Thursday, January 31, 2013

not a joke

Last year, the President declared January to be recognized as National Slavery and Human Trafficking Prevention Month. I have supported several organizations who are combating slavery around the world for many years, and I am grateful to anyone raising awareness of this horrible crime.

Unless you're going to make a joke out of it.

Last week on SNL, they featured a skit where men were learning to speak Thai using the software Rosetta Stone. They were learning phrases such as "How much?" and "Is that for the whole night?"

And the audience laughed. My eyes widened. My hands flew up to my mouth. I thought I was going to puke. Was this really happening?

There are women and men, boys and girls, being sold for sex. And this skit turned that tragedy into a joke!

Instead of bringing awareness to this issue in order to break our hearts so much that we seek ways to rescue these victims and take action to not perpetuate the problem, they laughed. They laughed at these kids. They laughed at a culture who, more often that not, thinks "If you can't beat them, join them" and "Do whatever floats your boat." They laughed at the men who are so completely addicted to sex that their little porn problem has escalated and has led them to think that going to a foreign country with the sole purpose of buying sex from a young slave is ok, is normal. They laughed!!!

"One person’s freedom is another person’s captivity." Tim Challies

How is that funny?! Why are they laughing? Why is our culture so accepting of this? With all the awareness that this is a global problem that needs men and women to stand up and be heroes and speak out for these victims, how can this possibly be seen as funny? Are we aware and we don't care?

"All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing." Edmund Burke

"All that is required for evil to prevail is for us to write an SNL skit about it and pass it off as a joke!" me

This is the last day of January. The last day of National Slavery and Human Trafficking Prevention Month. But we should not turn our heads away from this issue come Feb. 1st. Get educated. Support organizations who are fighting against this very real evil. and for goodness sake, don't for a second think that this is ok. or funny.

It is not a joke.

Saturday, December 29, 2012


I haven't said much on here in a while. Even some of my latest posts didn't SAY anything.

Sorry 'bout that.

I've been really still recently. I had a hysterectomy a few weeks ago and literally had to lay still. Then just as I started feeling like I could finally get up and do stuff, I got sick. and I was forced to be still some more. The last two days, I've spent most of my time in bed. I'm exhausted and congested, but I'm actually sort of enjoying being still.

I guess God knew I needed rest. and I'm surely not humble enough to give it to myself.

Usually, I think of being still as being unproductive or scared. Obviously, doing stuff gets stuff done. and there's plenty of stuff in my life that needs to get done. Dishes and laundry and dinner in our bellies. And I'm sure you've all heard of the flight or fight response. But when I get scared, I tend to freeze. That's my instinct. Stand there, frozen in fear, completely vulnerable.

I just shut down and get still. Maybe they won't see me if I don't move. I don't know.

I do that in conversation too. When I'm confronted by a louder personality than my own, I tend to get really quiet. It's not that I don't have anything to say. I just usually don't feel it's important enough to fight to be heard.

But man o man! This past summer, I did a lot of fighting. Wrestling. Questioning. So many questions.

A fellow believer mentioned that he was a Calvinist, and I wanted to know more about that. I knew the basics, but I had never really thought too much about what it meant. But I respect this particular friend a lot and wanted to know what it is exactly that he believes.

Well that just opened a huge can of worms!

Once I understood what Calvinism was all about, it was the only way I could see Christianity. I couldn't view it objectively. It was like I had 'Calvin'-colored glasses on. and I didn't like it. (Sorry, to all you who consider yourselves Calvinists. You likely know far more than I do about it.) But I just got super depressed and discouraged. I got angry. I took it too far and God became evil. At least, the way I understood it. I know it's not supposed to be like that. And honestly, reading about it did indeed help me understand some Scripture the way I never had before. In a good way. I feel like I've got a bit more of a refined understanding. Not so vague.

But don't knock the vague. That whole 'faith of a child' thing is something to aspire to. Not belittle. I don't have that. I don't trust anything very easily. Sad to say. I know people who do. It's not that they don't have questions. But they seem to question God's goodness less. I question it all the time!

