Either You Will Love the One and Hate the Other

Alright, so who has seen this new show, Preachers of LA?  Anyone?  Well, I would love for everyone to watch one episode.  I have seen all the episodes so far and, I must say, there is little differentiation between them.  So, basically, the premise is this: all these (famous?) preachers in Los Angeles are on a reality show that follows their personal lives and their interaction with each other.  Now, I have never heard of any of the preachers and its not quite relevant to know their names, anyways.  As an aside, the show airs on the Oxygen network.  Outside of this show, I have never seen any of the other shows on this network.  A brief look at their website reveals they have other shows, such as Bad Girls, My Big Fat Revenge and Best Ink.  I haven't the slightest what any of those shows are about, but it looks like quality viewing to me...  Anyways, this show is ridiculous.  I know, I know, I just recommended you watch it; let me tell you why.  The producers of this show must have worked on Cribs.  Who remembers that show?  All these famous artists and athletes taking MTV into their homes to show off all of their extravagance...  Remember how it would show them getting out of their Bentley or BMW all in slow motion with background music and the little 'bling' flash and sound?  Well, you get the same shots in this show about these preachers, with the same vehicles and everything.  It makes for good TV.  These producers are as cynical about the 'megachurch' in America as I am. 

As it turns out, the gospel business is quite lucrative.  This is not a secret to most Christians but I would at least consider it dirty laundry.  I mean, we all remember that Jesus would travel around in a golden carriage and go to all the happening religious places to preach the Word before returning to his comfortable palace with all of his entourage.  Wait?  That didn't happen?  Oh, well, doesn't the Bible say some where, "Brethren, I wish above all that you prosper and be of good health?"  Doesn't that justify everything?  Nobody mention anything about that being a standard Roman greeting.

This show brings into focus the hypocrisy that most Christians in this country live their lives with, myself included. The real gospel is giving all that you have to those that have not and following Christ.  The real gospel is a rough wooden cross.  It is not comfortable for anyone.  It is not comfortable for me.  The tension is ever present.  It is easy for me to be appalled at these million dollar business parading around in the sheep's clothing of the 'church.'  However, my disgust must be self reflective. Hmm, the tension continues...

I'm Back

Sooo, I haven't blogged in a good long while.  I miss it.  I was reading some of my old posts the other day and it made me miss writing. Writing, in general.  I used to have such passion for writing.  I have written very intelligent things.  Not necessarily here, in this blog, but in other places I have penned brilliant things.  I'm not sure what has happened.  Please forgive me for the hodge podge rambling this post is turning out to be.  Hmmm, hodge podge is not a phrase spell check recognizes.  Spell check must not be from west Texas.  Is hodge podge actually a phrase or am I making stuff up?  It is really late right now and I worked all day so I'm just leaving it there.  I typed it three times and it is underlined with a red squiggly line each time.  As it turns out, squiggly is a word. Go figure.  Anyways, the point of this post is to re-initiate myself to sitting down in front of the computer  and typing my thoughts; they're just not very deep at this moment.  So, I'm back.  That's about all I have to say tonight.

