Good Monday Morning

Good Monday Morning!

Today is the first day of the second half of the year!

Aren't you excited!?

Well, I guess you aren't. I am not overly excited, either. Just happy to see a new day!

My Weekend. Anyway, I had a pretty good weekend. For this was an "Operation Pam" Weekend.

Good Ol' Pam!

Ol' reliable Pam!

I haven't driven Pam in a good 3 weeks. Why? Because I got of Pam the last time I drove her, and the back brake lights didn't go off.

So I fooled around with her, pumping the brakes and what-not, and the lights didn't go off.  And that was odd. I had been out all day in the car, even visiting with Grandma.  I know I parked that car for at least 3 hours while on errands and visiting with Grandma. I am surprised the battery didn't go dead.

Whatever. I couldn't figure it out, so I just unhooked the battery and went on in the house. I would just be driving ol' Lucy Junior. No big deal.

That was three weeks ago. My goal this weekend was to get the car fixed. I hooked the battery back up on Saturday morning, just to see if the brake lights were still stuck on. Lo and behold they were:

Oh well. Time to get it fixed.

There were 2 options for this operation. First I could contact Cowgirl Cre's Daddy, Daddy Cre. My second option was to go to the shop that has been taking care of Pam for the past 12 years. The good thing is that I'd bought the part, a brake switch, some six or seven years ago, but it was never replaced. The part that was there only needed to be tightened. It finally broke.  Daddy Swain knew what to do. And my shop knew what to do.

So I called up the Cowgirl Cre and asked her for Daddy Cre's phone number. She said that her parent were on their way over.

So... it was early in the morning, around 8:30 am. I was already up and dressed. I decided to drive on over there.

She lives some 35 minutes away from me. So I jumped in Pam and headed on over!

I was excited to get over there anyway? Why? Because Cowgirl Cre just bought a bike!!

No! That's not a bicycle. That's a real bike. A motorcycle.

She had been taking classes. And she went and got her license. She's ready to get out there on the open rode.

Not exactly. It needs to be tuned up. And we sat around in the garage and watched Daddy Cre do this.

We talked much about what he was doing. I have every confidence now that I can repair Cre's bike if necessary. I sure can.

Daddy Cre repaired my beloved Pam!

While he was working on all this, I walked in Cre's house... and it was smelling good up in there. I looked for the source of the good smells.

That doggone Cowgirl Cre! She been hollering about wanting some ribs! And she cooked some up.

"No, I don't want any," I said. "It just sure smells good!"

I watched Daddy Cre mow Cowgirl Cre's grass.

Him and those patten leather shoes. I've seen him mow grass before in a pair of wingtips.

Oh well, maybe his dress shoes are comfy for lawn work.

That was the gist of my weekend... Other things happened, but I'm trying to keep it short!

I would like to thank everyone for participating in the "Conversations Week". I not only got a lot out of putting my feelings down in words, but I gleaned soooo much wisdom from what so many of you had to say. I am truly thankful for that.

The drawing will be tomorrow sometime. Comments close tonight. So you still have time to win those fabulous gift cards!!

That is it for today. I am off to a doctor's appointment.

Song of the Week. Here's a cut I've been on for awhile. The Roots "The Next Movement".



Have a good week! On purpose.

Neighborly Conversations: Cookies, Tomatoes and Thomas

I have a most intersting neighbor.

She lives a couple house up from me, on the same side of the street.

She reminds me of the young Celie... just aged 40 years. So I would guess that would make her age be somewhere in her late 50s.

She likes to sit out on her porch.

When I pass by in the mornings, I wave.

She waves back.

When I come home in the evenings, I wave.

She waves back.

That's the extent of it.

Why? Because I myself am not all that neighborly. I wave at folks. That's about it. I may make a little small talk, but that is not very often.

I tend to be skittish. I don't know what's going on in your house, nor do I care, so long as I'm not all up in there. 

But this lady is a bit... different.

She's extremely volatile.

How do I know that?

Because she is constantly cussing folks out.

And how do I know that?

Because she cusses them out on her front porch or out in the front yard. And I can hear her all the way down to my house.

This one man... I don't know WHAT he did... but she cussed him good. He left and walked around the block and she cussed even harder when he tried to come back in the house. He walked around the block again and she cussed him out the hardest when he returned again.

I don't know what he did. But I almost said, "Hey man, you want me to give you some change so you can catch the bus? You need to get on way from here so she can be quiet."

I suppose sometimes, you just have to say what you have to say. I chalk it up to that.

