Bondage

When we see that word - bondage - it's likely we automatically think of slavery. A stain on any society that kept slaves. And while the word does usually mean being kept in chattel slavery, there is another meaning:

servitude or subjugation to a controlling person or force

It is this lesser-known meaning I've been praying on this past week. Particularly the "force" emphasized.

What could this force be? In the context of my own prayers it represents a spiritual attack on my well-being. I hesitate to say this as I'm not one to go this dramatic within my faith but...

satan

There. I said it.

The evil one. Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Dark Lord. Mephistopheles. The Beast.

So many names for one creature. 

I have come to see, incredibly recently, that I have been under spiritual attack by The Dark Lord. Intent on keeping me servile, it has tied me to the hatred that I bonded to within my own family.

Most everything they did was only for their own benefit. Self-aggrandizement. Charity did not begin at home unless someone could take credit for it. How very - un-Christian. And of course I've already shared what that meant in my family.

Their Christian virtues were irrevocably tied up in hatred. They weren't pro-Christadelphian, they were anti-Catholic (anti any Christian practice really). My mother was anti-<insert ethnicity here>. My father was the same. Equal opportunity bigots.

They hated pretty much anyone who didn't march to their particular drum. And that included people within the family as much as without. Since they weren't very loving, as a child we had no choice but to bond to what they offered.

And so here I am - bonded to their hatred. 

And given a gift without price. An epiphany delivered at Mass last weekend by none other than Holy Mary, Mother of God.

{Now to clarify things for the non-Catholics in the crowd - we do not worship Holy Mary. She is a Saint, not a God-replacement. She is venerated as all Saints are; we pray to her for her intercession on our behalf to Jesus, thru whom we pray to God. That's all. She is very important to the Catholic faith - as she should be to all Christian faiths.}

Back to Holy Mary's gift. In a quiet moment of communal & introspective prayer I found myself praying for my father. For the first time in nearly a decade I spoke his name in prayer in a positive way - and asked for the strength to learn how to forgive him.

Trust me - his sins against his daughter are great indeed. The worst sin a parent can commit on their child. In fact those sins really are among the unforgivable.

And yet, here I am. For the first time in my life recognizing that the kind of forgiveness I need to give him will release me.

Just me. Only me.

In a moment of pure clarity, Holy Mary showed me the chains that tie me to him. The connection that keeps me subjugated to him. To his hate. Literal chains leading to this man who wounded me so deeply I never thought I'd recover from the memories of it.

It was - literally a godsend of coherence in a mind that was anything but.

With this magnificent and quite holy offering, I have finally stepped on a path I haven't really seen for my entire life. The incredible understanding of this kind of forgiveness.

How liberating it will be. Oh yes, Holy Mary showed me that too.

After talking about it endlessly - annoyingly even - my journey in faith has taken on another facet. One that I know will bring me closer to that goal of all goals...

...peace.

Amen.

The Hole

Grief.

It is one of humanity's greatest burdens. In any kind of loss, grief seizes us and holds us fast. It can take many forms - the dreaded "process" - and like a roller coaster we suffer with anger, sadness, depression, shock, and finally - we pray - acceptance. The last of which leads to healing.

And it's not a linear journey, is it? For each of us it is unique and can go back-and-forth; round and round like a carousel with no way to get off.

It is a long process too. Pitfalls await us; they can appear so suddenly that we are at the bottom before we are even aware of what has happened.

Some say grief is the space we hold for the love we can no longer express outwardly. 

I'm not sure I buy into that. To me, grief is the hole left when someone leaves your circle. Depending on the person, the relationship, and the manner of departure, that hole can be a pinprick or a canyon. And healing that hole is part of that journey - no one talks about that part.

How do you heal a hole left when someone leaves you? And it's not just in death that they leave; they can leave in anger, hatred, blame.

When it's anger that prompts a permanent departure - how do you reconcile what you thought you knew with what they reveal about themselves in the manner of their leaving? 

