the circus is coming to town

The circus is coming to town! Who cares? I haven’t been to the circus since my kids were little. Let’s see, that was twenty five years ago. Twenty five! I ran to the mirror and inspected my face…with a magnifying glass. That was a bad decision, this magnifier would show wrinkles in a baby’s butt! I put the glass down and examined my face a la natural. Not bad. My kids may be older but I survived the nasty tricks of time. I still looked sixteen…minus youth’s nasty tricks of zits.

Now wait a minute; the circus. That did sound fun. This was going to be an impulse thing but …I grabbed my purse and headed to the ticket office. I wanted to get preferred seating. After all why sit in the back when you could buy choice seats up front in advance of the last minute buyers who bought their passes at the door and got turned away.

What a wonderful surprise this will be for my family, I thought as I pocketed the tickets I purchased for my kids and their spouses. I staggered to my car with a lighter wallet after having been mugged by the cashier. I wonder why she wasn’t wearing a mask. She should be afraid someone will follow her to her auto to get retribution. Keep in mind, it has been twenty five years since I bought tickets and inflation hit the circus hard. But after all this was the Shriners’ circus, the proceeds helped underprivileged children so I shouldn’t complain…. much.

When I got home I called my son and daughter to inform them they needed to clear their Saturday calendars for a family outing. I had bought tickets for the circus! I exclaimed, hardly waiting to hear their speechless gratitude. (Hear speechless gratitude?) One call after another left me flabbergasted. My gift landed like a water balloon, splashing all over the ground. None of them could make it. I should have consulted them first, they explained. After all they were married now and couldn’t just make spontaneous plans like that! I was bowled over. (I’m a bad bowler but a good target!) No one was excited. No one could come. No one would come. They could come if they were reasonable. They could change their plans! What appreciation? I was their mother after all, I knew them longer than their husband and wife, I deserved more respect!

What to do now? I called all my friends to offer them free tickets, and a chance to be with me on Saturday morning. No one could come. This was beginning to be outlandish. I never knew so many people could refuse a free ticket, no strings attached, plus the chance of spending time with me in a crowded coliseum with screaming kids waving lighted sticks and eating hot dogs and cotton candy.

After a few hundred phone calls, (I had started calling strangers at random from the phone book; just kidding) I managed to find takers for all but one ticket. That was somewhat of a relief. At least I wouldn’t be alone. (Not counting the countless strangers that would be present.) And I’d had a wonderful time catching up with erstwhile acquaintances.

The night before the extravaganza came to town I went out to eat with an old school buddy. I mean old. She was in her seventies. I did say it was college buddy, not a high school buddy, so don’t assume we’re the same age!

After I recounted my week with her she said the most uplifting thing, “I’ll take the last ticket.”

“Really?” I had never even considered her as a possible candidate. After all at seventy plus she had to have seen more circuses than she’d care too. This was great, I thought I’d have to stand in the courtyard of the coliseum and try to sell the remaining ticket. I had already purchased a trench coat, baseball cap and sunglasses to fit the image of a scalper.

“Yea, I think it would be fun,” my much older friend declared. This must be how she stayed so young at heart despite the ravages of time. (Boy, I hope she never reads this!)

Saturday morning. Gifts for sale. Stuffed elephants and tigers. Laser guns. Coloring books. Junk food. Nachos, funnel cakes (my personal favorite, with powdered sugar,hmmmm!) Children running to bathrooms and sales counters. Parents yelling for junior or missy to come back. Clowns available for picture taking. Shriners strolling about selling catalogs for three dollars. Three dollars! The money benefited the Shriners hospitals. How could I refuse, I bought two and got an appreciative thank you.

We had front row seats and this is where my disappointment came. There were lots of vacant seats. Lots! I could have waited and acquired my tickets today and not gone through the aggravation of finding substitutes for my kids. Well actually I probably wouldn’t have been here today because I would have known my kids weren’t coming. Apparently the Saturday matinee wasn’t a sold out feature anymore. In my day (I’ll just let you guess when that was) the circus was filled to capacity; and of course the outside would have been crammed full with horse and buggies waiting to take us back home!

My friends and I had first-class time (mis)behaving like kids again. Hooting and hollering, oohing and ahhing. I even paid good money for a laser stick to swing around in the dark while eating cotton candy,(after my funnel cakes and nachos!) Good thing my brood wasn’t here to be embarrassed by their old mom. Or maybe they would have embarrassed me with their stick in the mud attitudes. I could hear them whispering behind my back now, debating whether a nursing home was in my near future.

Then came the grand finale. Every act paraded out and circumnavigated the arena. The elephants with slender, barely clad women. Horses prancing and preening, heads held high, their riders standing on them, arms outstretched welcoming the applause. Everything was bathed in lights; lights that blinked, lights that dazzled, lights that glittered. Breathtaking. The performers were dressed in gaudy costumes that barely concealed trim figures.

Suddenly I was blinded. Was there an explosion! I couldn’t see a thing except an intense radiance. An overpowering deafening roar filled my ears. It had to have been a bomb discharging. I gasped, waving my arms about, trying to find my friends in the overwhelming light. Nothing. I hadn’t felt an impact. I felt no pain. I seemed to be whole. I just couldn’t hear or see. I thought, with profound insight, this wasn’t good.

I was deaf but I heard my name being called. That’s all I heard. No one around me was screaming. No one was bumping into me. I felt no mass panic going on in my vicinity. Just mass panic within myself which was enough for me to handle right now. I was sure the world had ended. The circus had for sure!

“Here I am,” I yelled to the invisible voice. Please be someone useful, like a firefighter, I prayed.
Out of the light came, “Marcy, Marcy.” Well, whoever it was knew my name.

“Here I am,” I repeated.

“Marcy, Marcy.” Came the reply again. All right, this could go on indefinitely. I kept my mouth shut this time.

“Marcy, its me.”

“Me who?” I queried, straining to get my vision back. Why do people think squinting does anything but narrow the visual field?

A horse trotted up to me, my vision was returning! A magnificent white horse with a exceptional looking white bearded rider, wearing a white robe. The rider had extraordinary eyes. Piercing eyes. Gentle eyes. Sad eyes.

“Marcy, it’s me.” Okay, by now I was pretty sure he knew my name, but did his vocabulary go any further?

“Yes, it’s you alright.” I declared, concluding the best course of action was to just be agreeable.

“Oh, Marcy. How sad you could spend so much time inviting people to the circus but you find it arduous to invite them to my house,” the bearded rider moaned.

His house? Who is this guy? I tried to pick my brain for recognition. I’ve never seen this man before………..wait a minute. A white horse. A white bearded man. Piercing eyes. Adding two plus two I came up with.. Jesus! I’m not taking anyone’s name in vain, I really mean; Jesus! I was being addressed by my savior!

“Oh my gosh!” Well that was an intelligent response. I’m just grateful I didn’t ask him for his autograph.

“Marcy, your friends don’t have much time left. Invite them to my house, please, for me.” The rider asked. Then with a toss of its magnificent large head, the stallion turned on its heels and sped away (flew, actually), carrying its rider with it.

My vision and hearing were completely restored. The grand finale was still in progress. I hadn’t missed a beat. I turned to scrutinize my companions. They were still enthralled with the presentation; nothing seemed odd to them. They sure didn’t look like they had just witnessed an explosion and heard me talking to a man on a horse. Everything seemed surreal now. Had I just had a hallucination brought on by the nachos, cotton candy and funnel cakes? Why would a grown woman eat like that? I nominated myself the new head of the twelve step program for “Junk Food Anonymous.”

“Marcy, are you alright?” Brenda asked.

I’m getting a little annoyed hearing my name today!

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” I croaked.

“Well, for one thing, you look three shades of green!” Brenda answered.

“She sure does!” My other friends chimed.

“Really, I’m fine!” I asserted, a little to enthusiastically to be truly convincing. Then before I lost my nerve, “I’ve had so much fun with you guys today, why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow?”

All four of them looked at each other for feedback; then, “Sure, we’d love too.” They replied in unison. That was so unexpectedly easy I pondered why I hadn’t invited them years ago.
Sunday morning after services I walked down the aisle to congratulate my friends for making commitments to Jesus. I had four new sisters in Christ. All signed on to God’s kingdom.
Vowing to fill up the empty pews in the church auditorium, I went home that afternoon and got out my address book. Everyone in it was going to hear from me again; then I really was going to start on the phone book! Jesus was right. If I could get excited about the circus, I should get more excited about inviting my friends to join me in heaven so they could witness the ultimate Grand Finale, the New Kingdom in all its glory. After all, these tickets were a free gift, paid for in blood.

My only prayer for eternity: Please don’t serve any funnel cakes, cotton candy or nachos at the celebration feast, in Jesus’s name, amen.

the conference

It’s finally gotten here! I’ve been waiting for this weekend for weeks. I started packing seven days ago, for a one night trip. I didn’t want to forget anything! I had so many clothes I wanted to wear, and so few hours to wear them in. I brought changes for the trip down, the evening presentation, dinner, breakfast, the next day’s seminar, intermission, lunch and going home. (Some of these women may never see me again and I wanted them to know the size of my wardrobe!) In addition to my clothes I had to pack the correct makeup colors, and a variety of jewelry and hats to enhance the various looks. We had to rent a U-haul just for my luggage.