My instinct, when presented with this different understanding of Scripture, was to question God's goodness. I didn't anchor my soul in faith. I just drifted along in questions and accusations and fear.

Eventually, I did land on 'Jesus loves me, this I know.' Regardless of what my head said, my heart just wouldn't let go of Jesus. I began to question my questions. To doubt my doubts. I asked myself, 'What do I know?' and I answered back, 'Jesus loves me.' (Just so you know, I now sort of think that if we try to put God in a Calvinist box, we are putting Him in a man-sized, man-created box. What if God fits into both a Calvinist and an Arminianist mindset? What if He's reformed, deformed, progressive, regressive, post-modern and pre-modern? I don't know. I just know that I don't think I or anyone else can fully understand and describe Him. And it's silly of me to fight with a theology that can't possibly be the defining truth of an undefinable God.

I knew all along that God was allowing me to question Him because I was going to land in a place where my faith was strengthened and renewed. It probably gave me permission to take it as far as I did. God can handle my questions. These weren't questions that man has not wrestled with before.

When I eventually quit wrestling, and just rested in what I knew in my heart, I found the peace I had not known I had been hungry for. God comforted me as I fought Him. He never stormed out of the room or threatened to disown me or gave me the cold shoulder. He was there. Still.

And He's still there. and I'm still right here with Him. My insistance on those questions being answered has, for now, died down, and I can hear that still, quiet voice, restoring my faith, healing my wounds. Mending what I had shredded.

I read recently that God isn't in the business of dealing with our sins. He's already done that. He's focused more on our righteousness. (Sorry that I can't remember who wrote that. It really burrowed itself into me, and I am grateful for the insight.)

I sinned during my questioning. No doubt. Not necessarily the doubting. But me doubting and drifting with no anchor made me vulnerable to temptation, and I fell for it. Hook, line, sinker. Of course God didn't want me to do that, but I think He was likely more concerned with what I would learn by falling into temptation and how it would make me all the more grateful for grace.

So now as the year is coming to a close and I'm forced to sit and heal, I'm enjoying the still. I'm going to have more questions. But God is faithful.

and He is still good.

Thursday, August 02, 2012

Would you like fries with that hate?

I understand that there is some hoopla about some chicken guy saying something and some people getting upset by it and causing a big stink. And the big stink upset some other people who decided that stuffing their faces with chicken would really stick it to the originally upset people.

I stayed home. I figured it would be a better use of my money and my voice if I donated what I would have spent buying my family a chicken dinner to a local food bank. Plus, I really, really, really dislike crowds.

I also understand that some of you ate there to show your solidarity with that guy and either with what he said or with the idea that supporting his establishment would better ensure that you can have faith in something and be allowed to talk about your faith and act on your convictions without being punished. Others of you may have eaten there because their waffle fries are tasty and it’s so nice to be told ‘My pleasure’ when you ask for something. I need to teach my kids that!

Some of you didn't eat there as a sign of solidarity with another group of people who felt like their support of this establishment would have resulted in supporting something that aims to strip them of the freedom to act on their own convictions.
Our beliefs either directly or indirectly effect how we act and speak. We want to have the freedom to act in accordance with our beliefs. Apparently that’s what everyone wants. Duh.

But people love to make a stink when someone else’s beliefs seem like they might keep you from having the freedom to act on your own beliefs.

So, some people claimed that because this one guy spoke out about one of his personal beliefs, which doesn’t effect the way he runs his business (except that he stays closed on Sundays to let the employees attend church, if they choose), that they were going to boycott. Actually, they said much worse than this too. And then for some ridiculous reason, some cities got scared or something and said that they were going to use their own power to keep this particular business out of their cities. As if that’s gonna fix the problem.

By boycotting and protesting and screaming ‘hate,’ do these people not see that they are saying that beliefs are fine and all, as long as I agree with them too? I mean, it’s no secret that the founders of this particular business are Christian and have values and beliefs that align with the Christian faith. No one’s raised a stink before. And it’s not like anyone was denied services or told they couldn’t work there or anything. This guy just mentioned in passing that he has a particular belief and people went ape shit.

