Stop being selfish with your resolutions

There are thousands of things one can choose to 'work on' and 'aim for' in their life. Everything can be improved upon. Even by the 1% percent rule- being 1% better today than you were yesterday will leave you leaps and bounds better after 365 days. That's the effect of compounding interest. One of the goals that I wanted to tackle in 2024 was my haystack hair. It is so dry and rats so easily. Also, my face. I wanted to find the right products, makeup, and routine to give me a young, dewy, glowing complexion. 

But why?

Why is it that of all the things I can work on, all the resolutions I can make- I picked things pertaining to the imperfect things about my appearance? Do I struggle with low self-esteem? Do I seek the approval of others on superficial levels because that is all I find valuable?  Am I so shallow that my preferences in others relate to these same things? Who am I judging and comparing myself to, that I find myself coming up short? Am I lowering my potential because of  the bar that society has set?

Do you know what you want in life? 

Can you articulate the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual goals for your one, singular life?

If you can- I would ask you "Are those yours, or society's?'.

If you can't- I would ask you "How do you know what to go towards?". How do you know what to ask God for if you don't know what you want? (Hint- let's want to be closer to God).

The purpose of life is not a wrinkle free face, an immaculate retirement portfolio, or even the knowledge and wisdom of the ages. What will those things gain you? What will those things protect you from? How will those things feed your soul? I suppose that desiring these things, in and of themselves, isn't a bad thing, but ultimately, in our striving for love, joy, and belonging they are mere crumbs leading us away from the true source of all that we search for and need. I believe every person on this earth feels a restless and urgent need for something that they can't put into words. That feeling of lost car keys, waking up late after the alarm didn't go off, or having a word just on the tip of your tongue- leaves you feeling off kilter a bit or even unknown to yourself. 

So, what is the purpose of life? What should we be resolving to do every New Year? What is our aim and our goal? What is a worthwhile quest for this one singular life? What is good and noble and right?

Truthfully, we are wise enough to know that the material and sense feeding things of this world will not quench our need for love, acceptance, and belonging. The wonderful truth of it all is that when we lead our lives from a place of being loved and accepted, then all we can do is thrive; all we can do is live into other people's lives for the better. Our Lord God loves and accepts us just the way we are. 

What does that look like on any given Sunday, Tuesday, or New Year's Day?

It involves the acceptance of being a part of something bigger than just your one life. 

It means a reconciliation between the life society has placed on a pedestal and the ultimate reality of finding the community of relationships that lend purpose and meaning to your existence. Living for your joy and happiness will assure your misery. Living each day as an opportunity to show loving kindness to others will assure you a life of fulfillment and meaning. Share a smile, hold a door, wish someone good luck, listen intently, give a hug, provide a hot meal - these are the things that love does. The purpose of life- is to be love, to act lovingly, and to maintain those abilities in the worst of times- just like Jesus did. 

New Year's Resolutions

 January 1, 2024

I felt it fitting that I didn't post one blog in 2023. It was a bit of a mean year. A sort of grumpy year for me. Prickly. Don't get me wrong, my year was also AMAZING!

I think this is probably the first real sign of old age. This vague sense of grump. Noticing weird body aches and pains, hearing my inner voice say "Does this music have to be so loud?" or some other complaint, and the enjoyment of bird watching. Why does this start happening to the majority of us in middle age?

As it turns out, I have a few thoughts on that. 

We're freaking over it already. Our minds have been spiraling in multiple directions for decades now and we just need things to shush for Pete's sake. OVER STIMULATION is totally for the 20 and 30 somethings. By 40- we want to have some control over the 3-ring circus that is 'life-work balance'. I also think we spend so much more time engaging in conversations that never actually happen, that by the time we get a moment of peace, we just need silence. The space that the imaginary conversations take up in our minds is absurd, and frankly, I'm sick of hearing it! Shut up, Brooke! Stop with the nonsense and go meditate. I am capable of calmness. 

At our age- we aren't developing our character or molding some public persona- when we are out in public, it is on purpose for some sort of utility to our lives. We no longer need to be coaxing people into thinking we are interesting, intelligent, and irreplaceable because we know we are all those and so much more. Because many of us have suffered through the hard thing, or things, and have a sense of sturdiness in who we are, the music can be turned down. We don't have to hide behind the loud drums or head banging guitar solos. We are who we have become. Take it or leave it. 

Which is why New Year's resolutions don't work on us. We do things when they need to get done. We buy things for ourselves when we need them. We'll make lifestyle changes when staying on the same course becomes more painful then trying something new, something better for us. Our risk and reward decision making process has gotten very streamlined. "What's the worst that's going to happen? I lose $2000 dollars? I've spent more for less important things." 

No. I'm not making New Year's Resolutions. What I am going to do is challenge myself to a new healthy habit each month. By the end of the year I hope to have:

    1. Walked 30 minutes every day.

    2. Read/Listen to a book once a month.

    3. Incorporate a skin care routine daily.

    4. Spent a day with my niece and nephew once a month.

    5. Incorporated specific proactive wellness practices. 

    6.  Chosen healthy meals when eating out.

    7. Stopped drinking coffee and soda, drink water and coconut water.

    8. Been intentional with my shopping. Shop local, made in the USA, Organic.

    9. Limited my alcohol intake to 2 drinks in one sitting. 

    10. Stuck to a sleep routine.

    11. Practiced gratitude daily.

    12. Prayed and meditated consistently. 

Happy for me in the New Year. 

Love Does.

One of my favorite authors is Bob Goff. He says "You'll do with your life what you do with your love." This is such a simple statement but really profound in its far reaching consequences. In a recent low period in my life, I struggled to feel worthy, to get things right, to feel connected. My depression was so worrisome that I started back in therapy and increased one of my anti-depressants. I confided in my partner, but the days just did not get better. UNTIL I thought about what I did with my love, and dialed into the questions of  who am I? and why am I feeling this way?

What I realized was a pattern, in a few of the significant depressive episodes that I have had. Including the one I was currently in. Something triggered the thought that the body keeps the score. Our bodies are these sensing beings taking in so much information, with so little of it reaching our conscious thought. Malcolm Gladwell has a book called "Talking to Strangers" and in his research that he shared there was a particular study that came to mind. The study was trying to see if someone will show a physiological response when it notices a pattern, and how they tested it was to use a deck of cards and the person was to guess higher or lower (I might have that wrong, but it was something just as simple). The basic results showed that our bodies reacted (with a change in vital signs, etc) when the mind recognizes a pattern on a subconscious level, well before it was recognized on the conscious level. Again- that's probably the worst synopsis possible, but you get my drift. 

Do you know how often you make eye contact with one particular person in a day? Or how about how often you smile around that person or they smile at you? What about reaching out and touching their arm or giving them a big hug, or a half-hearted hug? I am certain that I have never kept track of these things, but I do believe my subconscious noticed. How does my subconscious notify me that something is wrong or that the other person has shown less of these signs of attention? Well, apparently I get the notion that something is wrong, and believe that it is my fault, which leads to deeper feelings of unworthiness when my attempts at being more loving and attentive are not reciprocated. This is my working theory. When the other person withholds communication, eye contact, thoughtful appreciation, loving attention, and casual contact it would naturally make someone assume that the person is upset with them. Not me. I assume that they have found me out and realized I am unworthy of love. Which is complete and utter nonsense. The other thing I found out about what I do with my love is that I am generous, caring, supportive, thoughtful, and even sacrificial. I am somewhat fearless with the love I give. I am also independent. The kind of independent that doesn't require a lot of "taking care of". That's when I realized, it wasn't me it was him. Similar to my ex-husband John. When there are so few 'needs' that need met with me, not getting the basic kindness and support that should be found between two people in a relationship, is a huge deal. 

God teaches that he wants what is good for us, and that we should love others, even strangers, as we would want to be loved. There comes a point in love when it is no longer loving. I'm not talking the horrific situation of abuse, because that is not done out of love. I am talking about the clear absence of love, the verb, in a relationship. I will never forget another thing Bob Goff says and that is that "Love does." Fill your life with people that do the work of love. 

