Is Facebook a "Friend?"

I didn't post yesterday, and I'm committed to writing 500 words a day.  I don't know how to get a good count on how many words a post is.  But, I sense the Lord saying that it doesn't really matter.  I have a rough idea of how many lines of type here make up 500 words.  Part of the reason that I want to write every day is to kind of "find my voice," as they say.  I'm not exactly sure what that means, except perhaps it would make me more comfortable in my own skin, when I try to sit down and write.  As it is now, I'm always second-guessing how things should be said.  Today, want to write about "friendship."  I think that a lot of people do what I do and use things like facebook and Sunday School as a way to get sort of a feeling of being close to people, and yet a way to actually keep people at a distance.  I've done this to others, and had them do it to me.  It's really frustrating.  One thing, though, is that I can see that I'm not the only one of my "friends" who is afraid of intimacy.  I'm going to suggest to my pastor that he preach on friendship. I think that we can only be as close to the Lord as we are willing to be with people.  Didn't Jesus say something like, "How can you love me, when you will not love your brother?"  I have noticed that I am not the only Christian who uses the context of good discipleship as a way to keep the Lord at a comfortable place in our lives.  When He wants to grow closer to us, we relegate our relationship with Him to our "Quiet Time."  And we search for formulas to insure us that this quiet time with Jesus comes up to the standard for such a thing.

When it comes to friendship with people, Facebook is a study in the fear of intimacy.  We come into it with high expectations, seeing people with hundreds of people that they call friends.  But, we learn fairly quickly not to expect too much from these hundreds of "friends."  We learn that it is easier to ignore our "Facebook Friends" who seem to be getting too close or asking for too much friendship. And we think that this keeping people in their place is good.  And it is, if we never want to get any closer to people than the rigid structure of Facebook allows.

Comforted

I don't know if this is 500 words, but it was the story of a moment that sort of just wrote itself.  I've been wondering lately how I will manage to get through life without my momma.  I guess this is the story of how.

I've gotten out my taboo cards. What little I remember of surrealism, is an idea that there is something inside me, some message, that wants to come out. I simply need to give it the opportunity to burst onto the scene. Say there are ten things on a tray, and I have to tell a story with them. A glove, a pony, a few coins, a singer, water, mayonnaise, something king-size, speeding, summer, and green. Let's see. The singer wears a glove, but why only one? Perhaps she can't find both, or maybe she is a Michael Jackson fan. I picture a woman sitting by a fence, singing her way through a hymnal. Perhaps a pony in the next field comes over and nuzzles her. A highway is maybe ten feet from her. It is the well-traveled way. Every now and then, another car comes speeding down the road, shaking the whole world to the sound of the music it's playing. But Micah's songs come from a very different place. Once upon a time, her mom used to sing to her. Momma sang about “The Birth of the Blues.”

Micah's frail heart wishes it had a tune, all she has is this hymnbook. She pages through it, looking for an elusive something, something to pour her paper heart into, something to make her feel like a real person. A soft breeze plays with the pages as she turns them. “I am weak but thou art strong; Jesus, keep me from all wrong. I'll be satisfied as long, as I walk, let me walk close to thee.” Could anything be close? Tears begin to roll down her young cheeks. “Just a closer walk with thee.” Her soul cuddles up with the familiar words. “Grant it, Jesus, is my plea,” Her voice sounds so small. Trying again, a little louder, a little stronger. “Thro' this world of toil and snares, if I falter, Lord, who cares? Who with me my burden shares? None but thee, dear Lord, none but thee.” Tears are falling more rapidly now, unbidden. Momma would like that song. “Just a closer walk with thee.” Back in the house, everyone expected her to be so spiritual. Everyone was talking about heaven. Back there, she was expected to smile, and play the hostess to relatives and friends gathered to mourn. She thought about the service, they had just come from. All those songs that she and her mother had loved together. Momma's voice had become less certain as she grew older. Somehow, when they were together, though, the old voice would ring out the soprano, while Micah found a alto notes snuggling up next to momma's strong melody. Now, all the tears that she couldn't cry at church dripped one by one down her face. Paging through the tattered hymnbook, she sings, “He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock That shadows a dry, thirsty land; He hideth my life in the depths of his love, and covers me there with his hand.” Dry and thirsty, yes, that's how the world felt today. The bright sunshine hides for a moment behind a cloud. The sun holds itself aloof from this little worship service. The woman feels like a young girl again, as she carefully avoids the barbs that will tear at her clothes if she gets too close. Soon, she would need to get back. People would wonder what had happened to her. Everybody seemed so quietly worried about her. Their worry was another weight to carry, as though losing her mother wasn't enough. She had to exhibit the right mix of mourning and psychological strength to reassure everyone. But, all she wanted was to hear momma singing beside her. “Because He Lives” was one of momma's favorite songs. “Because He lives I can face tomorrow; because he lives all fear is gone; because I know he holds the future, life is worth the living just because he lives.” Tomorrow, what a dry, colorless thought. She would make it through tomorrow, though. After all, there was no longer anyone to help if she fell apart. I need your strength today, Lord. What is the verse? “seeing that His divine power has granted to us everything pertaining to life and godliness, through the true knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and excellence.” I need a portion of that divine power, today, Father. I know you will give it. Thank You. “Every good and perfect gift comes down from above, from the Father of the heavenly lights, with whom there is no shifting shadow.” Is the loss of momma a gift, Lord? She lived so many years with constant pain in so many of her joints. I'm glad to know that she is in heaven with You. Thank You for this moment. Thank You for the bright sunshine, and the quiet grass. I guess I better get going. People will miss me. Thank You for being here with me. Someday, momma, I will meet you in heaven; and we will sing and sing and sing for a million glorious days. But, I better be going . . .  

