Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

My sense of wellbeing is almost like mania, but I am in no way manic. I just feel really, really good, great in fact. I was up before seven and had a large breakfast of eggs, cheese, peppers and onions, and bagel. Then I went and worked out with Lanie and we worked out HARD. Then I went to the dentist for my cleaning. It had been over a year, and since I don’t floss very often, and truth be told, don’t brush like I should either, I expected a rough cleaning and a bad report. (I always feel guilty about my teeth.) But this was the fastest cleaning I’ve ever had, and the dentist said everything looks great. I asked him if he was going to get on to me for not flossing and he said there was no reason to. I attribute the good teeth to my awesome Sonicare toothbrush. The dentist said that that might have something to do with it. Of course, genes play a big part as well. I know people who have terrible issues with their teeth. I certainly have my share of big ‘ole fillings in my mouth from childhood, and I have a couple of crowns, but so far, so good. I hope to have my teeth for the long haul. When I was a little girl, I would spend the night with my granny and see her dentures soaking in a glass overnight and it seemed impossibly weird to me.

I have done one submission today. At least that’s something. I have yet to start Luke, though I intended to the other day. I went to McKay’s last night and bought some diet books to whiz through. One of them looks especially interesting—Secrets of a Former Fat Girl. I think this is like a memoir. I love reading about people’s experiences and struggles with food.

Oh my, the rest of the day stretches out, not in a bad way. I can do whatever I want, but I would like to do something useful. I think I will clean house. And I’m making pizza for supper. So far, stopping the food at 6:30pm is working fine. I don’t foresee a problem with it except when it comes to socializing. I will just have to be willing to make exceptions. But the thing is, this is all about metabolism and I think the point is that if you eat ANYTHING, your metabolism will respond. I will have to look into this further.

Anyhow, feeling excellent and am going to go vacuum.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

So yesterday was a good day. We went over to Lanie’s and Ali grilled up veggie burgers for me and Brian, and sausages and real burgers for everyone else. Lanie made this killer salad/slaw that I love. It has an Asian twist with sesame oil and ginger and it has ramen noodles and rice vinegar. Simply lovely. Annette brought her mom, Wilma, and oranges and blueberries with basil. Linda Sue brought patriotic brownies and deviled eggs, which I never eat. Lanie also put out salsa and guac and we had chips and mushrooms and, and, and beer and wine and hard limeaid and it was wonderful. AND we had great conversation after dinner. A good time was had by all, I think. Even Brian was talking, which almost never happens. Lanie sent flowers home with Linda Sue and Wilma, lovely hydrangeas.

I am typing this on my new netbook which has bigger keys then my old, smaller one. So I am having to get used to it. Hopefully this breaking in period won’t last too long.

Sunday evening I got an acceptance from Mayday Magazine that has only been submitted to like three places. So it got taken really easily. There is just no accounting for the fact that no one has taken “Romance.” This essay that Mayday is taking is called, “Yellow Cake,” and it is about death, my experience with death and dying. It’s mostly about me and my mom. I do like this essay, but I never felt that it was as strong as some of the others that haven’t been picked up. There’s just no accounting for it. And boy do I need to do submissions.

And of course, I did NOT do submissions today. I dragged myself out of bed in time to have breakfast from McDonald’s before my first workout with the trainer, who didn’t show up. So I worked out with another trainer, and it was awesome. It kicked my ass, but in a good way. I could mostly do everything and was so revved up that I showered and was STILL sweating afterward. Then I came home and met Megan, a student of mine who is also a good friend whom I haven’t seen lately. She and I went to church at St. Paul’s and it was very cool. I think she really liked it. Then we went to Sluggo’s for lunch. We had a very nice time, mostly talking about God and our own experiences, which overlap in some significant ways. We have both had visions, and we both are embracing the mystery of our faith. (and when I came home, I went to bed for a long nap)