June 28, 2021- Threads of my life

So here I am again. Dangling with my feet, my mind and my being, into the frayed edges of depression. If I am honest, I'm no longer just dangling in the nearness of depression, but tangled in the thick strands of it; the same old upholstery of my mind that has been mine since my birth. If you've ever seen the two sides of upholstery up close you know that one side is the pretty side, the outcome of the sewn mess of threads that make up the ugly side. Being tangled is not so bad. It is being undone that I fear most. What is most important for me to keep in mind while I am sometimes feeling like I am losing it, is that so much of what is going on is because of pharmaceuticals. In this particular instance, for me, it is the changing of medications that is wrecking my life right now. This is the bullshit of it all and I can't help but clinch my teeth as a wave of angry tears reluctantly jump from my eyes. 

I've brought this round on myself. Starting in December of 2019, which was 5 years since my last hospitalization, I began a holistic approach to dealing with my entire self. I sought the nutritional and whole food supplementation advice of Dr. Michael Whitman and Dr. Adrienne Hagedorn and have been seeing them on a maintenance basis for over a year now. With the improvement of my gut lining, the ability to assimilate and actually absorb the nutrients, vitamins, minerals, and most importantly the proteins that are the building blocks of my neurotransmitters, I was able to wean off 2 anti-depressants (out of the 4 I had been prescribed since 2014). Anti-depressants have saved my life, more than a few times. They have also stolen it, in months and years at a time. It's not really as dramatic as it sounds, well wait, maybe it actually is. My desire to decrease the number of medications I take for my depression stemmed from my desire to fall in love again, to become emotionally available to others, and to be joyful AND down right pissed off when it is called for. All things that were proving to be impossible on the dosages that I was on. Apathy and the cardboard box life that high dosages of medications can cause were a total pain in my nothingness. And if there is anything I want out of my life, it is for the absence of nothingness. So, I worked with my doctors to wean off the medications. 

And Guess What?- I fell in love.  Boy, he sure didn't know what he was getting himself into, but we sure are smitten with each other. He sure is healing to be around and I find peace in his strength. 

At 44, almost 45, I found myself still dealing with cystic acne. The kind of acne caused by hormonal imbalance. I know, can't a girl catch a break already! I know my hormones are doing something to me but it has been hard to tell whether it's my depression or my hormones that is causing my low mood. They have always worked for and against me most my life. My mental health practitioner suggested a new medication. One that she has seen a lot of great results with and I just wanted to hope that one new pill would do away with the last two meds I was still on and so I agreed to try it. Weaning off anti-depressants, especially one that requires 24 days for half of it to get out of your system, is as fun as having - well I can't even imagine what is equivalent to it- it fucking sucks. The new medication and the withdrawal of the other leaves me feeling so off center. I am writing this for over 2 hours because I can't stay focused. I get up and think I should mow the yard and then instead I make something to eat when I am not hungry. I am irritated at sitting still and irritated at not having a place to sit. All at the same time. I am tearful at church and crying during every worship song and yet I feel more connected to God through those tears. I am so emotional, and it is great and beautiful, and very, very hard. I can't decide whether I want to go and do something or sit and stay. I am raw in every mental and emotional way and I pray that this new pill will do what it is good at doing and that the withdrawal of the other medication just gets on with it already. 

The difficult life of a gypsy with a mortgage. January 31, 2021

Gypsy heart with a 30 year mortgage. It's going to take some getting used to. The only endurance event I ever completed successfully was a marathon. Jobs, relationships, and addresses have not customarily enticed me to endure for more than 3 or 4 years. Which is why 2 ex-husbands, 19 previous "permanent" residences, and 20 some different hospital contracts later- I am not surprised to find myself curious about the prospect of buying an old home in Southeastern Italy for 1 Euro (how do I get the Euro symbol? Must put at the top of my to-do list that I never intend starting on). Wouldn't that just be so "Under the Tuscan Sun" of me? It sounds romantic and carefree, and deliciously carb friendly. Damn you corporate America. What is this stingy hold you have over my life, and others, slivering vacation days like some plastic surgeon shaving off the end of someone's nose. I like my vacations in big honking chunks. "Doctor- take it all off and leave nothing to spare!" Let's give vacation time to employees in days, not hours. Let's take vacations in weeks not days! I'm already thinking like a European. Maybe a life in Italy is not such a bad idea after all. Oh hush, I know. I am already having those practical, life application arguments with myself. Ugh, what if what if what if? Shut your pie hole hussy- life isn't being lived by merely having acceptable responses to all the what ifs about a situation. That's for cowards. Or for people with children and responsibilities. Not for dreamers and doers like me! I'm a vagabond heart with Google translate downloaded on my phone. Nothing has to hold me back. Except for COVID and 29 more years on this mortgage. Closed borders are not a gypsy girl's friend. Mortgage smortgage- that can be dealt with in various ways. Did you hear that? The heavy exhale of a defeated soul. Is being carefree and impractical at 44 3/4 charming and enviable or tacky and childish? Only tacky if wearing big, neon pink hoop earrings. That's my final answer.

Life on the ordinary is difficult. Mostly because I've wrapped up my identity with the doings of my life. The coming and going has been feeding my curiosity for 20 years. Since owning my home here in Southern Indiana I have watched more TV then in all the years combined up to this point. It is NOT who I am. (I will only allow the pandemic a small nugget of responsibility for it's part in keeping me home). Sitting around while time ticks by fuels my restlessness. Gray skies and cold wind irritate the travel bug inside of me. It is the last day of January. (Happy Birthday to my beautiful older sister, Carrie).

Dear God, It's me again. When you nudged me homeward bound in 2018 I obeyed. Your mercy and grace in my life have shown up in fairy tale ways. Ways that I will never earn nor deserve. Thank You. Two words that are used so cheaply sometimes. This would not be one of them. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. I give you all the glory. IJNIP- Amen. 

Florida bound in 12 days. But who's counting? Go Brooke!

January 24, 2021- looking down the barrel of 45

 I'm looking down the road at turning 45 later this year. Forty-whatyoutalkinboutWillis-five. That's not in dog years either. I have to say I'm not sweating it. Literally, not sweating it because I am not having those crazy hot flashes that I assume could be on the horizon, as my pristine never used uterus and ovaries begin to reign in MENOPAUSE. Which is really kind of a kick in the crotch because if I am honest the last few years have been nothing but men-on-pause. When I decided to move back to my exotic home scape in Southern Indiana, I knew that dating would be a challenge. Wait, there are plenty of guys who would likely take me on a date. So let me rephrase that- finding a man who does not smoke, has a well-paying job, and the capable mental acrobatics that can keep up with my own would be difficult. There are lots of men out there but I require teeth, the absence of facial and/or neck tattoos, and currently single. These are my preferences. Call me judgmental. If I were to tell you my list of ideal qualities- you'd understand how very low my standards have fallen. The caveat to all of this is that I am no longer a prime catch. I am no longer built like a brick-shit house... more of a flabby inflatable jump house, and rarely wear clothing that I couldn't do yoga in (as if I actually did yoga). I'm not trying to date outside of my league by any means. You can imagine my surprise when a dating site hottie matched me and he was 14 years my junior. He wasn't from Nigeria and didn't ask for money and he really just liked older women. Yes please and Thank You. The age difference wasn't the reason we ended things. He ended it I suppose since he was the one who didn't respond to my text messages first. But I didn't throw down any road blocks if you know what I'm sayin. He was a "musician" and lived in his Mom's basement. It was a fun 3 months. Very fun. A LOT of fun. 

Anyway....45. I have decided this isn't my midlife point though. I expect to die at 93. So I have another year and a half before I reach THAT mountain top. It's been a hell of a climb so far. No, I never had children, and that's an unfortunate/blessing from God. The climb has been challenging and I am looking forward to the down hill ease of conversations about bowel movements and retirement villages to tour. I already feel like a senior citizen around my nephew and niece who are far more technologically savvy then I ever want to be. Neither one can brush their teeth above the sink like an appropriate human being. Which oddly makes me feel superior in the technology department. Go Brooke.  

Found this June 19th 2020 in a notebook Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you..

November 5th- St. Vincent's Hospital, Evansville, IN

I watched Dad's face as the doctor went  over the CT Scan results from the evening before. He had swallowed some dye and then imaging was done to see if there was a hole or a fistula communicating between his esophagus and right lung. Dad finally felt hungry today. He looked forward to eating for the first time since his cancer diagnosis in June. I didn't need to hear what the results were. All I could see was despair on Dad's face. He just stared at the wall. It was a look of pain like I've never seen. All I could say was "I'm sorry Dad". He probably didn't even hear me over the sound of the high flow oxygen he was receiving. He stared off most of the day, or had his eyes shut. I hated that he wouldn't talk to me.

