Tough Love

Tough love

 I looked over my shoulder. My husband's dad was watching us leave, he stood in the middle of the yard, tears forming in his eyes. My husband was too ashamed to look back. We had been asked to leave because of a silly misunderstanding. Basically it was a "you're under my roof so you follow my rules," disagreement. Well, we slipped up, now we were being shipped out. It was obviously hurting dad more than he'd admit. This had been my only home since I got married and I would miss it.

 We marched on through the gate and into the jungle carrying what little luggage we owned, forming a path as we went, cutting down vines and crawling over logs, or pushing them aside. It was a path we'd never find again. It would grow wild and overgrown with more bushes in time. We'd never find our way back, but even if we did dad was placing sentries around the parameters to keep us out. How cold hearted,  how brutal.

 We kept on going and going, looking for the perfect place to restart our lives. I doubt we would find it. Home had been picture perfect, Husband's dad had spent years cultivating and landscaping it before Hubby was even born. All we had to do was the upkeep, which was easy. Sometimes living easy, living off your parents prevents you from growing up.

 Something hit me on the back. Glancing up into the trees I saw a monkey hanging from a branch with one hand. The other hand was holding an apple.

"Look, its Mixy". I announced.

 Hubby looked to where I was pointing and tried to coax Mixy down. "She must have followed us all this way. Come here girl." Another apple came flying down and pummeled off Hubby's chest, forming a bruise next to a scar he'd had for as long as I could remember. "Hey, what are you doing." he yelled. Then the strangest thing happened. Mixy narrowed her eyes, curled the right side of her lip up and showed us her teeth. She was snarling. I've never seen a snarl before; it was ugly. She vanished back into the trees. Hubby had named Mixy, how odd she turned on him like that. What did she have to be angry about?

 We trudged on and stopped midday to rest and eat some berries. There was a river nearby I went to get a drink from. The liquid in my cupped hands looked horrible filled with dirt and sediment and little wiggly things. What happened to the clear fresh water from home? Wasn't this the same river? Upstream we came upon a bear lying strangely still on its left side. Curious. It didn't seem to be breathing. We nudged its body hoping it would awaken. Hubby leaned down and breathed into its mouth. His first memory of his dad was of him breathing air into his lungs so he thought he’d give it a shot with the breathless mammal. . Nothing. We've never seen an animal so listless; this must be death, we’ve never seen death before though we’d been warned of its potential.

 "What's wrong with it?" I asked Hubby, who was older and wiser than me.

 "I don't know. It must be a fake." If he was trying to not alarm me, it didn’t work. He didn’t tell me until later about the bear’s right side, a side slicked smooth of fur, an area the size of our two new coats, the coats dad gave us just before he opened the door for the last time for us.

 

 On we went, stopping for the night. We picked a cave to shelter in. I felt weird sensations in my stomach. Hunger. Another new experience for us. The table was always set at home. We grew our own food and had a ready supply.

 "Do you want this apple?" Hubby queried.

 "No, thanks, I've had enough of apples to last a life time." Apples got us into this trouble. Don't ask how, it's a long embarrassing story. We dined on what plants we could find nearby. Everything was wild and hard to pick.

 It was cold inside so we huddled together in our fur coats, placing leaves over us for more insulation till finally Hubby decided to try to get a fire started. He scratched some rocks together over dried grass till eventually we had a little blaze. We heard some growling outside so we went to the entrance and peered out. There were two lions standing feet away, showing us what huge fangs they possessed.

 "Hey, boys, glad to see you." Hubby exclaimed, but jumped back quickly when the growling grew louder and the beasts leaned forward as if to attack. Thankfully the fire kept them from getting closer. What in the world is going on? We've never been attacked by animals before. We all respected each other. We never had any trouble with the wild life around home. Food was, or should I say had been, plentiful for all, no need to get nasty. The lions stared at our fur coverings, looked us in the eyes as they backed away putting distance between us before they turned tail and loped off. They didn’t trust us; after all we’d been to each other for years, mutual trust had crumbled.

 Several days, many scratches and blisters later we found a location to settle down and maybe call home. There was a large field and waterfall handy. We explored a gigantic cave that I added some home touches to, a few ferns, some flowers, and wall art depicting the wild life nearby. Hubby started the only life he knew. Farming. Things weren't as easy for him here, thorns and weeds strangled out most of the vegetables. He came back every night exhausted, scratched and sun burnt. Discouragement hit us hard. We had difficulty facing each other, I silently blamed him for us being here and he blamed me.

