Thoughts on a Saturday Night.

Some people might think this belongs on my other blog.  You know, the one where I opine about political issues.  I'm not sure which blog it belongs on, but because I plan to do a series of longer posts on the Dobbs decision I put this "overall" post here.  

I woke up Friday morning, and I was grumpy.  I love my job, but work hasn't been the most fun the last month or so.  We have tons of patients with bronchitis, COVID, and even the flu.  Who gets the flu in June?  Tons of patients means tons of prescriptions, which we are attempting to fill with reduced hours, because this is supposed to be our slow time of the year.  So yeah, not a barrel of fun.  Luckily I have a great pharmily. (No, that is not a typo.)  Wait, where was I?  Oh yeah, I woke up grumpy.  This coming week I work five straight days, which means my almost completed schooling is going to be set back by almost a week.  Most of my family will be out of town, and I was really looking forward to a couple of days to clean, study in silence, and even work on painting my front porch.  I usually don't stay grumpy, because I have made it a habit to study my Bible before anything else.  If you haven't tried it, it works.  While I'm waking up, I usually check my email (should tell you how important I think that is), see if anyone on my several Pharmacy pages has posted anything funny, and then scan the news headlines.  I hadn't even opened my Bible and grumpy was cured.  The US Supreme Court overturned Roe V Wade and Planned Parenthood V Casey.  I've only waited some 30 years for that to happen, and people like my mom have been waiting since 1973.  

As I do plan to write more detailed posts on the opinion itself, I'm not going to delve into too much detail, but as a person who loves history, politics, and constitutional law, I have always believe that Roe was one of the worst decisions that the Supreme Court has ever made.  If you read that decision, they literally couldn't come up with where exactly the right to an abortion existed.  How do you rule something a constitutional right, when you can't even point to the part of said document that confers that right?  The result of the decision is the death of more than 63 million unborn children since 1973, bitter divisiveness in our country, and an inability for one side to have any say in the decision.  And all of that came about, as I said before, over a right that even it's grantors couldn't tell us where they found it.

Abortion is not a guaranteed right in the constitution.  Access to abortion doesn't violate the right to privacy (a right that also doesn't explicity exist in the constitution), it doesn't violate equal protection, and no, it also doesn't violate due process. It is also the only "right" over the last 49 years, that guaranteed someone had to die in order for that right to be exercised.  Maybe I have a whacked out opinion (really, I don't), but I have a little trouble with a right being conferred on one group of people that explicitly causes another group of people to die.  That seems unfair, and un-American.

That's all I'm going to say about the decision proper here.  My real reason for writing this has everything to do with some of the most asinine things that are being said today.  Apparently, because I'm pro-life, I only care about unborn children (not true), I only care about babies who are white and straight (not true), someone should burn down the houses of five SC Justices (wow, arson is still a crime), Amy Coney-Barret's uterus should be forcefully ripped out of her (assault is still a crime, and likely if it's forceably, that results in death, and murder is also a crime), we are living in the Handmaid's Tale (is our goverment sanctioning rape to increase our population?), the religious nuts did this! (I know quite a few very non-religious people who were quite happy with this decision), and some of my favorites are people actually advocating that women buy a HORSE DRUG to induce abortion.  Not to mention the name calling, the hate, the absolutely atrocious behavior over something that is still perfectly legal in most states.  Someone spouted actual falsehoods at my daughter today, and when she pointed it out, the person said "I love being ignorant towards you." and when pointed out that she was incorrect on her points again "Good!  As long as it pisses you off".  These same people who are spewing hate, advocating for riots and murder, cheering on the burning down of crisis pregnancy centers, last week were accusing some of us of "hate" because we said "um, men can't get pregnant".  Hate is in full force today.

The sad thing is, so much of this is coming from people I thought I knew.  I say thought, because 10 years ago, none of them would have said the things they are saying today.  What changed?  What happened that made people think that it was okay, not to change what they believe, but that in changing, they could then attack the people they used to align with?  Vicisouly attack them.   What you say on the internet is forever, so when you go after someone, it doesn't go away.  When you say hateful things, they aren't just remembered but preserved for ... well forever.  So when you call the child you love a parasite, you do realize someday that child might see that?  I have no words....