Hope

I miss you so much.  You would know just what to say right now.  I wish I could hug you.  I can smell your sweater; your yellow sweater.  Smells like home, smells like comfort, love, safety, love.  Can I have that for just one second, God?  Could you grant me a moment with my grandpa?  I really need the security.  The familiarity.  I feel like a child again.  A scared little girl.  Am I the little girl in the closet again, begging God to see me?  God, do you see me?  I know you care, you have to.  You've proved it before.  I need you now.  Forgive me for everything.  Save me now.  Help me now.  Can you make everything better?  Could you please?  I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry.  I don't know what else to say.  The funny thing is, you warned me.  You warned me.  Why wasn't I paying attention?  Before I would have asked you.  I would have known.  You would have told me.  So stupid; I can't believe I'm so stupid.  Everything is unraveling.  Why can't I stop it?  I wish it so bad; I feel it in my bones.  My very core is trembling.  Leveled; completely leveled is my foundation.  Everything.  Everything.  Who am I?  I am scared.  I need a miracle now.  I need a miracle like before.  I know you were there.  I saw you.  I saw you that night.  You loved me then.  Do you still love me now?  I saw you.  In the back yard.  I remember.  All my grandparents were there.  I was scared then and I did not understand.  I'm so much more scared now that my eyes are wide open.  Can you perform a miracle?  You did before.  Before the pain.  Before the heart ache.  He believed.  He trusted you.  He loved you.  He still does.  He still does.  Do you love him still?  Can you tell him?  He needs to hear it.  He needs to feel it.  Can you tell him he's strong?  Can you remind him of who he is?  Can you tell him I need him?  Can you tell him I'm still his little girl?  I love him so.  I need him.  Can you be God to us?  Little, insignificant us?  You're our only hope.  I read once it does not disappoint.  That will have to be my new foundation.  Hope.  Let me be strong for him.  Pick me up so I can hold him.  God, please.  I'm begging you again.  Forget all that I know.  Please, God.  Please.  Help us.  Be to us what you were before. 

Is That Me?

I believe I may be having an identity crisis.  I mean, I'm not sure I know who I am at this point in my life.  The irony in this situation is I worked very hard to have this crisis.  I see who I want to be.  That is very clear.  Where is my disconnect?  Should I even write about this?  Does anybody else know how this feels?  Maybe putting these thoughts out there into the faceless world of the Internet will help me sort things out.  Even thinking about the words to express my feelings here brings a great deal of clarity.  (Please accept my apology for my vagueness.)  Yes, things have suddenly become quite clear.  (Thank you Internet.  Internet does not reply, as it is faceless...)  I want to be a professional at work and kind and caring towards everyone in my life.  I need to remember some of my authentic leadership lessons from university. (Dr. Joiner's classes come to mind.)  My problem has arisen from my desire to be friends with my coworkers.  Problem is I'm the charge nurse so, although we are coworkers, we are not on equal planes.  (Not really...)  So, I have decided to be professional and that's it.  That does not exclude kind and caring.  This will help me avoid being emotionally invested in what others think of me at work.  Not to shirk blame completely, of course.  I am by no means perfect.  (Gasp...not really...)  I mean, I love my job, but work is work.  I go to take care of my patients and then I go home.  That is simple, right?  It has not proven so but starting now it is.  Theory will become practice.  Perhaps I will get back with you and let you know how it goes Internet.  (Internet says nothing.)  Alright, this has been cathartic; one layer of dust off the proverbial mirror.

I Would TiVo That

I am sooo ready for this election to be over with!  Who else is tired of all the empty rhetoric and ugliness?  I watched both of the debates that have taken place and I was thinking that there has to be a better way.  One of the networks was advertising the last debate by announcing the style of the debate and the presence of "fact-checkers."  This was interesting to me.  I think I could make the debates much better.  I think the "fact-checkers" should be like the ones on Jeopardy.  You ever notice how on point those guys are?  As soon as a contestant answers, by the next couple questions they come back and say that answer is also acceptable or not quite right or whatever.  Let's have it like that at the debates.  Let's have the candidates stand up behind podiums that light up green or red. 
"So Mr. Romney, is it true that you actually support all of the proposed immigration laws in Arizona?"
"Well, not all of them, just the ones that are not too extreme for this bipartisan audience in front of me."
Long dramatic pause with music like on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.  Bum bum...bum bum...heartbeat undertones behind the music...pause...sexy woman's voice:  "That answer is...false."  The podium turns red.  Wouldn't that be more interesting and memorable?  Wouldn't more people watch?  Just the facts man, just the facts.  None of that rambling on and on and on...  Cut the mics if they venture beyond the yes or no response.  No skirting the questions.  Are they truthful or not?  That's all we need.  If that were the case all of the questions those "undecided voters" had would have been answered. 
It's a dream world I'm living in, I know.  I'm just saying.  Also, wouldn't it be cool if after, say, ten or or so wrong answers the floor just drops out from under the candidate like on Ellen?