And if we ask God where he was when this was happening to us - how do we open ourselves up to the lessons we could learn if we can navigate our way to acceptance?

I suppose, as Christians, we should take comfort in the many ways God reassures us with his word & promises throughout the Bible. The verse above - written by the ever brilliant, sometimes inscrutable apostle, St. Paul - is one that resonates with me deeply.

Also, this verse has brought me great comfort in years past:

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit" -psalm 34:18

Crushed in spirit - that is me. An old grief resurfaced today and revealed that the part I thought was healed, is not. In fact it will likely never heal over. The hole left behind is that canyon - so wide that when the grief comes in, I am flooded with it. It is a searing pain.

And a circumstance where the apology that should come ... won't ever be offered. I am, once again, navigating my way through my old nemesis - forgiveness - with no acknowledgement from the other person for the wrong.

And...grieving someone who is still alive.

I've grieved the dead and that is no easy thing. Grieving the living - I think it's harder. So much harder. 

They still pursue their interests, their passions; all the things we used to do together. And now - I am alone in those pursuits. The things that bound us together are in tatters. The warp &  weft of our lives is undone.

And years later, when that grief spikes my heart, it brings me back to the center of the departure.

Sudden. Quiet. Skulked away like a coward, a ghost, leaving nothing but pain & unanswered questions in their wake.

And so we are here, in this place. Springboarded back into it suddenly, with no warning signs. Just - BOOM - here we are.

And I'm starting to see it all a little differently. I'm noticing that I really have healed so much from this sad situation. The part of me that was stolen by her - leaving that gaping canyon for years - is the part of me that tolerated her cruelty and bullying over the 25+ years we knew each other. Maybe that hole shouldn't be filled in. Maybe I need to let my life grow in around it, make me stronger, braver.

Because I know now that I would never tolerate that again, from anyone.

My perspective has shifted over the past couple of years and I accept this truth:

The peace I feel without her in my life is  worth being the villain in her story.

My experiences today - with all this popping up unexpectedly - are showing me an area of grief I still need to heal. And instead of fighting it - cuz grief really is so messy - I'm leaning into it and letting God take over for me.

He promises that peace that passes all understanding. And I'm feeling today that maybe that peace is within my grasp. All I have to do is let God in.

Don't we all need to do that?

Memories

LOVE

GOD is all about love. Throughout the Old Testament God speaks of his love for his people and his desire to hold them close to himself.  When establishing laws for them to follow, God speaks of love many times, most notably in Deuteronomy, 6:5:

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.

And in Leviticus 19:18:

Love your neighbor as yourself.

In the New Testament he continues with the same message through his son, Our Savior, Jesus Christ. In fact in the Gospels, Jesus quotes the 2 verses above when tested by the Scribes & Pharisees about which laws are the most important.

Love - is the most important.

And here is another verse, in the New Testament, that speaks of love. Boy oh boy is it a doozy.

This is an area I struggle with all the time. So much wrong was done to me in my childhood. Those wrongs - traumas - shaped who I am today. For good or ill. As I navigate my way through the recovery from all that trauma I find myself keeping records in my head.

All those traumas, dealt to me by the very people who should have protected me from any and all trauma. How do I not keep track?

I am aware that embedded in that verse above from 1 Corinthians is the difficult act of forgiveness.

Jesus deals us one whopper of a challenge, through the Apostle Peter:

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, 'Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?' Jesus answered, 'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times'. -matthew 18:21-22

Now you and I can do the math (so could Saint Peter). That's 490 times to forgive one person for one wrong against us. Sounds like so much and I'm pretty sure that Jesus didn't expect us to keep count of the times we forgive that one person that one wrong.

I am also pretty sure what he meant was to continue to forgive as long as it takes for you to stop keeping track of the wrong itself.

And that is certainly my achilles heel; I'm certain it's yours as well. Our human egos don't make forgiveness an easy act.

In fact for me it's damned near impossible.