And that may be the hardest thing, accepting the mystery. At least, it’s hard for unbelievers to understand because it sounds so crazy. And mentioning crazy. I have been thinking about Satan. Now don’t be alarmed. I haven’t gone off the deep end. But see, it’s like this. The reason that I decided that I didn’t believe certain things, like the devil and hell, was because they just didn’t make any sense to me. And I truly do not believe that God created hell and the devil and that the devil is out to get us and win us to his side so we can live with him in hell forever. That just seems silly and counter to any sensible thinking. BUT. Lately I’ve been thinking about how God created us like him, with the power to create, and that evil came from us and our own desires which I used to think was the same thing as saying that God created evil, but now it doesn’t seem that way to me. Somehow, it seems reasonable that God really did give us the power to create and that we created evil. And maybe God gave the angels the same power, the same free will. And maybe there really was a fallen angel named Satan. I don’t know because it seems just NUTS to even be thinking along these lines. And darkness itself isn’t evil. There has to be darkness and light. The words aren’t adequate, maybe that’s part of the problem. Anyhow, I am thinking a lot of Milton’s Paradise Lost and how much I love it and how real it always seems to me when I read it. It’s like the bible in that way. Maybe I was just brainwashed into thinking all these things. I don’t know. But that’s what’s been on my mind the last couple of days.

And I still don’t know what to do about church. I want to visit St. Paul’s this next Sunday and see what it’s like. In some ways, this is the logical choice because they have so much going on. And I do get a really groovy vibe from the young priests. But there’s no hurry. I have nothing but time.

Now I have the evening before me. I am going to eat a little bit more, and then floss and brush as the doctor told me—fast until morning. So, maybe I can convince myself to read a bit.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

The prednisone is making me feel awful, just awful. My face is hot and I feel crummy. Plus, I ate too much at Cracker Barrel and I’m still feeling it. Terrible, terrible. Feeling this way was one of the reasons I became a vegan. And here I am, right back where I started. And it’s almost time for another dose of the prednisone, so I’m not going to feel better any time soon. I have to take this stuff until Friday. True, my salivary stone has mostly calmed down, which is a very, very good thing, but this medicine is making me feel so bad that I don’t really know which is worse, the stone or being medicated for the stone. Miserable.

But church this morning was wonderful. It’s Pentecost, and there was a baptism. I just kept crying and crying. I was overwhelmed. Honestly, I’m surprised that this hasn’t happened to me before this. I was sort of expecting it, considering the depth of my feelings and how thankful I felt overall. But the overall experience? Well, the people weren’t nearly as friendly as the folks at Christ Church. In fact, no one really said hello, even when there was ample opportunity to. Dale says that’s because it is so much bigger. But I don’t know. I didn’t feel as welcome. The building isn’t as marvelous. I didn’t think the choir was as good. Of course none of these things should be the deciding factor. Dale likes Grace better. And I don’t really know what to think. His mother goes to Grace. Some friends of ours go there. It is very close to us. I could do Education for Ministry there. There is a lot going on. But. I must pray about this and see how I feel when I don’t feel so crummy.

Now I am going to try to move through the hours until time to go to sleep.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

I am very happy to report that my neck is MUCH better this morning. I am so very glad about this. I was really feeling crummy last night. And to add insult to injury, last night we watched Persona, the Bergman film, on the new TV. What a wretched, wretched movie. It was stupid, but still compelling. Made me feel bad, and I’m sure the prednisone didn’t help at all. But I slept well and this morning I am much better, looking forward to visiting Grace Church. Alex is going with us, which will be really cool. He hasn’t been since he was a baby, and we need to explain to him how to take communion, if he wants to, but other than that, he can bungle through like anyone who is new to the Episcopal Church, with the principal difference that he is baptized already. In any case, it will be interesting for him to go and to get his feedback on the whole, crazy thing. Yippee!

So I don’t have any large thoughts this morning. My soul is calm and smooth as a clear, blue lake, just tiny ripples across the surface, the flutter of a light breeze. This afternoon, we are going to Cracker Barrel for my dad’s birthday, mainly because this is what James wants to do and Daddy is going along with it. So it should be fine, not a great deal of family stress in a public place. Hopefully it won’t be too hard on my poor brother. It is so sad to watch how he circles the group, waiting to find a way into the conversation. James does the same thing, but doesn’t care much if he makes any sense, and will babble on about anything he pleases. Randy wants to be a part of things, but he is behind a scrim, or rather, inside a bubble, trying to break through. Writing about this makes me very sad. We are all broken down the middle with mental illness. I will pray about this, too. I will pray about everything. I don’t think that praying bothers God. I don’t think he becomes annoyed. And, how do I say this, sometimes I think the prayers aren’t exactly to him. The praise is to him, but the prayers, the asking of him. It’s him, but it’s also everyone else who’s plugged into the light. It’s like drawing down all that power into one’s own heart. Hum. There’s an old book that Dale read once, Drawing Down the Moon. I think that it was about witchcraft. Well. There is truth in all things working for good. I truly do believe that.