How does a daughter help her father during such a difficult cancer journey? Where is the balance between optimism, guarded hope and harsh reality? Being at his side has been a blessing and a curse I watched him become paralyzed to do anything but exist since his diagnosis. He didn't pull himself up by his bootstraps, start living a healthy life and a new fitness routine as if assuming the stance of a cancer warrior. Rather, he seemed to collapse in on himself, so deep into darkness, that daylight caused him pain.

I watched him lose 20 pounds, then 30 pounds and I feared he would actually starve to death. I called Dr. Poirier to talk some sense into Dad about getting a g-tube. Dad reluctantly agreed. He had all the chemo and radiation and now all that was left was for him to do was to get stronger and put on weight.

His lungs and esophagus were irritated from the radiation, so Dad had copious amounts of sticky thick secretions. He was dehydrated, got pneumonia, and then got c-diff. We began once daily IV antibiotics at home. He had nurses, physical therapists and occupational therapists coming by throughout the week.

He finally admitted he was depressed and yet still refused to talk to anyone or take anything for it. He was failing to thrive and my hands were tied on how much motivation, reprimanding and pleading that I could do. He wouldn't hear any of it. So I loved him. I stopped blaming character flaws for his poor health and I cared for him. He was still Dad and yet he became a man who was dying of cancer. I'm sure  that compassion and empathy are more readily available when all my emotional memories and needs were put away. I'm not saying I only looked at Dad through rose colored glasses. I'm saying I chose to look beyond who he was to me and see him as the person who needs me. I had many moments of anger and frustration at how stubborn he was being, but with the help of God's grace I became tolerant of his, understandably, foul moods and depressed outlook. Eeyore must have had esophageal cancer. I started asking myself who he needed me to be. More often than not, all he needed was his daughter in the corner looking out for him. Mom taught me how to be present without being intrusive when she stayed by my side at the hospital in Indianapolis when I had Dengue Fever.

Today, sometime between the news of the fistula and me leaving the hospital for the night, Dad came to terms with something. I'll probably never know what brought it on, but when I was leaving I told him to "Give 'em hell tonight" and he laughed a real laugh. I love you Dad.

November 11, 2019 IU University Hospital, Indianapolis, IN

It's Veteran's  Day. Because Dad's situation is so complex we asked to be transferred to Indy. This is where his post-chemo and radiation surgery will be if he ever is able to have his esophageal tumor resected. We transferred on Friday night. Today will be a week without any nutrition. I want to list briefly how Dad's course has gone.
After diagnosis, Dad did very little to improve his health to take on chemo and radiation. He actually went through them pretty well. He was weak, but also depressed and didn't do much more than go from the couch to the bed.

December 21, 2019

It's been a month today since Dad died.

April 29, 2020: The Truth to live by.

Heavenly Father,

There is such a deafening noise in life that makes it so hard to hear you. I know that you are always there, but I hate how long I can go without connecting to you. Beautiful music that praises your love, grace and mercy tend to make me well up if I have been too long in life and too short in worship. Thank you for this moment that I have with you, and all those before and to follow. You deserve so much more than I have given. You give eternity, and I give mere minutes a day. It is embarrassing how I have disobeyed your commandments while practically looking you in the eye. How ungrateful my heart must be and how utterly profound your love must be. 

I listen for you and expectantly wait for our connection. I know when it is you because you are always strong, and good and right. You make sure that I understand what you mean. These things I have obeyed. In your usual fashion, you fill my life with blessings. The difficult blessings are my badges of honor. I came home when you said to and I battled with myself for the identity that I thought I had to define. I know all to well that those battles are self-inflicted torture. You just want me to be yours. How many times do I need to have you prove that it is your light that feeds me, protects me, loves me and grows me? Not the light of this world, but your light in the world. 

How can I help make things better? The current events filling the world are quite possibly the worst best thing that could have happened. Coronavirus- quarantine, shelter in place, stay home, no work, no gatherings. Just be. It is a place of shadows; this world. The left ear won't believe what the right ear is hearing. Every situation has a side- it's just that the situation isn't one dimensional, but more like a Rubik's Cube. There is an ever increasing demand that there be agreement on all facets of a situation less one be shamed and ridiculed by the Pope, the poet, and the poor man. Living in a time with so much information available irrationally makes us think that our thoughts are the right thoughts and the only possible option. We feed on the news that dresses up our own view point as the Belle of the Ball and be damned if anyone should hint at having more than one Belle at a time. The razor thin line between them and us has gotten so tangled in personal judgments and petty self- promotion, rather than intellectual discourse, that it now looks like barbed wire. Both sides end up a bloody mess. 

I am beginning to understand more about you as The Truth. You never meant for our understanding of your Truth to be engraved in stone, did you? Is it that Truth is what is lived out by loving our neighbor as ourselves? One's behavior, when it is an extension of that love, leads to the greatest experience of truth. Your Truth is giving up our love of ourselves to others so that they are wholly loved by you, through each of us. How did we start believing that truth was all or nothing, black or white, up or down? 

Thank You for this life. IJNIP, Amen.

July 15, 2019 Love is and love does

What makes love, love? 

Love can be a verb. To love someone seems to imply that one somehow demonstrates their love through miscellaneous acts towards another person. Because I love you I...

                      attempt to make your life easier

                      want to spend time doing everything and nothing with you

                      trust you with my story, my joy and my pain

                      hold you with unconditional positive regard

                      want what you want

                      put your happiness at the top of my priority list                                                          There are a lot of things to "do" to show someone you love them but there is also a long list of things to NOT do when you love someone. Because I love you I will not...

                       break your trust

                       disregard your needs

                       be disrespectful of the things that anger you, scare you, worry you or concern you 

                           about us and our future

                       allow another person to harm you if it is within my power

                       use any weapon against you- physical or emotional

But can love really just be whittled down to a list of do's and don'ts?

Absolutely not. In fact, articulating these behaviors does nothing more than make a list of ingredients that may or may not work for you. 

Love can be a noun. A treasure, an emotion, something elusive, a notion, a feeling of familiarity, a quest and a nightmare. Love is and love does and it might not be love if it isn't both. We must be and do love- any and every kind of love. Romantic love. Familial love. Adoration as love, as with a pet. Unconditional love, as is the love from God. 

So where do we find love?  Is it even something that can be found? My belief is that love is like our five senses. Love, like wind or the scent of a rose garden, is experienced on different levels. We can't see, taste or hear the scent that comes from the rose garden, but we can smell, touch, and feel all that creates that scent. So love can be found anywhere and nowhere. It can be created but not always seen. It can exist without being felt. It can be lost, broken, grieved, and damned. It can be sacrificed for the greater good. It can be destroyed in a flash and created in a breath. 

It must be experienced in order to be created and it must be created in order to exist. Be and do, here and now. You are love and your love does.

                      

 

So there I was...: July 3, 2019- too much freedom?

So there I was...: July 3, 2019- too much freedom?: So there I was standing in front of my patient. She was sitting in a chair beside her bed in the Cardiovascular ICU, her thighs being squee...

July 3, 2019- too much freedom?

So there I was standing in front of my patient. She was sitting in a chair beside her bed in the Cardiovascular ICU, her thighs being squeezed in by the pressure of the recliner's arms with bulging hospital gown hiding that the recliner had arms at all. She was in her late 60s, diabetic, and continuing her heart attack right in front of my eyes; it was evolving in medical speak. She was eating Wendy's. A chicken sandwich with mayo and a baked shell of butter and sour cream with a splash of potato for flavor. I was standing there looking from her, to her obese daughter, and then to her older sister. "Why don't you just smack me in the face." I was amazed at the amount of control I had of my voice and words. I was almost certain there would be a four letter word or two coming out considering the complete contempt and disgust that I felt at that moment. Of course her chubby cheeks and double chin sagged in a horrible frown. "You are sitting there eating fast food, in the Cardiovascular ICU, while your heart attack is continuing on until it finishes the damage it is going to do. Just spit on me."