Now I am of the opinion that forgiveness is for myself and not for the person who is forgiven. The former should release me from the burden & pain. The latter would lead to reconciliation - and at least for me, that's not happening.

The tradition at this time of year is to set some goals - resolutions, if you prefer. So I set the first one for 2025:

'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times'

With God's help, through daily prayer, I will get there if only to release myself from keeping track.

Amen.

Kindness

Kindness.

It is the simplest of things yet so many people just can't be bothered. Every interaction we have, big or small, long-term or fleeting - can be permanently marked by how we treat another person.

Since 2022 I have been quietly living my own "Year of Kindness". Trying to do my part to be kind even to those who may not deserve it.

Because, as the saying goes, we are all struggling with something.

This is, however, not to say that we should present ourselves as doormats. No indeed - even Jesus flipped tables when he saw epic wrongs.

This reappeared in a social media feed today - and I thought it was a good time to remind us all that being kind - is the simplest of gestures.

As Christians, it is an opportunity to let Christ shine out of our hearts - letting his light flow. I believe it is the unexpected kindness we gift to someone - all year long - that is our best way of showing people the goodness and mercy of God.

Get Ready to Par-Tay!

And we continue with the rebellion that got its start in my teen years and really ramped up when I went away to college. While this part may not talk about being Christadelphian specifically, I shine a light on how I acted out against all the restrictions I had lived under until this time.

In truth, I see now that God was with me even when I had started to move away from him. He proved over and over that he was watching over me thru my survival of some pretty risky behavior. These times of my life are proof of the old adage - "there but for the grace of God, go I".

Jim and me Sept 1982 - heading out to a semi-formal dance @ college

College, Part 1

The college years were memorable on so many levels. Firstly, and most importantly, I met my future husband, Jim. Secondly, I had the critical away -from-home experiences that all those in their late teens should have. It is a time of deep learning - both how to do things and how not to do things. One of those how not to do things was - party. Party hardy was the motto of my college campus and boy oh boy, did I rise to that challenge.

There is a particular point to the partying that is necessary to explain - seniors had no classes on Thursdays. As you can imagine, with seniors ruling our small rural campus, Wednesdays were the biggest party nights, second only to Fridays. We had a bar on-campus that would serve anyone with a campus ID. So at least we didn’t drink & drive.

Conversely, as a freshman, in my first semester I had an 8:00am class every Thursday. And it was just my luck to be Calculus - my absolutely worst class in every possible way. To face that on a Thursday AM was akin to a form of torture. To face it after a night of partying at the biggest beer drop in the region was a recipe for failure. Which…in the end it almost was a literal failure. I squeaked by that class by the tiniest margin due to some intense tutoring I paid for myself in preparation for the year’s final exam.

Anyway, as a small private college, 95% of the students came from families of financial means. And about 50% of those had bottomless bank accounts - they funded all the parties, bless their wealthy hearts. Truthfully, this cohort of students were some of the nicest people I had met at that time. Generous to a fault, kind hearted, and completely accepting of everyone’s situation in life. 

We also had students who worked on campus to help pay for their educations. Jim was one of those plus he lived at home, being only 5 miles from campus. I was in-between, living on-campus and going home every weekend to work part time. So, Wednesday nights were my only time to partake in the epic number of parties that included free alcohol and, yes, free drugs. 

It was at one of these parties that I engineered meeting Jim in the second semester. By this time my Calculus class was no longer at 8:00am on Thursdays, and it is in that class where I first saw Jim. Let me tell you…love at first sight is a real thing. I had it bad for him. When I learned we had a mutual friend, I pressed that friend to host a party for the singular purpose of meeting Jim.

It was a blind date for him, not for me. We both leaned into this budding relationship, indulging in all the drinking and drugs we could get our hands on in that semester. Plus, the usual activities one engages in while living away from home.