At last, take off. Wait! Someone needed to go the restroom first,someone at the back of the van. We had been sitting here for forty five minutes loading up and she just now realized, after finishing off a bottle of water, we’d be on the road for hours. I wanted to ask her her age, she looked old enough to make smart decisions, this is where looks are deceiving!

When we ran out of legitimate delays, we took off. A van full of women on their way to the Women of Faith conference. Praise the lord and pass the blessings. Yahoo. I tried to psyche myself up. I’ve been losing my faith fast lately due to my husband, Fred’s verbal assaults. Every interaction he’d had with me lately led me to believe I was unworthy of his love and attention.

My gosh, if I can’t be accepted by someone that sees me daily, how can a holy God love me? If I couldn’t do anything earthly right how could I do anything heavenly right, like getting saved?
Along the way, we played road games. The best one was the scavenger hunt, looking for items on a list the trip coordinator prepared. We crossed off bridges, farms, silos, men in boots, ponds, road kill, the letter Q on a license plate. We had a hard time finding a police car (we kept our
eyes open for donut shops, isn’t that where they meet for breaks?) Come on, don’t they always single out women drivers! And this was a van loaded with women drivers(one disignated driver and nine back seat drivers)! Surely one would turn on its lights and come speeding after us eventually, with donut crumbs on his chin. Some women crossed “deer” off when they passed John Deer tractors. I went for it. My friend, Giggles, (I hope you can guess how she got her nickname!) was holding out for the real thing. It wouldn’t happen unless a truck passed us with one on the hood.

During the road games when I felt everyone’s attention was diverted I pulled out my reading material. I had been wrong about being discreet because someone yelled, “Woman reading a book!” And everyone read the list to see if they could check off another item. Woman reading a book was not on the list.

I had been hit hard these past few months (two hundred and forty months to be exact) by Satan’s attacks as he used Fred’s body, specifically his mouth, and I needed the encouragement this book advertised. Books offer great sources of economical counseling, providing you get a good one. I had stumbled on this particular book when I was asking God for help (again). I guess I had gone to him so much he had gotten tired of my repeated pleas, pulled me by the leash to the bookstand at the grocery store and, with his hands on my temples, aimed my head and eyes to the cover of this book. Talk about guidance! It was a book about destructive relationships. Oh boy, I knew about destructive relationships, I looked to see if it had been written by me in a previous life. My significant other, had berated me, discredited all my emotions, discounted my existence for years. I hadn’t wanted to upset the boat. During moments of calm sailing I made excuses for his behavior, enabling him to squash my spirit over twenty years. I finally stood up for myself and subtly asked him to leave the house (I had hung his underwear on the bushes in the front yard) When he tried to get in the house, with jockey shorts covered in leaves crammed in his pockets, his key wouldn't work for some reason. I know this because he called me on his cell phone to open the door. I slipped the bill for the locksmith through the window hoping he’d finally get tipped off that he no longer was welcome here.

Despite what I had called a long over do spring cleaning project, Fred had made me feel unchristian, because I wasn't forgiving or long suffering. (He was wrong about that, suffering for twenty years qualified as long suffering and stupid) He made sure he knew I wouldn't make it without him. I wouldn't be able to handle everything on my own. I'd be late to work every day trying to do my chores and his. Well, he was absolutely .....wrong. God had given me the strength to do all things through him, things like getting the trash out, rounding up the dogs, making the bed , washing the breakfast dishes and getting to work on time. I slept and digested my food better. The bags under my eyes vanished. But God hadn’t convinced me he still loved me, that I was worthy to be called a Christian.

When I'd read all I could absorb for the moment I slipped the book, surreptitiously, (yes, that's a word) back into my carry on.

"Can I see that?" my seat partner asked. I was aware of her present circumstances; she had just broken loose from a dominating boyfriend.

"Sure."

Then from the back seat, "When she's done can I see it also." asked a young college student being manipulated by a "jerk". Obviously the thirst for higher learning doesn't always cover wise partner choosing skills. Apparently three of us with issues had all been placed in the same van. Our ages ran from twenty to thirty eight to...to...Okay, I'm fifty two darn it! But I look well preserved; I ought to with all the salt I use. Wrinkles don't show when you retain gallons of water! These two women had been lusting after my book from the moment I pulled it into my lap. They had hurts to heal also. Kindred spirits. I had no idea how wide spread misery was. Abuse is something people endure behind closed doors and fake smiles, in shame.

We arrived at our destination just in time to unload the car and get to the convention center.
The conference’s theme was “Infinite Grace” and it was incomparable to anything secular. Women. Women. Women as far as the eye could see. Down in front of the stage and as far as the nose bleed third tier level balcony. Thousands. And all were quiet. All were listening to the eloquent speakers. Speakers who knew the mind of God. Speakers who had prepared this seminar just for me and two other broken women. I couldn’t count how many times they spoke of verbal abuse and self esteem. How God didn’t wish anyone to be hurt. That he never would abandon his children. Hey, I’m his child. So were my two partners in misery. We were HIS! And he wanted us to be happy! He would never abandon his kids. Man, God had even engineered this conference to be just for us, three wounded prodigal daughters. Healing was starting in my soul as I ordered Satan and his lies behind me. The thousands of other women present had to be green eyed with resentment. I feared retaliation as I tried to hide the glowing crown of “daughtership” forming above my head. No one noticed! They were all too busy paying attention to the speakers, I don’t know why, as obviously the whole message was only for me and my friends!

During intermission we got up to stretch our legs. (And no, I hadn’t changed clothes; you know people always bring to many clothes and not enough money when they travel!)The building was loaded on every level and in every nook and cranny with souvenirs, books and tapes to help me remember God’s love. To lift my spirit even higher,(which is scary since I’m afraid of heights!) I had to have everything. I bought the DVD of the program to play for my dad, daughter, son, anyone who I could hog tie and forcefully expose to God’s wisdom. I bought music CDs. I bought t-shirts. I bought books. The symposium had been affordable but I had to hawk my diamond ring to buy all the goodies.

I lingered over the World Vision display long enough to adopt a little girl from Africa. After all, I had been blessed and it was time to pass it on, not hoard it so it would rust and decay. I was a new mother... at fifty two, and it hadn’t hurt my figure one bit giving birth to a nine year old, (my figure had been hurt way before this I couldn’t blame it on her!). God hadn’t forgotten Mildred, a nine year old in a small remote village at the tip of a small insignificant continent on a small globe hanging in a vast universe. He had put her name and history on a table where I would find it. I even got a free tote for sponsoring her. Just what I needed; another tote. It might be my first gift to Mildred…besides the gift of food, medicine, water and an education. Wouldn’t it be something if she rang my doorbell in nine years after high school? Better yet, wouldn’t it be fantastic to hold her hands as we answered the trumpet’s call to board the train to heaven?

The five hour trip home was more joyous than the trip down. We sang hymns the whole way, except during our dinner stop. Religious women love to eat! I did more eating in two days than I do in a week at home. Next week I start my diet again. (I promise! Really! Don’t look at me like that!)

The waiter at our restaurant could tell we had been somewhere celestial; after all we were levitating above our chairs. That gave us a chance to introduce him to our Father. (Maybe that would eliminate the need to tip! Oh darn, it was calculated into our tickets!)

Back in the van as we sang our way home, Giggles yelled out, “There’s someone walking a dog!” No, that’s not a euphemism for anything, that was on our scavenger list, see, it’s right here in black and white, seventh item down in the right hand column, “someone walking a dog.”
No. As we got closer the dog got bigger. It wasn’t a dog. It was a ….deer! Someone at a rest stop was slowing approaching a deer who was standing at full alert, tail straight in the air, head turned at that angle they do to get things in good view. At seventy miles an hour (ten miles over the speed limit and still no police car) we would never know how long the moment between deer and human would last but we realized Giggles had waited for the real thing and there it was! Not a John Deer tractor, but a real deer. We high fived her. She taught us a lesson. Never settle f or anything less than the real thing. I would no longer settle for Satan’s lies. I had waited weeks for this conference to receive the real thing, God’s truths. And his grace. I could never earn Fred’s grace, but guess what; God’s grace is free, nothing to be earned, to all who believe in him. Infinite grace. Infinite; without end. Grace; unmerited favor. Grace without end. Infinite unmerited favor. How many ways can it be stated?

Please join me in a prayer of salvation………………

Isaiah 49:15
John 10:25-29
Eph. 2:8-9
Eph. 5:25-33
1 pet. 5:8-11
1 John 4:17-19

The Heartache

Twenty two years. That is how much of my life was wasted. Hurtful years, lonely years. I’d go to work by myself, I’d come home to an empty house. I’d cook and eat and go to bed. In between I’d walk the dogs and clean the kitchen and talk to myself. Oh, occasionally this man would show up. He’d complain about the dogs, the house, the mattress on the bed, the food I cooked (if I bothered to cook, past experiences showed me the futility of fixing a meal for two). If I bought something he’d explain how I wasted my money, the furniture I ordered (and designed, wow, was that was fun!) for the sunroom was tacky, bad workmanship, just thrown together. Everyone else loved it; south western décor is in, at least here in Texas (his native state, by the way). He had been consulted about the furniture but made noncommittal responses so I had to work with my own judgment and likes.