A month earlier:
There was a group of Greek police in riot gear standing in front of the "gate" that led into the Idomeni Refugee Camp in Northern Greece. It had been very hot the last few days. Which was strange for early April. Refugees, volunteers, and civilians all looking at each other to see who might know what was going on. There was a commotion, a buzz of frenzied terror. Standing outside the gate, as I had been on my way into the camp, those of us that were closest to the scene were slowly backing away. It wasn't something I consciously thought about. The panic and yelling coming from the crowd, the crowd that didn't speak English, did not need a translator. Looking back, it reminds me of one of those disaster movie scenes where there is a big ruckus and everyone is frightened and running, but still looking back, trying desperately to understand what was was causing such chaos. People were running in this large pack, like a swarm of bees, towards the outer edge of the camp. If I didn't know that it was an empty cornfield behind them, I would've sworn there was a tidal wave coming. My eyes followed the front of the swarm. Arms waving and voices likely yelling to get out of the way because the crowd parted as the swarm came closer. I anxiously looked ahead of the swarm wondering where they were going or what they were heading towards with such high stakes.  My eyes were darting, taking in as much as possible, what happened, what could it be... there were rocks being thrown at the police, a group of 3 or 4 young men rocked a dumpster, back and forth, back and forth, until it turned over completely. The swarm of refugees appeared to be men mostly, but the women- the crying women were right there with them on the outskirts of the swarm, not wanting to slow it down or get in the way, but running along beside as best they could. I caught a glimpse, the tiniest opening in the swarm at just the right second, and my jaw clenched. My eyes filled because I knew, but yet, didn't know- that a refugee had been hurt, injured in some fatal way. They carried him by his arms and legs, running as fast as they could possibly go in their six legged race. It was the MSF (Medicine Sans Frontiers or Doctors without Borders)  medical tent they were going towards.  Murmurs and translations were jumbled all around me. The sound of sirens in the background made sense now.
The Greek Police had run over a refugee, near the tea tent. Why? How? After the swarm stopped at the medical tent, the rest of us rubberneckers started to spread apart, for the ambulance, and head closer to it, to the tragedy. It felt like a week that the ambulance just sat there but it apparently had picked up very precious cargo and began down the dirt trail toward the road.
He was hanging blankets up to create shade for his family. The hot sun and dusty wind was infuriating. It was hard to escape. His wife and three children had survived their desperate flight from Syria, through Turkey, and onto Greek soil by way of  the "Mafia". The had reached the border of Greece and Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. It was the path to possible freedom. To family that already lived in western European countries; to Germany that had been accepting all asylum seekers from Syria. They made it through the hardest parts of the their journey to freedom. He had fallen backwards while he hung the blankets, some say he appeared to pass out, probably from the heat they said. He fell onto the ground, directly in front of a Greek Police van. It was said that part of his head had been run over. It was said that he was quickly scooped up and a swarm of refugees took off with him while others began throwing rocks at the police van. Windows shattered and tires were flattened. The cry went out through the camp, "The Greek police just ran over a man!" It wasn't a lie. It also wasn't the whole truth.
As the ambulance left and the crowd ever so slowly dispersed, I went toward the medical tent. The dry, dusty ground had a very large area that appeared to have been watered, as if flowers were expected to pop up. Of course it wasn't water but blood and yes, his skull had been crushed by the tire. The young man, in his 30s, left a young wife with three young children. He died and was to be buried there in the small town near the border. I have thought of the young family he left behind and wondered where they are now or what had become of them. I think of the doctors, nurses and medics that took care of this young refugee fleeing his decimated country where war seemed to continue until even the soil gave in. As of June 2018 34,618 men, women, and children have lost their lives fleeing from war and oppression in Syria. This is just one of them.

My return to the US after almost two weeks in northern Greece was an amalgamation of exhaustion, self-righteous anger, and incredulity. Which is why I found myself in front of my patient, telling her to just spit on me. Did she know, understand or even grasp the monumental gift she had been given? Did she realize how many other possibilities would have left her dead decades ago? If an ICU bed costs $5000/day (that's a low estimate), her outrageously fortunate self was receiving the benefit of top tier healthcare bestowed onto her for $3.47/minute: NO QUESTIONS ASKED. It was on this night, with this patient, that I knew my nursing career in Intensive Care would not be lasting much longer. Medical professionals carry heavy patient loads, working as best they can to ensure that the patient has the greatest possibility for the best possible outcome. Our performance is graded on those outcomes, mine personally and the hospitals' overall. Not one ounce of accountability is required to receive healthcare in this country. Our freedoms "are not so we can do what we want, but to do what we ought" -Jim Caviezel. When it comes to our personal health, to what should we be held accountable?

An authentic AH-HA moment for the ages.

There are self-help books, motivational TED talks, therapists, and even fortune cookies that ladle out advice on everything. If you don't have anything wrong with you, go to the self-help aisle in a bookstore and be quickly corrected. Apparently some of us can't even get sleep right. I have no qualms sharing the subjects of some of the many, many self-help books I've read in my life. Most are the everyday stuff like weight loss, diet and exercise, happiness, healing, alcohol abuse, finances, what religion I most closely identify with (apparently it was Hindu at the time) how to be a better Christian, restoring energy, depression, suicide, even finding my own north star. Truthfully, it's mostly pop psychology or a current fad like The South Beach diet, now more detailed and called Paleo. And Oprah has been the author of more than one of the books I've read.

Ugh- it's exhausting. Literally.

I'm going to guess that I'm not the only person who has felt like a failure about a week after finishing one of these types of books. I can never seem to get a hang of the very simple 937 steps it would take to lose weight, eat an anti-inflammatory diet, or get to my North Star with my "Untethered Soul" and it has really started to get on my nerves.

Am I right? These things aren't rocket science. It's not complicated to understand the "calories in -calories out" math. I've set goals for setting goals, that's how much of a perfectionist I have been. I've also sat with myself and given myself some grace that I may not be able to win everyone as a friend or influence anyone. Truth be told, I would settle for being nice enough to myself to be considered my own friend, and then maybe I would actually be able to influence my own behavior in positive and lasting ways.

Brene Brown has been my favorite hero now for five years or so. Daring Greatly profoundly changed my relationship with the rest of the world. Rising Strong as a Spiritual Practice opened the window I needed to stop apologizing for all the ways I was too much, or not enough for other people. I have learned a thing or two through all of this, but it was today that I finally had that real AH- HA moment that has been so elusive.

James Clear wrote the book Atomic Habits and I've only started listening to it today on my walk. It will apparently give instructions on how to create habits that can change your life. I will briefly explain his reasoning- We do not reach a goal because one day we have done enough of this or that and it just happened. I've set a million goals, and setting that goal, whether s.m.a.r.t. or not, didn't help me achieve it. Don't we all want to lose weight and get in shape? The crux of my ah-ha moment is that in our lives we make tiny, insignificant decisions, changes in 1% of our everyday lives according to the author. These decisions, at the moment, are harmless. But when today's decision is repeated tomorrow, and the next day, it doesn't take long for a habit to form- good or bad. For me, depressive thinking became a habit. It was years of accumulating decisions in my behaviors and thought patterns that ultimately allowed me to become incapacitated by my own mind. A few months ago I described doing sit ups while going through some bizarre overwhelming sadness that came on out of the blue. The sit ups got rid of the overwhelming sadness. It was my DECISION, that 1%, to just do SOMETHING besides sitting tearful on the couch that likely changed the trajectory of my life. According to Clear, it is not the goal that matters, it is the systems we use in life that need adjusted 1% everyday that will facilitate the goal becoming a reality. Have you ever tried to stop drinking soda or smoking, just to be frustrated and cranky? It's because the systems in our lives weren't adjusted to succeed. For example, I'm fairly excited to say that I haven't had Dr. Pepper in my refrigerator for months. Although I will still drink one if I go out. But, I started ordering sweet tea, and now I order half and half tea. The system that shapes my Dr. Pepper habit is slowly being changed. Maybe you get in the car and you are used to lighting a cigarette right at the beginning. That is a system at work that you can influence, 1% at a time.
I've stopped having the inner dialogue that what I cook won't turn out right and I'll wish I had eaten out instead. I allow myself only 10 minutes of snoozing, and then 5 minutes of looking at the notifications on my phone for the last "snooze session" and when the alarm rings for the final time, I'm up and out of bed. I think this notion of 1% at a time will be very powerful for me when it comes to my self-talk. If my mind starts nagging, whining, berating, calling names or anything else, I'm just going to stop, say a quick thank you to God, and get on with life. I don't need to mull over every negative detail that shows up, sticks out, or demands attention. Which reminds me of something we did in Bali during the women's retreat, and that was to put the bitch in the box. That haughty, mean spirited, troll of a voice that can ruin a perfectly good piece of pie, or marriage, or life.
Ah, yes.... things are already in motion that in a month, a year, a decade from now- will transform how I approach the art of life. This is very, very good. A

For my friend, Jan. You've got this.