Perhaps I can draw the love of God and all God’s people and all their thoughts and feelings into my belly and hold them there. Perhaps I can offer up my family for healing, for the hope of finally making it through and breaking free. Perhaps I can do anything. Like Jesus said, ask that mountain to throw itself into the sea and if you have faith enough, it will happen. Hum. Help me, God, in my unbelief.

But really, the more of my “theology” that comes out, the more I feel that I will never belong with the vast majority of Christians. I believe, but I believe MORE. I can feel my mind and heart stretching out toward God and the universe and the fullness of existence. It just can’t be pigeonholed. Hum. Drawing down the moon and the stars and the great dance of time. Draw close to those who love you. Be still. Curl up tight as a stone and listen. Put your ear to the ground and just listen.

Tonight I will begin Luke. I am looking forward to that, and while I’ve been saying for years how crazy John is (because of the trinity thing), I must admit I’m looking forward to that book, too. And there is other reading to do, and work. I need to think about getting through the poetry portfolios. I could do a few a day and it wouldn’t seem so daunting. And I need to do submissions, submissions, submissions. And it wouldn’t hurt to write SOMETHING. I’ve just been blogging. That’s all.

Once again I want to plug The Night Outside. We open up to submissions on June 1^st. Please submit your poems and CNF. We want this to be a standout journal. I am eager to start reading submissions. At least, I think I am. It may be overwhelming when it actually starts. But I’m looking forward to it. I was briefly an editor for a couple of online magazines that went belly up, and I enjoyed reading submissions for that brief time. So, we will see.

On to the long weekend. Tomorrow we are going over to Lanie’s for burgers and other good things. Linda Sue is going with us, and Brian, and Annette. Should be fun and relaxing.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

So I am feeling a bit down. My neck is worse. The doctor put me on prednisone today. It hurts to eat. The back of my neck is also bothering me. The doctor injected me yesterday, and it should be much better, but it’s bothering me anyway. And I’m having a headache. So I’m under the freaking weather as it were. More’s the pity.

I’m thinking today of people like Dale, who is an atheist because he has no personal experience with God. Makes sense. But what about people who have no experience of God but believe anyway? I have always had personal experience with God. At least that’s how I interrupt my experience. That’s what I believe. God is with me. God has spoken. When Dale and I got together, some leaders from his church came to talk with me, to see if he could be married to me in God’s eyes, to determine if my first husband had really cheated on me. It was such an odd conversation. Not because they actually asked me if there had been actual penetration, sexual penetration, when my husband cheated on me. There wasn’t, as far as I knew, so as far as they were concerned, Dale and I couldn’t be married under God’s law. We could only commit adultery. But even though that was weird, this was weirder—when I told them that I talked to God, that God talked to me, they told me that that wasn’t possible, that one could only talk to God by reading the Bible. It was the strangest thing I’d ever heard. They thought I was nuts, just because I thought God talked to me. Now I have friends who probably think I’m nuts, too, just because I think God talks to me. Or I have this impression that God is with me, I walk in God, he is closer than close. That’s where I am now. I’m that whacked-out person I used to make fun of. Well, that’s not entirely the case. I have been making fun of Christians, but not all Christians. You know the ones, the ones who give God a bad name, the ones who think they are the only ones who are going to heaven, that if you don’t believe exactly what they believe, you’re going to hell. Those Christians, the ones who have taken over. I realize now that I shouldn’t make fun of them. They are probably afraid. And many of them probably just believe because their mothers and fathers told them to believe and took them to church. They haven’t had this marvelous luxury that I’ve had. To grow up in the church, and then to have God set me loose, then call me back. No, many of them probably don’t have direct experience with God. Maybe that’s why it’s called blind faith.