Cursed

Cursed is woman.  Cursed by God.  Cursed by herself.  Cursed by everyone around her.  A facade, a facade, all is a facade.  Nothing is reality.  All is another's perception.  Who am I to you?  Who do you need me to be?  There is no room for me.  I am irrelevant.  Irrelevancy defines me, cursed as I am.  My reality is of no consequence.  You know me when I do not.  Who do you say that I am?  It is all of me.  Cursed.  Emotions threaten my damn.  Billows of waves incessantly barrage me.  Waves I can not suppress.  The beauty of them is lost.  I dare not relent, lest I drown.  Drown myself.  Curse myself.  Breathing is irrelevant.  It benefits no one in this cursed land.  This cursed state of being.  Perhaps I shall plunge in.  How bad can drowning be?  Perhaps this curse would be absolved.  If only I were worth sacrificing.  But who wants a tainted offering?  The cloak of the curse spoils the good.  Woman is cursed.  The entire lot of us.  Cursed, we rip at each other's flesh.  Struggling, we drown each other.  We all become oblivious.  Worthless.  Cursed.  Our true selves become irrelevant.  Perhaps irrelevancy is truly who we are.  Cursed is woman.  Cursed, everyone.  In our cursed world honesty is merely a perception.  A hall of mirrors reveals our truth.  I once heard that truth was in the armory of God but here it is only used a the talon with which we rip each other apart.  My breast is open and bleeding.  Shreds of flesh litter my feet.  I realize the threatening waters are composed of my own tears.  Those not shed exceeding any barriers.  Cursed woman.  I plunge in.  I have decided to drown.  I go down to the depths of the earth.  The waters close in around me.  All is dark.  I relent to the drowning.  Moments pass.  Moments that are as hours.  I can not breathe.  Fear envelopes me.  What have I done?  I shall die cursed.  Moments. Moments.  Darkness.  Nothing.  My heart stops.  All is calm.  All is at rest.  I see the sun.  How can that be?  How can I, having drowned see at all?  There are no more waters.  I am free.  Absolved.  Free.  I lift my head, my weary arms follow.  I touch my breast.  Scars.  Scars healed.  Sacrifice accepted.  Curse absolved.  My worth, insufficient.  Covered by another.  Absolution from curse.  Woman, once again.

Remember Who You Are

"You have forgotten who you are, and so, have forgotten me."  Okay, okay, so I know that's Mufasa and all but I think there's some validity to this statement.  This was a divine voice for Simba in his culture of ancestor worship.  There is real truth in this animated moment of spiritual awakening.  How easy it was for him to forget who he was.  On that note, I ask myself, who am I?  Sure, I could tick off a list relatively easily; I am a mother, a wife, a minister, a nurse...  Is this really who I am, a quantitative list of roles and obligations?  How many of us define ourselves this way?  Let me add Christian to this list; does that really change my definition?  Is this not just another obligation, a set of rules to follow and standards to adhere to?  No wonder I have forgotten who I am; perhaps I've never known. 
Let me think about this for a minute.
I suppose the only way to know who I am is to imagine who I would be stripped of all these roles, these obligations.  What does that leave?  Loneliness, emptiness, me.  Am I but a tragedy blanketed over in a thousand things to do?
Again, I need a moment for reflection.
I have wants, I have desires.  I use my roles to fulfill them.  That is why they are never satisfied.  What are my core desires?  To love, to be loved, to be accepted for who I am, who I am not.  So, I suppose that answers the question I originally proposed.  I am just a little girl, wanting to hear I'm lovely, I'm worthy.  And yet, in my solitude I can hear a still small voice.  "I see you, I hear you.  I love you.  You are lovely, you are perfect, you are worthy of my love."  Outside of myself I find myself.  This is who I am.  This is spiritual awakening.  I remember myself, and so, I remember God.