But woe to anyone who goes ape shit when YOU share what you believe in and expect to have the freedom to act on those convictions! No, everyone else needs to stifle their faith. Hide it. Just be nice and smile and act like everything is fine. But I want to frolic on your face and scream about my rights to act on my beliefs from the rooftops and if you try to stop me, I will cry ‘HATE.’

This drives me bonkers. and I hear from it all sides of this issue.
Somewhat related, and please correct me if I'm wrong. But don't businesses have the right to refuse services if, in fulfilling those requested services, they personally feel like they’d be going against their convictions. We have protections in place for these people right? From what I can tell, no one is being denied a chicken sandwich, but all this talk about freedoms got me thinking...

So if you go somewhere and request a service and are turned down because the service provider feels strongly that they shouldn’t serve you, move on! There are probably at least a half dozen other service providers in your area who wouldn’t bat an eye at your request. Just go find one of those instead of trying to make life hell for that one person (and all his/her employees who may or may not share the same convictions as their boss) who acted on his/her convictions. You wanna be allowed to act on your convictions without retribution, right? Then do the decent thing, and move on. Understand that by being decent, you are being what you beg of everyone else to be towards you. You can't force someone to agree with you. Especially if you bully them into it. But you can act in such a way that they might reconsider the way they treat or think about people like you. 
If you want to be taken seriously, if you want people to listen to you, you gotta stop yelling hate every time you hit a roadblock. How many times have people struggled to get where they are? Think that through. The ones who people took notice of, the ones who broke our hearts and showed us there can be a better way to treat people, weren’t the ones yelling and spitting and gorging themselves on chicken. They were the ones just acting the way they themselves wanted to be treated.

And if you don’t want to support a business that you disagree with, you can totally do that! But you don’t need to call all the news stations and create a Facebook army of people to do it with you. Same goes with if you want to support a business that you agree with. I mean, come on, people! Mob mentality shit is freaky stuff!

Ah, to be young and outraged again! (I read that on another blog about this same subject. Cracked me up!)

Yes, there are some hateful people from all walks of life out there who would like nothing more than to squish you all like bugs. They are gross and obnoxious and not helpful. Some are even actually dangerous. They have done some very hurtful things. People have been deeply offended, terrorized and some have been killed because of these kinds of actions. Let’s not align ourselves with this kind of hate.

Most fires go out if you quit poking them. Others can devour before you can register that there was even a spark. Be careful what you say and do. Just because you can, doesn’t always mean you should.

One of the cooler things I'm seeing come out of all this mess is that some more people are having conversations about what is freedom of religion and what is freedom of speech. Who hae these freedoms and who doesn’t? Which acts based on religious faith are permissible and which should be snuffed out? What speech is permissible and what is considered so wrong that the one who spoke it and anyone connected to him has to be punished? These are some good questions. I’m glad we’re having these conversations. We just need to make sure we come up with really good answers.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