But it is just odd to be in the kitchen or living room and hear someone outside going OFF on someone.

And she is just volatile like that.

Here's my thing: if you're acting up like that in your front yard, what in the world is going on in the house?

Anyway, that's just an internal question. She might be peaches and cream in her house. Who knows.

But this brings about a need for a LadyLee life postulate. 

LadyLee postulate #57201: If you cussing everybody out, you'll eventually end up cussing me out, too.

Because of this, I steer clear of her. One of my isshas is that I don't deal well with noise, and I really don't deal well with very loud people. And then with her, she is cussing everybody out. That means I would have to watch my every word and action so as not to piss her off. And I am too old for that. I grew up like that. I just want to be me.

Now, this neighbor of mine will walk down to my house when she sees me outside cutting the grass. She will stand at the top of my driveway and point out places that I missed, etc. She hasn't done it in awhile, but I just let her do that. She may just be trying to be helpful.

But a few weeks ago, I was baking cookies for Baby Bandit's graduation party. As usual I bake too many cookies, and I have to figure out what to do with them.

I had to go out to my car for something. (I parked it in the driveway instead of the garage, since I knew I would be leaving out again later for the party).

And there was my neighbor sitting on her front porch. 

I waved.

She waved back.

"Do you eat chocolate chip cookies?" I hollered.

"What?" she hollered back.

We had to holler. A train was going by. Even though the tracks are 3/4th miles away, the train horn was blaring.

"Do you eat chocolate chip cookies?" I hollered again.

She nodded real hard.

"I'm baking some. I have extra. I'll bring you some in about 15 minutes."

She gets up from her folding chair and starts dancing real hard.

I was perplexed by this. Cookies are cookies. Even though you all seem to love my cookies so much. Cookies are still cookies. No need to get all excited.

Well, I went in the house. When the next batch of cookies were ready, I let them cool. And then I packed a small tin of 10 cookies for my neighbor. When I went back outside to give them to her, she was not sitting on her front porch.

And you know me... I was NOT going to walk up to her house and knock on her door. Nope.

So I went back in the house. I peeked out my front door a couple of times, but that was about as good as it gets.

Now I told her I'd have some cookies for her in 15 minutes. And hey, if you snooze, you lose. Period.

Some 45 minutes later there was knock at my door.

I open it, and it's my neighbor.

"I had cookies for you," I said. "But I didn't see you outside."

She frowned. "Cookies?"

"Yes, cookies," I replied. "Chocolate chip cookies."

"Aww dang!" she hollered. "I thought you said you was making fried green tomatoes!"

*crickets*

How on earth do you get "fried green tomatoes" out of "chocolate chip cookies?

"Uh, no. No tomatoes here," I said.

I could tell she was disappointed. Her mouth must have been set for some fried tomatoes. But that wasn't going down. I don't remember the last time I fried up some good tomatoes, and I wasn't about to strart.  I handed her the tin of cookies. And I say good-bye, and I go to close the door.

And she starts going off...

Not on me, but about the local who cuts my grass.

"That Thomas! He ain't no good. I grew up with him. He done stole from people all over this neighborhood! He ain't no good!"
Oh my. She was beefing with Thomas, the man who cuts my grass. I am sure he was a mess in his hey-day, but he is an old broken down man with heart problems now. He cuts people's grass for money. If I don't cut my own grass, he cuts it. (He had issues with me last summer, though. He was a tad bit perturbed about me buying a second car. They already think I'm rich. I was super rich then, whatever the heck that means).

He doesn't give me much of a problem, though. He fusses about my car from time to time. But I don't really take someone who lives in a shed behind this dude Rat Cheeze's house all that serious. My sister Kentucky gave him 2 dollars to clean up some leaves but he walked off and didn't do it. So you know Kentucky aint' dealing with him anymore. I told her he is homeless, a hustler, and he hustles, with his old self. Don't expect much honesty out of him.

(I'm still trying to figure out who this "Rat Cheeze" dude is. Haven't met him yet. I wanna know why his Mama call him that name).

Anyway, my neighbor is going OFF about this guy.

"I grew up with Thomas! He ain't no damn good! Blah blah blah!"

All this noise, I thought. Goodness.

And I barely can make out what she is saying, as she's missing most of her teeth.

"He's a halfway decent guy," I said. "He cuts my grass and that's all I can ask."

She keeps going off. I have to hear about how our street use to be apartments. And how her family owned their house for the last 50 years. And she had to see all these new houses built up.

Goodness. This was too much noise going on. I mean, she had the neck rolling going on and the finger pointing. Wow.

Then she start going in on Thomas again. I still don't know what the beef is. And she gives him plates of food from time to time.

"Well, just pray for him," I said. "That's all you can do."

That's what I do when folks are tripping. I ask God to help me deal. And help me see where I am messing up, for maybe I'm the problem. If not, then help me out of the situation, or to find some peace in the midst of it or the courage to walk away from the situation.

WHY did I even say anything about prayer!?

Oh my. She REALLY goes off then.  "God gonna get him. That's why he got heart problems. God getting him back for all those years he done did wrong. No prayer for him. God gonna GIT HIM!"
*crickets*

I wondered in those few moments about my health issues. Was God getting back at me for things?  For all the wrong I've done all my life?

I think not. I rebuke that. I don't receive that. No way, no how. TOOO much answered prayer goes on over my way. I wasn't going to let her words have me... wondering and wandering.

"You have a nice house," she said, as she tried her best to look past me and all around. "You take good care of your house here, don't you?"

I pulled the door closer and tighter toward my body. She didn't need to see inside my house. And she shoulda known good and well that she wasn't getting invited in. No ma'am.

(She told my sister in past that she cleaned houses, and that she would clean ours. I told my sister, if I come home and that chick is my house, she gotta leave. And then you (my sister), had to leave too.

"Well, I have to finish the cookies. I have to go to this party, and I don't want to be late," I finally said.

"Alright," she said.

And she was still talking... all the way down the porch steps. I think she was talking to herself.

I closed the front door.

I couldn't believe that I had been exposed to THAT much concentrated negativity in the span of 5 minutes. It almost made me regret offering her some cookies. But my need to sow some good seed daily overrides my feelings.

It is this woman's habit to behave this way. It was a part of her personality, and one of her many characteristics. Now I understood why she was constantly cussing and fussing every one out. That's just who she is.

My pastor gave a good sermon some years ago on the subject of personal development. He said whoever you are at the time, it took some time to get that way. People have the characteristics, personalities, and habits they have because those characteristics, personalities and habits developed over time. And over a span of years, these things become strongly developed, whether negative or positive.

 I remember thinking at the time, in my 30s, that I would like to develop in compassion. I would like to develop in selflessness. I would like to be a happy person. I would like to develop in kindness. There were many things that I wanted developed in my life.

"If you want to develop in something," my pastor said, "decide on it and get on the path to it. Find some Word on it. Go do some reading up on it. Listen to whatever you can concerning it.  It takes time. But it will happen."

And for the first time in a long time, that sermon came back to me. Sure, it was at least a 10-year-old sermon, but I will always remember it, especially in light of the fact that I had just experienced a high dosage of negativity. It shocked me. And I have made a big move over the past year to remove myself from any negativity. And as a result, I can see my own negativity better. And I can step up and deal with it.

And I can see, and appreciate, how much I have changed. And how I have developed in the positive things I want to develop in. I still have far to go... but I am on my way.

I told my sister about the "Cookie, Tomatoes and Thomas" conversation.

"She still up in that house? Is she still cussing everybody out?"

"Yes," I said.

"She cuss out everybody. Even the children and the dog. Just everybody."

"Yep. That's just her way," I said.

Yes. That's her way.

I didn't hear much of anything from my neighbor.

I drive by.

I wave.

She smiles.

She waves back.

One day she asked me to take her to the gas station to get some gas for her lawnmower. I told her that I had to go to my writing class. She kept harping.

Wrong thing to do with me. But I took her anyway. And little 4 year old granddaughter rode along.

I already wrote about all this. It was a most disturbing ride. Even the little girl was loud. When I asked her her name, I repeated it back to her wrong. She screamed her name loudly to correct me. Oh my. And she as touching my papers in the back seat. And she grabbed my fresh new copy of Josephine Garner's Solomon's Blues! *screech*

I just didn't want to be late to my writing class. I took them, and came on back.

"How much I owe you for taking me?" she asked.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

She was so happy. She grabbed my hand and kissed it profusely.

*ladylee screaming on the inside*

She and her granddaugher got out of the car.

"Slam the door extra hard, baby," I said to the little girl. "So you can make sure it's shut good."

She did as I said.

Another granddaughter, a teenage girl, came out and said "Thank you for the cookies. They were all pretty in the little tin, and they were so good."

"You're welcome, honey," I said.

And I was on my way. I even made it to my class 30 minutes early.

That night I wrote in my gratitude journal "I am thankful that I had the fortitude to help my neighbor today, even though I didn't want to help."