 Then one day I bent over in severe pain. The pain lasted forever and I believed it was ripping me in two. Hubby was frantic. We may have had some issues with each other but we were all we had. I lay on the cave floor writhing and screaming while Hubby stayed by me holding my hand and crying. Something was awfully wrong. Hours and hours past with minutes of respite. Sweat was pooling on the floor. I was bleeding. Suddenly something popped. I screamed as my innards tumbled out of me. Ahhhhh.

 Hubby stared and stared. Then he picked up whatever it was and brought it to my head where I could get a good view of it. My "innards" made noises, gurgly-cooey sounds. It appeared to be a miniature duplicate of us. It had arms and legs and a face similar to us, but it was dwarfish and bloody. I pushed it away in terror.

 Hubby held it close to him and it reached for his breast with its tiny mouth. Boy, if my painful condition scared Hubby this thing licking his breast startled the pee out of him.

 Some natural instinct in me finally rose to the surface and I reached for the creature and held it to my breast where it started suckling, I could see milk oozing out of the corners of a little mouth. "I think this is the beginning of our family. Do you think we should give it a name? I like the sound of 'Cain' "

 "A family? We don't have time for a family. I don't know if we're even "able" to raise Cain." Was Hubby's response before he passed out cold.

Gen 3:21-24

Romans 8:22

too late

I sat at the back of the chapel because I might get called away any minute.
Not to mention, I was still mad at her. I recalled our last argument too well.
So I stayed at the back watching the mourners enter and walk down the aisle
to view her body. So many exclamations of disbelief, no one had seen this
coming. If only she were here to see the crowd assimilating, maybe she'd have
stayed, maybe not. If only I could summon her back, point my finger at her and
say,” I told you so. See people really did care." Her spirit was willing to
stay but her flesh was weak. Only I had any influence on her and I lost. She
wouldn't listen to me. Her arguments were stronger. She was convinced God
would forgive her even if he didn't approve of her tactics. It wasn't the
absence of God in her life that caused her do to this, it was the failure to
continue with the meds that God had provided. It was user error, not the
manufacturer's.
Her "true" friends held each other for comfort. She should have
spoken to them earlier but people get uncomfortable with those kinds of
conversations, and it would have embarrassed her. There wasn't enough
experience in dealing with these topics despite the literature out there. I
hope now they will seek out that literature, she sure should have.
I was amazed at some of the faces I saw come in. I wanted to yell,” hypocrite",
and "murderer". They hadn't actually manually killed her body but they
massacred her spirit. They laughed at her. They teased her. They belittled her.
They made her feel invisible, unimportant. She had responded with good humor,
her mask a perfect fit to hide the pain and doubts and hurts. She had them
convinced she couldn't be bruised. She was tough, fun, outgoing. She did enjoy
a good laugh and applauded good retorts, but it was the sincere insults hidden
in humor that got to her. She had used humor as a coat of armor. If she had
just taken the mask off occasionally and tried honesty with some of these
people maybe she'd still be here. She had God on her side and followed the
rule of turning the other cheek but being only human this got old. Kids can be
cruel on the playground and it doesn't stop there. Cruel kids grow into cruel
adults. They weren't completely responsible for destroying her, because she had
a big part in it. She had to constantly fight her body's responses to low
hormones. She finally had discovered anti-depressants. As the body ages it
produces less and less of desirable mood chemicals and needs a boost much like a
diabetic needs outside insulin, or someone needs thyroid hormone. It's not
shameful to be on pills. These pills gave her a boost but like anything they
can only do so much. She would feel better and lighten up on her meds, then
swing down to the pit of despair again. Why should one take meds just to feel
good around people? She would get to feeling blue and let the insults injure
her. But her mask did a good job. She would retaliate with a joke, good humor.
She wouldn't let the aggressor know they scored a point, that their blade had
found the target. Boy that was a fantastic mask, it was waterproof and
concealed the tears. It made people think she was invulnerable. "Oh, if we
didn't like you, we wouldn't tease you," or, "It's just her, it's okay." were
regular rejoinders. They took a pebble size hunk out of her soul with every
recital. "That's just her," when she wanted to be taken seriously, "That's just
her," when she blundered, "That's just her," when she tried to correct an
error. She was eaten in small bites. If she had seen this crowd maybe she would
have stayed.
They kept coming, friends (and foes) from church and from work. However, these
misty eyed people have short memories. In time this will be forgotten. Though
there is no one else like her someone else will be teased mercilessly and end
up the same way. Cruel kids, cruel adults. I could hear someone asking
questions, Why? How? What on earth for? The questions were useless because if
they could be answered it wouldn't reverse a thing. She would still be dead.
This was it the grand finale, the results of cruel kids grown up. She hadn't
left a note. It wouldn't have solved anything. Why did they deserve any
answers? It would have been like throwing pearls before swine.
The eulogy was nice, flowery, vaguely generic. It hit the good points. Gave
the family hope of seeing her again. Tried to educate the attendees on the
subject of her method of death. Created sobbing. Said good bye. Left the body
just as dead. The words should have been spoken when she could hear them. She
might not have believed them, though. Actions speak louder than words.
I watched as the figures filed past the coffin. They said good bye. Some
cried. Oh, give me a break, you didn't even like her, I thought. Maybe they had
repented. There is hope for the next victim of depression. Some lingered, and
were genuinely respectful. Some just went to follow the crowd. It really was
her, they all thought." If we didn't like you we wouldn't tease you,"
became, "We liked you, why didn't you let us help you?" It was incredibly
touching.
The family went last. I couldn't bear watching them so I closed my eyes. They
were closest to her and they still had not noticed her broken spirit as they
were caught up in their own problems. I didn't feel real sorrow for them. As
the guests exited I could hear plans being made for lunch, tennis, movies.
Already forgotten. Other plans being made. Life goes on...for some.
I had been able to stay for the whole affair and then some. This surprised
me. I had really expected to get called away. The lights were being turned off
so I eventually got up, walked to the pulpit where ushers were getting ready
to close the lid (they paid no attention to me) and I looked down at the
tranquil face. They had not done her justice. No matter what they say, a
corpse doesn't look good. A dead face just looks like it's caked in make-up.
Her spirit was definitely gone, I was one hundred percent certain. "Good bye
old friend, I can't wait to be reunited with you in heaven." I kissed my
forehead and turned to the last, brightest light and went home.

the stalker

Sitting in my car in the cold isn't my idea of fun but I had an assignment to do. I was on a hunt for personal flaws, not mine, his. I wrapped my hand around my Starbucks coffee and nibbled on my favorite breakfast snack, a cinnamon scone. There he is, my subject. He stood on the top steps, plain and harmless looking, and studied his surroundings. Reading his face I thought he appeared weighed down with emotion. He took the steps one at a time successfully making it to his auto without busting any bones on the icy pavement. How did he do that with perfect balance? I couldn't swear his feet even touched the surface. He didn't bother to lock the door to his house, what a fool.

Great, no one has been on the road since the snow fell overnight. Trailing him without being noticed will be difficult. I managed to trace his tire tracks since he wasn't skidding. Not being one to ever look back, he never saw me in his rearview mirror, he just forged onward.
Pulling over and parking he trekked down the city sidewalk. His first stop was at the newsstand. He didn't purchase any thing but he whispered in the blind man's ear who owned the stand, then he placed a small card an piece of paper on the counter. Purchasing a periodical I glanced at the card, an ophthalmologist’s number, with a blank check!

Subjects next stop was at the soup kitchen. A volunteer outside was guarding a clear, empty acrylic safety box available for donations. He slipped a bill through the slot. A few passersby gawked at the denomination; then, whispering among themselves emptied their pockets of change and made a contribution. The soup kitchen official yelled profuse gratide after the small group of donators. This yielded a domino effect as more approached and the box needed to be replaced every fifteen minutes.

Subject proceeded to saunter casually down the street that was slowly filling with morning commuters. At the abortion clinic he paused and lowered his head. He approached a young woman who was weeping by the entrance, she had to still be in high school. I couldn't hear a word that was said but she responded affirmatively. She painted a brave face on and pulled out her cell phone. Subject stayed as she spoke to some one, holding her free hand, nodding encouragement.