To say I had forsaken my first year of higher education would be a vast understatement. When I say I squeaked by that Calculus class that is really sugar coating it a bit. While I didn’t fail any classes I didn’t exactly apply myself either. I was more dedicated to deepening my rebellion than anything else.

I still had to go home on weekends to work so I was largely controlled by my parents and their expectations. Especially going to church on Sundays. Held fast to the Christadelphian ideals I pushed and kicked at it all whenever I could. But my parents kept a tight rein on my movements, so my opportunities were slim. Even on Sunday evenings if there was a church talk, I was expected to be there then I could drive back to college. I’d arrive at my dorm at 10:00pm, just in time to crawl under the covers and sleep.

Yet I treasured my rebellion. Away from my parents and their abusive control (this went beyond the restrictions of the family’s faith; my parents were physically & emotionally abusive to me as well) I thrived socially, learning how to be independent in the only way a teen still relying on parental funds could be. Thru parties and covert activities. 

Of course, I paid for it all in the end. My first college transcript was a dismal disappointment. I am not proud of that part of my rebellion. I wasted my freshman year of higher education. My parents gave me the gift of a fully funded college experience - with my part-time work paying for gas in my car and any personal expenses on-campus. And I shamefully threw it back at them by getting a final grade which enraged them and humiliated me. I knew I was better than that and made the mature decision to live at home in my sophomore year, working more hours after classes and on weekends.

And I worked on my relationship with Jim. As mentioned previously, he was a little later to embrace the whole thing. But in the end my "sparkling charm" wore him down, poor thing. I regret nothing.

Strength

Strength - I has it.

And it doesn't come from within me.

God is definitely real. There is no way I have gotten thru the past two chaotic, messy months without someone steering my ship. I certainly don't have the ability to do this on my own.

While I do like to compartmentalize my experiences into easily digested chunks - the truth is we don't get thru our daily lives without God walking with us. Without his encouragement - even when we aren't listening to him.

And that is, to me, the best part. God is with us - even when we patently ignore him. He stays by our sides when we dismiss his quiet messages. Or even when he hits us with a 2x4 on the head.

He never leaves us. We are never alone. And even more - his love for us never fails. 

God's love is the true unconditional love. No matter who should give it to us - God will always give his love to us.

Carry Me

Just a simple yet, conversely, complicated disclosure about the state of my world at this moment.

It should say "...broke, again..."

I'm not praying anywhere near as much as I should. Truth is - how many of us do?

Conflict is so darn difficult to handle. Especially when it's within a family, coming up against an entrenched, holier-than-thou, thinks they are better than everyone else person. Who has been enabled in this behavior since they joined the family nearly 40 years ago. Excuses made at every turn. Because we don't want to "upset XXX". 

This burden has been upon me all these years. Well - not me alone but I've been the brunt of the bullying for about this long. God knows - truly - God knows how hard I've tried and for how long to make this thing at least be civil.

Jesus tells us:

Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus said to him, I say not to you, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven. - Matthew 18:21-22

I can do that math. 490 times, if we are to take Jesus literally. While that is tempting I believe he meant as many times as it takes. Forgive over and over again. 

And there is this "gem":

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. - Matthew 5:38-40

Oh boy. Talk about a tall order. As usual, Jesus sets us the impossible task and charges us to make it - possible.

What to do when the person you try to forgive - without the apology given - who you try to approach in good faith over and over...just refuses to bend. No quarter given by this person. His way or the highway. Or rather - his way. Period.

What to do when you run out of cheeks, shirts, and coats? Start with the underwear?

I make light of this but there is so much roiling under the surface of this. 40 years of rip currents that threaten with every encounter to take me under until I stop breathing.

Sounds dramatic.

It is.

And my prayers should ramp up; I should shout them until I'm hoarse. Not because God isn't listening but because I need to hear them too.

When you pray - do you pause at all to listen to what God might have to say? I know I don't. Not always anyway. And how are we going to take in what God wants for us if we don't listen to him. His voice, his actions, those magical signs that glimmer throughout our lives if we'd only top & look/listen. I need to take a pause when this bubbles over...because it tears me apart every single time. Leaves me nearly irrational with anger & pain.

