There Once Was a Girl……

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There once was a girl who grew up normal. Public school, no abuse, no poverty. Small town middle class. She grew up in an era of changing times. Born in the 60’s, young in the 70’s, a teen in the 80’s. She never had religion and listened to what everyone else did about culture and how-to live life.

She ran off to Alaska as soon as she could. Same old story, small town girl running away from the life she knew, thinking the world was a much better and brighter place than at home. She thought, as all young people do, she had her life together, she had big plans and nothing will stop her.

She had a miscarriage in ’84. Didn’t think about it much. Having too much fun. She misses home, moved back in 87. Finds out she is pregnant by a married man in AK. Seeks help. She visits a christian ‘Care Net’ type place. She refuses the help, she already knows what she needs to do. This thing will not the stop the trajectory her life is headed. Her next stop, Planned Parenthood.

She works, she dates, she doesn’t think about her actions or her consequences. She meets and dates a guy who is abusive, but for some godforsaken reason she stays with him. For too long. She also kills 2 of his babies. She had her reasons. She wasn’t going to be ‘attached’ to him by any means and her life just didn’t have room for kids.

She had now officially graduated to using abortion as birth control.

In ’92 she meets a man, a man who she could see a future with. A good and kind man. She gets pregnant 3 months into the relationship. For some reason, she sees a future with a kid. With his kid. What made her change her mind about this one?

The pregnancy time was wrought with difficulties, lots of stress and being pregnant was not ideal for her. But she had the love and support of her family and man. Did she think of her other children? Did she wonder what life would be like if she had kept them?

Out came a healthy beautiful baby boy who quickly became the love of her life. And as parents know, she wondered what was that other life she had before him. She struggled with post partum depression and dabbled with alcohol abuse, she decided to ‘go it alone’. Her son was 4, it was ’97. She left the man for a time and sowed some wild oats. She got pregnant. By a man she had no intention of being with. She had no one to help. She asked her baby daddy to take her to the clinic. He did. He drove her there with her little son in the back. He picked her back up and took her to her apartment.

Heaven only knows what this man was thinking, but he loved her, so he helped her.

How could this woman, who had experienced a child moving in her womb, loved a child so much, how could she so callously kill another baby!

But she did. And she did with no less qualms than before. A few months later she gets back together with her man and they get married. The cutest little 5-year-old was the ring bearer.

God finds them. They find religion. They join a church. She learns of Jesus dying on the cross for all her sins. ALL her sins. She learns of forgiveness and lovingkindness. She dreams of one day seeing her children in heaven, standing there waiting for her, hugging her and telling her they love her.

She struggles with forgiving herself. She finally sees the gravity of things she has done. She is surrounded by christian women who have also done the same thing. She bonds with them. She does bible studies, post abortion healing studies, you name it, she studied it.  Has she ever forgiven herself? How can she claim to be a christian when she has done horrible things? She sits in silent shame every Sanctity of Life Sunday at church. She hears the pastor condemning remarks about people like her who kill. She feels like a monster.

She slowly does forgive herself, but the pain never goes away. She knows she took life. Precious life.

She learns more about her faith. Her church is of the reformed faith. They believe in, among other things, election. In simple terms it means God has foreordained every single human being to be ‘elect’, or God’s chosen, before they were formed in their mother’s womb. So, no matter what a person does, he or she is either God’s or not. Not based on anything they do or will do in life. So, to flesh that out, even babies, whether aborted or dying in infancy are either headed to heaven or hell. Based solely on Gods discretion.

She had a bit of a meltdown. She had always assumed she would get to see her children in heaven, to apologize, to hold them, to even worship the Lord together. Now she must deal with the knowledge she may never see them.

Fast forward to 2005. Her teenage son comes out as gay. She sees no grandchildren in her future. Her life is upended once again. She has gone through many crisis of faith in the past 13 years. She doesn’t understand how to reconcile much of what she has been taught about the Lord in regards to her real life situations. She struggles to make sense of it all. Life still moves forward.

 

How do you feel about this girl? Is she a monster? Do you think you could love her now, knowing what she has done and how she struggles with her faith?