And today I am full of wondering. I could just forget all this, just not go to church tomorrow. I could just quell all these impulses. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so easy. I don’t know. But it reminds me a lot of eating animal products. Years ago, we were vegetarian, primarily for economic reasons, but as time went by, I thought more and more about the animals themselves. But, then, we became more affluent and had more money and decided that, really, there’s no substitute for a cheeseburger and we started eating meat again. Then years went by and I just stopped thinking about it. Then Annette moved back to town and started in on me about clean food and I started reading books about where our food comes from and I read more and more and then I bought The Kind Diet and the allure of veganism reached out its arms and I thought it would be cool and neat and swell and that it was the right thing to do. But it turns out that it’s hard, or harder than it seemed to be at first, and now I’m eating cheese again, and I’ve eaten eggs and I have to admit it, I seriously considered eating some fish the other night. I didn’t eat it, but part of me was thinking, oh what the hell! Maybe that, what the hell part could just take over at any minute and all this God stuff would flow neatly away down the hill and it would all be over. I don’t know.

And today, I watched more of The Weight of the Nation, and I learned something sobering and terrifying. Say there’s a 135 pound woman who never has a problem with her weight, and there’s a 135 pound woman who has a weight problem and gains fifty pounds. Then, after a strict diet, she loses the fifty pounds and is once again a 135 pound woman. Good news for her. She did it! But guess what? For the rest of her life, she will have to eat 20% less than the 135 pound woman who never gained any weight. She will need to eat 20% less, or exercise enough to compensate for those calories. If she tires to eat as much as her friend, the 135 pound woman who has always maintained her weight, she will GAIN weight. They can go to the same restaurant and eat the same meal, and have the same drinks, and wake up in the morning and do the same workout, but at the end of the week, the unlucky used-to-be-fat woman will GAIN weight. This is AWFUL. This is the very definition of UNFAIR. I am furious to know this. No wonder I have a weight problem. But, the reason I mention this is that there’s this reckless part of me that just takes over and says, WHAT THE HELL! and I eat what I want and I don’t work out and I just say fuck it! And I wonder if that same what the fuck, what the hell attitude erodes someone’s spirituality as well. And, since I don’t want that to happen, I have to DO something. But I’m not sure what that is yet.

So what am I saying exactly? That I don’t feel God today? No, that’s not it exactly. But it has been a rough day in many ways. I even had to take James to Wal-Mart and that’s enough to get to anybody. And we bought an even bigger TV for the living room, and the old HUGE TV is in my bedroom and I feel conflicted about spending this money when there are people suffering in the world, in the USA, when there’s bad news all around us and my life is so wonderful and I am so happy and blessed. Yes, it’s a weird day. I am in pain and wondering what it will lead to, if I’ll have to have surgery, if I’ve somehow brought this on myself. If I should pray about this. I prayed that God would take away my desire to smoke, and mostly I haven’t felt the desire. I have smoked a few cigarettes, but I haven’t bought any, and I haven’t felt the awful, sweeping DESIRE that could drive one mad with its insistence. Of course, that desire could come back at any time. Still. Maybe God answers prayers, no matter how selfish. Maybe it’s as simple as plugging into the light and believing. I don’t know. So maybe I should pray. I know I should pray thank you, thank you, thank you. And I do. That’s all I know for sure, that I’m thankful. Perhaps that’s all I need to know at this point.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

So I finished reading Mark today. Mark is much easier to take than Matthew. There is not so much hell, not so much fire or so much “the scriptures must be fulfilled.” That line gets a little tiresome. Also, Jesus doesn’t contradict himself as much here, as he did in Matthew. Or maybe I’m just getting used to reading the Bible again. And once again, I am amazed that anyone would take it literally. Why, you’d have to have blinders on! But it’s weird. When I read the Bible, I doubt my faith even more, with every word I read. Which makes sense. But at the same time, I believe what I’m reading. I suppose this is another great mystery. And Mark spoke to me, specifically about charitable giving. There is a good bit about how hard it is to be rich and to get into the kingdom of heaven. I think that is clear. It’s hard to give up shiny, plastic things that glitter and glow in the Wal-Mart lights. Lanie and I talked about that today while we were working out. These last few months, I have spent a bundle on new clothes. I haven’t even worn them all. And my closet is full, as is my armoire and my chest of drawers. And the side closet and various shelves. No one needs all these clothes. But it’s the essence of it, the substance of WHY I often shop. It is to distract myself, to make myself feel better. Well. Maybe I will  try different things to feel better. Dear, god just listen to her. She’s about to say that she will pray, and she means it. And she’s about to say that instead of spending fifty dollars on clothes, or a hundred, or two hundred, she can give money to Doctors Without Borders and UNICEF. Yes. Just listen to her. Who is this person? What has God done with the old Rebecca?

And seriously. I am still just vile when I’m driving. I am still so pathologically impatient with shrink wrapping and any kind of stubborn fasteners, any stupid, mindless thing that trips me up, that causes me a moment of frustration. Little things that get in under my skin. Don’t worry. I will in no case say that these things are the devil’s way of getting to me. I would never go to that scary place. But I will say this. I think, have always thought, that I am here, on this planet, at this time, to learn. When I die, I will return to where I once was and I will meet with the great committee and discuss my progress and decide what to do next. I feel that I have planned all this out in advance, with God’s help. And the little frustrations and bothers of this life can teach me something, if I will listen. Does that sound even crazier? Perhaps it is. Last night at Sybil’s reading, Dale told a student of mine, when I told him what had been going on with me, that all of this may have blown over in a couple of months. Indeed. We will see what we see.

Tonight is dinner with the priest. I wonder what we will talk about. Jackson and I are under orders from Terri not to discuss UTC or writing. I don’t blame her. We do tend to go on and on. I hope that we can discuss interesting things, not all about Jesus, but certainly I’d like to pick at this guy’s mind and soul. I want to learn things. Create in me a right heart, Oh God.

Today I went to church and found out that the actual name of the Episcopal Church is The Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society of the Episcopal Church. That is a mouthful. And it’s hard to imagine that the present-day church started out in mission work. I’m sure that some conservative Christians don’t even consider Episcopalians Christian at all. Ever heard of the term, “Whiskeypalians?” Yeah, that’s us. We embrace liberal views. If you’re gay, come on in. If you’re an atheist, don’t sweat it. If you’re broken, we’ll take you. Do you worship in a different way? Fine. We are all working for good, and if you aren’t, come hang out with us anyway. This is something that is so clear is the gospel, in Jesus’ behavior. It’s good to go out and hang with people who really need you. That is something else for me to think about. I want to be about the work of the Lord, and I am impatient to get started.

Now on to good times with good friends. And wine of course. And beer of course. It’s a Thursday.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

I just finished watching American Idol and Jessica and Jennifer Holiday took me to church, to Jesus. All things work for good for them that love the Lord. Or something like that. I bought Stevie Wonder’s “Songs in the Key of Life” today—music from God, and I haven’t even heard all of it yet. Simply amazing. And I got to go back in time to Keith Green and Michael Card. Lovely. I also bought some Amy Grant, but haven’t listened to it yet. I am awash in music. In glory. If this is God, then please give me more God. And more. This is a happiness that I have denied myself all these years. All these years. Who CARES if I don’t believe every little bit of theology? Seriously.

The doctor had things to say to me today. He told me that I should pour my energy into working out—especially strength training, three or four times a week. And that I should brush and floss at 6:30PM and only drink water for the rest of the night. He insists that I will lose weight if I do this. He recommends the Mediterranean Diet. So. Could it be that simple? Really? I will pray and I will do this thing. I think I am ready. I want things to be simple. This sounds simple. He also said that he can see me once a month. I told him that I want him to treat this like a disease. I think that I will only weigh in when I see him. I think I will trust him and see how things go. Sounds like a plan.

Tomorrow night we are having dinner with Rick and Terri and John and Jane and Jon Anderson, the priest at Christ Church. Should be fun and interesting. Tonight we went to Sybil Baker’s book launch for Into This World. She had a HUGE turnout. I hope that I have half as many for my own book launch next year. And, while I’m on the subject, I am hoping against hope that something breaks with my book of poems. And soon. I have a feeling, which isn’t saying much. I often have “feelings.” But. We will see what we see.