We are at the end of our tether with this family drama. After nearly 40 years and countless side-steps, bending & breaking, the last straw has been placed on the camel's back.

And my heart is breaking at what this means, long-term, for me and my darling husband. It will divide us, permanently, from a core family member. Oh, we will keep up the pretense (after all this time we are very good at it) until hubby's parents are no longer with us. A time which is, sadly, getting shorter everyday.

In truth there isn't much there at this point. What little there is - is for my in-laws' sake. And when all is said and done...there will be nothing left to hold on to. I've had to recover from such losses before - the loss that is like a death...without the death - and it nearly killed me before.

Sometimes I think...I've been broken for so long, what's one more heartbreak - right? I am healing from all that brokenness before. I really don't know that I have it in me to fully heal from this one.

And so, once again, I bow down to God and ask him to hold me up until I can stand on my own. To take control of this and show me the right way to proceed. How to pick myself up, put on that smile again - but this time for it to be real, not a facade adopted to get thru the days.

Honestly, friends, sometimes I do wonder what is the point of all of this? I'm supposed to find the gifts in all this; the things that make me a better person in spite of or because of - all this.

And I do try to find them. Squeeze out the positive from so much negativity. Be the better person; strive to learn and grow thru the pain. To give myself grace for the struggle. To give others grace for whatever their struggles are.

And...damn. Just...damn.

Stubborn

This past week has been - a struggle to get thru.

I haven't felt like myself. Deep within I feel disoriented and there is a disquieting edge to my thoughts and my attitude. I've been clipped and easily irritated. I am definitely wearing my grumpy-pants 24/7.

And I can't figure out why. Maybe that's the point - another hint from God that it's not up to me to figure it out, it's up to me to give it to him so I can release the burden of needing to know.

And if you know me in real life - I have to know all the things. All of them, all the time. As I've written so many times, the human ego can be a real challenge to getting thru life.

Some of what I'm grappling with is memories that are the very worst kind. They are torturous and painful beyond words. I don't want to think about "them" and yet...they infiltrate my mind at the least opportune moments.

And I reflect here that perhaps that's what God wants. Catch us off-guard so we can train our "muscles" to turn to him in these times of greatest need.

To be honest, I'm not sure I'm OK with that. And it's likely my version of something much simpler.

God wants good for us; good for us all the time. He wants us to love him; there is no way for us to love God in a way that comes close to his love for us. Yet he wants us to persist in prayer to him so he can show us his love.

Funny thing about human ego - I don't love them, I'm struggling with the practice of forgiveness, and if I'm being really honest - I don't want anything for them that is good. (Which, I am fully aware, goes against what I said just one paragraph above. God wants good for all of us...so who am I to not want good for them? I don't wish them ill (or at least I stopped doing that a few years ago). I just don't wish them good, either.) But I am 100% OK with moving on without them. I just didn't think it would be as chronic & debilitating as it has been.

And that last has been my struggle for a very long time. Living my life without them has been the hardest thing I've ever done. Or ever tried to do, more like. It gets easier with time - and prayer - and yet there are weeks, like this last one, that surely try my soul.

Is this some kind of spiritual attack? Likely. And so it is, as always, I continue to train those muscles to turn to God in all things.

But goodness I have a stubborn ego, don't I?

Big...Huge

It is a blah day today. Outside and inside.

Outside it is hot, humid, and stormy. A grey day of clouds, rain, and an exceptional quiet. Broken only by the birdsong and claps of thunder.

Inside it is cool and comfortable, at least physically. Mentally I am a jumble of thoughts and worries. Which is something I struggle with daily - letting go of worries. Big or small, I chew over my worries like a dog with a bone.