Do you think if she just had more faith she would be fine? Do you, as a mere human, forgive her, her trespasses?

Will you come to her in love, if she confesses to you, she doesn’t know if she believes in God anymore? At least not the God of Calvin and Sproul?

Will you still be her friend if she lets you in on her secrets? Would you embrace her with all her scars?

 

 

 

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How Many Times Can One Mother’s Heart Break?

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The answer is: many and often.

 

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/freedhearts/2015/05/25/i-am-the-mother-of-a-gay-son-and-ive-taken-enough-from-you-good-people/?fbclid=IwAR1AA8iK3Nl_0aqQ3z4DK6Ev8HgOrdjlCRQdQv4fZDApoD-BOIK5kEuiYqA

A website, a letter to a newspaper. Heart broken.

excerpt:

Many letters have been sent to the Valley News concerning the homosexual menace in Vermont. I am the mother of a gay son and I’ve taken enough from you good people.

I’m tired of your foolish rhetoric about the “homosexual agenda” and your allegations that accepting homosexuality is the same thing as advocating sex with children. You are cruel and ignorant. You have been robbing me of the joys of motherhood ever since my children were tiny.

My firstborn son started suffering at the hands of the moral little thugs from your moral, upright families from the time he was in the first grade. He was physically and verbally abused from first grade straight through high school because he was perceived to be gay.

He never professed to be gay or had any association with anything gay, but he had the misfortune not to walk or have gestures like the other boys. He was called “fag” incessantly, starting when he was 6.

In high school, while your children were doing what kids that age should be doing, mine labored over a suicide note, drafting and redrafting it to be sure his family knew how much he loved them. My sobbing 17-year-old tore the heart out of me as he choked out that he just couldn’t bear to continue living any longer, that he didn’t want to be gay and that he couldn’t face a life without dignity.
You have the audacity to talk about protecting families and children from the homosexual menace, while you yourselves tear apart families and drive children to despair. I don’t know why my son is gay, but I do know that God didn’t put him, and millions like him, on this Earth to give you someone to abuse. God gave you brains so that you could think, and it’s about time you started doing that.

At the core of all your misguided beliefs is the belief that this could never happen to you, that there is some kind of subculture out there that people have chosen to join. The fact is that if it can happen to my family, it can happen to yours, and you won’t get to choose. Whether it is genetic or whether something occurs during a critical time of fetal development, I don’t know. I can only tell you with an absolute certainty that it is inborn.

If you want to tout your own morality, you’d best come up with something more substantive than your heterosexuality. You did nothing to earn it; it was given to you. If you disagree, I would be interested in hearing your story, because my own heterosexuality was a blessing I received with no effort whatsoever on my part. It is so woven into the very soul of me that nothing could ever change it. For those of you who reduce sexual orientation to a simple choice, a character issue, a bad habit or something that can be changed by a 10-step program, I’m puzzled. Are you saying that your own sexual orientation is nothing more than something you have chosen, that you could change it at will? If that’s not the case, then why would you suggest that someone else can?

A popular theme in your letters is that Vermont has been infiltrated by outsiders. Both sides of my family have lived in Vermont for generations. I am heart and soul a Vermonter, so I’ll thank you to stop saying that you are speaking for “true Vermonters.”

You invoke the memory of the brave people who have fought on the battlefield for this great country, saying that they didn’t give their lives so that the “homosexual agenda” could tear down the principles they died defending. My 83-year-old father fought in some of the most horrific battles of World War II, was wounded and awarded the Purple Heart.

He shakes his head in sadness at the life his grandson has had to live. He says he fought alongside homosexuals in those battles, that they did their part and bothered no one. One of his best friends in the service was gay, and he never knew it until the end, and when he did find out, it mattered not at all. That wasn’t the measure of the man.

You religious folk just can’t bear the thought that as my son emerges from the hell that was his childhood he might like to find a lifelong companion and have a measure of happiness. It offends your sensibilities that he should request the right to visit that companion in the hospital, to make medical decisions for him or to benefit from tax laws governing inheritance.

How dare he? you say. These outrageous requests would threaten the very existence of your family, would undermine the sanctity of marriage.