In the morning I am going to work out with Lanie in the pool, which will feel really good. And I’m going to set up some personal training. I am going to throw myself in head first. On Friday morning, I am going back to the doctor so he can “fix” my neck. He thinks he can inject me with medicine that should really help. I am ready for it, though I know it will hurt and it gives me the willies to think about it. But. Friday night we are going to Kiki and Ben’s for Rook. Sometime between now and then….what? submissions? A little writing perhaps? I was inspired last Saturday night, when we went to a poetry reading, to write a book of religious (for lack of a better word) poems. But do not be confused about this. This will be MY mind on God, which is in no way a holy roller thing. There is a tradition in the Catholic Church of thinking of Jesus as a lover. Charles Wesley, an Anglican, wrote the hymn, “Jesus Lover of My Soul.” His brother, John Wesley (the founder of the Methodist Church), never cared for the song. He felt that Charles was too emotional, too touchy-feely with his Jesus stuff. Charles wrote many hymns. One of my all-time favorites is “Come, Oh, Thou Traveler Unknown.” When Charles died, this hymn was sung at his funeral, and John broke down. In the end, John was overcome with his own emotion for his brother, whom he loved dearly.

Christian theology is full of metaphor about Christ and his bride—the church. When Catholic nuns give up their lives for God, they literally marry Jesus. It’s beyond sex, beyond our kin. Of course, I have and always will be in love with sex. I have always written poems about sex, and about God, sometimes at the same time. Just now I am thinking of the woman anointing Jesus’ head with oil. And of Mary, sitting at his feet and adoring him. And I think of my dog, Lulu, of how much she loves me and I begin to understand a great mystery.

I want to thank all of you who read here, for listening, for understanding. I may not know what I believe. I may be unsure of everything, especially now, but writing helps me. Writing centers me. Writing is a way of getting to the greatest truth. No doubt about it. Things show up in my writing, everything shows up in my writing. If you want to really know me, read my work. All is revealed there. That is perhaps my greatest mystery—my creative nature. It is a gift. I am touched by God, touched by fire. This life is a trial by fire. I am burned and burned. God polishes me in his mouth. I am a rough stone now, but I am becoming smooth. My mother used to tumble rocks in a rock tumbler. Before she died, I bought her a fancy rock tumbler. I thought it was a gift she would value. I don’t know if she ever got to use it. Funny that I should mention her now. The great rift between us has not healed. This rift cuts clear through to the bone. It still frightens me. It was my mother who first gave me Jesus. No wonder I had to grow away from him. No wonder I had to give him up. For so long.

Thank you, God, for all my life. Thank you for music and glory. Thank you for this.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

So I have called Jenny Craig and Nutrisystem. Jenny is ridiculously expensive. Maybe if I lived alone, I could do it, but I don’t live alone. Nutrisystem is about half the price, but I read QVC’s ratings of the vegetarian food and most folks said it was awful. At the gym this morning, I was telling Lanie all about it, and talking about Weight Watchers and how I’m just, apparently, unwilling to do it anymore, and this lady overheard us and started in on me about how I need to go to Weight Watchers meetings, because they work. So I just called them. For $42.95 a month, I can go to as many meetings as I want, and I can record food online, and I can call up Weight Watchers anytime I want and get whatever help I need.

Shortly, I am going to the doctor and I’m going to discuss all this with him. Maybe he will have a magic cure. That’s what I need—magic moley. I need help and I want help. I have to figure something out. If I don’t, I will get diabetes and lose a foot. I hate needles. I must DO SOMETHING. And, yes, I have prayed a bit. I suspect that I will pray a lot about this. I have to do something. NOW. Maybe I’ve reached the tipping point. But inside I know that it can’t just be about my chin. It has to cut deeper than that, or I’ll end up failing again.

So.

I went to church yesterday, and I’ve been goobing over 2^nd Chapter, goobing and grooving. I just love it. After the doctor, I’m going to McKay’s Used Books and CDs and getting some books for the fall class, and I’m going to see if they have Michael Card’s music. Years and years ago, I fell in long with a song—“Love Crucified Arose.” I learned the harmony and just loved it. Well, when I moved with my first husband to North Carolina, I went to the local Methodist Church. I went to choir. After choir, the minster’s daughter was singing “Love Crucified Arose,” and I started singing the harmony. The minster’s wife shoved a microphone in my hand. And we ended up singing the song together. See? There is and always has been so much GOD in my life. This Methodist family meant so much to me at the time. The wife taught me to make stir-fry. The minster counseled me to get out of my destructive marriage. They were a godsend. And at the same time, I met a girl with wild, curling hair who took me to her house. She owned like five sets of the Chronicles of Narnia. Lovely times, in the midst of my troubled marriage. There is always light if you listen hard enough.