Not a happy image for a human.

a.w. tozer

Indeed we do. Or as St. John said in his first book in the New Testament:

"The Lord is greater than whatever is ahead of you and will always guide you through"

...aka God is bigger than the giants we face.

And how true that is. God created it all - heavens, earth, and all in between. And when we consider just the "heavens" - well that encompasses a vast amount...doesn't it.

We all need a reminder from time to time that what we think of a worries - are mere trifles to God. And turning them over to him...makes them trifles to us.

The challenge, at least for me, is to not take them back. I am notorious for doing that - praying, giving it all up to God...then sneaking back under cover of my own darkness and hauling it all back like the baggage it is.

Overburdened. Overpacked. And I am over - it all.

It is time to let go - well & truly. To let God be the greater good that he is - he has the strongest shoulders in the universe (and beyond) and he can handle whatever puny things seem like Goliaths to me.

To think I can handle it - is laughable on any level. I can't, only God can. My ego doesn't allow me to let go at all. Because I continue to believe I have it in me to tough it out; that on some level I deserve this disquiet & discomfort.

God - doesn't want us to feel like this. His love for us is unconditional and nothing could persuade him to allow us to suffer unjustly. (And yes, that is the elephant in every Christian room - just why does a loving God allow us to suffer at all. I have attempted to cover this subject only twice - here.)

Returning to suffering and God. There is no easy answer of course. Perhaps we aren't supposed to find the answer. Perhaps we should do what we know to be true - surrender to God thru prayer. Let him sort out the details. Let him carry the burden.

Oddly it is all, the most omnipotent being of all time, wants from us. The greatest gift to all mankind - prayer & peace.

Personal Revival

Is God waiting for me?

Seems like a potentially arrogant question. After all, why would the most omnipotent being in all of any history - wait for me to do anything? Isn't it me who should be waiting on God - in prayer, petition, thanksgiving, and hope?

That is all true. And yet I feel that sometimes God does wait for me, for us.

• To forgive even when it feels impossible.
• Embrace a season of quiet with God.
• Let go of what I think my journey thru this life should look like.
• Allow God into my broken places.

A season of quiet with God - what does that look like? How long is that? If we listen for God enough, look for him in all that we see and do, inevitably he will tell us what that season is. 

Thru prayer we will see & hear God. Keeping our eyes wide open all the time - to see & hear him in everything, the sweetest birdsong, the prettiest flower, the hideous weed, the icky insect - is to find God present in our lives every second of the day.

Not every minute. Every single second. Even the words I am writing come straight from God. Because those 4 points above constitute a prayer I have been saying as often as possible, as the gift they are - given to me from a surprising source.

Indeed, that same source gifted me with another prayer, just for me. 

A Personal Revival from God. To acknowledge God's presence, make a plan for healing with only his guidance, and persevere in this plan in the quiet spaces with God.

When you open your mind to all of God's possibilities - even the ones that seem so improbable as to be nearly unbelievable - he delivers gift upon gift.

So go to that quiet place with God - and open your mind & heart to listen to his messages. For he indeed...waiting for us.

On Forgiveness

All of life is a process of some kind. From the simple process of getting a driver's license to the challenges you face while grieving. The spectrum is wide, deep, and long. 

The process of forgiveness - is all those things and more. I have grieved people who have died. And I find the ability to forgive to be far more difficult than grieving.

I am in a season of my life where forgiving people is paramount to my ability to move forward. I have so much anger against these people - and rightfully so. And yet I am holding onto that anger, thinking it keeps me safe.

And all it does is hold me hostage to those people. And trust me - what they have done is truly unforgivable.

Yet...here I am. In a deep dark hole of anger & rage. It has become something larger than myself and it is holding me back from some deep personal healing and growth.

So I am doing research on forgiveness, thru the lens of a Christian. We all know that, as Christians, it is our duty & obligation to forgive others as God has forgiven us.

In the Bible, the Greek word “forgiveness” literally means “to let go”. Holding on to my anger is definitely not letting go of anything at all.