You use religion to abdicate your responsibility to be thinking human beings. There are vast numbers of religious people who find your attitudes repugnant. God is not for the privileged majority, and God knows my son has committed no sin.

The deep-thinking author of a letter to the April 12 Valley News who lectures about homosexual sin and tells us about “those of us who have been blessed with the benefits of a religious upbringing” asks: “What ever happened to the idea of striving . . . to be better human beings than we are?”

Indeed, sir, what ever happened to that?

 

No one can know the extent of my boys bullying when he was younger. Not even his mother.

My son didn’t have mean bone in his body growing up. He was kind to everyone. He went to a christian school. He never acknowledged he was gay. But he knew gay was bad. And I’m sure when he realized that he was gay, he also knew he was bad.

This breaks my heart.

The bullies….were girls…they were bad, unremorseful and relentless. The school would do nothing. We took him out of one school into another christian school in 5th grade, only for it to get worse.

This broke my heart.

Our church took away all my sons ‘privileges’ when they found out about his struggle. And it was a struggle at the time. They took communion away. Piano playing and tried to foolhardly ‘counsel’ him. Counseling consisted of repeat the homosexual verses in the bible and asking son to repent. Over and over.

My heart broke.

I don’t know the depth of his pain as he contemplated suicide, but I do know it was often. And I thank god he never went through with it.

If he had. My life would have been over. Broken.

He has slowly walked away from faith, and quite frankly, I don’t blame him. I struggle with my faith. I struggle with things the god of the bible says about my son. I struggle more with the arrogant ignorant Christians who continue to vilify people not like them. I struggle with the parents who have the audacity to kick their own flesh and blood out after hearing they are gay.

My heart mourns for those children.

~~

Moving forward to today. My son send me a picture of him and his partner at his work, helping do valentine crafts with kids that live in shelters and group homes.

My heart bursts.

My son who works at a non-profit helping disadvantaged kids get a proper education. My son, who had been with his partner for 3 years, they live together. They are raising a cat and a dog together. My son, who has the biggest heart, who had overcome so many challenges, Who has more compassion in his pinky than most christians. Who has cried himself silently to sleep, laying there confused and scared, and his mother not knowing.

My heart breaks.

I struggle how to interpret the bible in this day and age. I struggle whether I should just leave the faith, because I don’t want this faith, this religion, this god, if my son can’t have it. If my son gets treated less-than by these same people I am supposed to call brothers and sisters. If there is a heaven, and my thoughtful, caring, compassionate son doesn’t get admitted because he was gay.

My heart yearns for wholeness.

As the woman who runs that website in the link, I say “I choose my son”.

 

 

Musings on….. Ageism

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Q: What is ageism?
Ageism is the stereotyping and discrimination against individuals or groups on the basis of their age; ageism can take many forms, including prejudicial attitudes, discriminatory practices, or institutional policies and practices that perpetuate stereotypical beliefs.

~~

I watched the Kominsky Method on Netflix and without giving too much away, it is about 2 male friends learning to deal with old age and all the crap that comes with it.

One of the lead characters in put into different situations and the audience is shown how people react to the ‘old man’.

It is sad and funny and really hit home.

52 years old and starting to see that in my own life. Right after watching that show, I was in the grocery store and a young woman and I were coming out of an end aisle at the same time, the man who almost ran into us, looked only at her and apologized.

Mind you, I have never thought if myself as a looker, never tried to be a looker, I dress modestly, wear no make-up, the days of dressing to impress died in the 90’s. My tats seem to be the most oogled thing about me. hahahha

I would rather surround my self with a gaggle of silver-haired ladies than a bunch of young uns any day. The wisdom and self-awareness and kindness is intoxicating.

I volunteered at a warehouse this past week and was amazed by all the older people there. Working hard, standing on concrete for long hours, smiling, eager to do whatever is asked of them. Many coming for multiple years to serve.

I sometimes bemoan that my life is almost over, that all my good years are behind me, but seeing these older folks gives me hope. Regardless of how people ‘see’ me, I want to live a voracious servants life of love.