Yes, I am growing. It's like walking from Georgia to California. It's a slow long haul, but I am getting there.

One day I will arrive to the place I want to be.

Yes I will.

Crochet Conversations

Conversations week continues...

I have been a crocheting bandit lately.

I finally finished Mrs. A's second baby blanket.

Green and white. That can be for a boy or a girl indeed.

It is TOO big. It's definitely too small for an adult, but a 5-year-old child would find it rather cozy.

And it's a little heavy. It's sport weight (baby weight) yarn, but feels heavy like worsted weight (adult yarn). My workplace resident experts (Cee-Cee and Cowgirl Cre) think I should wash it in Dreft and dry it with the dryer sheets, so it will fluff up and lighten up, which is usually the case.

But it is cozy enough for an adult, too.

And I can see Mrs. A. right now...  she may take this blanket from the twins and try to use it for herself.

*toddler twins walk in room and see Mommy with their blanket AGAIN*

"That's our blanket," they say in unison.

"Uh..." Mrs. A begins. "Uh, I was just about to wash it."

Twins look at each other, then back at Mommy "That's what you said the last time."

*Mr. A. walks into room*

"Give them babies back their blanket!!!"

*Mrs. A. slowly unwraps the blanket from her shoulders, and places it in the little waiting hands of the toddlers*

HA HA!!

My goal is to make 4 blankets. She has hinted that she likes yellow. So I am excited about going way down out to the Southside 'burbs for some yellow yarn!

I've started on the third one, while hanging out at Grandma's house.

And I like how simply they start.

One long chain...

Here's how far along it is!

I really REALLY want to make a boy blanket. Heck, I'll be happy to make a girl blanket right about now.

Mrs. A. doesn't want to know the sex of the babies.

I was thinking about running up on her obstertrician in the produce department at the Wal-mart.

*ladylee pushes buggie up next to the good doctor's buggie*

"Hi there," LadyLee says. "Those tomatoes look quite good, don't they?"

Dr. Jackson looks at LadyLee suspiciuosly. "Yes they do."

"And the lettuce," LadyLee says, "The lettuce looks nice and crispy, too."

Dr. Jackson nodds.

"Uh, one of your patients is my cousin, Mrs. A., right?"

Dr. Jackson nods.

"She is having twins. And there's a sale over in the baby departments. Should I get the pink onesies or the blue onesies?"

Dr. Jackson frowns.  "Your silly games are NOT gonna make me tell you what she's having!!!"

HUMPH!!

LOL

 Anyway, I found out that someone is having a little boy. So I've started on that one.

Adding in the green and the white...

And now I'm on blue for the long haul!

I think I need around 50 rows of blue before I go back to my green and white.

Oh joy. I love to crochet.

Often, when I am walking through the store with my yarn in my cart, people stop me and ask what I am going to make with it. I tell them. Usually it's a baby blanket, or a gift for a friend.

I usually hear one of two replies:

"I use to know how to crochet. Now I don't remember."

or

"I wish I knew how to crochet."

And that makes me sad. Anything done with the hands from scratch these days is quickly fading into extinction. Crochet. Quilting. Sewing. Canning. Painting. Drawing. And anything else you can think of.

We like life in an instant now. And if it can be electronic, then all the better.

I must admit, I have and love my share of gadgetry...But...

My crocheting is very therapeutic. It calms my mind, calms my nerves.

And so do other handcrafts.

Are we losing our therapy?  Of course, back in the day, our ancestors had to do these things. And maybe they longed for the conveniences of our life.

But what about the therapy of it all? Are we losing it as the years go by?

I wonder... and continue to ponder.

Provocation Conversations

I seem to be having a particular conversation more and more these days...

And I find it very disturbing and distressing.

I had one convo recently.  And it has stayed with me for a minute. I asked for permission to post about it (as I always do), and the young lady said "Of course". It may help someone else's heart.

But let me rewind the clock back a few years ago, when these types of particular conversations first began...

One night my sister came into my bedroom, and said she needed to talk. It was late, and I was in for the night, watching television.

She'd had a bad run in-with her father. In a nutshell, he'd gone off on her really badly.

"My daddy called me and cussed me out like I was a n**** in the street."

Okay. I asked her why?  And I already knew the answer. He tends to call her when he is good and drunk, for whatever reason and snap on her. I think it has to be because he wants to see her more. But she doesn't go over there much because they treat her pretty badly. You wouldn't believe the types of things they say and do. It has me looking at her crazy, because you know me... I don't put  up with that type of mess. You can't treat me with respect, then I don't see you.