The Bible tells us this is very clear terms:

“But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” -Matthew 6:14

“For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more." - Hebrews 8:12

“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” - Colossians 3:13

There are more but you get the idea.

If I don't find my way to forgiveness God will deny me entry into the Kingdom, into Heaven itself.

Yeah - this is pretty serious for a Christian.

If I am to live my life in a Christian way, then I must find the path to forgive people who really don't deserve it. Add in the fact that I will only be doing this for myself; there is no way for me to actually approach them and offer them my forgiveness. And I know their response would be rejection - yet that is not the Christian point, now is it.

I feel like I'm walking a fine line here. I'm supposed to actually forgive them - one of them is dead. And the other I haven't seen or spoken to in over 15 years. For all I know, she may well be dead too. 

Plus I have no wish to be in that presence again. To welcome that toxicity & violence into my life again. It really is she who should be asking me for forgiveness. And therein lies another conundrum for me - even if she did ask me, would I be able to forgive her for the unforgivable?

Daunting...is the word that comes to mind.

And then in my research this morning I found this:

The Bible teaches that unselfish love is the basis for true forgiveness, since “...it keeps no record of wrongs...” (1 Corinthians 13:5). Forgiving others means letting go of resentment and giving up any claim to be compensated for the hurt or loss we have suffered. from LAChristianCounseling website

And further, this gem appeared like the gift from God that it clearly is:

"If you've given up the right to get even with your offender, that's forgiveness. If your loss still hurts, that's normal anger that will exist as long as you feel the loss. As you come to accept the loss and move on with your life, the anger will slowly dissipate." from KerriCoaching, a Christian life-coaching website

This one reminded me that I did pray for all of them at the Easter Vigil this year. I felt called, by God, to do that. And as much as I resisted I couldn't ignore that clear call for prayer. I had forgotten about this until today.

I have a long road ahead of me to reach this state of forgiveness, this state of letting go. Of not feeling the pain of decades of torment & abuse. God is listening to me (as he always does, even if we aren't fully aware) and is already granting me visions & very clear messages.

The key to all this is - to pay attention to what God wants me to know. I already know the work he wants me to do here is coming to forgiveness.

This is my soul's purpose right now. My one goal in life. Because if I don't come to a state of forgiveness, I fear I will be trapped as a hostage to these people - and that is the last thing I want to do with the rest of my life.

Saturday Symphony

This post is a little difficult for me.  Yet it's been brewing within me for weeks now and it's time it saw the light of day. 

I grew up in a fundamental Christian faith.  If you knew the name and looked it up you would find it in a top 10 list of cults.  And that's not far from the truth.  One of those branches of Christianity who claim all the promises of Jesus' resurrection - for themselves.  They had then, and still do have, an unhealthy obsession with the Catholic Church.  They see anyone in that group as lost, fallen, beyond salvation unless there is a conversion to, you guessed, it - their branch of Christianity.  To them, everything that has ever gone wrong in the world is the fault of the Catholic Church.  If you aren't a believer with them, then you are dead.  Just - dead.

Sadly, I have family still in this faith and I am, in every real way, dead to them. 

For many reasons, chief among them their exclusionary practices, I left that faith over 25 years ago. Eleven years ago God began calling to me (or rather - he'd been calling the entire time and I only started listening at that moment...) to return to his love, to receive his grace, and to be saved from the spiritual desert in which I had wandered for far too long.

And so the search began - and ended, in all places, in a loving, accepting faith community in -  Catholicism.

No one could have been more surprised than I.  With my faith background it wasn't an easy conversion.  And yet I have no regrets; I've never looked back.

But some things from that childhood church-going remain.  Like my favorite hymn.  You won't find this particular arrangement in many places.  In fact the Episcopalians have the most common arrangement known as "Kingfold".

This - is what I sang growing up.  And it still moves my heart & soul as much as it did 40+ years ago.

The 3rd, and final verse, says all that needs to be said: