In Defense Of Heroine

Yes.

That is the Dumbest Title of Anything that I have ever written; however, try as I might, I could not write another.

Let's move on.

Remember when Philip Seymour Hoffman died of a heroine overdose a couple of months ago?  I'll be truthful:  I didn't cry or have a prayer vigil or even spend long periods of time in meditation over his particular story - though his story does make me sad and I feel that any life deserves to be seen.

He was certainly not the first person to die of an overdose or even the first famous person ~ which I'm pointing out as famous people tend to receive more coverage ~ but something about his death kept it very much on my mind in those first days, and still, it comes back from time-to-time.

It wasn't that I would miss seeing him, though I did somewhat enjoy his work.  It wasn't that he left behind three kids.  Or even the general sense of shock and grief for the rate at which drugs are wiping people out.

What got me most of all, what wore me down was the vitriol with which people discussed this man's death.

"Stupid, loser a**h*** deserved to die."

I saw so many variations of that sentence.
What is wrong with people?
And I don't mean the drug users.

I also see people debating:

CHOICE <<<<<<< or >>>>>>>ILLNESS

It's both.

And, yes.  I do know.

Thank God in heaven that my patterns of addiction never took me down such a path as intro-venous drug use but I've used in other ways.  And I know people, very personally, who've not been so fortunate to avoid such a path.

Call them "stupid, loser a**h***" to my face, please.  Living with addiction and mental illness in any capacity is ... well, to say it's merely frustrating is absurd.  Not having any other ultimate solution, I sometimes think a good a**-whooping would do the trick.  

But seriously, we're in a state of decline:  morale, healthcare, community, compassion.  We can debate, call names, kick butt, change policy and law - all with the best or most un-thinking intentions, but people are still dying everyday.   Before you claim to know it all or have moral supremacy, consider that you may know someone who's dealing personally on this front.  There may be something more or better that can be done to help stop this plague.

I, personally, just don't know what it is.  I, personally, feel rather helpless.

For the record, I still internet shop and eat entire bags of candy when the pressure's really on.   For the most part, though, I have maintained my recovery.  I must responsibly note that Mr. Hoffman was clean for 23 years before his relapse.  How sobering a realization is that.

In Defense Of Happy

I have about forty-seven drafts going right now, all of which will be great posts (for me, at least), but only about three of them have even begun to be put to paper.

It's been a rough few months now.  This whole past year, in fact.  Wait!  The past two years...shoot!  If I put our tests and trials down on paper, then we haven't really seen calm seas since......

.....

Anyhow!  This last year really has been especially trying and we (the man and I) are currently in the thick of some major life changes.  Specifics may be found scattered throughout those forty-seven other drafts.  Surely, they'll turn themselves out eventually so you just hang in there.

What I'll tell you now is that I've run the gamut of negative emotion:  anger, depression, bitterness, fear, anxiety.  A point came that I knew I was in over my head and so I did a round of Prozac.  My round ended recently but not so much on purpose as my need and remembrance for it just drifted away.  Thank you, God, for your presence throughout!

I've experienced plenty of good emotion* too:  elation, peace, satisfaction, bliss. There are plenty of days, though, when I am just plain old happy.  And in light of all that we've been and are going through, I am particularly grateful for happy.  And I try to be more of that and to share more about that than about any of the other stuff because I have this great hope for more people to have happy.

There are moments, though, when I feel nearly a tinge of what can only be called guilt...

That's my oldest granddaughter watching - for the first time - Pharrell Williams's 24-hour music video.  I smile every time I pull it up and she was smiling gleefully while watching it this morning and that made me smile until I nearly cried.  I posted this to Facebook and, within minutes, I was thinking about all the folks who might not know what their happiness is - at least not in this moment.

I am praying for so many friends with so many needs and hurts and causes of sadness.  I see things, hear things, know things, read things between the lines.  Not everybody out there can clap along as if "happiness is the truth."  Not everybody will be enthused by my hopeful, happy tune.

I could say or quote one hundred things right here about happiness being a choice but I'm betting you've already seen at least most of it (possibly from me.)  The thing that underlines all of this really is not about happiness, but joy.  It is because I have joy that I can be happy.  Because I am joyful, I can survive all of the not-so-happy stuff.  You've surely heard this one:  The joy of the Lord is my strength. (Psalm 28:7)

And so I'll keep at it - not because I have no thought or heart for your hurts or unhappiness but because I care very much.  I genuinely hope either to light your presently darkened path or possibly the way toward a joy you've not yet known ~ the true and everlasting joy of knowing Him.

*All emotion, certainly, is affected by synthetic drugs.  This topic is also for another of the forty-seven drafts.