For nurses in an intensive care unit, there is an unteachable gift that gets honed related to sound. The equipment, the lights, the hum of life, all become the context that our work exists in. We may not be able to articulate what it is that we know by just listening, but we know. Background noise, the sound of a working ventilator, the hair raising recognition that something is wrong and someone needs help with their patient before you hear the words yelled into the hallway. It was the sound of the quick and heavy foot steps and the way the intensity of the voice got projected before all of the words were even spoken. You knew. We know, and we act. It's the sound of an IV pump beeping for too long followed by an alarm that makes us get to the room more quickly. It's the tension in the face of someone who is dying that we pick up on hours, even days, before the resignation of the body. That is the space that nurses save lives in. The stillness of life after the exhale is finished, but before the inhale is initiated. We know but can't tell you what it is. It could be compared to driving your car and knowing something is wrong because of the sound it is or isn't making, or the sense of motion that feels different then usual. I've taken for granted how much my senses inform my world. Smelling the perfume "Michael" takes me immediately to Australia, smelling a camp fire takes me back to the nights in high school spent with the people of my past, and hearing the difference between elated tears and spirit crushing sorrow makes me tear up when it is the latter. How miraculous these senses are for our lives. The weight of a sleeping baby on your chest that brings feelings of peace. 

There is another area in my life where the 'muscle memory' of 42 years of experience shows up and speaks to my life. I can furrow my brow, turn down the corners of my mouth, relax my body into a defeated posture, and I'm on my way to feeling depressed. I would not do this on purpose but after spending a whole lot of time in that depressive posture, it is no surprise that the emotions of hopelessness, anxiety, and apathy come to keep the posture of my body company. It is a horrifying carousel of self-defeating existence. 

I was quite sick last week with the usual winter potpourri of fever, cough, chills, aches, and nausea. The kind of sick that makes sleeping exhausting work. The heaviness of an over tired body is one of my biggest false flags of depression. I am glad that I can recognize it as fatigue and not defeat. So last week in the midst of my cold medicine haze, I couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming sadness. There wasn't any event that prompted these feelings of sadness. No horrible tragedy or death of a loved one. But, nonetheless, I felt the deep ache of an emotional pain that had no name. What was it that my body knew that I didn't? I kept asking myself what it had been that prompted such turmoil.Then I was asking myself why in the hell was I crying? Then, the most ludicrous of all ideas came to mind, (which is usually the work of the Holy Spirit)- I was on the floor with my knees bent and my fingers interlocked behind my head, not even knowing why I was doing it. My crying and counting was- shocking and somewhat hysterical. I don't know how many sit ups I did. It wasn't many before I lifted myself off the floor in astonishment of not feeling overwhelmingly sad anymore. As a matter of fact, I didn't feel any of the emotions that just a few minutes prior were doing a dress rehearsal of another major depressive battle to endure. But they weren't real. The sadness wasn't real. I had the single biggest epiphany about my depression: I am not crazy, but my chemistry is. How and why, I don't have answers to. But that night, in a daring act of rebellion, I hijacked my self from the chemistry that was attacking it. I climbed up and out of the depressive posture that my mind and body have so frequently and easily conformed to. I replaced the emotional and muscle memory of depression with the motion of my body. In all the history of my major depressive disorder, I have never done sit ups. I took the chemical context and replaced it with a physical reality with absolutely no connection to the emotions of sadness, hopelessness, apathy, and defeat. And I kinda wanna say "In your face, sucker!" This is the very first time I have been able to short circuit the cycle of depression. This was my victory. Cue the song "Eye of the Tiger" no, not Katy Perry's version- pft. 

January 20,2019- We the people

There is a question I've been asking much more frequently these days. 

"What is wrong with people?" 

Personally, I have asked this question most recently about a variety of topics:

Puppy mills, child abuse and neglect, any and all types of violence, up to and including murder. Sometimes in response to reading the news or watching a news clip-- "What is wrong with these people?" ISIS, human traffickers, Catholic priests who have sexually abused children, a President who literally calls people names, as if he were on a school playground.

The slanderous name calling of those on different political sides, the incivility toward each other based on presumptions that seem to require no fact checking or follow up questioning. How did hatefulness become the path of least resistance? Where or when did our rose colored glasses turn into the image at the end of a barrel? How did foe become the default assumption? 

Why do you hate me? Imagine that being asked today by people from different backgrounds, cultures, ages, sexes, races, and sexual identity.

The answers would be quite eye opening, I'm sure. Heartbreaking and convicting all at the same time.

Interestingly, I hope anyway, most people wouldn't be able to name specific people, but rather after a few names they would have to admit that it isn't the actual person, but that it is the group, or side, or belief that they stand on. We are all too familiar with the groups- I'm fairly certain that I don't have to name names to make this point. What it boils down to are the two main culprits that are alive and well in our society- us and them. If you are not for us, you're against us. The lines have been drawn in the sand. Which side to choose?

The last time I checked- there was no requirement to choose. How did we come to the point of accepting the way the media portrays the issues affecting our country as being only two sided? For or against. When did we give them the power to define sides and then explicitly give reason and meaning to those in opposition?

Black Lives Matter- if you don't think so it's because you are racist.

Make America Great Again- if you don't support it then you don't believe in patriotism and support of the foundations this country was built on, and are probably a Socialist.

Me Too-if you don't support the women who have spoken out against violence, harassment, and sexism, then you must think that women are partly at fault, or asking for it, for how they were treated. 

Gun Control Laws- if you don't support gun control legislation then you are fine with the threat of mass shootings, even if children are the potential targets.

Behind each of these narratives are the people who have endured through the worst of what could be dealt to them. The mothers and fathers of those who have been killed by police without provocation, whose children died at the school in an unthinkable act of violence, of those who live in the grips of systemic poverty and social injustice, and being raised in an environment that has stopped trying to fight it anymore. Enduring the harassment of men because you have been groomed to believe that you owe them for your job, your home, your security, or some other thing, and feeling unworthy of acceptance and belonging unless you wear skirts and heels. 

In all things, there is a bigger picture, a wider angle that diffuses the intensity of each individual's experiences. That is not fair. It would be similar to telling someone having a panic attack to just quit stressing about it. Right, because they never thought about that before. Or telling a woman to just leave their relationship, their job, or their home - just do it, doesn't work. It's complex, multifaceted and deserving of patience and respect from those on the outside of it. We've all heard the cliche` that everyone is going through struggles, or not to judge someone until you've walked in their shoes. We need to be much more curious then certain about our reaction to any of the us vs them topics. As human beings we have the capacity to reason, to take into account multiple variables and come to a conclusion. It might be difficult to hear, but our self-righteous indignation, arrogant assumptions of what it is like being in their shoes, and any other topic that you have no first hand experience with, has no place if you have not moved in closer to "them" to understand their struggles, fears, obstacles, and dreams. People are not statistics. The parents of children killed in mass school shootings are not comforted by the statistics of how much less gun violence there is over the last 50 years, and shame on us for thinking it should. Ditto for the families who have lost a loved one due to an interaction with a police officer, or the women who have endured the unwanted sexual advances in the American work force and the powerlessness they have had over it for so many decades,  just because there are women who will fabricate such things.  

It is not "Us the people, of the United States of America- or "Them the people" it is WE the people. 

And the Pledge of Allegiance- is to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Not just for democrats or republicans, not just for the red states or the blue states. We are all covered by that flag, and to maintain liberty and justice for all, we can't be "us or them". 

There are entities at work, attempting to divide and conquer, our great nation. Media is no longer trust worthy, and to know something for sure, will take us moving in and meeting our neighbors and loving them like ourselves.