And then I did my Bible study today.  "Lord, is it Warfare?  Teach me to stand."  My Bible study is on Ephesians.  The whole book, but if you know the Bible, you know Ephesians is where Paul talks about putting on the armor of God.  It's warfare, my friends.  Everyday the devil gets angrier, because as God says, his time is getting shorter.  He aims to take down as many people as he can before Jesus rightfully exiles him to the place that was created for him and his followers.  He is using people, even people we know and love, to throw darts at us, hoping at least one of them will stick.  I've noticed that he's winning with some people, as they turn their back on the truth, and instead listen to the lie that tickles their ears.  That won't be me, but I also won't be engaging in fruitless arguments with people who think their own children were parasites before they were born, or people who think their parents should have aborted them, or people that actually think abortion is a human right (because human rights obviously should involve killing another human...right?).  I'm going to pray, continually.  I'm going to keep reading the Bible, and I'm going to stand...firm.  And I'm going to praise the God of all wonders, because yesterday, after 49 years,  I was given the right to fight back.  

Blessed are....

 Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. ~Matthew 5:4

No, I'm not writing about Uvalde, or any other mass shooting.  No, I'm not writing about my Dad, who is now in heaven with Jesus.  That's not entirely what Jesus meant when He was preaching the sermon on the mount, either.  Actually, I don't think it's what he meant at all.

It's mourning for personal sin.  It's mourning for sin in the church.  It's mourning for sin in the world.  It's mourning the way God does. 

Let me backtrack.  I'm doing a nine week study on the Sermon on the Mount.  None of it has been easy.  This has been two months of knowing, daily, how far short I fall from where God wants me to be.  Personally.

Poor in Spirit - yeah, tell that to the person who is generally the smartest person in the room. I have a pride problem.

Mourning - I get mad.  I like to think it's righteous anger (not nearly enough, if I'm being honest), but crying over sin in the world?  Uh....

Meekness - yeah.... fail

I could keep going, but I think I made my point.  The Beatitudes shine a spotlight on the ways I fall short.  Tonight, while I was trying to find pictures of my just arrived great-niece Hazel on Instagram, God pummeled me with mourning.

How do I not mourn when someone I thought I knew, who I thought I could never measure up to spiritually, who lived for years in a corrupt, poverty-stricken third world country helping orphan kids, literally threw away her faith, in the most public, soul-crushing way?  There was that first touch of righteous anger (or so I hoped), before my heart just broke.

The fact is, this person is not someone I follow much anymore, because several years ago I stopped paying attention to people who twisted Jesus into a pretzel to fit their world view.  So when I stumbled across a confusing announcement it led me to a post she had made last year.  A post in which she claimed the faith she and I had once shared was "a terrible way to live."  Cringe.... and I am heartbroken.

Not for me.  Her decision has no effect on my life.  We don't spend time together anymore.  Adulting and kids happen.  But still, she was a part of my life, to some extent, because she had always been a part of it since I met my husband 30 years ago.  And yet, there was God, whispering in my ear, "Blessed are those who mourn."  I am mourning.  I don't really know what any of this means.  Did she ever really believe, or was she faking it until suddenly she decided to be true to what she really believed?  But that's not my job to figure out.  God knows, and while I have many many questions, they aren't for me to ask, or maybe to ever know the answer.   

Mourning, by the way, was the week 4 lesson.  I'm starting week 9.  It took 5 weeks for God to bring that point home, but today, in the wee hours of a Monday, I am mourning, and praying.  

But I want to leave this little message for anyone who thinks that the structure of Faith in Jesus is based on the idea that idea that we are so horrible that we should hate ourselves.  That's not faith in Jesus.  That's utter crap.  Yes, the heart is wicked.  Yes, without Jesus all our "righteous acts" are as filthy rags.  But there's Jesus.  And yes OUR sins put Him on the cross, but He did it because He LOVED us.  Not a single human on this earth could do anything to Jesus that He didn't allow.  Once you get the poor in spirit part (the part where you admit that in the face of God's perfect you just don't measure up), then you can choose to accept Jesus.  Once that happens, once you confess your sins, He will forgive them.  He gives you a new life, a new heart, and the righteous things you do for him (and not for yourself), are no longer filthy rags, but jewels in a crown.  God love YOU, so much so, that He sent his Son to die, in a sacrifice that was one time, everlasting thing.  Your mission is not to feel like you are never good enough, it is simply to strive every day to be a little more like Jesus, and in shining His light, give others the chance to know Him too.