He wore the clothes I washed weekly, ate the groceries I brought home, washed with the water, read by the electricity and enjoyed the health care I paid for, but bike trip vacations he had money for. Vacations that didn’t include me, but that was okay, really, it gave me time alone to relax free from criticism and negativity. I paid for our twentieth anniversary (I was surprised he could fit it into his schedule) weekend in a nice resort motel. I paid for the dining and sightseeing. He just came along for the ride: to complain about the directions getting there and getting home.

Now he was packing up and leaving, at my request. I had prayed about it and decided it was my only remedy. And I was crying, resisting feeling better. Why? Because of twenty two wasted years. I felt God had abandoned me. I felt like I wasn’t saved (after all Alex had pointed out my Christian failings often enough). I felt lonelier than ever. My heart felt like it was being pulled apart by laughing demons with sizzling claws who were straight out of the fire pit I was sure to call home some day. Why? Because I couldn’t shoulder my cross any longer. I couldn’t (or didn’t want to) support Alex for the rest of my life. I couldn’t take anymore censorship and tactless words. I couldn’t accept watching him act sweet and divine at church, in the choir and with the kids from the church bus he drove and then come home and unveil his alternate ego with me.
Oh I cried. I begged God to help me but got no answer. I wanted help now, not later, because this was an emergency call, a 911 call to heaven. This wasn’t the kind of hurt that could wait for an appointment; it needed to be treated immediately. But what did I want?

As Alex loaded up the last of his belongings and drove into the sunset I was gasping for air. Alex had been right about everything he’d said about me. I was useless, unstable, stingy, unlovable. Probably not even Christian! I begged God for help again and again. Tears spilled forming a moat about my feet. I’m sure my carpet was mildewing and rotting the wood underneath.

I got on Guidepost.org to request prayer, and then I read the prayers of others in pain. Children with cancer, parents dying, hurricane victims, joblessness, drug addicts, and people praying for lost (not missing) relatives, alcoholics, pregnant teenagers, miscarriages, AIDS victims, Lou Gerrig’s disease. Wow, there sure was a lot of hurting going on among fellow Christians. My prayer was one of many leafs in a bonfire. It certainly could not get as much consideration as the life and death prayers.

I went to bed in the customary fashion, “Alone, again”, I proclaimed. My dog Scruffy, who has excellent understanding of the human language, shook the dust off of his feet and moved to the other side of the bed to let me realize he wasn’t just chopped liver. This time I knew Alex wouldn’t be traipsing in from doing all his good deeds after I was asleep and he wouldn’t be staying in bed in the morning while I fixed the coffee, breakfast, washed his clothes and cleaned our house. Why did that sound pathetic? As I drifted off to sleep I felt something soft and feathery brush my face. I assumed it was Scruffy snuggling up to forgive me; I was too deep into somnolence to rouse. Not even hours later when the phone rang and rang and rang. Why wasn’t the answering service picking it up after four rings? Keeping my head buried under the pillow I stretched my arms out to the receiver.

“Hello.”

“Is Marcy there?” an accented voice asked.

“You’ve got the wrong number,” I mumbled stretching the phone back to its home.

“Is this not……”The voice read out my unlisted number, (you don’t think I’d write it here for the public to know, do you?)

“Yes, but no Marcy lives here.” My voice croaked, after all my vocal cords were roughened from crying.

“I’m sorry….(pause)..Are you alright?” The voice asked after I sniffled. It seems I was even crying in my sleep.

“What? Oh, yea, fine thanks.” I wanted to go back to sleep to re -anesthetize myself with unconsciousness, the question of the hour was why didn’t I just hang up?

“I don’t believe you.” Who was this voice with no physical substance? Calling the wrong number late at night and not letting me off the phone. What rudeness.

I don’t know how it happened but before long I had revealed my life history. Years of not getting anything right, from how I walked the dogs, did the laundry, cleaned the house, bought pots and pans, warmed up the car. And worse yet, how I thought I had been a Christian till Alex kept calling me a hypocrite. Oh, I fought back. I had a sharp tongue also, when provoked, but his words settled in anyway and grew roots deep into my subconscious sprouting products of doubt and insecurities.

“Your husband seems to suffer from heart failure,” my confessor responded.

“Huh?”

“Failure to have a heart, Alex claims he loves God but doesn’t treat you with love. How can he possibly love someone he hasn’t seen if he can’t love you?” The voice quizzed. “Besides, it’s not his job to judge you; you’re God’s servant, not his.”

“But I can’t say I act any better, I’m pretty sinful, if I make as many mistakes as Alex says I do, how can God love me? If I can’t please humans how can I please someone totally holy and just?”

“You pleased God that day in June as you lay in bed when you accepted Jesus, the day your girlfriend introduced you to the prayer of salvation.” Funny, I must have told him that but I can’t remember doing so. That’s what comes from talking in your sleep.

“Could he love me even if I was only 90 percent good?” I had high standards for myself.

“He’d love you if you were only 80 percent good.”

“What about 70 percent, surely he’d expect more from me.”

“No, you could be only 10 percent good and he’d still love you.”

“What about 9 percent?” Talk about testing the limits.

“Don’t push it. My patience is running out!”Was the answer I got. I detonated into laughter. Oh, how good to know I could still laugh.

Getting serious again I stated, “I’m just sorry I wasted the last twenty two years of my life.”

“You’re a cup is half empty kind of girl, aren’t you? Look at it this way; at least you’re not going to waste the next twenty two years.” Astounding. Brilliant. I hadn’t looked that far yet.

I awoke in the morning feeling rejuvenated. I couldn’t remember why I had been crying…oh, yea, Alex moved out. I didn’t feel like crying anymore. Wow, awesome. I pressed my hand against my chest. No pain. No symptoms of a broken heart. No tenderness, swelling, or aching. Something had happened last night, but what? I tried to get my brain to gear up which is pre-coffee-hard-to-do. Something had…oh the phone…a stranger…..

I grabbed the receiver to inspect the caller I.D. Whoever I spoke to last night deserved a thank you card, maybe with a gift certificate. He had been better than any paid counselor.
The caller I.D. said “Out of Area”.

What did I smell? Coffee? Just what I needed but I hadn’t started any last night. I was too upset. I followed the smell to the kitchen. The table was set with pancakes, eggs, and sausage. The dishes used to prepare the repast were cleaned and on the drain board. There was a new peculiar area rug around the table. Unnerving, to say the least. A card on the table beckoned to me.

Looking around to make sure I was alone I read, “Have a blessed day, love Gabrielle.” I dropped the card and passed out onto a floor layered in glowing feathers. God had answered my 911 call and sent a heavenly paramedic. My problem was just as important to Him as anyone else’s at Guideposts.com!Gen.

Gen. 18:22-33
1 King 19:5-8
psalm 30:1-5
Math 1:20
Math.18:6-9
Rom 14:41
Peter 5:6-11

Forms of mental and emotional abuse:Mental or emotional abuse can take place in varied situations like these:
• Extramarital affairs
• Excessive criticism suffered at the hands of your spouse
• Excessive humiliation
• A provoking tendency of your partner
• Miscommunication or refusing to communicate at all
• Sarcastic and taunting comments
• Unreasonable jealousy
• Reduced affection and intimacy
• Frequent mood swings • Deliberately isolating and ignoring the partner’s presence and needs
• Continuous threats

Cycles of domestic abuse: Mental, Emotional or PhysicalMental or physical abuse gradually tends to acquire a cycle of events and behavioral patterns very distinct to a person inflicting suffering on the other. They include the following:
• A constant effort to show the other that he or she is the boss of the house.
• Resorting to fear and guilt about others coming to know of his or her abnormal behavior.
• The abuser is always aware of what he or she is doing and also recognizes them to be wrong. So he or she is well equipped with justifications and excuses.
• The abuser will always behave in a way that he or she is normal and there is nothing going wrong.
• There is always a tendency to plan and set things up to blame, fight and hurt the partner.

Tips to recover and end mental or emotional abuse:Experts suggest some practical ways to recover from and to put an end to mental and emotional abuse. They include the following: • Recognize the warning signs of domestic abuse and free yourself from them • Try to heal the old bruises
• Respect each other • Try doing things your spouse likes more often • Respond with a relaxed outlook or character
• Realize your own capabilities and wants • Fight to achieve peace and love in your relationship
• Try breaking the cycle of events and behavior
• Bestow the seeds of a doubtless and an unconditional love
• Develop and initiate more intimacy • Cope with the circumstances while your partner grows out of it

If as a partner you can make a positive difference to the relationship then never give up and fight to stay together. But when you cannot handle things then you need to get out of the situation soon. Also reporting domestic abuse can be of much help for the couple, so always intimate concerned people about it.

the walk

I looked at the clock. Time was running out, so were my excuses, I thought. He would be here any minute anticipating I’d keep my word. I was hoping to come down with some serious symptoms before he arrived, but what good what that be? He’d probably do the hands on thing and cure me. I could stay out of his reach, claiming I was too contagious.