My salivary stone isn’t worse, which is good news. It may be a little bit better. He said it could take seventy-two hours before it gets better. But my freaking, fucked-up neck! Seriously. I am going to talk to the doctor about my neck, too. Maybe he can prescribe stronger muscle relaxers. My massage is Friday. We are also closing on our loan Friday. We are moving to a ten year mortgage, which I think will be a lovely thing. There will be a end, a foreseeable end to the house payments. Then we will be able to move if we want. Knowing that there’s an end, I am able to be thankful for what I have. And that is a very good thing.

I am trying to figure out how to give money to the church. The thing is, I don’t want it to hurt. I want to figure out how to give without it really affecting us. And not just to church, but to charities that we believe in, like Doctors Without Borders, UNICEF, and our local food bank. And I am being silly. Maybe it should hurt a little. But it’s not just my money. It’s Dale’s money, too. Hopefully I will figure something out. I must figure something out.

Now I’m going to watch more of the obesity series on HBO. It is very sobering.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

So yesterday church was not as thrilling as it was the last time I went there. I think part of it was that I was so concerned for Dale’s reaction. Another thing was that we went to Sunday School, but it was just a planning session, which was interesting, but not challenging for me. Dale wants to try Grace Church next time. This is where his mother goes, and it’s really close to our house—it’s in our community. So we will see.

Yesterday, Jenny and I worked on our new literary journal—The Night Outside. We will be publishing poetry, creative nonfiction, and book reviews of the same. We will publish our first issue on Oct. 1^st. Please help us spread the word. Tell all your friends and EVERYBODY. Submit your work. This should kick some serious ass.

Last night I had a killer headache and I took a pain pill and I took something to help me sleep. I am also having a flare up of my salivary stone. It hasn’t bothered me since 2009, but it has flared up. I went to the oral surgeon today and he put me on antibiotics and pain pills. He says he thinks that it will get better over the next three days. I hope so. If for some reason it doesn’t get better, I will have to have surgery and there will be a scar on my neck. So please, no surgery. But I swear, I am so WEIRD. Anytime there’s health stuff, any kind of health stuff, I get excited about the possibilities of getting really sick, of needing surgery, of taking pain pills. I think this stems from my childhood when one of the only times I received special, loving care was when I got sick, especially from my father. Anyhow, I am excited about the possibilities, even though I think it’s NUTS. So conflicted. Do any of you guys know what I mean?? I don’t REALLY want to be seriously sick, but I get excited just the same. It’s maddening. It’s SICK.

And as for God thoughts and feelings. I’ve been so out of it. I did get to listen to 2^nd Chapter of Acts some more, and they really move me. The close harmonies are amazing, although most of the music is pure eighties. I love it.

I haven’t been reading at all. I am just here. My neck is giving me fits. I am just FALLING APART. But this too shall pass.

I hope that I sleep well tonight and that in the morning my neck as stopped hurting.

~r.

Originally published at What She Says. You can comment here or there.

Night came, as always, and with it a head full of voices and words and music and swirling. This is my brain on God. Sleep would not come. I felt as if I were being flayed alive. Which is another metaphor. God was stirring me around and around in a whirlpool. His finger was sharp and barbed. My mind was alive with a lifetime of thinking. With the things I do know. With the shadows of a higher world, a reality I can sense only in visions and snatches of light. That I chose all this. That I planned my life before its beginning, something I’ve always known. That I conferred with God, even then, before I was coiled in my mother. That I came before the great committee and decided to go on this big adventure. God dug me from the dirt and breathed life into me. God placed me under a cabbage leaf and left me in my mother’s garden. She found me and put me in her belly and I was broken. She broke me with love and Jesus and terrible stories, with Heavenly Sunshine and the smacking of my toddler hands.

Do you see why I am tottering on the edge of the crazy the loon? Heaven came to earth in a tiny package. The person of Jesus. The body and the blood. Right now, for me, this is true, though I don’t know what it means. Is it a metaphor? Of course it’s a metaphor. But it’s also truer than anything. It is beyond my kin. And I am thankful, thankful, thankful.

Nothing much doing today. I just woke up a few moments ago. Time to get going. Time to think and think and think some more. Time to arm for bear. The beast is cruel and just now, though it makes no sense to me at all, God is cruel and mighty and full of love and teeth. All things are possible for those who love the Lord. All things work for good. And he wants me to snap to it. I must needs listen. I must needs get about this business.

~r.