August 17, 2018 - I'm a Bible Study Dropout

I recently "left" a bible study group. It wasn't the right fit. That was my best, politically correct explanation, I gave to the group. I want to talk about this though, because it's been heavy on my heart. My first encounter with God was completely life-changing. Since December 2014, I have devoured books on Christianity, on the tough-to-believe things that are in the Bible, on the power of God working through people all around the world, and a deep study of the New Testament in the Bible. I have 3 books written about the Dead Sea Scrolls written for 3 different purposes, a book of Flavius Josephus "The Antiquities of the Jews" translated by William Whiston, A.M. wherein book 18 is written about an interval of 32 years that acknowledges the different Jewish sects. On page 576:
       Now, there was about this time Jesus, a wise man, if it be lawful to call him a man, for he             was a doer of wonderful works- a teacher of such men receive the truth with pleasure. He           drew over to him both many Jews and many of the Gentiles. He was [the] Christ; and                 when Pilate, at the suggestion of the principal men amongst us, had condemned him to the         cross (A.D. 33, April 3), those that loved him at the first did not forsake him, for he                       appeared to them alive again the third day, as the divine prophets had foretold these and             ten thousand other wonderful things concerning him; and the tribe of Christians, so                     named from him are not extinct at this day. 
He also mentions John the Baptist, Herod, Pilate and many other people in the Bible. For what it is worth, it should be known that Josephus eventually betrayed his fellow Jews. It is fascinating to read all of these different pieces of the Biblical and historical records of 2000 years ago, at the same time. My heart is full for our God. My faith flows deeply through my life, anchoring me to a sense of peace that I find difficult to describe. I've encountered God a second, a third, and a fourth time. It is love. I embrace this love in a very intentional, thoughtful, and prayerful way. It is the most important thing about who I am.

Back to dropping out of Bible Study. We decided to "study" John Bevere's book- Killing Kryptonite. There were videos to watch each week that accompanied the readings we were to do. My first impression of this man was from the words he wrote, actually convicting me of my own practiced sin and what changes I would need to make to stop living in sin. The first impression, gut instinct, of his video teaching, left me unsettled. Something wasn't right. Each week, the more of the book and the videos we were getting through, the more I felt like his understanding and teaching of scripture were very decidedly one sided, and I finally decided to google him
 https://churchwatchcentral.com/2017/10/02/killing-kryptonite-the-bait-of-john-bevere/ 

In essence, he is not the kind of person I want to be learning any biblical principals from. I felt he was taking the scriptures that supported his claims, while not, also discussing, the scriptures that complete the essence of the teaching in the bible. The group had a Facebook page, and I wrote this similar description and my thoughts about why this guy was unsettling to me. I was told we would talk about it at group. We were only a week away from being done with it.  My post was taken down from the group leader in less than 10 minutes. Now throughout this study 4 other members spoke up saying similar things about his teaching. So on the last night of the study, it wrapped up and no one had much to offer up about it. Now, my thought was that the two women who were leading this study were going to bring up the difficulties that I, and others, had. I am vocal, indeed. I am not one to be confused by something and sit quietly about it. If it doesn't make sense I ask. This is my salvation and I am intentional with everything that I read- we are warned that there will be many false teachers to lead people astray. We are taught to verify the validity of a writing about scripture by comparing it to ....SCRIPTURE. We are to ask the Holy Spirit to help us understand. Because the ladies who said we would talk about it didn't bring it up, and I was trying to be polite and wait until I was called on but no. I made a snarky comment about everyone knowing I didn't like the guy and that I had a problem with some of the things he said and the way he interpreted scripture. Still not willing to discuss it. One later said it was because I was argumentative. I was holding back tears at the complete disregard for my thoughts and floored that when I asked them how the discerned scripture, meaning interpreted scripture from Christian authors - they said by the Holy Spirit and elders, apparently they didn't understand the question I was asking. I was heartbroken. I was angry that those who shared similar thoughts, didn't speak up. I was lost in the disregard for truth seeking.

I drove home and after careful thought and prayer, I private messaged 3 women in the group, the 2 who lead the bible study and the woman who invited me into the group. "I want to thank you for allowing me into your bible study. Thank You ... for opening your home. I respectfully will not be in attendance any further. I am not sure why I was censored on the page, not wanting to 'confuse' anyone being more important than having real discussion to work through this book's work....

I was told my discussion on the group page was actually in argument to why the study was not in alignment with the Word and why I didn't like the author (Yes because they were counter to the overall gospel). It's ok to discuss, but in your zeal to point out what was wrong you missed the point of the discussion...I have times when I share struggles. I also know that others have. We bring each other to accountability (I guess they didn't see that was what I was doing; trying to hold the author accountable to the gospel). Usually when the zeal of Christ runs someone wrong, that my friend is because the spirit in them feels uneasy. And that spirit isn't of God. (Yes, she told me in no uncertain terms that it was ungodly, the way I was thinking- I basically ran through the reasons that thinking critically of writings on the bible is what we are told to do, so that we are not deceived. I also said- that she wasn't going to speak over my life like that). She continued further about how discussing was ok, but being divisive wasn't. (Wasn't Jesus and his apostles a bit divisive? How does one not be divisive when what that person is saying is not in agreement with what is being discussed?) She then rounded out her thoughts on the matter that people shouldn't be talking about the bible study outside of the group, because it would just cause confusion. And she didn't want some of the less spiritually mature members to become confused.

There was no studying of the Bible to confront the author's teaching, in the bible study group, and I'm not sure if I am totally misunderstanding what Bible Study groups are supposed to do, since this was my first real one. The legalistic notion of telling others when they are not living according to the Word was a big part of the book. The irony was, that I was doing what the book was saying to do, to love your fellow Christian and make it a point to care about their salvation, and to let them know if they (we) were being misguided.

I have since sought Spiritual Direction from one of the Sisters where I work. She told me about a Friar that lived in Southeastern Indiana. He had a near death experience that took him all the way to the seat of judgment. He later told people that he was asked one question there. "How do you love?"

We are told that the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart, our mind, our spirit, and our strength, and that the second greatest commandment is like it- to love our neighbors as ourselves. Loving God, for me, looks like obedience to His Word, spending time between the pages of the most important and influential book ever written, and seeking meaning through the lens of the life of Jesus Christ. What good is gaining the whole world, if you do not have love? I did not choose love the night of my last bible study. I chose God. 

August 15, 2018 No Doubt

The atrocities that human beings can inflict on other human beings leaves me doubled over, holding my face in my hands, supported by my elbows on my knees. I just realized that wasn't the proper stance to take. Kneeling in prayer. That's what is called for when reflecting on lives cut short, life experiences that get erased, and when the dreams of those who have died, are lost. My stream of consciousness just ran through various images that I have stored in my memory: Burmese Christians that were recently crucified by their neighbors; the genocides in Africa; the destruction in Aleppo, Syria and the numerous pictures of those fleeing Syria for their lives, only to drown with the dream of safety, never actually reaching it. The horrific photos of children who have been abused and neglected in the mightiest country in the world. Why seems to be such a useless question. The list of possible answers could probably lasso the moon.
When babies, toddlers, and children are encountering a person doing something around them, they try to look the person in the eyes and study their face, because they know that is where their first clues will come from, for whether or not the person is a danger to them. It's instinctual. Each of us learned to adapt to our surroundings this same way. So who was the first dangerous threat? You may or may not have thought about the serpent in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve, but I did. What's important to note, is that there wasn't a perceived threat for Eve. The serpent merely asked her a few questions. We can talk about what was going through Eve's mind when the serpent in Genesis 3:1 said "Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden?'" See what happened there? Sort of a bait and switch, questioning something untrue leads to an explanation of truth that leaves room for doubt. The next time you find yourself walking out of the store and getting into your car, imagine if someone asked you if you could pick the cashier who helped you, out of a line up. I'm guessing most of us would feel pretty confident we could do that. But what if they asked you to describe that person- their color of hair, were they wearing glasses, what color of shirt did they have on? You would be able to do the first, picking them out of a line up, but as soon as you had to describe specific attributes about them, you realize that maybe you didn't really know what they looked like, after all. That isn't true though, because you would know them when you saw them. Doubt. It is of no small insignificance to have doubt. What we know now about this phenomena, it's got a name but I don't remember it, is that just because we can't seem to recreate exactly what the person looked like into words, doesn't mean we should doubt that we saw them at all. Does that make sense? Eve was being asked to recall exactly what God said, which planted the seed of doubt, that led the conversation to the point where the serpent could then put a nail in the coffin- "You will certainly not die" he said. I can almost imagine Eve's gut instinct telling her that something just didn't sit right with what he was saying. Yet, his explanation was given with an authority of wisdom, that gave her the courage to dismiss her intuition. Deceit, deception, manipulation- these were at work in Eden at that moment. Only they were under the veil of asking for Eve to remember what and why God said what he said about the tree in the middle of the garden. The serpent was not threatening her. He was only bringing to her attention the reasons that made her doubt that she shouldn't eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Are there serpents in your life? I believe that we are all influenced by the serpents of this world. Think about fake news, one sided media coverage, hearing only half of the truth or even less, gossip, bullying, and even the lies we are capable of telling ourselves. We can't allow ourselves to have our values and beliefs used in a way that is harmful to another person. Left, right, republican, democrat, man, woman, black, white- each of us likely wants what we favor and value to be our lived reality. Just because some people want stricter gun laws, does not mean they want your guns taken away. And those who don't want stricter gun laws, are not saying there shouldn't be any laws. Our country is in the process of doing a lot of name calling, a lot of stereotyping, and a lot of drawing dividing lines- because we each have a serpent asking, probing, and doing a great job of "He said, She said" to bring us to the brink of irreconcilable differences.  We must have faith in our fellow man, our neighbors, our political officials, our families and friends, because we are all on the same side- the side of peace and freedom. Maybe you just rolled your eyes at me- but when the rubber hits the road, if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem (and get this- that goes both ways).