Give me examples of ageism, have you experienced it?

Musings on… My Value

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val·ue
/ˈvalyo͞o/
noun
1.
the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.
“your support is of great value”
synonyms: worth, usefulness, advantage, benefit, gain, profit, good, help, merit, helpfulness, avail;
2.
a person’s principles or standards of behavior; one’s judgment of what is important in life.
“they internalize their parents’ rules and values”
synonyms: principles, ethics, moral code, morals, standards, code of behavior
“society’s values are passed on to us as children”
verb
1.
estimate the monetary worth of (something).
“his estate was valued at $45,000”
synonyms: evaluate, assess, estimate, appraise, price, put/set a price on
“his estate was valued at $345,000”
2.
consider (someone or something) to be important or beneficial; have a high opinion of.
“she had come to value her privacy and independence”
synonyms: think highly of, have a high opinion of, hold in high regard, rate highly, esteem, set (great) store by, put stock in, appreciate, respect;

~~

Yesterday a bunch of older men and my hubby were talking about life insurance and he mentioned that I was upset that I don’t have any life insurance. They all, in unison, said and snickered, ‘what does she need life insurance for?’

[Patriarchy at its finest] *sarcasm font

Lately I have been thinking about my value, more, I have been feeling defeated because I don’t think I HAVE any value.

But how do I even define value? An insurance policy? A pat on the back from my family? God’s approval?

And do people who have servants hearts all feel this way?

by nature a servant is ‘below’ the people they are serving. I’m not against that. I love helping people. I’m at my best when I do that. If I am not serving, I’m not living. Not being able to say no…that is another story for another time.

by nature a servant thinks of others needs. Most of the time before their own. Servants have empathy. Why do servants do what they do?

According to the definitions above

Do they want to feel worth or usefulness

Are they abiding by rules, moral codes

Do they, or can they, put a price on their servant hood [life]

Do they want others to view them with esteem, importance, respect?

~~

In my case
growing up my parents weren’t the best at affection and encouraging words. my father wasn’t present in our sports, concerts, school life. He worked. Hard. He kept food in the house he maintained. His job was done, apparently. I think my dad attended one thing, my graduation.

My mother likes to blame my dad for talking down to us, in reality [or my reality] she was the one who called us stupid and any dreams and ideas were stupid.

In essence, if my dreams are stupid, the dreams are a part of me, so I’m stupid. This also would follow the same lines…[If being gay is wrong/sinful and I am gay, then I am sinful and wrong.] *sorry, rabbit trail

Fast forward to marriage, birth of son [in the interim years, I never kept a boyfriend long, never was going to let anyone hurt me, another story for another time]

Shitty start to a relationship..and after son was born, MAJOR depression. Mix in some alcoholism and poof…. feelings of inadequacy and not being able to work, and ending up in a week-long hospital stay… ugh. hate just thinking about it.

Played stay-at-home mom with relish. As I remember hubby and I agreed to it. made better sense. Too much work always stressed me. We didn’t have a financial burden to worry about. Since we are dealing with value and this pertains to it, and even tho hubby hates it. Hubby deems money highly. He has made a good life for all his family and has worked hard to be a good provider.

Its more about things that he thinks and then proceed out of his mouth.

I’ll try not to get into too many details, but over the years, its obvious that I am not of the same ‘value’ because I don’t make money in this household.

I think it is worse in the christian culture. the bible is wrought with women being less-than and groups that hold to literal interpretations of the bible are super guilty of this.

Maybe I feel hurt because it’s the people who I think should value me the most, don’t. I know that most people just value me for what I do for them and I can handle that. They aren’t in my life all the time.

Never when I feel hurt by being under valued, do I want to stop being a servant.

What about legacy? Does that have to do with value? Will I live on in, well, I know I will only live on in people’s minds as long as they live.

Sidenote, the movie Coco stuck me hard, at first I thought it silly, but its true, only if the loved ones still remember you, you live on. hmmm.

Legacy…. I want to pass on more than just yarn to my son. Does an insurance help that? Would he value me more if he knew he was in cash money when I die? Does it really matter?