There went the door bell. Do you suppose he could see me, maybe I could pretend to not be home? Oh, what’s the use, I had promised. I opened the door to find him on my doorsteps with a stack of brochures in his grip and his chronic smile (I wonder if he had facial nerve damage?)
“Are you ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I ever will be.” I stated coming outside to him. “You know this isn’t my idea of fun.”
“Oh, it won’t kill you; it might even do you some good.” He answered.

“These are my neighbors; I know they won’t be interested. They’re a bunch of dead beats” I explained trying to discourage him with thinly veiled negativity. Heck the veil had so many holes in it, it was apparent it held nothing but negative expectations.

We headed down the street knocking on doors as we traveled. No responses, just as I thought. Well at least no one knew it was me unless they were peeking out of their curtains! Oh, how humiliating, to be seen with Him, in broad daylight, in the middle of a Sunday afternoon; family time, time to relax and unwind from the past hectic week to get ready for the upcoming hectic week.

Around the corner a guy came out of a rent house, dressed, er, so to speak, in baggy shorts that swept the ground, held on with a chain belt that could double as a weapon. His upper body had a muscle shirt on revealing massively massive tattoos that spread up his neck to the back of his bald head to his crown, to his forehead. Man, he couldn’t have been more than twenty, and by the looks of him he spent all those twenty years in tattoo shops!

I suspected he wouldn’t be approached by my friend; he was too far gone to the other side to be presented with an invitation to be around descent people.

Oops, I thought to soon. Friend yelled out a casual greeting.

“Have you lost some weight lately?” Did I say casual?

“What? No, why?” Tattoo man asked spinning around.

Friend replied, “Those pants are a bit supersized.” Oh, my gosh, I thought, Friend is going to get us killed. I grabbed his arm to steer him backwards. But not before he continued with, “Do you dress like that to look tough?” Okay, that’s too much. I released my grip on Friend and took bigger steps backwards. He was in this alone. Yep, I’m a coward, spelled C-O-W-A-R-D.

Tattoo guy gawked at Friend’s audacity, and then broke into a wide grin, (I was actually expecting to see tattoos on his teeth,) ”Yea, do I?” he answered.

“Oh yea,” Friend said, faking a shudder. “I’m real nervous being this close to you. But you know, if we hung out together I could get used to you. Here,” he said proffering a brochure, “Come by my place tonight for a small intimate neighborhood get together, I’d be honored to have you over.” Intimate? If all the regulars showed up plus all the last minute invitations, it would be about as intimate as Time Square on New Year’s Eve!

Tattoo took the brochure and stuck it in his baggy shorts; the pockets were about knee cap level. “Thanks, but I doubt I’ll come.”

Finally when there was considerable distance between us and Tattoo man Friend laughed at my unease. “He’s just a man; what do you think he could possibly do to us?” Thousands of possibilities occurred to me, none of which were pleasant.

We kept on with our mission, (Friend’s mission) Friend was fully focused, I was just along for the walk relieved we were way out of sight of my street now. Brochures were passed out to every person we met or that would come to the door.

One lady answered her door expecting someone else and was extremely disappointed when she saw us standing on her porch. It was unmistakable she’d been crying as she stared over our shoulders hoping for a glimpse of that someone else behind us. No, it was just us. Friend reached out and patted her arm, asking if he could help in anyway. She broke down with a story about her daughter who had run off in a rage to live with her boyfriend. After calling the police she’d learn there was nothing they could do about it because she was considered an adult at seventeen. Seventeen! She firmly believed that was too young to be considered an adult. Laws should be changed to meet her ideals.

Friend was a good listener, and obviously that was apparent to even strangers, I wished the woman would stop babbling and let us get on our way so I could get this over with. Friend seemed genuinely concerned for Hysteria Woman. Let her get over it, I mumbled to myself, so I can get this afternoon over with. Her daughter would probably be back many times, between relationships, with a parcel of kids tagging along. Friend encouraged Hysteria Woman to get out for the evening for some uplifting entertainment and placed a brochure tenderly in her hands. Man, He sure had tunnel vision. Like tonight was the end of all ends.

Up ahead a yard party was in full bloom. Beer cans were littering the yard by plastic lawn chairs as brisket cooked over coals. Across the street was a playground with unsupervised grubby kids running amuck as their parents guzzled Budweiser’s and Miller lights and spewed “good natured” profanities at each other. As we neared I caught the distinct whiff of some botanical tobacco mingled with the Heinz sauce and mesquite.I didn’t know hell gave day passes!. Alcohol, drugs, lechery, debauchery; a nice recipe for disaster if they attended his evening shindig. Not to mention the scandal that would ensue as the good people of the town observed them entering Friend’s house!

Well I was wrong. Friend had no limits to his optimism, to his mission to reform the world. I watched him work the motley crew, no; they weren’the popular singing group, Motley Crue, though they could have doubled for them. They guffawed and snorted as he passed out his invitations. One or two actually stood up on unsteady legs to toss the brochures into the flames under the brisket. Well, I thought, at least now we were out of brochures and I could go home.
Friend saw me off at my house and smiled sanguinely, “See you tonight.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Sure.” I replied, glad to be back home where I could hide and recover from this unsettling afternoon. I wish I’d taken one of the Budweiser’s that had been offered me in jest at the last pit stop! My nerves were shot, I sure hope my neighbors hadn’t seen me with Him.

At six thirty I dressed and headed to Friend’s house, I wasn’t in the mood to go, but I had promised. I found Pastor John sitting on the front steps looking down cast. The parking lot was relatively empty except for the van with the name of the visiting choir and the cars of some of the diehard regulars who never did anything else on Sunday night. The marquee announced the commencement of our church revival promptly at seven.

“What’s wrong?” I queried, pretty sure I knew the answer.

“What’s wrong? Look at the parking lot! We invited a minister and his prestigious choir to come sing for us and most of the members have told me they had other plans and wouldn’t be here. This is totally embarrassing.” Well not everyone was bored enough on Sunday nights to go to church, I thought, especially in the middle of summer.

Pastor John got to his feet with sagging shoulders and we both entered the auditorium where the band was setting up for the enjoyment of approximately twenty congregants scattered about the large room making it look even emptier. He was ashamed at the prospect of a small love offering filling the collection basket at the conclusion of the revival. Small? He knew these members well; they probably didn’t bring their wallets or checkbooks. It was amazing he even made a living preaching here!

I saw Friend up on the stage with his disgustingly perpetual smile. He never knows when to give up!

John and I turned as we heard an unexpected commotion behind us. Several strangers were staggering in carrying beer cans. The group from the front yard barbeque! A vigilante group! They had come to destroy our evening, (maybe that would actually save the night!) No. Wait. They were taking seats in the back of the church. Then more people came in. Hysteria Woman. Tattoo man and a date? Who would have thought he was the type to bring a date to a revival. Hysteria Woman and the couple had a private conversation in the back. I could see more tears flowing down her cheeks as she hugged Tattoo man’s companion. Hit by revelation I realized that we had invited Hysteria Woman and her daughter’s boyfriend resulting in an answered prayer for reconciliation that was taking place right behind me in the church atrium. I looked up at Friend. The smile. What a pompous know it all. He had this planned down to the last detail.

As seven o clock turned into seven ten more stragglers slipped into seats. Before long the choir was provided with a audience of misfits that had received brochures distributed throughout the afternoon. The regular members sat stiffly in their seats, unsure of what to make of the eclectic mixture of society that was invading their personal space, their church. Some even assembled their belongings and exited with expressions of palpable censure thrown in the direction of the new comers, holding their noses high in the air to avoid catching a whiff of anything unpleasant. Oh, they also had their bibles clutched securely in their hands as if they were afraid they might be snatched from them by the visitors. Maybe they ought to open them occasionally, I thought. I also decided I better be careful, after all people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, feeling a little awkward since I had rebelled myself at the prospect of inviting those that were filling the pews about me. Friend met my gaze and smiled deeper, was he reading my mind? Him and His smile.

Then it was show time. The band started up; drums beat, cymbals clashed, trumpets blared, singers sang. The barbeque group hooted and hew hawed through the first song, became quieter for the second song, probably because of the sedative effects of the beer, I thought. Then by the third song they were absolutely silenced. I twisted in my seat to see if they had fallen into alcoholic comas only to witness their complete absorption with the performers. Some even moved to closer pews!

At the hour’s conclusion (had this been just an hour, I could have listened longer!) there was an alter call. Pastor John was overjoyed in the love offering being presented this evening. This love offering had nothing to do with money. Several dozen of the newcomers made an offering of love to Friend, who with extended arms, welcomed all into his presence. The minister and his choir broke into more songs as one by one Pastor John prayed the prayer of salvation with a motley crew of neighbors I would have locked out of the kingdom. I caught Friend’s eye and he saluted me with a scarred hand as a tear (or two or three) slid down my cheeks to meet lips that were turned up into a smile that could never outshine His. Then Friend laid his chin back down on his chest, extended his arms, crossed his feet and blended back into the cross above the baptismal.

On the way to my car several neighbors (former dead beats who had been resuscitated into new life) approached me to thank me for thinking of them this afternoon and leaving brochures in their doors and then complemented me on being a good soldier for Christ. Ooch. That hurt. Should I confess to them how I had been Friend’s hostage, dragged along unwillingly? No, I don’t have to admit a thing; I wasn’t on trial (anymore). Now however I was experiencing conflicting emotions, earlier I had been ashamed to hand out brochures now I was ashamed I’d been ashamed. Nothing a prayer of forgiveness wouldn’t wash away. When Jesus hung on his cross millennia ago, he’d already forgiven me.