But her daddy--- he was my stepfather from age 8 to 14, so I know him well. He's a functional alcoholic and druggie, meaning he can hold down a good job AND have his own business while being an addict.

I have memories of my mother leaving in the middle the night and going to get him from some DUI mess. He also totaled a couple of trucks driving drunk.  I found drugs around the house a lot. I have memories of the house being filled with the smell of weed. He had a lot of friends around, and I remember thinking "That guy is cool... why is he shaking so hard?"  A little kid doesn't know much about seeing people in need of a hit.

Let's just say, I never thought much of her father. But that was her father. Her Daddy. She would complain about something he did, and me and my best friend LadyTee would laugh. "Girl, don't pay ol' Randall no mind!"

Randall is a trip. Whenever me and LadyTee use to go get the high schooler Kentucky from his house, he would yell "Don't ya'll be having out smoking crack and getting into stuff. You hear me?"

That man was serious about it too. My response was always "Randall! We're taking her to the Wal-mart for feminine products. And we're going to the beauty supply store! Calm down!"

But that was her Daddy. She has always thought the world of her Daddy. Me, I didn't get it or understand it, especially as she got older. And she has always wanted his acceptance. I try to understand. But hey, that's her father.  That's ol' drunk Randall to me.

So there had been a plethora of incidences of him calling and saying all kind of stupid stuff to her over the years.

"Was he drunk?" is always my first question.

"Yes," was always her answer.

"Well, why you worried about it? The negro is drunk. Don't pay him no 'tention."

Then my advice became more drastic. "Don't answer the phone, girl. If it bothers you, don't answer the doggone phone. If it's an emergency, he can leave a message."

That worked for a minute.

So I didn't understand why she was standing in the middle of my bedroom crying so hard.

She explained that this time was especially bad.

It took ALL I had not to just call him up and say something. I have had to straighten him in the past. When my sister was in her senior year of high school, she had all these college prep activities at the time and her Daddy wouldn't take her to them. (And her stepmother... uh, she was hollering about that ain't my child... smh). So I arranged with a friend of mine to help her (I was in New Orleans at the time, doing a post-doc). I told this friend whatever she needed, help her. Get her to her activities, etc.

He is ME in my absence. Treat it exactly like that.

Fine. Easy enough. Right? Problem:  my friend was a white male.

And Kentucky's father HATES white people. Oh my goodness. This confused me horribly as a child. I had to hear all these lectures on why "The white devil" was so bad. And I remember standing there thinking,  "I really like my friend Amy, though. I like my friend Ginger, too."  I knew neither of these white girls in my 6th grade class better step foot in our house, though. And I lost respect for him even more.

Anyway, he went off on my sister, saying she was sleeping with that "white devil".

O_O

Oh my. When my sister told me that... I went right over to her house.

Now, her father and stepmother are BIG on appearances and name dropping, etc. (That tells me much about a person in itself).  So I had a "Dr." on the front of my name, so I think they felt I was important all of a sudden. This was a bit annoying.

"Hey Doc!" her father said.

Doctor this, and doctor that. Doc, Doc, Doc.

*ladylee kicks the hard eyeroll*

"Can you step outside?" I asked him.

And I went off on him.  I told him that my friend. my homeboy, drives from 40 miles away to take YOUR child where she needs to go. She can spend the night and I don't have to worry about her. He makes sure she eats and is taken care of. He is me when I'm not here. You too damn sorry to take her where she needs to go. That dude is ME in my absence. So you better act like you got some sense, and show some respect.

That's what I said in a nutshell. Sprinkle that very liberally with cuss words, and you get my point. (I have grown so much. Oh yes. My cussing has been reduced by 99%. Glory).

My friend attended my sister's high school graduation and graduation party. "Kentucky's daddy is standing up when I come into the room, and grabbing my arm and shaking my hand hard and being nice," my friend said through laughter. What was that about?"

LOL!!

It's called straightening a joker out. And like my best friend LadyTee said to me recently... "With black folk, you have to straighten them. One good time. Straighten them, and there will be no more problems."

I don't have problems out of ol' drunk Randall. AT ALL.

Yeah. Straighten them. Early enough. Had to straighten that stepmother of hers too.

I gave you all that background, so you could see what we're dealing with when we are dealing with Kentucky's daddy... Good Ol' Randall.

His behavior with my sister was always suspect. He's a good guy, I suppose. He's her father. That gives him some credibility with me.

Just when he gets drunk... ugh.

So my sister standing there crying in my bedroom bothered me. But my actions are drastic. Leave folk alone. You won't be seeing me. Better catch me at a stoplight or a Wal-Mart. That's as good as it gets.