Almost 500 Words

Oh, gosh, I don't know what to write about.  I started to write about a favorite hymn, but I don't know that anyone would be interested in hearing that.  There's a little note on my desk here that says, "You Are a Masterpiece."  I was thinking about that earlier.  I don't feel much like a masterpiece, but emotions are deceptive.  It is my nature (ever since my training in medical vocabulary and career as a transcriptionist) to break down words.  What does it mean to say that I (perish the thought) am a Masterpiece.  "Masterpiece" sounds like a very big word, but I think it only means "a piece made by a Master."  I can accept that.  What little I know about this body I'm in leaves me pretty awestruck.  For many years, I didn't have any insurance coverage.  That was back in my 20's.  I was amazed at how well my body took care of itself.  Back before that time, I had every year been taken to the doctor with bronchitis.  When I had to take care of myself, though, I found that my body just overcame its bronchitis troubles.  At that time, I didn't have a car.  I found that walking everywhere, in just any kind of weather, made me stronger.  I no longer had a lot of the difficulties that I had grown up with.  I have often wished that I could share this "secret" with the people that I see dashing around in their cars day after day.  If you walk places, it forces you to prioritize.  You only have time to go to a few places, so it's important to pick the best.  Walking is calming.  So many of our ailments these days are caused by stress.  Walking gives you time to really think about things.  I feel like many people these days are kinda running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  They don't think that they have time to do things like memorize and meditate on scripture.  They have no idea what they are missing out on.  Oh, goodness, that's only about 289 words.  One of the things that counselors have taught me is to go outside and really appreciate all the things that I see.  Really looking at trees and grass and sidewalks gets me out of my head.  Once, way back when, I made up a little story about the trees I saw as I was walking along.  Each tree became a character in my story.  I saw a little evergreen surrounded by taller trees.  I thought how all those taller trees were always reaching up to the sky, trying to catch the sun as it passed them by.  The magnificent oaks and lovely maples didn't understand what was wrong with the little evergreen.  Fall came.  Leaves were falling all over the forest, but the little evergreen stood quietly, patient as always.  It's leaves didn't fall.  It had become the only bright spot in the forest.  It couldn't reach up and catch the sun, but it had caught as much sunlight as it needed to stay green all through the winter.
Well, back to being God's masterpiece.  Walking through the world, there are so many extraordinary things to see, so many masterpieces.

I need to balance my days.  I need to do some studying, some praying, and some cleaning.

Salt Water

I am not a sophisticate.  You probably noticed that.  Well, recently I had to do something that made me feel like a little kid.  I had advised others who had infections to gargle with salt water.  I've done that before and found it to be remarkably restorative.  So, this morning when my sore throat seemed persistent and out to give me an earache as well, I took my own advice.  Yuck!!!  There's only one thing that I hate salt on and that's water.  Ick!  Of course, I'll gargle more of the offensive salt water if it doesn't help pretty quickly.  But, I will not enjoy it.  Yuck!