How ready is ready?

Here it goes again, I said to myself. I’m not going to let myself go into a tailspin this time; emotional roller coasters make me feel awful. I looked at the calendar as though I didn’t already know what it said. September 2008. I counted years off on my fingers, again something I do quite regularly. The end of the world has either been eight or two years overdue; I’m not much of a chronologist; is that a word? It seems God was 30 years late rescuing Israel from Egypt but I think he was on time for his birthday since it’s stated he arrived in the fullness of time. But the end of the world. Following the prophesies it seems like he’s way over due for the closing act. All this speculating makes me nervous. He shouldn’t have given us so much information to read in his word!!! If he doesn’t show up soon it looks like he was lying, if he does show up soon my life style will change forever. I hate change. I’m not sure I’m a big fan of surprises either.

In the earlier 1990’s I remember getting hit really hard with this scare. When troops from all over the globe met outside of Iraq to fight over oil or whatever men fight over I just knew it was time to go, and I didn’t feel totally ready. I had to face facts, it was the Middle East and the fight was over land and oil, I think. Politics always confuse me because there is usually some other hidden agenda. All I know is I almost quit work to stay home and get prepared. That was eighteen years ago. The last eighteen years have almost been business as usual. Sunday school classes, prayer meetings, church attendance, volunteer work. Surely I’ve had time to get ready!

Then in 2001 some towers in Manhattan got hit by planes. I was working that morning and I wanted to go home really bad. Things like national calamities send shivers up my spine. Imagine that. I work in surgery so packing up my things and walking out would have been patient abandonment. At the time I thought I would have bigger worries than that. All free personal were in the lounge watching the constant, live televising of thousands of people dying, including hundreds of brave firemen ascending stairwells to rescue trapped victims. Those in the operating room with me had me turn the radio on. We listened as we worked, making speculations as to the causes of three planes crashing on the same day, into major structures. I was sure I knew the answer. One of those in the operating field had me make some phone calls to look for her sister, who was guess where? In Manhattan on vacation. Thank heavens I could tell Glenda her sister was okay. Or was she. Did we have some bigger worries? Again I don’t know why I was worried. I should have been ecstatic, he was coming home! But I didn’t feel ready. I had slipped into complacency, concerned about worldly things. Change isn’t my biggest forte. I like consistency. That’s why I’ve never changed jobs though I’ve seen many employees come and go. Something about the unknown jiggles me up, rotates me around and sets me down upside down. It other words, it disorients me!

Okay we got through the Twin Towers saga with some scars, rising victoriously over our foes. Even though the newscasters thought we wanted every salacious detail of the skirmish poured into our living rooms every minute of the day causing many to suffer post traumatic stress syndrome that weren’t anywhere close to Manhattan or the battle fields of Iran, but were close to mail boxes that could contain envelopes of anthrax! I spent my time trying to psyche myself up, trying to get prepared for what knew was coming, and who I knew was coming, praying that he would let me catch hold of the tail of his mount (that’s a horse!) Of course, I spent a lot of time praying because that was seven years ago and I’m still here trying to get ready. Well, seven years of praying interrupted with tsunamis, earthquakes and contaminated food and toys. Yet life here doesn’t seem bad enough to give up yet. Is there something wrong with my thinking?

Now it’s September 2008 and the market has taken a plunge. I’m actually not scared. I don’t know why? It’s my nature to worry about my retirement. I’m more worried about why the market has dipped, dipped, tumbled, and nosedived. I pulled out my bible and scanned Revelations 18. Wow this sounds familiar. But then so did the crash of 1929, and black Friday of the 1980’s. I went to the window and looked up. I’m safe for now according to the cloudless blue skies. But for how long? God I’m not ready, I’m not good enough, I have too much to do, I thought. But since the day I got saved I knew this was coming. It’s not a bad thing. It’s a good thing. Go on girl, keep telling that to yourself! I recounted my life. I have wasted so much time. It’s not fair. I need more time. I want to die old, or suddenly. I don’t want to know when I get hit by a bus and dragged under. I feel like someone who knows the exact minute she will die (or change from terrestrial to celestial) and doesn’t embrace that knowledge with joy.
I made up my mind to stay ready. This resolution has been made several times. Once in the 80’s, 90’s, and several times in this century. That is how good resolutions are. I’ve made several New Year’s resolutions, one for everyday of the year. I wish knew where that list was.

I sat down with my bible, hoping to draw some comfort from it when…………………

Man I feel great! What is this feeling? Why is my back not hurting? Or my knees? Where is my bible? I had it just a minute ago. Where is my chair? Wait a minute! Where are the walls to my room? Where is the….ground! I looked down at my feet, the chipped nail polish was gone, and so was the earth! I was spinning, spiraling upward in a giant mist. No. This isn’t a mist. This is a cloud of people…bodies…souls! All wore surprised expressions. All were young, even those I recognized as old timers. All were wearing white robes. Some were holding hands. Some were scanning the area for others. I looked about for my father, please! Oh, wonderful, I see him up ahead, all crippling disfigurements and oxygen supplementation gone; I almost didn’t make him out. There were my kids I’d spent years praying for also. We’re all ascending upwards faster than the speed of light, ascending faster than the speed of light to a light, an enormous ball of light. No. A ball of white. An army of white horses. At the head of the army was the Commander on a perfect white steed. He passed within inches of me and I grabbed for the horse’s tail hoping to catch a secure ride, (fleetingly forgetting it was in the opposite direction!) briefly remembering my unworthiness. As I clung to the tail with all my soul, whizzing past the souls going upward, the commander who wore the title King of Kings and Lord of Lords on a very expensive breast plate,(he certainly wasn’t affected by the recent fall of the stock market) twisted in his saddle to confront me.

His eyes pierced my soul,(that was all that was left of the former me, my old carnal body was..where?). His lips curved up in a smile. He wasn’t angry with me for hitching a ride! Thank heavens! Then he spoke, his words were soft and sincere.

“You can let go now, you have been assured a place in my kingdom since they day you believed. Your service has been well appreciated over the years but your moment of trust in me was your pivotal point.” I gasped. All those years of worry, of feeling unworthy wiped away. My hands released their tight grasp of the poor horse’s tail who snorted with relief, and I automatically zoomed back upward while the army, the host of heaven, passed me on their way to complete written history, (written in the chapters of the book of Revelations!)

At the entrance of some enormous unidentified expensively ornamented flying object (Star Trek beware!) I zoomed up to one of twelve of the largest pearls I’d ever seen. The oysters that laid these needed gastric bypasses! As the crowd I was with entered into the pearl shaped openings we were escorted to various mansions. Yes mansions and we all had our own. Wow. Even I did. Me, who thought herself unworthy of such a prize! And here I was dreading change all those years! Change can be good I told myself. Better than good, it can be blessed. Settling in was going to take some time I discovered as my door bell started to ring with visitors welcoming me home.

Gen 15:13
Exo 12:40
Math 24:36-44
Eph 1:13-14
Eph 2:8-9
Gal 4:4
Revelations 18
Revelations 19
Revelation 21:9-23

Never Say Never

NEVER SAY NEVER

I looked into his big brown eyes. They looked back at me. He cocked his eyebrow as if to say, “Go ahead, and get it over with.” I put my arms around his neck, pressed our cheeks together, buried my face into his shoulder and whispered my undying love into his nearest ear. Then it was over. Shep drifted off into oblivion. It was so quick it shook me up. Tears streamed down my face, my nose ran, gurgling sounds escaped from my lips and I crossed my arms over my chest to keep my heart from breaking through. Shep’s pain was over but mine just intensified. I wanted the vet to give me what he’d just given Shep, he looked so peaceful. I’d pay double for the same medicine, sign waivers, do anything, legal or otherwise, just to experience the pain free moment Shep was exposed to right now.

The Vet discreetly left the room to give me time to say my final goodbyes. Final nothing. I would never say good bye to my lifelong walking companion, devoted friend and body guard (not that I had much of a body to guard, one look at mine and attackers fled from me.) And I would never replace him. Never. The pain of loss was too intense.

After I pulled myself together, so to speak, I headed to the receptionist. Questions were hurled at me. Will this be check or credit? Do you want to take Shep home with you or do you want us to bury him? Or do you want to have him cremated? How terribly inappropriate. Decisions had to be made fast, decisions I wasn’t prepared to deal with. I had expected to bring Shep in, get some magic pills or shots, advice on treating lethargy, anemia, and old age, anything that would cure him. I hadn’t expected to hear there was no help, he was too far gone, he was old, there were too many risks in the remedies to cure what was ailing him. He had been prancing around last week, chasing squirrels and errant cats, munching on his treats, walking to the park with me. Now..My shoulders sagged so they were brushing my knees.

I couldn’t carry Shep home, I couldn’t dig a grave his size. Well I could but it would be hard, mentally and physically. Let alone the fact that it was illegal. Illegal if you got caught digging holes at midnight and disposing of bodies. I could see my nosy neighbor peeking out of his curtains now, with the phone in his hand and 911 on auto dial. I opted for cremation; I could dig a hole that small without being noticed. I wanted Shep home with me, in his back yard where he belonged.

I don’t know how I got to my residence, all I know is I had the windshield wipers running full strength till I realized it was only raining inside the car. The heavy cloud was in my heart, not the sky. When I opened the door to my house nothing happened. There was no one there jumping up and down, tail wagging, tongue extended with soft whining sounds welcoming me home. Never again would this feel like a home. Now it was just a lonely address on a map.

I couldn’t sleep. I was used to the rhythmic breathing of Shep as he slumbered on the floor at the foot of my bed where he was ready to pounce on me when I hit the snooze button every morning. Shep was very regimental. He wanted out to do his business in a timely manner; the extra five minutes it took for me to snooze was tortuous for him.

Days of sorrow followed. Days I noticed every bodies, dog, puppy and pot bellied pig. I wanted to yell at all the fools. Get rid of those animals now, before they become such a part of you that you can't live when they're gone. I wanted to yell but I couldn't, my throat would constrict making human sounds sound ...non human. The vet's clinic called me to pick Shep up, his ashes were back. A nice wooden box, buffed to a glow with his name on a silver metal name plate (for the price I paid it should have been a gold plate) was handed to me. The box had a dainty little lock and key. I took it home and set it on a cabinet. Staring. Staring. Tempted. Tempted. At last I fingered the little key. I fingered the lock. I connected the key and lock. Inside was a sandwich bag filled with lumpy white sand. This wasn't Shep. He was way too big to be in this small a bag. He had been brown, brown with black highlights. He had been plump. His nose had been wet. He had had four enormous feet. This was not Shep. This was someone's idea of a joke. I picked the bag up gingerly and pressed it to my heart. It was Shep. I could feel his love, his bewilderment at his new formless form. I cried again. Shep was home.

Weeks went by, then months. The ache did lessen, but not much. I surfed animal control shelters on the net, just to window shop, Lansing my soul every single time. I would never get another pet. All the shelters mostly had were black dogs or labs anyway. I didn't like black dogs, or labs. They were so common place. Everyone had a lab. Big gangly awkard labs. Jumping in pools, jumping for Frisbees, jumping for sheer joy of life. Everyone that had a lab had to say good bye to it someday. Never would that happen again to me.

I scolded God. Why did he create animals with such short life lines? They didn't eat the fruit off the tree. They hadn't sinned against him, so why? How could people claim animals were therapeutic when their loss was felt so keenly? If I have to go to a therapist for this broken heart, I swear I’ll send God the bill once I Google his billing address..

Three months passed and I was sitting outside on my porch, in the backyard. Shep”s backyard. Stray cats had taken it over, taunting me. They knew Shep was gone and they were safe. They came down out of the trees, sniffing Shep’s old water dish,( I couldn’t bring myself to move it yet) mocking me. They remembered how I use to laugh as they scampered back up the oak’s trunk when Shep came darting around from some bush. Now they were laughing at me.
Suddenly something shot under my chair toppling me over and kept on going, and then cat fur went flying. A combination of meowing and barking ensued followed by a man, tightly gripping a leash and collar, yelling at something wild and out of control. My peaceful backyard had been transformed into bedlam as I tried to help this strange man gain control of his unruly beast.

At last, after a contest of who could stand on their feet the longest before being knocked over again, we had the little demon in a choke hold. He wasn’t intimidated; at least that’s what I gathered as a long pink tongue, at the other end of a wagging tail, kept scratching my face despite my efforts to hide behind my hands.

“Get this thing off me,” I bellowed, from underneath a pink belly. “Then get out of my yard!”

“Lady, I’m sorry. I told my wife this dog would be trouble.” The man wheezed, attempting to catch his breath while he quickly reapplied the beast’s collar. I hoped I didn’t have to do CPR on this old toot.

“Well take the darn thing home!” I ordered trying to not make eye contact with the ….thing.

“No way, I’m taking him to the pound. I warned my wife to not bring home any more strays!” he announced brushing himself off and firmly gripping the dog’s leash.

The pound. Oh my. My interest had been piqued. No. Shep had been a stray once, destined for the pound until he had been offered to me as a parolee. Thirteen years ago. My heart started throbbing again. I felt an anxiety attack coming on. My skin started perspiring; my breathing started coming in short gasps. I was about to…about to….Oh God, no. I said never again and I meant it.

The man was half way out of my yard when I… I can’t believe I did this, “Wait!”

The man slowly turned while the thing at the end of his leash strained with all it’s might to get back to me, raising its front feet high and pawing the air like a stallion. “Never mind.” I said. My heart couldn’t take another pet. The man shrugged and continued on his way.

“No, wait!” I yelled again.

“Lady, make up your mind. I don’t have many birthdays left and I don’t want to spend them here in your back yard.”

Oh great, I annoyed him after he ruined my quiet afternoon, and possibly the next thirteen years of my life. Not to mention he was the cause of a pulsating ache on my back side where I landed when he lost control of this four footed demolition derby.

“If you’re going to take him to the pound, let me have him.” There, the words were out. I could still recant them. I’m sure this stranger wouldn’t be surprised if I did. I was coming across as a little schizophrenic.

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. “I’m sure he’ll adopt out pretty quick. He’s just a pup, about three months old. They go fast.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I said with no conviction as I took possession of the leash and the man left.

He’d only been out of sight for a few seconds before it occurred to me… did he say three months?
I rushed to the front yard to catch the stranger before he got away. He was gone. He hadn’t had time to get into a car, to get out of sight. Where did he go? I looked down to see if any craters had opened up in my driveway that could have eaten him alive. Nope. He hadn’t been swallowed up by the earth. I looked up. No helicopter was hovering overhead to whisk someone away.

”Where did that man go?” I hollered to my neighbor, Mr. Busybody, reading the paper next door on his porch so he could keep an eye on the vicinity.

He stared at me. “What man?”

“The guy that chased this dog back here.” I explained. Mr. Busybody never missed anything. He was always on the lookout for gossip or scandal. Our own personal crime watch department and scandalmonger. If he didn’t know the facts, he’d darn sure invent some.

“No one’s been out here but me for the last hour. That dog ran back there by itself.” He stated going back to his morning paper, probably thinking I was just wishing a man had been in my backyard!

Huh! Can people go partially blind, seeing only half of what’s going on? I searched up and down the street. No one. Nothing but…a car rounded the corner. The dog catcher. Animal control, the villains in every movie. They were on the hunt. Driving slowly, looking up and down the same street I had just explored. They were looking for a dog. I was looking for a man, (nothing unusual about that).

They stopped in front of my house and eyed the pup at my side, “Have you seen a stray that looked just like your dog, M’am?” A guy asked from the passenger seat.

“Nope,” I replied truthfully, after all there was no stray here, not anymore!I leaned over to scratch my new walking partner’s ear. My new black lab puppy. The puppy that was born about the same time I lost Shep, three months ago, and evidently delivered by God himself or one of his sales representatives. Looks like I’m going to have to get a pool and some Frisbees. Apparently dogs really are therapeutic because my heart was on the mend and my hand was wet from a slobbery tongue gratefully washing the heck out of it. I never wanted a black dog and I never wanted a Lab, now I seem to have both. Never again will I say never.

The vacation

We had almost cancelled this vacation due to recent turmoil, an insurgent had been tried, convicted and executed about two months ago, five months after we had made reservations. Apparently he had accrued quite a following, but they were cowards who had dematerialized the moment he was seized; and now they were on the most wanted list. Their faces were on milk cartons and advertisements. Authorities fear they might attempt an uprising in spite of the absence of their once prominent political leader. Nothing has happened though these past fifty days to indicate the convicted prisoners friends were even still in the country. We, my husband and I, had been willing to sacrifice our plans and non refundable deposits for peace of mind; but we took a family vote and decided to brave the trip. We were relieved that we were nearing the end of our stay without anything ominous occurring. I wouldn’t feel secure until I was back in my own house. (With planes falling out of the sky and anthrax being delivered in the mail, I don’t know why my house should feel so secure?)

We's seen most of the sights and had a fairly good time in spite of the palpable air of uneasiness that hung over the city. Most foreigners, (since this is the nation’s capital and home of the United Nations, there was an abundance of foreigners!) were treated warily, even those that worked and lived here for years. All the main attractions, the Lincoln, Washington, Korean, and Roosevelt’s memorials, The Wall, Capital, Senate, etc. were heavily guarded and parking near anything was out of the question. Barriers were set up to prevent any size vehicle, down to tricycles and skateboards from parking and detonating explosives. So since our vacation required lots of foot work we might as well have gone to a health spa for the week for exercise. No way will any, suicide drivers hurt our national monuments, again. Homeland security was everywhere, a diversion? American patriotism was also flaunted everywhere with the red white and blue displayed on every corner, tote bag, t-shirt, hat and lapel we passed.

As my husband, daughter and I crossed the street in search of a touristy restaurant, (we didn't want the usual McDonalds, we could eat there at home, not that we did), a strong gust of wind descended from above. It started slowly then picked up momentum. Dresses flew up,(reminding me of the popular Marilyn Monroe photograph!) newspapers and travel brochures were ripped from hands, suit jackets blew open, sunglasses, hats and trash bounced about the sidewalks. The sound grew gradually louder and louder until it became deafening. Then fireflies appeared. No not fireflies. Sparks. The terrorists had attacked; they had done something after all, but what? Shot blazing arrows at the city? Maybe my former relief was premature.

My husband, acting heroicly despite his own fears, grabbed me and our daughter and rushed us to safety, only none of us knew where safe was. Foreigners from around the world who had come to see our national Capital were jabbering away with their theories of what was taking place. I wished I could understand them. Ah, American voices came through all the commotion, but no comfort was found there. No one knew what to expect, as we tried to avoid being hit by glowing projectiles. The blazes targeted a nearby deserted building whose lower level windows were boarded up. A sign on the front door proclaimed the edifice as condemned. Flames pelted the roof, but nothing ignited. We could see through the broken or absent upper windows as fiery tongues bounded about the room. People on the inside, (homeless? transients?) were jumping up and down, excited. They didn't appear scared, they seemed jubilant. They must be in on this bizarre attack. I envisioned the recent production of "War of the worlds" where aliens descended from above and took over the world. Could terrorists have made a pact with denizens of another planet?

I thought it really bizarre that the flames didn’t spray anywhere else. They looked like shot gun pellets and shouldn’t have been so precise in their destination. Not a single fiery dart missed the deserted building or hit anything else. Homeland security permeated the street, just as unsure as the rest of us. Firemen, police and ambulances poured in.

When the front door of the deserted building flew open, ragged men and women emerged, outcasts. All talking at once. All shining with….something. They seemed other worldly. Not reassuring. Again the “War of the Worlds” came to mind. Science fiction or prophesy? After all; Christian Scientists place their faith in a science fiction writer. Those of us who hadn’t run to safety on other streets emerged cautiously from our hiding places.

Dispersing themselves among us they proclaimed the sovereignty of some guy…no...Of the guy who had been publically snuffed out two months ago. And praising some deity called Jehovah. I scanned the crowds around me; everyone seemed to be enthralled by the speakers. Everyone was listening intently, but how. The strangers were all speaking in English. No. My daughter, the product of a biracial marriage, heard English in her right ear and Spanish in her left ear. Her brain was about to implode!! It seems everyone in the crowd was hearing their own language as well. How confusing. Someone was on drugs. Maybe everybody…except of course my husband, daughter and myself. The strongest herb we ever touched was parsley. Okay, maybe cilantro!
Homeland security was unsure what to do…the strangers didn‘t seem violent and hadn‘t broken any laws that we could tell. Wait, some of the guys had been with that criminal. Their faces had been plastered all over the papers for weeks. Police officers stepped forward with handcuffs and joy sticks at the ready. Firemen swarmed into the building to extinguish whatever fires had been ignited by the miniature comets. They exited with confused expressions. There were no fires to put out, except the fires burning in our hearts.

A tall, young , well shaved man stepped forward with his hands in the air. The self appointed spokesperson for the pariahs. He had been the last to run months ago when his friend was apprehended and tried. He asked for permission to talk before being handcuffed. The officers, still hesitant, gratefully acquiesced, thankful for the fortuitous opportunity to assess the situation.

Introducing himself as Peter, the man began a protracted dissertation of recent events, (what’s he trying to do, distract us with wordiness?) Some of the crowd disbanded, no longer interested in the happenings, attributing the disturbance to some David Copperfield type illusion. Others stayed and listened with cynicism printed all over their faces, waiting to see the weirdoes taken into custody. Others actually pulled out little pocket bibles and followed this “Peter’s” discourse, testing the waters of truth. My husband was hooked, my daughter was hooked. I was hooked. This Peter seemed to be genuine. The fact that we all heard him speak in our own language convinced me that something spiritual was taking place, and I didn’t want to miss the boat.

By the end of the afternoon, three thousand of us were added to the not-so-dead revolutionary’s group of followers, believers in a coming kingdom, unintentional partakers in the death of a Messiah, The Messiah, a messenger come to proclaim eternal life. The new additions included police, firemen and homeland security employees. Nothing we heard today led us to believe the United States was in jeopardy. But we were led to believe that each individual present was vulnerable to death if we failed to repent and give our lives over to a greater citizenship. A dual citizenship.

Boy, am I glad we didn’t let the recent events prevent us from taking this vacation! Now we discovered we were on permanent vacation. We became extra terrestrials, sojourners here with a home in outer space in some place called heaven. We were real participants in the War of the Worlds, spiritual versus carnal, demonic versus Godly. I guess the war of the worlds wasn’t fiction after all!

John 12:31
Acts 2
Eph. 2:19
Eph 6:12
Phil. 3:20

Support Services Inc.

Support Services Inc.

The boss had warned us we’d be getting busy as the years went by; some of us barely had time to recover from our last mission before we were sent off again. I was manning the phones today, that job isn’t necessarily an easier one. Triaging is not the most relaxing way to while away the shift, not that actually doing the foot work is easier but it is more rewarding.

Word was spreading that areas under our jurisdiction were flooding from a rain engorged river, while other areas were on fire from a careless cigarette smoker. See second hand smoke really is bad for you! Wouldn’t it be nice if we could divert the flood waters to the blazing regions? That would be too easy. Then there were some hurricanes, and earthquakes in the forecast. Thank heavens we were fully staffed with competent reliable help. Work ethic s was at a premium; no one ever called in or shirked their duties. We had no sluggards or control freaks. Those had been disposed of early in the game, choosing to set up a competitive business that would go up in smoke someday.

The phones were buzzing up and down the long tables, and every caller had a real person to speak with, no automated responses here. Controlled chaos ruled around me, everyone swishing this way and that way as they responded to caller’s requests.

My phone rang. The caller ID registered a familiar name. This was a repeat caller, someone who called daily, rain or shine, fire or no, just to keep in touch.

“Hello, my name is Gabby, how may I help you?”

“Flood waters are filling my house and I have no way out! I’m trapped!” was Suzi’s panic-stricken reply.

“Don’t worry. Go to the roof and wait. I have someone on the way,” I assured her. She thanked me profusely with earnest gratitude before hanging up.

I knew full well why she waited till the last minute to escape. In plan A we had been evacuating her region for days before the turbulent river waters rose to this drastic level but her frail grandmother didn't want to be moved, she was born in that house and by God she would die there; and die she did (by God), of natural causes, (well in this day and age natural causes could be gun fire, car accidents, terrorist activity, or drowning in a flood but in this case it was heart failure) the whole while trying to convince her granddaughter to get the heck out. At ninety she was prepared to go, but her granddaughter wouldn't leave. Some one less devoted would have been on the first train out of town!

I sent plan B into action. As Suzi climbed the ladder to the roof I contacted the nearest motor boat. The only motor boat containing another person who had waited until the last minute to evacuate, claiming he would not abandon his house or possessions. Well, he changed his mind as the waters gradually whipped about his feet, then ankles and hips and he forsook greed and gave into surrender and defeat. The man in the boat was unknown to us. He’d never made a call to this number, choosing instead to verbally bash our services whenever possible, but he was going to receive a call today that would possibly change the course of his life.

Suzi heard the drone of an engine and waved frantically catching Drake's attention. Navigating past roof tops, light poles and wires, he managed to haul Suzi and her backpack aboard his little craft as the waters rose above her roof. Never mind all those lectures about accepting rides from strangers. Granny’s house was now history, only a record in a court house and insurance office.

"Thank God you found me!" Suzi forthrightly praised her creator as she lowered her self onto a soaked seat: all four sides of the boat see sawed up and down.

“God? God had nothing to do with this lady." explained her rescuer. "If you don't mind, I get the credit myself! God has left the building." Drake's anger and resentment at some imaginary super deity were just a little more than obvious to Suzi as he handed her his very orange, very large, very cumbersome, life jacket.

A helicopter flew over, dipping and rising, looking for people trapped on shrinking roof tops. The little boat was hard to see among all the flotsam and white capped waves created by the gusty full bodied air. The sun, concealed behind thunderclouds, was slipping into western horizon. The two occupants stood and waved recklessly yelling at the top of their vocal cords.( Like anyone in a helicopter could hear their vocalizations that high up through this squall.)

Clouds dumped buckets full of rain on Suzi and Drake as the helicopter veered off to the right. Suzi and Drake were on their left. Suzi sat down and stared at the helicopter’s rear.

“They’ll be back.”

Drake stared at her as though she was being transformed into something less than human. “You’ve got to be kidding! They’re going home; we’re on our own kid. ” Optimism is a great character trait, it’s a shame Drake didn’t have any!

Suzi didn’t say a word…out loud. Praying in the spirit she just held on to the sides for dear life as thunder cracked and lightening bolted in the hemisphere above her head. She had always connected rainy days with the Jesus’ return. They always made her expectant of the rapture. Now they would remind her of her granny’s death and passing on to be with the lord; that is if she made it through this.

The little motor boat puttered through the expanding river complete with obstacle courses. The floorboard was filling with water that sloshed in from the sides and came down from the skies. Suzi bailed water out as Drake attempted navigation. It was not a night fit for man, beast or fish. Up ahead something loomed out of the water. A cross. An enourmous wooden cross. The rapidly rising water was as tall as the four story Baptist church Suzi’s granny had called home.