Subject approached the park. Light snow decorated the benches and trees, even making the trash bins look attractive. There was a homeless man awaking from his night binge, his bench was slightly sheltered under a lean-to facing away from the northerner. Subject sat down nest to Homeless and inhaled the fresh clean air, exhaling foggy rings into the sky... I sat nearby, close enough to eavesdrop, and pretended to read the magazine I bought. Good house Keeping. I should have paid more attention to my purchase, this magazine could lead me into good habits.
"Are you here to arrest me?" Homeless asked in a monotone. At this point jail was a comfortable goal for him, offering meals and a blanket.

"Why would I do that?"
"You saw me take your money, I know you did."
"It was your money. It was meant for charity."
Homeless looked contrite. "I shouldn't have taken it till it was offered me, and I used it for booze, someone else would have benefited better with it, can you forgive me."
"I've forgiven you all the other times. But you must come back to see me in the morning. We're having another support group."
"I'll try," Homeless muttered eyes downcast, not believing he was forgiven; again. "But I just keep letting you down."
"It's not me you let down."

Subject traced his way back to his auto. There was an older couple with the young girl at the clinic, they were hugging and crying. Her parent's, I suspect. I heard snatches of conversation, "We'll be here for you....Don't make a mistake....Pregnant with you when we married....." The teenager looked aghast! Funny how each generation assumes they are the first to err. Other unfortunate girls stopped to ponder their decisions as they observed the family meeting, then, looking at the cold brick building they dug their cell phones from their purse bottoms. The mother spotted Subject, gasped and grinned. They recognized each other. Subject didn't wish to intrude right now so he lifted a finger to his lips and nodded. I sent a silent thankful prayer heavenward.
As we passed the soup kitchen I saw a delivery truck unloading can goods they just purchased with their recent income. The volunteers were being asked to stay longer to help stock the shelves, which they did whole heartedly. Diners filed out the front door patting satisfied tummies. I dropped a few bills into the acrylic box.

And the newsstand had a closed sign hanging, that promised to reopen after the owners cataract surgery next week. Customers were invited to help themselves to free newspapers till his return, which they did, dropping tips into a nearby coffee can. Free newspapers and I had to buy a copy of Good House Keeping! Again, I dropped some money on top of the change in the coffee can.

Subject's street was still pristine, with only the tell tale signs of our wheels. He climbed the steps quicker, with a lighter heart and walked down the hallway to the back of the main room as I watched from the picture window. He scrutinized the large living area, it could hold more visitors than came. It was his vision to see it with standing room only some day. He checked the cabinets and laid out tomorrow's dishes and soul food; bread and wine. He had open house regularly for various support groups that combined their cause at several weekly meetings. The groups gave birth to more helpers so He wouldn't have to work alone. Hating solitude, he lived for company. He proceeded to the farthest wall and leaned back. Spreading his arms wide he faded into the cross that adorned the stage, his eyes resting on me! Where did he go?

I had been tailing Subject for some time now, trying to determine if he was the genuine article. I think I'll visit him tomorrow morning. He will certainly be surprised to see me, or will he? I went home for my Saturday night cleansing and set the alarm for 9:00 Sunday morning. I absolutely needed the assistance of his generic support group, it was designed for sinners only, of which I'm club captain.

Bright and early the next day I crossed the threshold of Subject's home with a old man scheduled for cataract surgery, a family of three, soon to be four, several patrons of the soup kitchen and a sober drunk. We had to hunt for vacant chairs, Subject just hung around up front, his arms out stretched, happiness pouring out of his heart.

Math 18:22
Eph 5:1-7
Heb 10:24-25
1 Pet 3:13 The Stalker

fire

The signs of the times were getting worse. As the years go by it's harder and harder to worship God. We were having a discussion on recent events. The community we lived in was sponsoring a tribute to the new alcohol factory set up in the neighborhood. It had given jobs to many local residents and increased the population, bringing more money to local businesses so a large party was being planned to honor the CEO'S and owners of the company. The whole town was required to attend because the city managers wanted a unprecedented attendance. All political shenanigans. Bill boards were erected all over town glorifying the almighty beer bottle.

Obviously we as a church had to decide to not attend. We were against the effects of alcohol: increased car accidents, deaths, alcoholism, family violence, teenage pregnancies,etc etc etc.
Well, since our intentions of non attendance were presented to the mayor, we had been under a magnifying glass. People came through out the days to warn us that our decision was not making us popular with the locals. Members of our church were being harassed on the streets, crosses were being torched on their lawns and their children were bullied at school by other kids being coached by their parents at home. We lost quite a few adherents to the other side. It was just a party after all. They didn't have to buy any liqueur and they could be left in peace after wards. Basically, they succumbed to the pressure and ignored God's prompting.