Well Played, God. Well played. May 31, 2018

I've got some good news, and I've got some bad news. Depending on your situation, which is which, will be up to you.

For me, I was placed nicely in the friend zone over the weekend. The sting was more than I expected, which probably has something to do with the fact that I'm a 41 year old divorcee working in a Monastery with 141 nuns, and coming across a good guy, that doesn't smoke, doesn't have a record, doesn't have young children OR a crazy ex-wife was hard to come by. The wind was knocked out of me. And, as always, God revealed to me the one greatest truth that might as well have been tattooed on my forehead because of how blatantly simple it is. My faith leads me in almost every area of my life. Like a lot, a lot. I have prayed for God to open doors if He wants me to go through them. Which is how I ended up getting a job in a monastery in southern Indiana (which for me, my IDEAL nonprofit job was always to find a faith based organization to work for). I've prayed for things that are not of His design to be removed from my life; to protect me from things that are only meant to come and rob my peace, my faith, and my joy. I have prayed that He might bless me with a good, faith full man in my life; one that would be open to being a Foster Parent. A man that I might be able to love growing old with every single day. AND WHAM! Duh Brooke. I realized that my future, dream relationship, didn't necessarily have marriage in it (the statistics for success of a third marriage are pretty gritty). Do you see the problem yet? How on earth did I ever believe that God would place in my path something that would lead me straight into sexual immorality (sex outside of marriage in this case)????? The Village Church shares what the scriptures say about this  "It is called evil, improper, sinful, fleshly, earthly and against the will of God."  So you're telling me, that's a no on sex? Correct. Just to be clear, this is the bad news! After my initial shock and awe over that epiphany, I quickly realized that it made perfect sense. God wants what is best for me. God wants only those things that bring peace, faith, and joy into my life. God knows every one of our weaknesses. Jesus came so that we might have life, and have it abundantly. Of course I could make some sexist remark about being better off, but I'm not going to. 

If I've learned anything, it's that my God is faithful, merciful, and loving. He will shower us with blessings when we keep Him in our hearts and His commands in our lives. It's like giving money away, whether tithing or donating, God has brought it back to me, every single time. What more will He do if I should heed his commandments against sexual immorality? He will bless me in much greater ways than I could have ever even imagined. He is worthy of obeying and that is the good news.

Took an unusual turn with this one.

The Big Chill is one of my favorite movies. A long forgotten oldie, but a goodie. One of those  reunion movies of college friends.  As a sidebar, it might actually be one of the best soundtracks, EVER.
As I steer my ever restless soul towards my childhood home, it is the abundant memories that capture my thoughts. I recently went on a medical mission trip to Myanmar. Travel begets travel begets travel. Strangely, it was different this time. On the 31 hour jaunt back to the United States, I could not push aside the feeling that I needed to get home. Traveling usually sends my thoughts into saving the world and living abroad. Not this time. I finished the book "When Helping Hurts" and felt the bitter truth of it wash over me. A handout is hurtful. A hand-up, on the other hand, lifesaving. How and why that translates into me returning to middle America, I don't quite know.
My return is far less exciting than any reunion tour. Sesame Street would probably get a better turn out. I am just someone new in town. A new face with a new car. People might try to place me. Who I belong to and where I have come from. When the sun sets, all thoughts of me have shuffled on to other topics. As they should.
I, on the other hand, feel somewhat stuck in this ethereal reality of past, present and future. Who I was, I am no longer.  Who I am already seems to be morphing into my future self.  Most athletic is only good for the yearbook, not the 25 year class reunion. Favorite teachers and back road music had their place in the life of long ago. Now, I struggle with how to address the educators from my youth. Mrs. Lett, Mrs. Trout, Ms. A., Mr. Johnson. I'm not sure I could ever call them Beth, Karla, Ann, or Greg. They had too much influence to be considered an acquaintance. Their opinions, I would still hold in high esteem. And the fact that high school students now have a whole new set of inspirational teachers, seems to put their status forever and always in my memory as icons in my life story. March 24th, 2018 was a big day for students. 'March for our lives' footage from across the US was being broadcast on TV. Kids are scared. When an alarm sounds in their school, it might very well be their worst nightmare. The reason why leaves my heart and mind in a state of pure anger. Every high school student knows the classmate that is a loner, left out, and the butt of all jokes. No one wants to admit that they picked on the "weird" kid, the future school shooter. Teachers don't fess up that they could've told you which child was in need of help. What would happen if they were wrong?
Worrying that a school shooting could occur on any given school day is enough to drive change in school security. But, it hasn't made as much of an impact as one would hope. It would not be easy to go against the instinct of self preservation when there's an active school shooter. Not going to lie, I have felt that I would storm the doors and take out a shooter if given a chance. I have looked in the eyes of my niece and nephew and considered the possibility that a school resource officer would be paralyzed by the gunfire and not enter and engage the shooter. I bristle at my own judgment of the person who didn't protect and serve. My jaw is still clenched at the thought of it. The ease of which I can imagine my life being fueled by the anger at that person for the loss of either or, God forbid both of these children, scares me. If it ever happens, please, someone make sure I never buy a gun.
These are the times that we live in. High school girls and boys wonder if their emotions, thoughts, and curiosities make them the opposite gender. The whisper in society tells them that they don't need to identify as the gender they were born with. The yelling of society seems to be saying that it is wrong for them to be identified as completely male or completely female. With sexuality being pushed onto third graders, I don't see the end of school shootings anytime in the near future. When did it become such an egregious state to question what a child is thinking? Are parents not supposed to be their shelter and guidance in a storm? Lovingly accepting what he or she is going through, walking along side them, and yet still setting boundaries? I have good friends who have in fact dealt with this. A son who feels like a girl. A niece who identifies as a man. I am not degrading their choices. I do not know what I would do if I were in their shoes.  I honestly don't. As it it presented to me now, a woman without children or any real parenting experience, it is completely hypocritical of me to say this, but I've gotten this far, I can't pretend like I wouldn't have an inkling of the course of action I would take. I would love my child through and through. I would seek to understand and I would seek to guide the child into the realm of all possibilities. If one currently feels more feminine or masculine, than dissolving all gender bias would be my preference. Please, my love, exist as your perfect soul with the understanding that society, or better marketing and entertainment, weave these ideas of asexuality like spring rain clouds. My beloved, it is normal to feel like both a boy and a girl before puberty, during puberty, and even after. We are all called to find strength in the overwhelming abundance of God's duality. Enjoy your childhood, and the rest will figure itself out in due course.
Whatever the name of the generation is after the Millennial's, I just want to say you've got options that you don't need to feel forced to act on. Boy vs. Girl? How about young and happy? Let's strive to give you your best childhood.

My Almighty Father, Creator, and Savior- I pray for the peace of mind and spirit that comes with knowing oneself. May you bless each child and family struggling with this, a joyful heart and an accepting mind. Give us all grace through confusion, so that we may show grace to others through theirs. You are the author of our lives and what is good with You, is good with us. I pray this in the character and identity of Jesus Christ. Amen   

Because, you are loved.

