feel because they don’t get it and they don’t care enough to try to understand.

 
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Posted by on April 21, 2018 in Current Events, Rants

 

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What is Your Calling?

Have you ever thought about the concept of your calling in life?

I was asked to ponder that question recently. What exactly does “calling” mean? What is my calling in life? What does it look like?

Calling and vocation are not the same thing. Everyone has a different vocation, but everyone who follows Jesus has the exact same calling.

Our calling, as followers of Christ, is to simply do everything we do with the same kind of love and compassion as Jesus. Our calling is to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Our calling is to meet people where they are and love them in that place in the same way that Jesus loves us.

This means two things. First, we are called to sacrifice of ourselves. Jesus gave up His very life for us. Most of us are not going to be asked to make that kind of a sacrifice, but we are asked to serve others at times when it’s not convenient. (Hint: it’s almost never convenient.) Most of what it means to sacrificially love people involves service. It might involve helping them pay a bill they don’t have money for. It could also involve easier things like taking the time to have coffee with them. Basically, it’s being mentally and emotionally present, even if it’s hard.

Secondly, we are called to extend grace. We are called to embrace people we don’t agree with and people who are difficult to love. Jesus did this so beautifully when He chose to extend grace to each of us.

We are called to be like Jesus.

Several years ago, I read the New Testament with the intention of taking note of the things Jesus did, why He did them and the attitude He did them with. He did things like hanging out with people that no one liked. You know — the tax collectors (thieves), the prostitutes, the disabled, the people with contagious diseases, the people possessed by demons and the people that no one wanted. Jesus chose those people. The ones who needed Him the most. The ones most lost. He picked them and then he provided for their needs. He healed them. He delivered them. He set them free. He talked with them and helped them see a better way. And he did it all with humble love and compassion. That is what we are called to do.

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2018 in Current Events, Profundities

 

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Busy-ness

Even very good things can sometimes become very bad for you.

I’ve been thinking lately about how full my life is. And I’ve noticed a pattern.

I fill my life to the brim in an effort to not have to think about how my life is void of everything I’ve ever desired in life.

When I was growing up, I dared to dream of having a husband and children. I knew it wasn’t likely to happen, but I thought maybe, if I played the cards right, things could work out.

As much as I want the desire to go away, it just won’t.

So I try to drown the sorrow of disappointment in a flood of activity.

Volunteering for every opportunity to serve at church.

Taking on every friend’s sorrows and trials.

Picking up every open shift at work.

Pursuing degrees, certifications and other educational opportunities.

Studying voraciously any number of topics. Health. Natural wellness. Oils, oils, oils. Psychology.

Reading everything I can get my hands on. Books. Magazines. Textbooks. Fiction and non-fiction. Then giving up fiction because the fantasy world in many works of fiction hurts my heart.

This past holiday season, I worked tirelessly because I could. It was holiday pay and overtime and it made everyone else feel good about their situation so there I was. It wasn’t bad. I love my job and if I can’t do holidays with my family, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than at my job. It doesn’t feel too much like a job so it was ok. (For the record, I asked to work a lot because I couldn’t get enough time off to go anywhere. I figured that if my options were to sit at home alone or to be at work, I’d rather be at work where I’d at least have someone to talk to.)

But they gave me several days before New Year’s off.

I had a mini crisis during my time off because for the first time in months, I had time to think and I felt like I was losing it. I cried for like 4 days straight.

It was then that I realized that for the past (roughly) 15 years, I’d crammed my life so full of good things that it numbed the pain of disappointment. As long as I was doing something or going somewhere, I was ok because I didn’t have to face how empty my life was.

I don’t think busy-ness is bad or wrong. I think sometimes God works through us in our deepest pain. Sometimes we need the activity just to give us a reason to get out of bed and sometimes many beautiful and lovely things can come out of those places of sorrow. Sometimes, for short periods of time, keeping busy is necessary and good. It helps us and it helps our families and friends, our churches and schools. Sometimes, busy-ness is a good thing.

But when it goes on…. for 15…. years….

That is when it becomes unhealthy.

Well, maybe it becomes unhealthy many years sooner than that. My point is, if you have to be that busy for a long time (longer than a few weeks to a few months), something is wrong and you need to address it.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what to tell anyone who might be struggling with this. I don’t even know how to help myself with this.

I’ve been thinking in the weeks since New Year’s about faith and how it pertains to the concept of busy-ness.

For many years, I was at church every time the door was open. I prayed. I read the Bible. I volunteered in ministries. I did everything I could. I did it to numb the pain and forget the sorrow. I found joy and laughter in it (sometimes) but it did nothing to heal the ache that no one saw.