Does any of this really matter? and how do I stop these feelings? I know, I know, christian readers, my worth should in Christ. I shouldn’t care how I am treated because Christ loves me and values me.

I should look toward Him for my worth. My value.

but as we say, we are fallen sinful creatures and living the everyday life wears ya down. Christ isn’t sitting in my living room with pom poms cheering me on everyday.

How do you think about value?

God’s Funeral ~ A Poem

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I
I saw a slowly-stepping train —
Lined on the brows, scoop-eyed and bent and hoar —
Following in files across a twilit plain
A strange and mystic form the foremost bore.

II
And by contagious throbs of thought
Or latent knowledge that within me lay
And had already stirred me, I was wrought
To consciousness of sorrow even as they.

III
The fore-borne shape, to my blurred eyes,
At first seemed man-like, and anon to change
To an amorphous cloud of marvellous size,
At times endowed with wings of glorious range.

IV
And this phantasmal variousness
Ever possessed it as they drew along:
Yet throughout all it symboled none the less
Potency vast and loving-kindness strong.

V
Almost before I knew I bent
Towards the moving columns without a word;
They, growing in bulk and numbers as they went,
Struck out sick thoughts that could be overheard: —

VI
‘O man-projected Figure, of late
Imaged as we, thy knell who shall survive?
Whence came it we were tempted to create
One whom we can no longer keep alive?

VII
‘Framing him jealous, fierce, at first,
We gave him justice as the ages rolled,
Will to bless those by circumstance accurst,
And longsuffering, and mercies manifold.

VIII
‘And, tricked by our own early dream
And need of solace, we grew self-deceived,
Our making soon our maker did we deem,
And what we had imagined we believed,

IX
‘Till, in Time’s stayless stealthy swing,
Uncompromising rude reality
Mangled the Monarch of our fashioning,
Who quavered, sank; and now has ceased to be.

X
‘So, toward our myth’s oblivion,
Darkling, and languid-lipped, we creep and grope
Sadlier than those who wept in Babylon,
Whose Zion was a still abiding hope.

XI
‘How sweet it was in years far hied
To start the wheels of day with trustful prayer,
To lie down liegely at the eventide
And feel a blest assurance he was there!

XII
‘And who or what shall fill his place?
Whither will wanderers turn distracted eyes
For some fixed star to stimulate their pace
Towards the goal of their enterprise?’…

XIII
Some in the background then I saw,
Sweet women, youths, men, all incredulous,
Who chimed as one: ‘This is figure is of straw,
This requiem mockery! Still he lives to us!’

XIV
I could not prop their faith: and yet
Many I had known: with all I sympathized;
And though struck speechless, I did not forget
That what was mourned for, I, too, once had prized.

XV
Still, how to bear such loss I deemed
The insistent question for each animate mind,
And gazing, to my growing sight there seemed
A pale yet positive gleam low down behind,

XVI
Whereof, to lift the general night,
A certain few who stood aloof had said,
‘See you upon the horizon that small light —
Swelling somewhat?’ Each mourner shook his head.

XVII
And they composed a crowd of whom
Some were right good, and many nigh the best….
Thus dazed and puzzled ‘twixt the gleam and gloom
Mechanically I followed with the rest.

If you read to the end…What do you think?

No Bake Chocolaty Goodness ~ Vegan

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I think I have hit the jackpot!
I like no-bake cookies but I wanted something vegan and the vegan butters when heated just put me off.
This is my recipe for vegan No-Bake Cookies that are the BOMB~!
1 cup peanut butter [I like crunchy and you’re wrong if you eat creamy]
1/2 cup chocolate chips [vegan ones are usually semi sweet or dark, I use Simple Truth Semi-sweet from Fred Meyer]
Toss in bowl and nuke on low heat for increments of 20 seconds.
stir until desired mixture. Some might like a marbled taste.
Pour in 1/2 cup maple syrup
and
2 cups quick oats.
Stir together, scoop or hand roll into rounds and refrigerate.
*Warning, peanut butter is high in fat, but also high in protein and deliciousness.
Use for an afternoon pick-me-up or sweet tooth craving before bed. You’ll thank me later