She isn't like me. She believes the best of people, and that they will change. I guess they will. I won't be around for that change. I have a habit of believing the best of people for YEARS, even though they make me feel horrible about myself. That thing ain't infinite with me like it is with her, though. I cut ties after awhile.

I told her to make some decisions. I asked if she is willing to be treated so badly the rest of her life. I didn't want to hear the answers. I was tired of picking her feelings and the emotions up off the ground, even though I do it tirelessly, she needs to think about things and figure out what's best for her. I was there to listen.

So... long story short, Kentucky sees him on father's day, and on Christmas, I believe. She let's him talk how he wants to talk, and keeps it moving. And she answers the phone when she feels like it. Good enough for her. They seem to be doing better because everything is on my sister's terms now.

It is... odd to hear her say that about our mother and her father.  "Things are on my terms now, Lisa. On my terms.)

O_o

Soooooo....

Let's move to one of the current conversations I've just had:

I was talking to a friend recently. She was all exasperated because she'd asked her father to keep her children for the day, and her father went off on her. Told her she wasn't sh**, and a bunch of other hurtful stuff.

And he said all these hurtful things in front of her two little kids. They are between the ages of 7-11 years of age. And it upset not only her, but her kids to no end.

DANG! One thing that burns my hide is when a child is handed an armful of emotional baggage. That's what happened right there. Kids handed emotional baggage. All emotional baggage starts in childhood. Shoot.

Why couldn't her father say a simple "No, I have something else to do."

No, he had to cuss her out.

So you know me... if you deal with me for any length of time, and you want my advice, I don't have THAT much to say... but I will ask you a laundry list of questions. Long. exhaustive. Detailed. Questions, questions, questions.

Now, I've had this type of convo many times with many people.

My biggest question is... "Is what your parent said true??"

The answer is usually no. And I know this girl. She is a friend. She has a huge impact on my life. She helps me a lot. She's a hard worker. She loves her kids. Her kids are the most exceptional little people I've ever met, hands down. I personally think she is a wonderful individual, and I am happy to know her. You know me... I don't do dramatic folks. AT ALL. If I smell the smoke of drama, even a hint of it, I leave you alone. You are NOT going to stress me out. I have violated this personal rule before and I've had to pay the price for doing so.

I ask the question though... because maybe she's a jerk, and I don't know it. Maybe she's selling tail on the corner or smoking crack, and I don't know. Maybe she is crazy and likes to tare up stuff. Who knows. I ask the question, though. You never know. 

We talked exhaustively about this, and I determine that it is a situation similar to my sister's situation: parent just tripping out. In my sister's case, she dealing with a drunk. In my good friend's case, her father has deep seeded anger issues.

Oh well... the next question is, in my mind anyway, "Why do we get so upset about this?"

Our parents are our first defense, that why. What they say is gold.

We continued to talk. And I consoled her.

And then she said something that almost made me blow a gasket.

"I called my aunt [I assume her father's sister] and told her about it. She said, 'You know how your father is. And you know what the Bible says, Honor your father and mother...' "

WOW!!!

So... the parent cuss you out and treat you like crap... and we gotta hear "Honor your Mother and Father..."

That's synonmous with a husband beating the brakes off his wife and folk quote that scripture "Wives, submit to your husband."

I like what my old pastor says about THAT one.... "Don't let your last thought be - just before that bullet coming at you goes through your head be - 'Gee... 'I should've left.'

Becasue abuse of any kind is not God's best for you.

I suppose that goes for any type of abuse.

Anyway, I told her that I think that verse is a total cop out. Preachers ALWAYS bringing that up.

Let's look a little closer at that verse:

Ephesians 6:2-3  Honor (esteem and value as precious) your father and your mother—this is the first commandment with a promise—³ That all may be well with you and that you may live long on the earth.

 

That is a loaded up verse. Act right towards your parents or you will die an early death.

 

That's the way I have heard it preached here and there, which makes me a little suspect. There are too many children that die early for this to be entirely the case. Even babies.

 

I look into things. I am a nerd like that. I will go read a book on something if it nags me long enough. The one thing I found on this verse, out of a commentary on it, was the following:

"Where obedience to parents is found, there is usually found along with it temperance, self-control, industry, regular ways of life, and other habits that tend towards prosperity and longevity."

That makes sense. Something comes along with obedience.

However... that still don't give a parent a right to dog a kid out. At least that's my opinion anyway.