I think it’s easy for us to think that if we’re focusing on God, we are doing good. It’s especially easy to think that by praying, serving and seeking God, we are moving in the direction of healing. Jesus is the healer, right? If we’re seeking Jesus, the Healer, we’re bound to find healing and restoration eventually, right?

Looking back on it, I can tell you that is not always the case. There have been times when I’ve used the words “I’ll pray about that” as a way to avoid making difficult decisions that would propel me into freedom. Sometimes I used church or ministry opportunities as an excuse to not do the things that would bring true restoration to my soul. Sometimes very good things — like prayer, ministry opportunities, church meetings and Bible studies — are the reason we stay stuck.

Don’t let good things come in the way of the best things.

The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy. I have come that you may have life, and have it more abundantly.
John 10:10

I’m not saying that everything a person does to keep busy is bad. I’m not saying that church and Christianity are bad. I’m saying that busy-ness can be the thief that comes to steal, kill and destroy. I’m saying that sometimes the thief (Satan) uses very good things to destroy us or to keep us in places of pain. Our job is to honestly assess the motives behind what we are doing and only do those things that will bring us abundant life.

If the Son sets you free, you are free, indeed!
John 8:36

Jesus has already set us free. We have only to figure out how to live free. We aren’t living free if we’re filling our lives to the brim with things that are designed to numb our pain.

 
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Posted by on March 2, 2018 in Current Events, Profundities

 

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84

I’ve been reading a book called Angel Sister. The main family in the story consisted of a husband and wife who were children of men who wanted to control and micromanage them. Their fathers let them know what they were expected to do (beginning with not marrying each other), and when they — as adults — “defied” their fathers, their fathers told them that they were ungrateful and rebellious, and then they told everybody else the same thing.

Several years later, the family was starting to fall apart. The husband began drinking. The wife was at a loss as to what to do. The oldest and youngest daughters were clueless that any of this was happening, and the middle daughter was the glue that held them together. She was the one that got dear old dad in bed when he came home drunk. She did everything she could to keep the peace in the family.

Near the end of the book, the wife’s father died. When she told her step-mother that there was nothing she could do now that he was gone, the step-mother told her “he always said you were an ungrateful daughter.”

The narrative throughout the next couple of pages consists of the thoughts that go through this character’s mind after hearing her step-mother’s words. She reminds herself of all she’s done. She asks what she could have done better. She comforted herself with words from the Bible that reminded her that even though she wasn’t — and could never be — perfect, God still loved her, and He would honor her efforts, even if her father (and step-mother) didn’t.

The following is a paragraph that concludes her thoughts on the matter:

It didn’t matter what Carla said. It didn’t matter what Nadine’s father might have said before he died. Nadine had been a dutiful daughter. Perhaps too dutiful. She and Victor had both let their fathers’ expectations of them color too much of their life together. Expectations that neither of them had ever been able to live up to.

* * * * *

There comes a time when one must be allowed to grow up.

* * * * *

I’m not a parent, but I think I understand how situations like the one in the book can happen. Parents don’t want their children to experience the consequences of making poor choices, so the parent tries to make all the decisions so that if something goes wrong, they can only blame themselves.
Or maybe the parent is just a jerk.

Of course, there are probably millions of reasons why this could happen. But this post isn’t about reasons.

* * * * *

It’s very difficult to be that child.

You know what is expected, and you (typically) do it because you know that if you don’t, word vomit will ensue.

“You’re not supposed to do that! You know better than that!”

“But I told you to do _____________, and you did _____________ instead. What are you thinking?”

“I’m so disappointed in you.”

“If you do that, you are going to ruin my whole week.”

“You were supposed to use that money for ______________, not for that stupid ____________.”

* * * * *

The past few weeks I’ve been thinking about this phenomenon.

It’s sort of like, if you don’t have the opportunity to assert your independence when you’re growing up, you will never have an opportunity to assert your independence — because every opportunity you have is shadowed by the lies.

The lies that tell you that somehow, you are responsible for making sure that everybody is happy and that if somebody isn’t happy, it’s somehow your fault. The lies that tell you that you’re not allowed to live because you’re so busy simply existing as perfectly as is humanly possible.

The lies bring death.

You’re so busy living for other people that you don’t get a chance to live for you.

And the saddest part is that the person who is telling you what to do and be doesn’t get any joy out of it either.

In the end, you have one person (or maybe two) who is pacified (neither happy nor unhappy) and a person — yourself — who is bored, sad and dead on the inside.