Not every perfect day or wayward sorrowful tear is by grand design or for a traitor’s glory. Measurements of happiness and joy are the best way to feel like you don’t have either. Walking from a fanciful belief in karma and the simplicity of unattachment finds a person in complete disarray when their heart is broken into unrecognizable pieces by those that we should never feel unattached to. Painful memories make for turbulent self-talk and the best one can hope for, is to find out early that our mind and the little voice from inside is often a liar and at times deadly to our own lives. One door closes ad another opens is of no use if the doors are revolving. We can’t live on the moving walkway of life and not somehow show up late to our own truths. So much searching and seeking. Looking for the obscure in plain sight, but never finding it, because there is only one truth that matters and none of us wanted anything to do with it. Nonsense lead to whimsy and whimsy gave us the bullet for our Russian roulette life choices. Not killing another soul, nor maiming an innocent life. We propped up our own great esteem as a good person.

Heart ache, anger, and the pursuit of the good life fueled our need for instant gratification of our self-indulgences. Living by our senses, without a guidebook or even a quarter to decide by heads or tails which way to go. Half lived dreams. The ending of unbroken marriage for the sake of our future self. Living the day away in thoughts of some great, elusive ideal status. Spending years on all the wrong dreams and killing millions of possibilities for imperfect perfection. The kind of muddy, ugly, shoe prints on the carpet day, that held within its boundaries a slice of humanity and the beautiful feeling of authentic laughter. We ruin far better amounts of our lives being discouraged by the complete drabness of our hair, then moments of criticism would ever do. We fear honesty. Giving and receiving and like to uphold the false pretense that everyone we meet is interesting, kind, and worthy of a Facebook post. But you are not interesting, young lady with the overly corrected sense of self- importance. You are not interesting old man who dishes out racism in its newer forms of homophobia and the updated objectification of women. You men who lust after children and do things to them that ruin their chances of normalcy. Your greed and your abhorrent attempt to rationalize that what you do isn’t that bad. The lies of neighbors have continued on for years that no one knows anymore where one property starts and one ends. Loneliness becomes common at parties and you wonder how the world seems to have gone to hell in a handbasket. News outlets feeding the masses with prettied up dishonesty, claiming an anonymous source close to the situation. The fever of discontent leaves behind nothing but apathy for any real solutions. Caring not the time or place of death as long as it isn’t yours. Prioritizing your right to do what you want, when you want and how you want. When the reality is that most spew this priority over what they don’t want others to be able to do. Do not mention God. Do not allow anyone else to discipline your ghastly daft and obnoxious offspring. Blame it on the red dye, air pollution, or life saving vaccinations, but whatever you do don’t stand up and take a shred of responsibility for your selfish life choices and cry on and on about how you were somehow failed by society. Self-hatred could be a refreshing thing for the world if every arrogant, egomaniacal, narcissistic excuse for a human being would take it up on a daily basis. But evil would never even consider it. Too lofty in their own imaginations of how mighty they are, evil is as evil does. I’m sick of people whining and complaining. We need more gun control, we need to legalize more things that allow us to numb up and care less, we need to save the planet, the animals, the oceans. But forget all of the children without functioning parents who are raising themselves on low expectations and putting the blame on everyone else. If they could just pull themselves up by the moral superiority complex that every white, middle class American has for those in poverty, then they wouldn’t be in that awful situation. Doing enough through all the taxes they pay to help those lazy welfare slobs that wake up hungry every day and go to bed the same way. Continuing to kid themselves that they are hard working Americans and shouldn’t have to pay anyone else’s way, because no one paid theirs.

I beg to differ.

Jesus Christ paid the way for you. Oh, NOW she’s getting all religious hell fire and brimstone. You betcha. That ridiculous belief that the universe is just one Bob Ross happy accident cycling through its trajectory toward annihilation. Go ahead and continue believing that what you do or don’t do has no real consequence, as long as you don’t hurt anyone, right? Nope. Not how it works. Not even sort of. How about you look into the inspired word of God before you go about running your mouth about believers being brainwashed and mentally inferior. How about you stop “not hurting anyone” and go out and actually be of help to this world, to someone else that has a need you can fill. No, not your bartenders and waitresses, although, I’m sure they are grateful for the nice tip you gave them to save your karma for being an unbearable person to work with or worse, live with. Take your smug, elitist way of life and turn it down about a million notches, and then you might be 0.1% closer to understand the power and glory of the one true God. You will live a dead man’s life the longer you rationalize your beliefs on God as being a character in a book. Hugs and prayers don’t belong in this post. The fact is that there is truth out there. It is not new age or some fuzzy fluffy good vibes in the world. It is the truth of the Creator as evidenced by creation. It has been handed down and preserved over the millennia and answers your deepest longing for eternity. He is what fills the void of your soul. He is because He lives. You owe Him every breath you take, every word you speak, and every thought of happiness. As you return what is rightfully His. He will love your wretched soul enough to reward you 100-fold.

Because it matters

I would like to ask you to think for a moment about your thoughts on God. Can you articulate your reasoning for the beliefs you have?
I want to ask what kind of emotion you feel when you think of your beliefs and how they came to be? Do you know that a study out of Berkeley has identified 27 human emotions? When I tried to come up with a list of emotions that I know I've felt, I'm a little embarrassed at how few I could think of right off the top of my head. Happy, Sad, Mad, Scared, annoyed, grateful, --- oh yeah,you think you can do better- how many did you come up with? LOL.
I believe it must be next to impossible in society today, to be able to sit and think about a concept like God or Aliens, and do it with a clean slate. No other input but what you believe the definition for God or Alien is. Depending on our age, where we grew up, our educational level, and personal experiences with either- our entire frames of reference have already been shaped.

Do I believe in Aliens? I don't know, I mean the universe is huge, the probabilities I'm guessing would favor aliens. But I don't think I can honestly say yes or no definitively. I've never seen anything that looked like a UFO (well, one time I was about to get really freaked out, but it ended up being some rare time when the Northern Lights could be seen from Indiana). To really get clear on whether or not I believe in Aliens- there's some stuff I would need to do.. like find out who the leading "Alien" Researchers were, and which were most credible. Read various scientific articles about probabilities of other life in outer space. I would Google if their were hieroglyphs depicting UFOs and such. Let's be honest... In this day and age, no matter the topic, there will be people who exist a bit on the 'lunatic fringe' if you know what I mean. Along that spectrum of "Yes Aliens absolutely do exist to No Aliens absolutely do not exist" I would have to decide how important it is for me to know if they do or not, before I went about some deep dive into E.T. research. What does having a definitive belief in Aliens mean to me on a personal level?
Right now, a definitive belief in Aliens would probably change the way I thought about the universe and all of it's possibilities. I would definitely want to find people who also believe and compare notes before I go out and start putting myself at risk for institutionalization by discussing why I believe in Aliens! Now....if I had experienced, without a doubt, an alien life form, that would change the whole ball game.
Re-read that paragraph, and put the word God in where it currently says Alien.

Just for fun, imagine in your research for Aliens, there was a book, written by those who had encountered Aliens, or who took part in writing what they knew of the Alien encounters. The book talks about predictions that were told to some, and hundreds of years later, those predictions came true and this was repeated multiple times throughout the book for tons of different events. The message carried down through the centuries has stayed the same. The aliens were nice enough to explain some fairly significant details. One in particular being that, we are capable of having our lives altered by the Aliens. We can request things on our behalf. And having had those requests come true again and again, and knowing others who can testify to the same thing, you may still be confused about how it all actually works, but you have witnessed the truth that Aliens do exist because of their effects in your life. And get this, the Aliens want us to live full and wonderful lives. And when our body gives out, all we have had to do was know and believe they were there for us all along, and our souls will get to dip in the fountain of everlasting youth. 





I write this because it matters. Penn is correct in this video. It is time for me to beg and plead to you, please, please don't dismiss the truth of God because of the way the reference of Him has been framed in your life. Be curious. Be scientific about your research into the existence of God. Be able to have the balls to say, I don't know if God exists. Because you cannot prove that He doesn't exist,  anymore than I can prove that He does. Are you wondering why it matters? Because I have personally experienced the greatest joy in my life by drawing close to God and allowing Him to show me that he doesn't just exist, but He also gave me his Holy Spirit on top of it all to further deepen my relationship with Him. It may seem ridiculous. But I can tell you this, do you see evil in this world? Have you seen evil in the eyes of another person? Do people see evil in your eyes? Here is the definition of evil.
Evil is the absence of God in which the void is filled with malicious spiritual intent to keep you from further pursuing your rightful place, and that is in the arms of your one true Father.

If you wonder what it would feel like to have God in your life- this video does a pretty good job, Just click on the text or copy and paste this address in your search bar.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyheJ480LYA

It matters, because you matter.

Light and Love and Everything to you,
Brooke