texas memories

summer stuff

hey all. i'm still good. sunshine keeps me happy and moving in the right directions. and i've been going and going and going. we're having vbs at my church this week. today, i sat with a group of refugee kiddos during snack time, and we talked about cartoons. afterwards, one of the boys thanked me for talking with him and that he had a great time. melt. i'm teaching a group of 1st and 2nd graders. they are so fun. i really love that age. we've been back a week and a half now from a vacation to texas. ben had to work so he couldn't join us. the hardest part of the trip was being away from him for so long. we left colorado and made it to kansas one the first day. it's still exciting then because we get to stay at a hotel that has a nice pool with a slide. and because we still get to go to texas. we stayed with friends in dallas for a couple of days, went to both our old churches, did a photoshoot with a friend and i got to have dinner with another friend. then we drove to houston to visit family. as we were pulling into my mom's place, her front door opened and my family came pouring out the house, all smiles and bear hugs. my siblings, my nephew, my mom and stepdad, my sister in law, and all the dogs. i was absolutely swallowed up in love. and it's so nice once we finally get there because we still have time to relax and not drive a lot and just sit around enjoying each other's company. my sister's boy came over every day and played with his cousins. my kids LOVED that. my parents still have our old Construx, giant buckets of them, and all the cousins spent hours building cool stuff together. bliss! forts and spyglasses and boats. it was awesome. i'm usually in bed by 11pm. usually more like 10:30. but every day that we were gone from home, i was up past midnight, talking with friends and family. my mom and i stayed up one night til after 3am. it was the night after my grandparents and everyone else had come for our last night in houston. mom and i made tons of food and for one of the first times ever, i got to help her in the kitchen. for years now, i've either been busy with band practice, off at college or had a tiny baby that i was following around, making sure they didn't get into anything at gramie's house. but this year, the cousins watched a movie while i got to chop, clean, stir, and peel all kinds of things. it was really, really nice. anyway, after everyone left, mom and i ended up sitting at the kitchen table, talking and talking and talking. it was so nice that i texted my hubby about it later and told him that that conversation was the whole reason God gave us the opportunity to visit. but i was pre-mature in that conclusion. i had brought with me a book to give to my brother. you guys know how much i love cs lewis. well, i thought my brother would too. so i brought him 'the problem of pain.' my brother has been asking questions about faith for years. he's a thinker and loves to question everything. and having faith in something he couldn't test or prove wasn't ever something that he thought he'd be able to do. i thought maybe he'd enjoy lewis because lewis was a thinker and he loved to widdle an idea down to its most basic elements. plus, you can't debate with a book. it just keeps its same side no matter how much you question it. it won't come over to your side of thinking. you don't have to agree with it, but you can't argue with it. you can't talk over it. the ideas in a book, whether you agree with them or not, naturally get into your headspace and you end up thinking about them. that happened to my brother in the most beautiful way. i knew he was close, but i didn't realize how close. a week after i gave him the book, he asked Jesus into his heart. like really. he's been going to church with my parents and having all these discussions about their faith. and the lewis book just helped him make sense of all those conversations and things he's heard and seen at church. THAT's why God provided the oppotunity for us to visit texas. how awesome is that?! and yay LEWIS! I just love that guy. anyway, after we left houston, we went back to our friends in dallas and spent another couple of days. my friend treated me to a gigantic dinner of sushi that was the bombdiggity! and we played cards and talked and relaxed and got filled to the top with love. we love that family so much. then came the trip back. the first day is no fun. we drive and drive and drive and still don't get home. we get to the pool at the hotel. the pool with the slide. which is fun, but after being away from home for so long, i am exhausted and just wanna be home already. the next day was the roughest of the drive. i was so excited to be able to see ben and sleep in my own bed and get back to our life, and the kids were sooooo done with sitting in car seats with books they've read ten megamillion times already and done coloring pictures of fields and flowers and aliens and monsters. they just wanted to be home too. are we there yet? but we made it. and ben was outside when we pulled up so i jumped outta the car and got a big ol' nice, long hug. he helped us unpack the car and let us order in so we didn't have to go back out and i didn't have to make anything. he loves me. anyway, i got all these amazing memories, amazing photos and we got to see and visit with so many people. i was great. i am so grateful to God that the trip went well. i'm so grateful for friends and family that love us so much. {i'll share photos in my next post.} i can hardly believe school supplies are everywhere. can't a kid just enjoy their summer?! anyway, i have to re-register one kid, buy school supplies and some sneakers. probably some new undies for all. ;) we have dentist appointments tomorrow. well the kids do. i have my first dental cleaning appt in more than a decade on monday. i am not looking forward to that. but i need it bad. so i'm gonna find a happy place in my head and try to endure it. if they give me laughing gas, i'll try to post again. coz that would be hilarious. til next time

