Witnessing for Jesus

Above the doorway of a local church there is a lovely little sign that says, 'PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD.' I'm no PR expert, but is that really the best way to attract people? It just sounds like you are ABOUT TO DIE when you walk through their doors. I don't have the gift of evangelism, but I do try to talk to others about my faith. I know it's intimidating to a lot of people, as we worry too much about what others think, and not enough about what God thinks. But at the same time, I have seen one too many an over-zealous Christian push people away with their version of the Gospel. I don't know about you, but I didn't come to know Jesus because someone made me take their tract, or because I opened the door to someone who knocked on my door, or because a man with a sandwich board on the corner informed me that the end was near. I just think that we make these assumptions about how to witness to others, and we forget how we first came to God in the first place.

So in my most loving, Christian-church-lady voice, I must say, 'LIGHTEN UP PEOPLE!' Most of us got to know Jesus through a family member or friend, and we were open to hearing about Him because we ourselves were already searching. So don't be afraid to talk about Jesus. He rocks! He loves you more than pancakes, as I always tell the Boy, and all He asks is that you tell other people about Him. Sounds like a sweet deal to me.

Remembering Mary Jo

You know, I'm not one to usually speak ill of the dead. I find it tacky. But what I find even more tacky right now is the disgusting flood of love and squishyness coming from the media in regards to the late Teddy Kennedy. President Obama and many others have spoken fondly of Kennedy's passion for his beliefs, his speaking presence, his accomplishments..... Yet I can only find myself thinking of the trail of destruction he left behind him after a life of clearly doing whatever he dang well pleased. He was a womanizer, a boozer, an adulterer, a cheat, a liar and a murderer. His numerous affairs led his heart-broken wife to alcoholism, for which he mocked her. I'm sorry that I can't get on board with eulogizing someone who was a hideous human being and should have been in jail a long time ago.

John Lofton over at American View wrote a piece several years ago when the Senator was on a Senate Judiciary Committee, and I think it speaks volumes about what the man's true accomplishments were in his lifetime.

In the meantime, my heart goes out to the family of Mary Jo Kopechne, whoever they may be. Her parents have both passed in recent years, and she had no siblings. I hope that they know that there are many of us who still care about the death of a Boiler Room Girl, and hope that she rests in peace.

In The Gutter

I ran into a friend on Facebook recently that I hadn't talked to in the last few years. We exchanged all the usual pleasantries, and it was nice to reconnect with him. A bit later my phone rang, and it was him. He said that he felt he had to confess that even though he had said he was fine, he was not, and that he was just coming back to the rooms. After almost 13 years of sobriety, he had gotten injured and addicted to pain medication. He was just home from rehab. I love and respect this man, and it broke my heart to hear this. I hurt for him, but I'm so glad that he has found his way back, and is going to meetings daily. He said that his downfall was self pride, plain and simple. It's very easy to get confident in our own abilities, and think that we have this thing all wrapped up. The truth is that we never 'have it' and never will. 'It' has us, and when we start thinking otherwise, we are on very dangerous ground. The first step was admitting that we were powerless. We don't have that power, only God does, and until and unless we give up this fight to Him, we will never stay sober.

"Pride is the basic breeder of most human difficulties, the chief block to true progress.

Pride lures us into making demands upon ourselves or upon others which cannot be met without perverting or misusing our God-given instincts."

- As Bill Sees It, p. 12

I read this article today about a drunk found laying in a gutter, clutching a bottle. Know the difference between him and I? Nothing. There is nothing special about me that keeps me sober. I've done the work, sure, worked my steps and gone to meetings and talked to other alcoholics. But I am only able to do this by the grace of God, and without Him, I'd be laying in the gutter next to that man. But for the grace of God go I.

Of Mice And Men

The Man took the big kids and went camping at an amusement park this weekend with his family. I decided this was the perfect opportunity to clean the shed, which is a place that I never usually enter. And by place I mean dungeon. And by dungeon I mean a shingled box in my yard into which random tools and equipment are thrown to be scampered upon by hordes of poo-dropping mice. It was clear upon close inspection that the Boy gets his cleaning & organizational skills from his father, because things were just piled wherever there was a spot for them, and in the case of the workbench and shelves, was then surrounded by poo. I spent the first hour just vacuuming the poo. I wish I were kidding.