To A T

I saw a neighbor lady walking her daughter and she was wearing this dress with a hemline that I'd not seen anywhere before and I knew instantly that I would cut that hem into something.  Within a week, I bought a skirt and put it away until the time was right.

That was about a year ago.

And so now we have the graphic t-shirt craze and it's had me checking the racks for the perfect $1 statement shirt for months and months but I finally gave it up and searched and searched the internets until I found it.

This just may be my most perfect ensemble.

I converted a (not really the ugliest skirt ever but for the sake of linguistics, I'm calling it) hideous skirt into something I quite like.

The thing cost me $1.
My shoes were $1.












I employed a little RRR by making the pattern from a circular.

My shirt, while it cost a little more than $1, is not like any other that I've seen and it speaks quite well to my multi-faceted personality, I think.

That's...

Act Like A Lady

Think Like A Boss

C'est moi, n'est-il pas?

Oui, Oui.  To a tee.

FLAWED

"I think some people are in denial of their true character. I don't mean trying to overcome their character flaws; I mean hiding behind a computer pretending to be transparent when in fact, they choose who they are depending on who they're with. I want to be remembered as real, regardless of all my flaws." 

It's funny (but not funny, haha.)  I'd actually spent the morning contemplating my "true character", my identity, when the above comment rolled through my newsfeed.  I didn't write it, of course, but it's certainly written about me (though not explicity, I'm sure.)  In fact, I recently told a friend - one of my very closest, smallest-circle friends - that I am guilty of this very thing:  presenting only the best of myself via the social network.*

It's all true, though not at all times.  I would like very much to deny my true character.  My mind, my heart:  deceitful, desperately wicked (Jeremiah 17:9.)  I have not the capacity to recognize just how deeply my motives are flawed.  Having the desire to examine myself, to see my flaws, to air them out on my front lawn - even harder to muster.

That's why, however, I have a "very closest, smallest circle" of friends.  These are the folks I can be my most honest, real-est self with, free of condemnation, and know that we'll still be friends tomorrow.

Am I choosing to behave differently with different people?  Absolutely!

As Paul said, "Even though I am free of the demands and expectations of everyone, I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people: religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose-living immoralists, the defeated, the demoralized—whoever. I didn’t take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ—but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I’ve become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life." 1 Corinthians 9:21-22 (MSG)

Do I always get that right?  Absolutely not.

Do I share with everyone, all the time about the times I get it wrong?  Of course not. I do, however, try very hard to be as open and honest as I can muster the courage to do within my small groups ~ those gatherings of like-minded, equally flawed believers who are also doing the best they can.

* "Presenting only the best of myself via the social network."  Even this is all true, though not at all times.  I'm not inclined to [intentionally] draw negative attention to myself.  I had enough negative attention in high school to pretty much get me through.  However, I've tried to be transparent with some of my deeper, darker stuff via this very blog.

Bad Teacher, for instance.
I Am His Beloved?, probably the first really hard thing I shared.
Loose Lips Sink Ships.  I'd do my own self some good to re-read my own stuff.
Live Free Or Die.  Here are a few of my bad habits.
You Can't Write If You Can't Relate still embarrasses me somewhat.
Share Much? because I know I share too much sometimes.
Alleluia because sometimes that's all that I have.
Public Hearing because I've been here already.  More than once.
This Is The What Is The Happening.  Just trying to keep it real.
Betwixt My Lines.  Sometimes that's very, very hard to do.
A Picture's Worth.  Sometimes there just aren't enough words.

Have I shared everything?  Do you know exactly who I am?

Nope.  Some things are just between me and Him.

And I cling to that, knowing that however flawed I may be, He still loves me beyond measure and has made me a promise.

Several, in fact.

"I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart." Ezekiel 36:26 (NLT)

"I am sure that God, who began this good work in [me], will carry it on until it is finished on the Day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6 (GNT)

"I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live I live by believing in God’s Son, who loved me and took the punishment for my sins." Galatians 2:20 (GW)

My identity, my character, my 'all that I am' is rooted in my relationship with Jesus Christ and God, the Father.

I want very much to be remembered as real , transparent, and flawed.

"Remember, our Message is not about ourselves; we’re proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master. All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you. It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful.

If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at." 2 Corinthians 4:5-9 (MSG)

I hope that somehow - through my flaws, in fact - you'll see Him.

Small Matters

I've heard some folks say that God's not in the small things, that He doesn't care about the details, that because He is GOD, He only has time for the big prayers, the big miracles, the big stuff.

I'll make two assumptions about folks who believe this way: 1) you acknowledge God exists; 2) you believe He created what you see (skipping any debate about the means by which He did it.)