Friday, June 29, 2012


Now that i'm back to being myself, i've thinking more about spiritual stuff. I'm drawn to praying at specifc times a day. Not because i think God commands it, but because it would force me stop what i'm doing to praise God. I think humility,hope and a more intimate relationship with God would come from that, and i could certainly use more of that! I know some pray for themselves right now and for any urgent needs their friends may need brought to the feet of Jesus.i know we frequently pray for those who don't believe that God loves them and wants to save them. But i made this silly observation the other day. Christian parents pray for their kids' future friends, teachers and spouses. We pray for these children before they are born. I know some circles pray to saints who are already enjoying the inheritance of living with their sweet Father in Heaven.they ask them to join them in praying. So it got me thinking - we pray for current needs, we pray for future needs - so can we not pray for someone who lived in the past? Like praying for the Acts church, or for Blaise Pascal, that my prayer for his pain to ease and his joy in the Lord increse could actually be honored by God. Time is a mystery, but prayer seems like one those things that could transcend time. Maybe. I also saw a definition for the word 'steep.' To immerse completely, to draw out the flavor of the tea leafs. Only drowning in hot water can a tea bag truly live up to its potential. So, if i want to find my God-given potential, i may need to spend some time in some really hot water. Also also, the spire on top of a church is called a steeple. I think it's more of an architect word than a religious word, but i like the idea of people gathering together, ready to sit with you in your hot water, so that we can have something alluring and pure and flavorful to give to the thirsty. Just a thought. Just a thought.

Friday, June 15, 2012


Ok, it's been long enough. Time for an update.

First off, thank you for all of your kind words. I feel very loved.

Second, I am good now. Really good.

I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, whatever the snot that means, and I go 'SAD' from November through April every single year. This year, it just got really bad.

But since May showed up, it feels like I've woken from a dream. Which is about how it felt during the 'dark night of my soul.' It felt like I was asleep, unable to affect my waking moments. I would do crap and not really think I'd have any consequences. Because I wasn't awake. I was dreaming. At least, that's how it seemed.

I've had so many people comment that I look more 'me' recently. That's always a good confirmation for me that I'm doing better. and I smile a lot. and goof off. and arrange playdates. and giggle.

Confession time: I know I said I wasn't going to change my cool pink hair back to brown just because I was intimidated.  Well, I did. Like two days after I last posted.

But guess what? I just bought another box of the dye. Pink again. So we'll see if I can not be as sensitive about it this time and actually enjoy it!  :)  I'm not going to bleach it this time. Oh my goodness, the damage that did to my poor hair! But I hear it will still be pretty vibrant. and I might do highlights with the bleach. We'll see.

So school's out. Thank the Lord! and I've already had a visit with my parents and a photography job, and I have a trip to TX on the calendar. We are partying! and resting. and sitting around watching movies and playing video games and having lots of playdates. I'll be spending a great deal of tomorrow sewing costumes for stuffed animals so that Gillian and her bestie can have them in their very own production of The Wizard of Oz. No kidding. They are putting on said production for another of their stuffed animal's birthdays. They're throwing him a surprise party and putting on the show as the big finale. No kidding.

How cool are my kids, by the way?!

I found a new therapist. Remember my old one had to ditch to get a better paying job? Well, this new one is amazing. We connected right away, and I have UNLOADED. It always feels like I get in that room and ... exhale. As if I've been holding my breath for a week. It was hard at first because I'm a no-nonsense kind of person. and I'm not a fan of small talk. If I'm paying you to listen to my crap, I'm gonna share my crap. I'm not gonna sit there and talk about the weather. Ya know? So I shared a lot in a short period of time. It set me off at first. It was hard to 'remember' all the details. And those things come flooding in like a river when  you crack that dam just a sliver. But I've learned that I can talk about all of it with ease. All except for that one guy. I get all still. and quiet. and scared still. Kind of feels like having a bag held over my face. ick.

But anyway, I have slowed down the details. I realize that small talk helps in building trust with a person. and I feel like she genuinely cares about me. So that'll help when I decide to talk about him again. But I'm trying not to rush it. Even though I'm in the 'safe, happy' months now, I don't want to backslide. It stinks. I want to deal with it, but I'm scared of what that will mean. I don't want to be all depressed and scared during my kids' summer vacation. But it's probably not wise to think I can deal with it later this fall when my SAD will return. Double ick.

So that's about it. Oh and my garage is amazing! You wouldn't recognize it if you'd seen it before. I took all this aggression and feeling like I was finally awake (and knowing my mom was coming for a visit!) and put it all into a major garage cleaning. My car is literally parked in there right now. and that's saying something!