Especially since I came across a verse of scripture that NO ONE preaches on. And what's interesting is that it follows up RIGHT behind the "Honor your father and mother verse"...

Ephesians 6:4  (Amplified version) Fathers, do not irritate and provoke your children to anger [do not exasperate them to resentment], but rear them [tenderly] in the training and discipline and the counsel and admonition of the Lord. 

Hark! An instruction for parents regarding their children. Isn't that interesting?

So... it's essentially a two way street, hunh?

I feel like this: if you gonna dog me out, you better follow up with helping me face in the right direction in which I should go. You better be giving me proper instruction. Otherwise, be quiet.

And if that isn't enough, let's take it further... There is ANOTHER verse of scripture concerning how parents should relate to children:

Colossians 3:21 

AMP version: Fathers, do not provoke or irritate or fret your children [do not be hard on them or harass them], lest they become discouraged and sullen and morose and feel inferior and frustrated. [Do not break their spirit.]

NIRV - Fathers, don't make your children bitter. If you do, they will lose hope.

TYN - Fathers rate not youre children lest they be of a desperate mynde

(Uh, excuse me for a second, but what is this tyn = tynsdale version?? What the world? Never seent that before. Hmm.)

Interesting indeed.

Making a child bitter.. Goodness. It has ramifications.

And harrasment and provocation and irritation of a child by a parent can bring on the following::

1. lost of hope
2. feelings of inferiority
3. discouragement
4. sullen behavior
5. morose behavior
6. frustration
7. A broken spirit

Can I submit to you, just looking at this list of negatives, that a child who feels this way may have problems in adulthood?  I think so.

And if you are like me, and you see some young teenager acting a fool, you holler "Where is his Mama at?"

We make the connections in our mind, don't we? Kid gone wild- must mean that Mama or Daddy ain't doing their job.

Does this negate honor and respect of a parent?  Of course not!

The young lady that I was talking to about all this is exceptionally respectiful of her parents.

I myself am respectful of my mother. My brother and sister are very respectful of our mother.  Anyone will tell you that we are great kids. All of us. I don't think our mother thinks so, though. And that is okay.

My mother has some stepchildren (through that 3rd ex-husband of her's - that fool Ray) who she absolutely adores. And they are off the hinges. Extremely violent kids with all kinds of drug and alcohol addictions, drug selling, DFACS coming to the house taking the kids, etc... All KINDS of drama. WOW. They do stuff that us, the biological kids, haven't thought of doing. One kid, who is my brother's age, and who I actually liked, well, he's doing a LONG bid in the federal pen for murder.

Yes. Lots going on. And our mother LOVES it. She doesn't care for her own kids lives of low crises. It's not interesting, I suppose.

I know, one of the most memorable things I read in the Walking through Walls book that I reviewed is that you need to really take the time to sit down and think about what leads to the problems and behavior of your abuser. I mean, really spend some time to think about it. Because it didn't just appear out of thin air. It's a root to it all. And it has nothing to do with you. There's some deep rooted stuff going on that hasn't been taken care of.

I know with my sister's father, we understand that a lot of the kids my sister age (around age 30-35) in the family are buckwild and crazy. So it is automatically assumed that she is that way. She's lumped in with the rest of them. So it is easier to understand in that context.

They have convos about my sister. "Kentucky be all out in the streets, running the streets," he and her grandmother [his mother] says.

Uh, no sir. You don't know your own daughter. She doesn't "run the streets".

(If you think "running the streets" means some of the recent things she does with me - picking berries with me on a farm, and accompanying me to various doctor appointments for support... then, oh well).

Now, with our mother - Our mother is dramatic. Loves drama and a good fight. Interestingly, my sister, the good and docile one, is the only one to get into a knock out-drag out fight with my mother.

All I remember is my brother, who was 11 at the time, squinting his eyes and whispering "Lisa, I saw the whole thing"... then him commencing to re-enact the whole fight. Several times. Everytime we talked about it.

And it hurt my sister so bad. She's not violent like that. But she was provoked, push to the brink. I have anger issues, but it rubs me the wrong way to raise my voice at my mother, or any elder for that matter. We are respectful. I told her I've been pushed to the brink, too. Didn't touch Mama, but yelled at her. That takes much time to get over. Much. We are good respectful kids.  And she should forgive herself for the fight. We are good kids.

And so is this young lady. She is still dealing with it in her heart.

Why does it hurt when parents verbally abuse or abuse in any way? Because parents are our first defense. If anyone should believe the best of us, our parents should. If anyone should be our champion and cheerleader, it is that parent.