"Look good, lady, that will probably be our grave marker." Drake spat out contemptibly as the boat bottom scraped across some submerged tool of destruction. A very unreassuring screech sounded over all the sounds of nature gone wild. Then the little motor breathed its last breath as phone wires strangled the blades. Drake decided now was as good as any time to give up. There was nowhere to go but down into the raging waters. "I've heard drowning is painless. At least I’ve never heard anyone complain before."

Complain. That's all Suzi had heard Drake do, but she wasn't giving up. She had too much confidence in past experiences to give up. She clung to her seat, trying to not be swept into the current, praying. She had no doubt that something wonderful could still happen.
“I have faith in God. He’ll take care of us.”

“Faith! In God! You have faith in some character that could let this happen? ” Drake seethed. “Give me a break. If he was going to save us he’d have done it by now. As it stands, we are in a metal boat, without a working motor, in an electric storm at night fall. We’re a advertisment for what not to do in a electrical shower. Our last chance for rescue flew over those hills. It’s getting chilly; we’re soaked to the bones. We’ll either drown or die of hypothermia. If God is going to save us, he’d better call in some favors. And soon.”

“Excuse me if I back away before lightening hits you.” Suzi said, sarcastically.

And then…Lightening struck. The enormous wood cross of Granny’s Baptist church was now firewood. On the heels of the loud sonic boom, the newly formed ocean became a blaze. The sky lit up like dawn. The pair was close enough to feel the heat that dried their clothes in nano seconds.

The helicopter’s whirly blades reappeared over the hill tops, adding to nature’s wind tunnel. The helicopter had been attracted to the explosion and resulting combustion and come to investigate one last time. The flames acted like spot lights placing Drake and Suzi on center stage. They had been found. Well Suzi had never been lost, but Drake....well, he was slightly speechless. Probably a first for him.

A ladder was tossed out of the helicopter, a man descended, tied Suzi to him, ascended, released Suzi, descended, tied Drake to him, and ascended one last time,(all this took more time and energy than expressed in this simple sentence.) Then a spark made good work of the little tired motor boat (it took no time at all for the boat to disintegrate when the gas tank reacted to the heat!)

All those in the helicopter gawked down at the magnificent burning cross, illuminating the area and dispelling darkness before they flew away to the school auditorium set up by the American Red Cross for first aide and nourishment.

Back in the Support Service’s office I hovered on the precipice of my cloud observing the retrieval of Suzi and Blake from the flooded city below. The woman standing next to me lowered the bow she had aimed downwards.

“That was a pretty good shot,” I praised. “And clever, I never would have thought of using the cross for a rescue beacon!” Lord knows, I thought, the cross has done its share of life saving over the centuries.

“No it wasn’t! I was aiming for that blasphemous jerk with my granddaughter!” Granny explained. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last time they see each other and she is too good for him!”

Great. I gently reached over and extricated the bow and arrows from Granny and returned them to their responsible owner. (The arrows were really lightening sticks, not available at a store near you). “It looks like we need to have a serious discussion about how things work here before you continue on through the pearly gates.”

Psalm 36:6
Math 5:54
Math 24:27
1 Cor. 1:18
2 Peter 2:5

overboard!

That was the most fascinating thing I’ve ever witnessed. I know people can pull through in a crisis but this wasn’t really a crisis. So some would go to bed hungry tonight, so what? But after the motivational “speaker” was through with his spontaneous presentation one little boy brought up his uneaten lunch to share with this colossal crowd and suddenly everyone was inspired to share theirs with those that had nothing. It was like Woodstock, except everyone was high on love, not dope. (Not that I’m old enough to remember Woodstock, I just heard about it!)

Now with a full stomach I was ready to head home. There were boats pulling out from the dock now, so I took that as my cue to gather my stuff together. As I headed down hill I spied the “speaker” heading up hill, by himself. Pretty brave fellow, there were wild animals in this area. I didn’t see anything on him that resembled a weapon, not that hunting was allowed this time of year. I hope he knows what he’s doing.

I found a craft accepting one more body and climbed aboard. I discovered the “speaker’s” traveling buddies were going across with me. They were staring after “speaker” mumbling to themselves and shaking their heads. Apparently they thought he should be with us. Oh well. He was an adult.

The sky was dark, of course it was well past sunset, but it was dark in that way that indicates heavy clouds were between us and the solar system. I just wanted to get to the other side where my car was parked so I could get home.

Plip, plop. Plip, plop. Here it comes, half way across the body of water; the big body of water. Land on either side of us was invisible. The wind whipped about, the waves sloshed up, the heavens opened, rain descended; and me without a raincoat or umbrella. Those that had umbrellas weren’t fairing to well anyway. What was supposed to be domed protection from the elements had now become cone shaped containers for the rain. The umbrella owner’s were shaking them furiously in disappointment and frustration, coming close to snagging a few eyes from those too close.

I was close to the rail holding on for dear life, but surprisingly exhilarated. People were complaining and whining but I was just going with the flow, no pun intended. What else could I do? “Speaker” had just finished telling us that worrying didn’t change circumstances or make us bigger, I had no trouble believing that, especially as my aging body was actually shrinking from disc degeneration.

The vessel dipped into a large wave and I lost my hold on the slippery rail. That wouldn’t be so bad if I had fallen inward, but no, my traitorous body fell outward, into the raging water. Down, down I went, till I started back up; at least I think it was up, in the dark water up and down looked pretty much the same! My head popped up above the waves so I could witness the craft continue on its journey.

Okay, I think the word panic is underrated. Now I have something to worry about and “Speaker” was right, worrying wasn’t going to get me out of this predicament, er.. . water. My mouth and eyes filled with water from under me and above me. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. My shoes were keeping me from treading water easily so I tried to pull them off.

The boat! It was coming back! I saw light scanning the surface, they were looking for me! But at this point I think it was going to be a recovery mission. I wasn’t going to last much longer, fluid was going into my lungs and my strength was waning. They would never see my small brunette head in this massive lake in the dark. Boy, what a pessimist, one little thing goes wrong and I give up.

The light hit something behind me. In front of me? Beside me? Oh heck which direction is which when you’re sinking in water? Like I said, the light hit something and stayed focused on it. What was it? A hallucination! I must be close to death, I hear you see things in the other world when you’re almost ready to give up the spirit. It was a human form approaching, casually as though taking a stroll on a well tread path. I stopped flaying and stared, ready to ascend to heaven (or so I hoped, remembering my not so good life.)

The silhouette stopped in front of me, squatted down and placed his hands on his knee, rain dripping from the brim of his hat, reminding me of an old country western song. It was “Speaker”! He met my eyes and smiled. I’m glad someone could smile, my mouth was wide open, not a good thing when you’re neck deep in water. Water splashed in my mouth, I spit it back out, more water came in, I repeated the cycle.

“Uh, do you mind giving me a hand here?” I queried, sort of offhandedly.

“Does it matter which hand?” Oh, great, a champion with a sense of humor.

“Not really.” I sputtered. A hand came down to me and pulled me up, slowly. Backing away he continued to assist me. My feet rose until I was only up to my ankles. I felt as though I was walking on solid ground, but I pointed my toes and prodded about, nothing but water. Amazing. Speaker didn’t seem perturbed about the lack of substance below us. Presumably, this was no big deal to him.

Without letting go of my hand, (with the death grip I had on his he wouldn’t have been able too), Speaker led me to the boat’s ladder through the torrent with no apparent urgency, conversing nonchalantly about how the area farmers needed this rain. I was unable to contribute to the dialogue, being in some level of shock. Hands reached for me to facilitate my rescue. I could only imagine the looks on their faces as the lights aimed at us were blinding me.

As I ascended the steps Speaker whispered in my ear,”Let’s not tell them where the sand bar is.” Sandbar? There wasn’t one! I know, remember, I had searched with my feet. There was nothing under us. Well, miles of water, but absolutely no sandbar. Was Speaker playing with my mind?

Once I was aboard every one backed away unsure if they were observing a ghost while Speaker scrambled over the side rail. His pals were the only ones plucky enough to approach him and give him unnecessary aid. He walked on water yet needed help over the side rail, give me a break!

The winds continued, slapping water in our ears, so we couldn’t hear anything that was said between Speaker and his cohorts, but we saw a lot of gesticulating towards the sky and cloudburst. It looked as if the twelve men were giving Speaker what for about the weather, as though it was his fault! Give me a break (again), no one can control nature.

As we all scrutinized the encounter, Speaker raised his arm and moved his lips, (I’m sure audibly to his pals, but we cowards stayed too far to perceive his words. The waters stopped churning and the deluge wrapped up, I genuinely mean wrapped up. No tapering off, no slowing down, just stopped. Suddenly. The clouds were gone, moonlight and stars filled the heavens and Speaker laid down on a nearby bench to rest. What could he be exhausted about, I was the one who had treaded water for …..Well I want to say forever but that would be an exaggeration. Speaker laid down to rest and so did I, though not as voluntarily. Those nearby barely kept my head from cracking on the floorboards. That would have been ironic, rescued from the deep only to suffer a concussion aboard ship! When I wake up I’m sure I’ll discover this was one heck of a dream…Or will I?

Math 14:13-33
mark 6:30-51
luke 8:22-25