The Biggest Loser

I have not been a fan of "The Biggest Loser."  I weight about 350 pounds.  At every weigh-in, they would always say how big the person was when he or she started out.  Usually, I was/am 25 to 50 pounds bigger than all the girls on that show were when they started out.  I look in the mirror, and it's really depressing.  I'm five feet and six or seven inches.  I remember when I was hovering around 230 pounds for many years.  I saw my sister and brother gaining more weight than I, and I swore that I would never get up to 300 pounds.  Well, now, I am post-menopausal.  I am also on disability, not because of my weight.  I have always fought some personality disorders.  I have borderline personality disorder.  While fighting the infernal borderline thing, I began to act in a way that is bipolar.  So now, I have not only the one personality disorder that was so hard to fight.  Now, I am borderline AND bipolar, and I also have ADD.  I take so many meds, and some of them have the side effect of making me gain weight.  I don't believe that the meds are why I have gained weight, though.  Depression is one of my biggest foes.  Depression and the abandonments that the devil throws at me whenever I start to get ahead.  I have shown that I CAN overcome borderline personality disorder to a great degree.  It's a matter of being vigilant and watching myself for borderline ways of thinking that try to sneak back into my life.  I have obsessive-compulsive habits and patterns that can be my allies as I fight these disorders, and as I fight my weight.  THE KEY IS HOPE.  I am now 46 years old.  I was watching The Biggest Loser finale this evening.  I went to get up off the couch that I had been dozing on.  At first, I thought that I was going to be too fat and too weak to get up off the couch.  I thought that was really pitiful.  Then, as I was watching the show, there was this girl (She turned out to be the one who won one of the prizes.) who reminded me of myself.  At the beginning, she was asked to run 25 flights of stairs.  She came back and announced that she had run 30-something flights.  I always make great beginnings.  And, I'm not against stairs.  It's the long haul that has always done me in.  I started thinking about myself and what I would have done to lose weight like those people on the show had.  I started picturing myself on some of the workout equipment at my church, saying, "I can do this.  Yes, Lord, I can do this.  I can.  I can.  I can.  Thank you, Lord, for helping me do this."  I believe that I can.  I think that the bipolar disorder and depressions and menopause and other things have decreased my (oh, I can't remember the word, it's an M-word.) ability to get up and go.  But, I think I can do it.  It's just so much easier to let myself be a victim.  If I don't get control of my body, it will dominate the rest of my life.  My lower legs are so swollen.  Every time I see my doctor, he nearly has a cow about how swollen they are.  I have talked to my sister and my mom (nurses both) about this.  I think that my legs will develop open, running sores that run the risk of getting infected and causing me to lose one or both legs if I don't get a handle on things.  I don't have a car, and I have had to walk anywhere I wanted to go for many years.  I walked when I was 200 pounds, and I walked even up to 300 pounds.  At 350, though, walking around town is becoming much harder.  My parents are willing to give me rides places when they can, but they are getting older.  They are both in their 70's now.  I don't want to be dependent on them anymore.  They love me a lot, but I want to be healthy.  I am not a good cook.  Cooking has always seemed like a waste of time.  And the money to buy healthy food has always seemed overwhelming.  I can live on macaroni and cheese for many years.  That's what I have been living on.  I have gone from mac and cheese and tuna, to mac and cheese and boneless chicken white meat.  I like the chicken.  It's just different, not quite as good, but healthier maybe.  Well, I could go on and on, but it's almost 10 at night.

What to write?

I was thinking that it would be good to write about superheroes.  There seems to be a lot of superhero movies out and about these days.  Iron Man, Captain America, X-men, Wolverine, etc.  How would a truly Christian superhero reconcile a mutation with his understanding of God?  How would a conservative president deal with the emergence of superheroes?  If you don't believe in evolution, mutations happen, but they will usually be unhelpful.  I don't know.  There are other things to write, as well.  The clash between Catholic, Protestant, Baptist could be explored as terrorism started to become the norm in Baptist churches. When Hollywood rights Christian, they usually write Catholic.  I don't dislike Catholics, but I don't really connect with most of them.  I think I need to study Revelation.  Mr. LaHaye wrote about the end of the world very successfully.  I wouldn't have to write through the whole book of Revelation.  I could just write about the beginning.  I don't know.

Oh, it's 2:00, better get ready to go over to JoAnn's.