After several hours & trash bags & taunting from the neighbor I got it all cleaned out and things put away & hung up. I'm very pleased with myself and hopefully the Man will be too. And if he is underwhelmed by my sweaty efforts, I can at least be satisfied that I have protected my husband from mouse E. Coli.

Gone Too Soon

Unless you live under a rock, by now you know that Michael Jackson died yesterday. I was utterly stunned by this news, and quite honestly, a bit heartbroken. As I've written before, I have always found him fascinating. I don't know how you sum up the life of someone so complicated, so talented and yet somehow so broken. I know that he will certainly be remembered for his incredible musical accomplishments, as much as he will be remembered for his strange behavior and white children. Many will only remember the accusations against him. I'm glad that I didn't have to sit on his jury, because I could never say for sure if I could believe that this oddly pale man-child could ever do such terrible things.

Andrew Sullivan had some things to say about Michael Jackson's death that I found touching. I pray that his kids are well taken care of, and that they are able to find peace in their lives that their daddy clearly never could.

Gone Too Soon

Cyanoacrylates are our friends

We had a particularly exciting time at the campground this past weekend. The Tyrant took a header into a stone step and split his chin open. The poor little guy screamed and gushed blood all over. The volume of blood told us he would need stitches, even before we could see the gash clearly. We left the big kids with friends and headed up to the closest emergency room. I was dreading spending several hours in a waiting room, but to our amazement, we were in and out in an hour. The doctor was able to use glue and steri strips to close his chin, and we were very thankful to avoid the trauma of stitches. The Princess had to get stitches above her eye as a toddler, and I never wanted to repeat that hysteria.

We stopped at a store to get children's ibuprofen, thinking that he might have a hard time sleeping with the pain. He whimpered a bit but seemed ok when he went to sleep.

Apparently he had a great night's sleep, and got up with the birds. I'm not sure exactly how early he was awake, but campground security knocked on our door & returned him to us at 7:30am. It was a proud moment for sure, when I admitted that we hadn't even known that he was gone, since we had all still been asleep. We have no clue how he got out of the camper without us hearing him, since the door is right near our bed. He was found near the camp store, which is ironically where he had fallen the night before. (Maybe he was looking for the ice cream he missed out on??) The dog was also loose, no idea where she may have been during this, but thankfully she was running circles around the security man when I opened the door.

The main thing I learned from this weekend, outside of the need to tie bells to my child and explain to him the reasons why he must wear a helmet 24 hours a day, is this: when your child splits his chin open, and the doctor clears the blood away so she can close the gash, do not, under any circumstances, look closely to see the damage, because it will look like ground beef and you will want to chuck, which you cannot do because said child is on your lap having his face super glued back together. Here endeth the lesson.

Ignorance

I had a conversation yesterday that I'm still festering about, so maybe blogging will clear my head of it. You know how afterwards, where you kick yourself for what you said or didn't say, and how you should have said this or that, and you just continue to have the back & forth in your head. Of course I always come out looking good and triumphant at the end of these.

I was at the school, waiting for the kids to come out. I was standing with a group of other moms doing likewise, and one of them, whom I have seen before but don't know at all, was complaining about the stupidity of her neighbors. She then went on to talk about the residents of the recovery house near her. I won't recount the whole thing, but she had some pretty derogatory things to say. Now granted, I know that those who are fresh out of rehab are not always the most agreeable sort, nor are they schooled in the finer rules of etiquette and manners. I could understand her being upset about some of their inappropriate behavior. That said, I have a tendancy to get my back up when people make stereotypical statements about people in recovery, which she made plenty of. She then went on to say that she couldn't understand why these people were allowed to live in a neighborhood around children. I raised an eyebrow and asked where they should live then, and told her that there were recovery houses in pretty much every one of our local neighborhoods. She said she didn't know, but that the Don Pablos was empty, and they should just ship them there. (a local restaurant that went out of business & is sitting empty)

I think I nearly bit through my tongue at this point, as I considered my options. I considered informing her that not all of us in recovery appreciate being ranked with pedofiles when it comes to undesireable neighbors. I thought about letting her know that those in early recovery need a lot of patience and compassion. I thought about calling her an ignorant bizzo. I instead said nothing, because I knew I was not capable of being diplomatic at that point, and it would accomplish nothing to tell her off.

After the kids were dismissed and we were walking home, I told myself to let it go and not let it bother me. Had she known that I am in recovery, she would surely not have said those things, or at least I'd like to think that. I know it's idealistic, but I'd love the chance to talk to her again and set her straight. But with only a few days left in the school year, it's unlikely that I'll have the chance.

I carry the green card with me in my purse and I thought of it as I stood there facing that woman. I thought of the one line, "I will not show anyone that my feelings are hurt; they may be hurt, but today I will not show it." I wasn't hurt, just ticked, but I knew it was better to hold my tongue. One of the gifts of my recovery has been the realization that I do not always have to have my say, and I do not always have to be right. The satisfaction of knowing I didn't lose my temper tastes much better than telling her off would have.

My Anniversary Present

Looky what I got!  I've been wanting the industrial piercing for about a year, and I finally went and did it.  It's my wedding anniversary present from the Man.  12 years went by fast!

Anniversary

I celebrated 8 years of recovery from alcoholism on the 28th of May, hallelujah!  I wish you could have seen the smile on my face when I went to my home group the night before & received my coin.  There is just no other feeling like it; to know that you have succeeded at changing your life, one day at a time, through the grace of God and AA - it is simply amazing, in every sense of the word.

When it was my turn to share I talked about where I had been and where I am now.  How I'm incredibly blessed to have a husband and children and the life that I enjoy.  I shared that I am a first timer, and that I have stayed sober for this many years because, quite simply, I do what I'm told.  I listen to the suggestions and advice of my sponsor and fellow alcoholics.  I take my life one day at a time, I try my best to be humble, I am honest, I admit when I am wrong.... not because I am so awesome, but because I know what happens when I don't live this life the way I'm supposed to.  I did things my way for a long time, and it got me in a lot of trouble.  I don't need to have my way anymore.  Giving up my own will, and submitting to God is what keeps me sober.  I make amends where necessary, pray for those who cause me pain, and keep my mouth shut, which is hard, for anyone who knows me.  I don't always need to be 'right' anymore.

I carry my coin in my pocket every day, as a reminder to me of needing to 'practice these principles in all my affairs'.  I love the coins that my meeting uses. They look like these:

The history of the coins, if you're nerdy like me and need to know these things, can be found here.

How to Ensure that Parents of Your Fans Will Hate You

I read recently that Kanye West is anti-reading.  I thought at first that this had to be a joke, because who would be against reading?  But sadly, it's true.  As disturbing as this is, what's even more disturbing is that this genius has now written a book.  Umm... what?  Yes, the anti-book rapper has 'written' a book.  And 'written' gets air-quotes because 1) he doesn't believe in books and 2) he had to have someone co-author a book that consists of random quotes, 'Kanye-isms' and blank pages.

As Jen over at Cake Wrecks said, "After banging my head against the desk and weeping for future generations," I thanked God that my parents did not feel this way.  We were always encouraged to read and to write, and had our own library cards from a young age.  We read mysteries, autobiographies, and poetry, along with the Bible.  Some of my earliest memories are of my mom reading books to us on long car trips, and of my father making up stories to tell us at bedtime.  I am incredibly thrilled and proud that I have passed the reading bug on to the Princess, who plows through books at an amazing rate.  She read the entire Left Behind Kids series in about two weeks.

As Thomas Jefferson said, "I cannot live without books."  As a lifelong reader and an aspiring author, I have the urge to tack Kanye's picture on my dartboard.  The celebrity platform is a gift Mr. West, and you have clearly squandered yours.  Young people looking for good writing by a black author, skip Kanye's 'book' and instead check out someone worth reading, like Howard Thurman or Rosa Parks.