And so I ask:  if the small things aren't important, why create the cell, the molecule, the subatomic particle? Why don't we human folks - and all living creatures, for that matter - exist as solid blobs? How come the human eye is so durn complex? Why so many colors (and more that we can't even see yet?) Why a dandelion? Why does every species of bird have its own song?

I propose that to believe God does not care about small matters is a reversal of image, a transference of personality. Perhaps we have trouble seeing, focusing on, or caring about [what we may consider] trivial matters. Or maybe we don't always believe or sense that it's possible for anyone to care about the small things of our lives.

I assure you, however, that God does care about every single enormous and tiny part of His creation. Including you. You matter.  And you're no small matter to Him.

“What’s the price of two or three pet canaries? Some loose change, right? But God never overlooks a single one. And he pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail—even numbering the hairs on your head! So don’t be intimidated by all this bully talk. You’re worth more than a million canaries." Luke 12:6-7 (MSG)

I pray that today and every day, you'll sense just how much you matter to Him.

Partie Deux

Forget the idiom, please!  I know I've made it clear I'm not a genius.

Anyhow, when I was a kid, when I got any pair of new shoes, I wanted to sleep in them for at least a couple of nights.  It's a little like that with this lipstick.

Lipstick, in general, has never been a part of my "regular application."  It's just never done anything for me.  However, for a couple of years now, I've been looking for a shade of red that I can wear without feeling the need to wear a ski mask at the same time.  Why the need for red lipstick?  No clue, really, but my search was futile until...

It became necessary for me to have it - Because Momma Said So, in fact - then I bypassed my usual drugstore and went straight to Sephora.  And straight to one of my favorite brands.  And then straight to this shade.  In hindsight, it's a little weird how easily I found it.  It's as if we were meant for each other.

So for the next several days, I wore it every chance I had.  (Though I really wanted to sleep with it on, I didn't.  I remember how uncomfortable that was with the shoes.)

The day after I found the lipstick, I stumbled across this blog, Why You Can Wear Red Lipstick - also pretty weird.  Seriously, the similarities are weird.  But she tells her story in so much better a fashion than my lame attempt here and so this is where I'm stopping.

Love

Recently, one of my g'babies was feeling pretty sickish and I found myself falling further and further behind with my agenda as this baby requires extra loving when he's ill.  There was a lot of sitting-holding, standing-holding, lying-around-holding as I tried to console his senses and make him well.

It was a sort of novelty for me as I'm not the sort to give up my agenda so readily. My preference might have been to do working-holding but that would have divided my attention too vastly to meet his needs.

Novelty, for real, because I'm generally too selfish to put other folks's needs ahead of my own.  I say this sort of thing out loud sometimes and friends tell me it's a ridiculous notion, but regardless of the words I say or put on paper, I still know me better than the "public" does.

Anyhow, there was this moment when I was brushing the hair across his brow and whispering lullabies to him that a thought occurred to me:  I would take this on for you if I could.  I would be sick on your behalf if it were possible.

I'm sure that in all my years of mothering, wife-ing, friending, I must have said this before and probably more than once but I don't think I've ever felt it so intensely or so intensely understood the implications of such a statement as I did in that moment.

I started to think about my prominent relationships.  I would be sick for the g'babes so that they might be well.  I would ease the burdens that my daughters carry in order that they might have fruitful, happy lives.  I would relieve my husband of the emotional weight he carries so that he might have all the joy and buoyancy that I know he deserves.*

What we're talking about now is sacrifice.
I would take it on (whatever it is) so that they might live more freely, more abundantly.

That's when I start to wonder just how far I'd go, how much I really would give up for the sake of those whom I love.  I like to think I'd give it all but I've not faced that kind of reality.  I begin to reflect on 9/11.  It's hard, I know, but you do that too for just a minute.  Stop and think about the hundreds of men and women who gave their lives on that day in the service of others ~ who gave their own lives so that others could live.

Now.  The astonishing fact is:  One Man gave His life so that every single one of us might live.

What we're talking about now is love.

Look, for real, I know this makes some of you angry - this notion, this concept of unconditional, limitless love.  Angry in ways that can't be squished into words.  I know because I've been in that too.  What I'm telling you now is the truth, though, and I'm telling you from the free side:  Jesus really does love you.  His father really does love you.  Together, they implemented a plan to pursue and rescue you from the illness and anger and slavery of this tainted world.  "I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly," said Jesus. (John 10:10)

He requires nothing in return for that except for you to accept the offer.

Dear Jesus, I fall so short of my goals and so often.  Thank You for loving me anyway and for giving it all so that I might live forever with You.


*I must acknowledge that sickness is a fact of life and so are burdens and that a purpose may be served through it all.  There is so much that I actually would not take from those whom I love as I've seen the growth and wellness that is possible to achieve through hardship.