So. Life is good. And friends are patient. and strangers are compassionate. and God is there. and I am happy.

How are you?

Monday, March 26, 2012


I don't know if I'm gonna hit send on this one.

If you were squeamish with the last post, you definitely aren't gonna like this one.

If you are offended by cussing or the ranting of a byproduct of the over-sexualized culture that we in America live in, we should probably part ways now.


I have been a tightly-wound ball of nerves and anger and depression for years. I am an anxious person in general. I don't know if that is a learned behavior or just the way I was wired. I tend to handle it ok. I get anxious - I question whether there's actually anything to be anxious about - and I move on. I get the occasional panic attack. But I tend to notice it - do something that calms me - and I move on.

My ability to move on has been made more difficult in the last year. I had been seeing a therapist for a year and a half, and we got to the point where we started Exposure Therapy. Basically, she wanted me to recount, in the most detailed ways possible (and retold in the present fucking tense) the rapes I experienced. It's a pretty common way to treat PTSD. I had a choice to start wherever I wanted. I started with the guy who screwed me the worse. No pun intended. The one I considered a friend. The one I very, very much didn't see coming. The one that sang to me during it.

I figured if I could get through Exposure Therapy with him, the others would be a cake walk.

And it was working. I was seeing it for what it was - the really bad, pre-meditated attack by a jerkwad that only lasted a few hours of my life. Not this giant abyss of formless, endless pain, this all-encompassing, always waiting, lurking, strong, overpowering wave of an attack that could strike at any time. But just this stupid fuck who took from me what was not his.

But....we had to stop. Mid-therapy. Mid.

I wasn't prepared when my therapist had to change jobs and I couldn't continue to see her.

I wasn't prepared for where my mind would go to when it got dark outside or when I was alone. Or worse, when I was with my kids and walking to my car after buying groceries or something equally pedestrian. Or kissing my husband. Try handling that shit while you're trying to kiss your loving husband.

I wasn't prepared for my sweet, protective hubby to go manic and essentially leave me alone to deal with my newly dug up memories. Which I mostly didn't do since he was, uh, manic, and I was spending all of my time dealing with that. I pushed my own needs to the backburner.

I wasn't prepared for when Satan would tempt me so effortlessly and how I would be more than happy to be lured along, groomed, romanced even, agreeing with him that cutting myself over and over in the last week would be the answer to all my pain. That it would, in fact, erase allllllllllll the anxiety and panic and pain I'd been experiencing soooooooooooooo fucking intensely over the past month.

Because Satan doesn't look like this -

He looks more like this -

I wasn't prepared to be bombarded with the thought that killing myself would be a good, permanent, effective way to relieve myself of this unbearable, constant anxiety and fear.

I was snapped out of it, a bit, last Sunday morning at church. Our pastor was preaching, of all things, on the last days of King David. Specifically on his last words. I thought "I wonder what my last words should be. Should I say goodbye to my kids? Give them advice that I would normally have given them, had I been alive to give it? Should I video tape it? Or what about leaving little notes all over the house? Then I can arrange for a friend to come over for coffee, take a bunch of pills, and then she'd deal with finding me and handling everything.

In the suffocating thick of those thoughts, another couple of thoughts showed up.














I looked around the room. Felt my husband, who loves me like crazy, next to me. He knew I had been fucking up. He knew I'd been so messed up in the head that I'd resorted to cutting.  He didn't know (since it was such a quick thought, such a quick assault on my weakness and pain) that I was having these thoughts of killing myself.

I was terrified to tell him. I didn't want to freak him out. He's got so much on his plate already. I didn't want to be one more thing to stress him out. But I knew, I KNEW, that if I didn't speak up, I was gonna do it. I jumped up and went to a friend and spilled my guts. I told her exactly what I had just been thinking about. I told her I was terrified and needed help because I was losing my fucking mind.

She told me that she was gonna have her hubby go get my hubby and that she wanted to take me to get evaluated at an Emergency Room. We had made arrangements for a friend (who happens to go to our church) to watch our kids that evening so we could go to a concert. So she agreed to just take them earlier and keep them later. Ben came downstairs to see his wife replaced by this unrecognizable puddle of a person. He agreed to drive me to the ER. Our friends followed. To be a support for Ben, mostly.

