August 2, 2016

They moved my surgical appt back to Wednesday morning. Yay!


The smell of death

August 3, 2008

It’s has been 3 weeks since my house started smelling of death. Something died in my attic and they can’t find it.  They sprayed some sort of enzyme thing that was supposed to help dissolve whatever was the cause. It’s been over 90 degrees everyday. They cut a hole in my ceiling to try to find the smell and to spray. Now I have a gaping hole funnelling the smell into my house – my bedroom to be exact.

I’m so tired of it.  It has me so depressed – I’m trapped in the house by the heat, I’m trapped in a house that smells like death. I can’t cover it up.  I know I’m getting a little used to it, so I hate going out (usually to church) worrying the whole time if they can smell the death on me.

It’s so like my life. There is just something about me that keeps me from belonging.  I probly smell like death to everyone but I can’t smell it cuz I’m used to it.

It’s really getting to me.

What’s my right arm?

June 13, 2008

Matthew 5:27-30

Jesus said to the crowds, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.”

What are you saying to me, Lord?

(From June 13 ’08 Sacred Space)

My right hand and right arm are the things that I would supposedly use the most. Things I am dependent on for my daily living/getting along.  Something that it would very difficult to live without but not impossible. Something that causes me to sin in the course of my every day. It might be so ingrained that it isn’t quite perceivable without the light of the Holy Spirit to show it for it’s true colors. So here goes a frightening but strangely excited prayer. Dear Father, King Jesus, Comforter Spirit please show me what is my right arm or right eye?

Right arm-Something I do. A habit, a behavior that I rely on daily for my safety or survival.

Right eye – A way of seeing, an attitude or paradigm that I have carried my whole life that is not  Kingdom vision and separates me from the Triune God.


(Sacred Space continues)

By God’s grace I was born to live in freedom.
Free to enjoy the pleasures He created for me.
Dear Lord, grant that I may live as you intended,
with complete confidence in your Loving care.

Your loving care.

I just got in from Utah. My opinion hasn’t changed.

August 14, 2007

I used to send out a picture of a lovely desert sunset viewed in the rearview mirror of my car. It was titled My Favorite View Of Utah.

Saturday, the hottest part of the day and I was crossing the section of Utah that looks like the Grand Canyon – it is 50+ miles either way to the next town. I pulled into the Ghost Rock Viewpoint to take make a pit stop. (They really were pits, ugh)

When I got back to my car it wouldn’t start. Since I am on the Suckulair network (now a part of the new AT&T) I had no cell signal. I asked some folks from Cali if they would call AAA for me and they did – bless them. AAA then proceeded to take until 10 pm to get there.

I had my hood up. All I needed was a jumpstart…

A couple of retirement age folks from Kansas in a big truck looked at me, turned away and drove right past without stopping. Let’s hear it for the Midwest

God takes good care of me so I had a whole case of bottled water on ice in the cooler. I took a sweaty nap, worked on my computer, drank A LOT of water and eventually watched the typical gorgeous desert sunset.

Then the Perseid meteor shower started. It was so dark as the sky rained fireballs. I felt so safe and cared for – that God would make sure I wouldn’t miss this incredible show of his creation. I’d wanted to get out of the city and see it so many times but never made it. Now here I was, a command audience.

I fell asleep looking up. I was wakened by the sound of a tow truck. The driver was an off-duty cop working his side job. Huge like a muscle mountain and so sweet. He apologized that I had been out there so long but I was kinda grateful.

Gladys Reed Bush, acquainted with sorrow.

April 27, 2007

Today is Aunt Glady’s’ birthday. She was my ideal of humility and love. The softest heart, open to all. She was the closest thing to Jesus I’ll probably ever see here. She was my mother’s best friend. She died in 1982. I still miss her but she had gotten so rundown, I was very happy for her when she went home.

I wonder, Jesus was a man acquainted with sorrow. There was always a background sadness in Aunt Gladys. She was fun, hopeful and never a downer but she was sad. At least I knew she was. She was so loved by everyone in her life, except maybe her son that took her for granted.

I have to wonder if the closer you get to Jesus, the more you become “acquainted with grief.” Jesus knew and knows the end from the beginning so he has a hope we can ask for but not own. We won’t get that perspective until it’s over. That’s a lot of faith if you become really acquainted with sorrow.

We walk by faith and not by sight…but boy, is it easy to see the sorrow. If we open our hearts and let it all in, it takes a great faith to not be overwhelmed and lose hope. A faith that we can only receive. Nothing that we can manufacture in ourselves.

It’s a very hard thing to choose to see other people’s pain and not run from it. We all naturally do it like pulling our hand back from a fire…but if our loved one is in that fire we choose otherwise. At least I hope we do.

I wanted to be like Aunt Gladys and Aunt Paula and I think in some ways I am. In the good and the bad. I really want her humility but that’s like asking for trouble. Whip me, beat me, make me humble. LOL.

Happy Earth-Birthday Aunt Gladys. I love you so much and am so grateful for you – you are a big part of who I am. The best part of who I am. I look forward to eternity with you. Kiss Aunt Paula for me.

Even less drama

April 17, 2007

I realized this morning how immature I am in my thinking. Once more, it’s not all about me. That goes so deep, I’m gonna spend a lifetime rooting that garbage out.

This particular thread: Everyone that doesn’t love me, hates me.

There is someone in leadership in my church that disapproves of me. (And this is probably why.) I have blown her disapproval up in my head to the point that I’m paranoid. All because I don’t sense her complete approval. As if she has that much time and interest to spend on me.

Alcoholic behavior 101. Todays lesson boys and girls is BLACK & WHITE. You are either adored or hated, accepted or detested. Everyone out there spends all their time thinking about YOU. You are the center of the universe.

This behavior is appropriate for a two year old. Thank God I’m potty trained.

Delete some drama

April 15, 2007

I used to say that my mom hated me but now I see that is way too dramatic. Not just dramatic but inaccurate. Hate requires caring and my mom was too self-involved to hate me. I annoyed her, she resented me is probably the most accurate way to put it.

My mom lived in a constant search for love. He childhood sucked and she had no idea what it looked like. She just new she needed it. She knew my dad didn’t love her and was using her for sex but it was close enough. He asked her to marry him as an excuse for missing work because he had been on a drunk. So his family pulled together a makeshift wedding – he got his excuse and mom got married.

I was born two years later. I looked just like my dad and he adored me. As in most families, babies are very well loved in our clan. I wasn’t anymore exceptional than anyone else’s baby. I was just my dad’s first and he was 31 years old. He expressed his love openly, affectionately to me – the way my mom wanted him to express it to her. It didn’t happen. I was competition.

It totally sucked to be me in that place where it already sucked to be my mom. My mom didn’t know how to receive or give love AND was pissed off that I got what she wanted. It wasn’t fair but it just was what it was.


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