"For God sent not His son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved." ~John 3:17 

Never Surrender

Have you ever wondered if you went too far when you said or did something?  You know your thought process was right, based in what you believe, but that maybe, at the time, expressing it wasn't the best idea.  It's that old saying "just because you can, doesn't mean you should."  I was feeling like that the last two days, and so this morning I decided to be introspective.  Maybe I should take down what I posted.  Make it unavailable to the public for now, while emotions are raw.  Before doing that, I wanted to dig deep into why I felt that way.  We often react from a place of emotion, not a place of reasoned thought.  I won't say I wasn't feeling some strong emotions when I wrote my latest "issues blog".  I know I was, but were those emotions so overwhelming that I didn't stop to think whether or not I should actually put what I wrote out into the world.  The internet is forever, you know.

My deep introspection led me to realize that I am more driven by outside influences than I thought.  Every single thing I wrote (and I've read it multiple times), is true.  I didn't use big words, or focus on sentence structure.  I wasn't trying out to be a journalist or blogger somewhere.  I was writing what I think and feel about the current situation.  A week later, I still feel the same.  So then, why was I doubting myself? Why was I considering removing something I felt was important enough at the time that I spent two hours putting it together? 

Simple.  Everyone around me was doing and saying the exact opposite of what I had posted.  Even if not the exact opposite, they were all trying to be, I guess what we would term as, reasonable.  I cannot even begin to assume I know what is in other people's hearts.  That's something only God can do, and honestly, it's not my responsibility to worry about that.  I'm going to choose to believe that, like me, it's how they really feel.  However, how they FEEL shouldn't be able to change what I believe.  No on has offered concrete proof to dissuade me from belief that I am not inherently racist simply because I was born white.  I do not live under a cloud of white privilege, and I wasn't born under one either.  No one, no matter their skin color, should have to apologize for something they had no control over.  

We used to tell people, regularly, that it's not what happens to you, but how you handle it, that is the mark of your character.  I know we don't say that anymore but it's still true.  I choose not to think I'm better than others.  Actually, I know I'm not.  "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."  That's a fact. God doesn't put a race barrier on that statement.  We are all fallen human beings who screw up, and we do it more than any of us would like to admit.  But at the end of the day, God's grace is extended just as equally to all skin colors.  God made us all equals, in His sight.  That's how I choose to live my life.  So what I wrote wasn't wrong, or even insensitive.  It was simply, the truth. 

I don't need to walk it back because everyone else is trying to be reasonable. I don't need to walk it back because all of my friends and most of my family have suddenly decided they live in white privilege.  If you truly live like that, and I don't believe they do, but if you do, then you need to have some serious conversations with God.  One where you start by asking why people had to burn cities down, ruin livelihoods and kill people before you realized it.  It should never take riots for us to address our personal failings.  Racism, white privilege... they are personal failings, not institutional ones.  

I will not be taking my post down anytime soon.  

2 Timothy 3:16

I once watched an episode of Everybody Love's Raymond where Raymond's older brother Robert, a newlywed, was giving marriage advice to Raymond.  Raymond had been married a lot longer and felt a little miffed at the idea that someone still in the honeymoon phase would be handing out marriage advice.  Later on in the episode Amy, Robert's wife, decided to give a marriage book to Deborah (Raymond's wife).  At some point in her discussion with Deborah, she said something along the lines of "you may not like everything, but you have to accept everything."

That little tidbit bring me to my title and the subject of this post.

(I'm a King James girl, but I know most of you aren't so I'll put this in a version you are pretty much all familiar with.)

2 Timothy 3:16 says "All scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness."

I'd simply like everyone to keep that in mind.

I hear something so often now that I have finally decided to challenge the thinking.  "Jesus never said...."  This can apply to a whole host of things.  Considering that the Bible is 66 books, and the words of Jesus take up about the equivalent of four and a half of those books, Jesus didn't speak on a lot of things.  His actual length of ministry was about 3 years.  In those three years His main goal was, as He Himself stated in John, to save the world.  His actual birth and ministry is covered in the first four books of the New Testament, what we call the Gospels, and the very beginning of Acts.  (The other place His words appear is in Revelation, but by that time his earthly ministry was over and He was pronouncing from Heaven.)  

When well-meaning Christians (and I have to believe they are well-meaning), approach a controversial subject with "Jesus never said anything about that", I start to shake my head.... because of the title of this post.  2 Timothy 3:16.  ALL Scripture is God-breathed.  

However, for these well-meaning Christians, I think I need to go down their rabbit hole a little further.   When they are pointed to Scripture that wasn't written in red, they say things like "well, Paul wrote that, or John wrote that, or David wrote that."  Here's a tiny little secret.  The Gospels were written by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, they were not written by Jesus.  The beginning of Acts was written by Luke.  The beginning of Revelation was written by John.  If we are talking about the physical recording of Scripture, neither God nor Jesus physically took a pen or a chisel or whatever, and put those words on paper.  That's why 2 Timothy is so important.

You see, we have nothing other than 2 Timothy to point us to how the four disciples knew what to write down, or that they were actually writing down what God wanted them to write down.  As a matter of fact, without 2 Timothy we couldn't even be sure that those are ACTUALLY the words of Jesus.  For all we know the four of them got together and made the whole thing up....except 2 Timothy 3:16.  Paul wrote 2 Timothy 3:16, because God wanted us to know that ALL scripture is God-breathed.  ALL scripture, not just four and half books written in red.  God-breathed means they are the words God wanted recorded.  They come directly from Him.  Jesus was God incarnate.  "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God." (John 1:1)

If all Scripture is God-breathed, and Jesus is God, then by extension everything, in all 66 books, is what Jesus said.  To unceremoniously toss out anything that isn't written in red, makes what IS written in red absolutely meaningless.  Those words came to the Bible in exactly the same way everything else did.  God-breathed.

I do not normally post overly personal things on facebook.  If what I am posting is not something I would tell everyone at the local mall, or shout on a street corner, why would I post it on facebook?  Half the people we have as "friends" on facebook are people that we barely know.  If I need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to rant to, or if I need someone to just tell me it's all going to work out in the end, I pick up the phone and actually talk to someone.  

With that said, I'm going to post this little piece of personal to facebook, because I think maybe it will help someone.  

I lost my Dad less than 2 weeks before Christmas.  Outside of a few weeks at a grief group, and one Christmas Eve service, I have avoided social situations with a lot of people.  It's not my favorite thing on a good day, but in the last 4 months just the thought of it cranks my anxiety up to unbearable levels.  I intentionally missed two softball meetings, which isn't the greatest thing when you are the head commissioner.  I have been out a few times with my husband and my mother, but for the most part, I avoid even doing that.

In Grief Share they taught us to "do the next thing".   Well, for me, on most days, the next thing was simply putting my feet on the floor and getting up.  In the great words of Meredith Grey, most days I wanted to lay on the couch and feel like I might die today.

I suffer from anxiety.  Not generalized anxiety, not just a nagging feeling, but full blown panic attack, anxiety.  I can't eat, I can't sit still, I pace the floor for hours, I can't concentrate on anything.  It's the worst feeling in the world.  And when it happens, I am totally useless.  

It happened a month ago and lasted for two full weeks.  It was so bad that I finally went and saw the doctor. (Something everyone who knows me will tell you I don't do.) The doctor did find a magic pill that makes me a human being again, but I don't want to take a magic pill every day for the rest of my life.  I don't like the fact that I can't go anywhere for more than a few hours without making sure my magic pill bottle is with me.  And the worst part is, I have no idea why it happens.  I can't always point to a reason.  It's frustrating, it's depressing, it's unbearable.

Once, again, I'm not looking for sympathy, or a pat on the head, or someone to tell me how strong I am (spoiler alert: I'm not).

I took stock of my life. What is important to me?  What do I need to have in my life that I can't live without?  And who needs me?   What things do I need to focus on?  What problems can I reasonably fix?  What is worth getting upset over, and what should I just let go to the best of my ability?

I have mentioned to several people in the last few weeks, that I have things that I just refuse to let get to me.  It's a choice.  It's a choice between letting things eat away at me and making me that inhuman pacing robot, and being okay.

Yesterday, I determined I was going to be in a good mood.  I was up early.  I ran errands, I straightened my hair, I did the dishes, I played with my new vacuum cleaner, I had a wonderful hour long conversation with my husband, I worked on softball.  And the whole time, I was good.  Because I chose to be good.  

This doesn't mean I don't have to take my magic little pill ever again.  I had a softball meeting I could not intentionally avoid last night.  Thank God that He created people who had the brains to create the magic pill.  I needed it last night.  I don't know when, or if, the day will come that I no longer ever need it, but I don't need it every day.  

I am not saying it's the same for everyone.  As a person who suffers from debilitating anxiety, I would never tell someone else that they can choose not to need the pill.  It's not really that I chose not to need it, but that I chose to start eliminating unneeded stress from my life.  So, my son left the cereal box on the kitchen table again.  (He did.  I'm staring at it right now.)  So there's a sink full of dishes that aren't mine. (There is.. and they aren't.)  There are people in my life that I am worried about, their life choices, their futures.  I can give advice to the best of my ability, but at the end of the day, God is far more equipped to deal with that than I am.  I am one person, and I am positive that God doesn't want me laying on the couch feeling like I might die today.  And I know my Dad wouldn't want that.

Today I woke up, and I miss my Dad.  But I am going to choose to be in a good mood.  It's a whole lot easier being happy than miserable.  And there are little things that remind me of that.  Seeing Jay before he goes off to work.  The cat following me around the house for attention.  Getting to spend time with my precious granddaughter.  Gearing up for another softball season with people who I know are praying for me and supporting me.  Instead of stress factors, I'm choosing to focus on those things.  

I hope by sharing this, people understand that they aren't alone in these kinds of battles.  The people we find least likely to be suffering are the ones more than likely suffering.  If that's you, and you haven't found a way to choose the good yet, well, I'm praying for you.  It's the only thing I know how to do.  I don't have it all figured out.  I still get anxiety, and I am not judging you.  I'm right there with you.  And if this helped you at all, then thank God.  He is the only reason I can even type any of this out.  

***If you suffer from depression or anxiety, please go see a doctor.  It took me two years, and I wish I could get that time back.   Knowing that if it gets to the unbearable point I do have something I can take makes it far easier to choose the good.  

Verbal Vomit

Yes, it's a gross title.  I remember when I first heard the term.  It was during a Bible study about secrets. I'm not going to go into the details of the Bible study here, but needless to say, it was mostly about meeting God in the secret place.  Verbal vomit is, essentially, the inability to keep your mouth shut.  Only this post isn't about people just blurting things out. 

Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, pretty much every social networking site, is a hotbed of the brand of verbal vomit that inspired my title. 

I got up this morning, and as is my usual routine lately, I grabbed a bottle of water and sat down to persue facebook and the news.  The news comes first.  It's depressing, and usually there are funny pictures on facebook to counteract the depression.  However, I find more and more that my facebook is full of just as much in the depressive category.  It's full of verbal vomit.  Attacking others who have done them wrong, whining about the injustices in their life.. basically, it's people looking for sympathy.  Someone to pat them on the head and tell them that everything will work out, and they are a wonderful person who doesn't deserve all this bad stuff happening to them.  It is people looking for an ego boost from a social networking site.

I ponder why this is happening, and I realize it's because, at least for those of us in an older generation, we were taught not to be mean.  It is considered mean to say "Buck up.  Everyone has problems.  Now get your butt up and do something about it."  We won't say that.  Instead, we engage in the head patting and poor you speak that, maybe, makes a person feel better.  At least in the short term.  But the head patting and coddling don't solve the problems.  The problems come back, and so tomorrow, or the day after, the sympathy seeking person is back on facebook with another status about the troubles in their life.

It used to be we did this with our friends.  We picked up the phone, made a phone call, and our besties gave us the pep talk.  Now?  The pep talk is left to people we would rarely tell our deepest darkest secrets to,  at least not in a face to face setting, where truth and reality can hit home awfully hard.  Instead, we let people with only a surface knowledge of our life pat us on the head, because honestly, they don't really know that half the problems we bemoan on facebook are the result of our own poor choices.  They have the sanitized version of our life, and in turn we get the sanitized version of the pep talk. 

We are a society that now goes through life expecting to feel better after we post our problems as a facebook status.  Social networking etiquette demands people take your side, or at least, try to make you feel better about your horrible life.  And you are a horrid awful person if you have the nerve to comment on a status and say "hey, um, how about you NOT post this for the whole world to see, but instead, go do something about it.  Buck up.  Get off your rear and make some changes".    Nope.  You can't say that, because it's mean.

Part of me often thinks that getting rid of facebook wouldn't be a bad idea.  I have no desire to be inundated with other people's problems all the time.  This is not a lack of compassion, I swear.  But if I'm not the person you would call in a crisis, why am I being constantly bombarded with all the horrible things in your life?  Why is it that you want me to know the intimate details of your problems, if honestly, you'd never even ask for my help?  Not really.

How can you tell if what you are posting on facebook is word vomit?  If you wouldn't stand in the middle of your neighborhood and shout it to everyone within hearing distance, odds are, it's word vomit.  If you wouldn't tell it to your Bible Study group?  It's word vomit.  If you wouldn't say it at the next family gathering?  It's word vomit.  If you won't actually text the person who you are eluding to on facebook and tell them, personally?  It's word vomit.  Almost all of us have people on our facebook who are mere acquaintances.   If you wouldn't tell them this stuff on the street when you happen to meet up, it's word vomit.

And honestly, if sometime in the future, you get a response from me on one of your statuses that says "buck up!", it's because I care enough to stop patting you on the head and instead I'm encouraging you to move on and make things better. 

Summer Update (Yes, I am still alive..I promise)

If you bother to read this corner of my world, it's been a long time since I bothered to post a single thing.  Life got upended, and then crazy, and well, crazy hasn't stopped. 

In May, Bri participated in her Spring Show at School of Rock.  She was amazing, and most surely headed for another best of show, when life intervened.  On her way home on May 10th, she was involved in a car accident that resulted in a broken jaw, 5 days in the hospital, 4 weeks of her jaw wired shut, and everything suddenly changing.  Her army ship date was put off, she lost close to 20 pounds, and through it all, she was a trooper.  We easily forgave her for the tears and sometimes depression.  Imagine if you had to consume a liquid diet for 4 weeks.  (Side note: If you are looking to lose weight, the liquid diet will do it.)  She has since been unwired, and gained back 15 pounds.  We are still waiting to find out how things with the Army will pan out, but it's in God's hands, and He always knows best.

On top of the accident, Softball season started at the end of April (and is still going), and baseball season started the middle of May.  Until the middle of July, we were doing baseball two days, softball two days, and youth group on Wednesdays.  We were never home.  

The baseball team struggled, but they never gave up.  Lots of new kids this year, so we'll see how they progress into next year.

Softball?  Well we finished as the number one team in our conference, but lost a heartbreaker in the playoffs on Thursday night.  Double elimination means we get another shot to make it to the championship game though.  It's a long season.

Joshua was the busiest of us all this summer.  One week at Creation, one week at Camp Sankanac, one week of band camp, and next week he does a week at the School of Rock summer camp.  I knew he was growing up when I watched him this week at band camp.  Being in the marching band is not easy.  They learned 3 songs, drilled 3 songs, and then did a field show for the parents just yesterday.  They did a very good job.  I did find out something interesting this week.  Well, I sort of already knew, but when you put a whole bunch of drummers together, it becomes obvious.  Drummers?  They are their very own species.  They are a brotherhood that looks out for each other, gives each other a hard time, and they are very very strange.  Every day they had their very own huddle at the end of practice with chants like "Blood Brothers" and "Drumline is great.  Better than chocolate cake."  If Joshua thinks drumline is better than chocolate cake, well, that's something.

In 7 days we leave for the Outer Banks.  This week, Bri finds out where things stand with the Army, we play softball on Thursday night, and Joshua and I try to finish his Honors American History summer assignment.  Life is good.

**Note:  If I never post again, it's because my son has murdered me for posting this picture of him in his band uniform.  Isn't he handsome?  (He's not a fan of the plume.)