* * * * *

I’ve been that person for a very long time.

In the past few weeks, I’ve been reading and studying some stuff and have come to the conclusion that this has got to stop.

Because no one benefits from a person who is sad, bored and slightly petrified on the inside.

I’ve seen it in my work. I was so bored with work — because I’ve been conditioned to believe that the only reason you work is so you can pay your bills. And put food that you don’t even like on the table. And maybe buy some nice thrift store clothes that were in style in 1997. And, pay extra on loans. Like, every penny that doesn’t go toward bills, nasty food and severely outdated thrift store bargains goes toward paying off loans. Oh — and tithing.

Your money isn’t supposed to be used for living. It’s just there to help you — sadly — exist.

I’ve seen it in relationships. Picture the new dad who vows that his baby girl isn’t going to date until she’s 35. That kind of loneliness leads to sadness. Boredom. A hard little lump that’s supposed to be a vibrantly, joyfully beating heart.

People give you a purpose. But it’s a purpose that only brings stagnation. You’re there to serve people, and if you’re not serving them, you aren’t supposed to be around them. Giving. Giving, giving and giving some more. But you never receive anything in return. And you die a little bit on the inside.

I’ve seen it in how I keep my house. Why take care of something that is only meant to keep the rain and snow off of you? You’re not supposed to enjoy the place you are most of the time. It’s not supposed to be pretty. Don’t put stuff on the walls because when you move, you’ll have to fill the nail holes. Don’t buy anything new, because when you move, the windows won’t be the same size and you might not be able to fit that bed into the new place. Thrift store bargains are good enough.

All the things they say-

You can’t afford to get a better car.

You shouldn’t waste your time and money on a vacation.

Why must you be friends with THAT person when THIS one would do just fine?

Thanksgiving won’t be the same without you.

Just please…. let me be a grownup. That’s all I ask.

I want to have the freedom to traipse through a car lot without feeling guilty for entertaining the notion that I could plunk down a pile of cash and drive off with a new car.

I want the freedom to talk to men and not feel guilty because I’m not allowed to date until I’m 35. Or because I might be causing him to “stumble” simply by looking in his direction. That’s way too much pressure. I just want the freedom to…. be. The freedom to let things happen — and to not feel guilty because I’m feeling something other than sad, bored and slightly petrified on the inside.

I want the freedom to spend my money how I want to spend it — because if I can spend it how I want to spend it, it’s so much nicer having to earn it. Work is more fun. The people around you are more interesting. It helps end the sadness, boredness and deadness.

I mostly want the freedom to do what I want to do and to not feel like I have to hide it from people. Because that kind of secret brings sadness. Loneliness. Brokenness. Pain. Death. I’m so done with that. I just want the freedom to be me.

 
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Posted by on August 2, 2013 in Current Events

 

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My Birdie

I got a parakeet last week.

Solomon is a beautiful shade of blue.

If he hears music, he chirps along. It’s nice.

I let him out of his cage when I get home in the evening, and he sort of flutters about a little bit, but then he finds a nice perch somewhere and just sits there.

The first time I let Solomon out of the cage, I chased him around the room trying to get him back into the cage and he just flitted from one perch to the next. It was really quite maddening. My friend then informed me that he would go back to the cage on his own when he got hungry.

So now I just leave him be when he’s out. And he just sits there.

Solomon could be exploring my house, but he just sits there. It’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s not in a cage. He doesn’t know he’s free.

Solomon and I have that in common.

I spent years being told what to do, what to think, and how my life was going to turn out. Then I left and years later, I’m still doing the same old things, even though I’m no longer caged.

When Solomon does venture out to explore, he always ends up flying into walls. It’s like he’s not even looking where he’s going. It’s really quite comical.

Solomon and I have that in common too.

I don’t literally walk into walls. But when you don’t really know what freedom means, you kind of just sit there, fearful of where the next move might take you and not really knowing what to do next. So you sit there until you sense danger. Then you flit and flutter a little bit, you fly into a few walls until you find another good perch — and you hope that it’s going to be safe for a while. You want it to be safe forever — but you just don’t know if that’s even possible. After waiting a while on your new perch, you start to get a little anxious because who knows what might happen next? So you flit and flutter about a little more. You’re looking for the security of the cage, and while you’re looking, you fly into a few more walls, get a few more bumps and bruises, and wonder what is going on and how you’re supposed to get what you need. Finally, you find it. You let yourself back into your nice, safe cage and wait for the door to close behind you.

Not realizing that although you feel safe, you have just lost your freedom.

 
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Posted by on June 11, 2013 in Current Events

 

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