So here, three of the church officers, sat in the business office, in the late hours trying to find a solution that would be acceptable to all without compromising our believes. And praying. Praying is always tops on the list to be sure we're doing things God's way.
Some of us started squirming in our seats. Something seemed off. It was getting warm so Abe got up and adjusted the air conditioner, this is when he noticed it. Steam was slipping slowly under the closed door. We jumped to our feet while Mark reached for the door knob. His hand jerked pack instantly, red and blistered. We were trapped. The fire was right outside the door and there was no exit. We poured drinks (lemonade, cokes, etc.,this wasn't a closed door liqueur party) onto a jacket and stuffed it under the door.

I pulled a table over to the wall under the windows. We were in the basement of the annex so the windows were up high, very small and just above the ground. I could see feet milling around. Great help was on the way. On further inspection I realized the feet belonged to the fire committee. Those in charge barbecuing the meat...us. We, the hard core members of the church, were being executed. Some of those outside were wearing white sheets with holes for eyes to disguise themselves. Like we'd be able to identify them in a few minutes!

Abe broke some windows but it wouldn't do any good, none of us would be able to squeeze through the tiny openings.. The door was starting to smolder and the roof was starting to cave in on us. Would the fire alarm or sprinklers go off. No. The cowards in white had taken care of that. I could see the mayor in the crowd. He bent down and peered in.

"We warned you guys. Hope we send a strong message to the rest of your group with this little happy hour." He stared at us real hard. "Hey, who is that fourth guy with you?"

We looked around. Who was he talking about? There were only the three of us. Odd, even though flames were entering our space and fumes were replacing the oxygen we felt no discomfort, no labored breathing, no sweat poured from us. We felt no adrenalin rush, no panic, no fight or flight response. Mark's hand had healed of it's red blisters.Those outside were experiencing considerable discomfort,though. The sparks were bouncing off them and igniting their sheets. Fools, they could step back but they wanted to watch us suffer. One or two actually passed out from the heat.

The Mayor started shifting from foot to foot. Agitated. He stared real hard at something behind us. " Hey, guys, get some axes. This has gone far enough, let's get these guys out!" He ordered. His helpers seemed genuinely confused.

"It's gone to far,Ned. They'll press charges and I'm not going to jail for this." One of his comrades announced. "No, way," others proclaimed.

Ned grabbed an ax and started swinging it at the window enclosures. His allies couldn't get near enough to stop him, so intense was the blaze. Those that tried keeled over dead from the intensity of their own fiery creation. We stepped backwards into the inferno to avoid being struck by the ax or flying wood fragments. Someone pushed me forward away from a section of blazing roof that dropped to the floor,

"Thanks" I said.

"For what." I heard from two sources in unison ,no where near me or visible through the smoke.
"Who pushed me?"

"I don't know, someone just splashed water on me." Abe declared.

Eventually we were able to crawl out, with help Ned offered, pulling on us. I was the last to exit and was the heaviest and widest. It took some effort to yank me through the enlarged opening but I received an added push from someone behind me. Who? Everyone else was out. As the last foot touched ground and we raced to safety the building collapsed. Perfect timing. Those that chanced a backwards glance spotted a man slipping away from the rubble, smiling and whistling. Totally unharmed. Totally transparent. Totally awesome.

"Where's the other guy?" Ned asked. Looking around. We shrugged, not attempting to explain what we suspected. Ned smelled horrible. Smoke,sweat and fear all emanated from his body. His clothes were ripped, smudged and frayed. We smelled like Old Spice and Dial soap, and still looked presentable. Not bad for near victims of a raging bonfire. Those that had intended to kill us has been ensnared in their own plot, lying scattered about on the ground. Fire engines wailed down the street.

"You guys tell your church they don't have to come to the welcoming party. It's not that important anymore. In fact. I think you might see me on Sunday mornings, if I get out of jail in this lifetime." Ned announced. Sometimes you just can't believe what your ears hear. This was one of those times. Ned was a hard core drinker, non-believer. I wish I knew what or who it was that changed his mind.

The next day the fourth member of our committee came by my house. He'd been out of town on business and had not yet heard about the church annex burning down.
"Any thing new happen while I was gone?" Daniel queried.

Proverbs 1:10-19
Daniel 3: 1-30