I spend all afternoon in the ER. I told the nurses and case workers what had been going through my head. What I had been doing. Why I felt I might have been doing it. And that I 100% did NOT want to die. (YES, I want to be in heaven and have all this world and all its crap go away for good, but on God's watch. Not mine.)

"Well, if you don't want to die, why did you come in?"

Sigh. I felt like I was getting out of control. That my incredible desire NOT to die wouldn't be enough to actually keep me from doing something permanent when I was in the middle of a severe panic attack. I mean, it hadn't kept me from cutting. And I hadn't cut in more than a freaking decade. And I wasn't just nicking myself. I was slicing. I was carving. I was really, really, really messing myself up.

I am tempted A LOT to cut. Just about EVERY FUCKING TIME I get stressed out, Satan shows up and dangels this little carrot in front of my nose. I got used to it. I was quickly and effortlessly able to identify that it was a trick, and I resisted because I didn't do that anymore. It was like watching 'Satan: Amatuer Night.' Being tempted to cut was like Satan's Personal Calling Card. I used to get the thought in my head (Hey, cutting would relieve that pain, ya know.) and I'd immediately ask God to take care of it. I knew that if I tried to look George Fucking Clooney holding a fucking, cute-ass puppy in front of me, that I'd probably cave. So I always tattled on Satan and then stood behind Him as God, in all His mercy and power, removed the threat from me.

Worked like a charm. Every time.

Except this time. This time, I looked that puppy dead in the eyes and agreed that it was indeed cute as fuck. And that I needed some relief.

Satan might not be subtle. But he is consistant. He has a way of knowing that my weaknesses are. He doesn't have complete power over me. He can't make me do anything. But I sure fell for his cons this time. Which is unnerving, to say the least.

What's even more screwed up is that I'm still acutely aware of this thick curtain over my soul. It's not completely gone. I don't really know how to describe it other than that. I still very much believe in God. I believe that He is good and loves me and wants to help me. That He is powerful enough to help me. To protect me. To heal me.  I believe that He can re-create me. But I can not, for the life of me, feel Him. Or hear Him. Or anything like that. And I'm still confusing these lies as truths. I'm not wanting to shut Him out. I'm reading Scripture. I'm praying Scripture. I have friends praying Scripture on my behalf. I'm begging.



I feel a bit like I'm on my own. And let's not start with how much of an utter failure I am when it comes to resisting this shit without God. I can have all the friends in the world with the best of intentions and still royally screw up. I've done it time and time again. I know me. And I know what it's like to not trust that God is there, with His supernatural love and mercy and victory over evil...

I know He's there. But seriously. God! I need You! Get me outta this!!!

And get me outta this stupid fucking world of perverts. Seriously, I am sooooo scared. I am mad. Like white hot mad at the whole damn world.

Why is it that everytime I get on the internet to check my email, I have to see another news story about some asshole who gets off on hurting kids?

Why is it that because I have a nose ring, the cashier at my favorite store felt he had permission to ask me whether I also have a tongue ring (while flicking his disgusting fucking tongue at me) and then he reached up and stroked his nipples and fucking asked me if I had a ring in my own nipples?


I called the store manager and told her all about it. She was just as sickened. As she should be. I won't ever have to worry about being treated like that at that store. At least, not by that guy.

Maybe another guy. I mean, they're everywhere. Everywhere.

I am NEVER safe.


After getting out of the hospital, I realized that I needed to lay off from some of the responsibilities that I had. Not totally. But I can barely get out of bed. I'm probably gonna have a hard time right now standing up in front of a bunch of precious, innocent, beautiful children and preaching to them that God is there for them without completely breaking down. I'm gonna have a hard time for a little bit.

So I figured now is as good a time as any to do some stuff that I've been wanting to do but wasn't sure if my particular leadership roles would smile upon. Namely, coloring my hair. Vivid.

I was on the fence about whether or not I should go pink or blue. I've had hair every color of the rainbow before. I find it a very fun way to look. Ben said he'd like to see me with pink hair. So I got all the stuff and dyed my hair pink.

I'm not entitled enough to be horrified when people see pink hair on someone and stare for two milliseconds longer than they would normally. It's to be expected. I mean seriously. I do it. I stare with envy when I see some beautiful, bright color on someone's head. I just love it. LOVE IT! I also love the more vanilla colors of chocolate brown, blonde, dirty blonde, ash brown, black, bald, pippi longstockings red...

l o v e

it's just all so pretty.

I had a lady at Walmart stop me at the meat section and hug me. A complete stranger. She told me that she figured I was supporting breast cancer. DOH! uh, well. I do support the end of cancer. But I wasn't being that noble when I did this. I'm just a punk who wanted a wild hair color. To be honest.  She took off her beautifully knit beanie and showed me her beautiful bald head. I gave her hug and kissed her sweet head. I am praying for her. And I'm gonna tell everyone that that's what I'm doing from now on, you can count on that!  ;)

But not everyone has such a positive response to my hair. Some people avoid eye contact. Whatever. Others point and laugh. Whatever. Still others stand there, staring, mouths open, as if they've just encountered an alien. Hahahaha! Whatever. Some people actually come up to me and say they like it. Uh, thanks.

But the ones that upset me, the ones that make me question whether I should just dye it some normal color right now are the ones who see me and promptly gloss over with dark, gross, disgusting lust.

Don't get me wrong. Nothing wrong with lust. As long as it's directed at your spouse. At the right times.

But I'm just trying to buy milk, you fucking perverts! I should be able to pick up my kid from school or grab some ground beef from the store without having some asshole lick his lips and raise his eyebrows and darken with desire.

I. Am. Not. Here. To. Be. Your. Superhero. Pink-Haired. Sex-Ninja!

for fuck's sake!

What the hell is wrong with people?! Is there some fetish that I don't know about? Where people get off on overpowering other people with hair that looks like candy? Does me having a nose ring or a tattoo or pink hair (or a smile) automatically bring up images of a sex-hungry, freakishly-good-in-bed, easily manipulated, kinky, constantly turned on maniac?!


Ok. So if I'm being completely honest, this happens to me. A lot. Even without the pink hair drawing attention to myself. I didn't have pink hair when that asshole cashier was shockingly inappropriate with me. I didn't have pink hair when I was asked if I liked (insert gross nickname for male genitalia) while walking with my kids at the park last summer. I didn't have pink hair when I was assaulted all those times.

I don't know what it is. I think.....that there are a LOT of fucking perverted asswipes out there. And they do not at all mind coming in contact with the rest of the world.

So then what am I to do with that?! Am I to avoid dying my hair pink? Fuck you. Of course fucking not. I'm not dressing like a whore. I'm not acting like a whore. I'm not talking like a whore.



Pink hair does not a whore make.

You stupid assholes.

So no. I'm keeping the hair. Until *I* decide that *I* want to change it.

I'm NOT letting you take that from me.

But seriously. I can talk shit. I can talk like I refuse to let it affect me. But that's a bunch of bullshit.  It affects me. so much. so so so much.

Which is how I ended up in this stupid position in the first place.

How I wish I was strong enough to stand unwavering against this kind of abuse and not question my worth.

How I WISH I was brave enough to say something each time it happens. So that they are exposed for how filthy and rotten they are.

HOW I WISH I could trust that I am safe.

How I wish that I could pray it away. or that I could expect God to wipe the earth clean. Although I'd likely be washed away in the flood as well. Knowing me.

How I wish I could just patiently wait on God to move in their hearts and redeem them. To draw them out of their filth and drench them entirely and completely in the blood of Christ.

But I am having a very hard time with that. I am in pain. I am in tremendous amounts of pain. I cry every fucking day. I am having a panic attack twice a day. At least. I am scared. I am mad. I am sad. I HURT and ACHE so damn much.

I don't really know what else to say. I am trying to trust God. I am trying to wait on Him. I am trying to resist Satan's lame temptations. I am praying with those who, like me, find themselves the target of perverts' attention and deprivation.

God. MOVE!