And words are seeds.  And it is confusing and hurtful when a parent sows that negative seed. It is planted in the fertile soil of our hearts, and it grows... and grows... into something. Those words establish deep roots... because they were spoken by that person who we have come to know as our first defense.

Man. I've had this conversation more than I care to count.

So I had one more conversation: with my friend.  I talked to my friend about these things. Her spirit was so broken. I hope I was helpful. That is always my goal anyway.

I hope she can hold her head up and be proud of herself and who she is - a great daughter, a great mother...

... And she's also a great friend to me.

Book Review: The Fantasy Fallacy: Exposing the Deeper Meaning Behind Sexual Thoughts

Last week, I finished reading the most amazing book:

O_O

Oh my. And it is a book that I would never pick up.

How did I come across this book?

While talking to my sister Kentucky. I told her about another book I talked about in a blog post and really liked, Walking into Walls: 5 Blind Spots that Block God's Work in You by Steven Auterburn. She purchased the book and REALLY read it. She explained to me one of the concepts of this book that I didn't really get and had meant to go back and read, about the difference between building walls around yourself and setting boundaries for yourself. (I may do a post on that. Some of you talked about setting boundaries for yourself in one of my recent posts).

So my sister started looking around for other books by the author. She came across the Fantasy Fallacy Book, a book where the author of the Walls book wrote the foreword, and liked the sample chapters she'd read.

I was a bit stunned by this. Why was my little sister reading a book on sexual fantasy??

"Let me go look and see what this little girl is reading," I said to myself when I got off the phone with her. "I'ma get her. She know she has no business reading anything like that."

I downloaded the sample chapters on my kindle. Then I downloaded the whole book.

Hear me now, believe me later... That book was AMAZING.  Oh. my. goodness.

Why was it so amazing?

Because it was a treatise on sexual fantasy from a nonjudgmental spiritual and Christian perspective.

Keyword here: nonjudgmental.

I myself was ready to chastise Kentucky for reading such rubbish.

Trust me, it was far from rubbish. And I am surprised that it was narrowed down to sexual fantasy. This material could be easily extrapolated to other problems, issues and addictions. Easily.

Baby, let me tell you though... I know waaaaaay more about sexual issues and fantasies than I care to know now. My goodness.

I myself don't have these issues. Like any other female though, who has been around several blocks, I do have movie reels of past sexual conquests locked away in a room in the dark corners of my mind, and yes I do go and knock the dust off of those and watch them. For in those movies, I am the star, giving an Oscar-winning performance, swinging from chandalier to kitchen counter to chandalier with the greatest of ease.

Not sure we can get away from that.  We will always have our memories. Our memories are something else, aren't they?

Vivid, bold, in amazing technicolor and super HD and 3D imax.

But this book jumps further than that... it goes into the secret places, those shameful places. Those sexual fantasies that we have and the "why" behind them.

And it gets into the dark places of the mind traveled by Christians: adultery, pornography, menage a trois, S&M, bondage, gay/lesbian fantasies, fetishes, rape fantasies, incest fantasies and the like.

Those dark dark places, where so much fantasy occurs that it all incubates, eventually comes out... with the capability of destroying our lives and the lives around us.

It is a dire secret problem. According to this book, 50% of Christians have a pornagraphy addiction. And 40% of church leadership have a pornagraphy addiction.

This is the third time I've seen the latter statistic, so I guess the studies must be true.

My own pastor said you wouldn't believe the hotel porn tally in the hotel rooms during conventions. I thought he was just saying that. But this book has a discussion of that. So I guess it must be real. I can't imagine. Not our beloved leadership. Sigh

Yet no one talks about it. And like I said in another post, when some scandal jumps off, we are all up in arms. When in fact, all that behavior started with some thoughts and fantasies that were well fed and incubated over a period of time.

Interesting. We all have secret lives. And according to this book, you better get with God and examine those areas and get the help you need. Because that stuff incubates in your mind. And at some time, it's going to produce.

I just like the nonjudgmental tone of the book.

I highlighted close to 45 quotes in this book, but here are some that really struck a tone with me.(I don't have page numbers. I only have e-book location numbers).

1. "Internet pornography is the crack cocaine of sexual addictions" (Location 1342). I read that and thought, uh... really? But the book presents an intriguing in depth discussion of that statement.

2. Sexual arousal is an incredible tranquilizer for all kinds of emotional pain (Location 1414).

3, The main reason that we barter with our bodies for the attention and affection we deeply desire is that we don't trust God for the satisfaction we seek, the provision we need, or the comfort we crave (Location 1782).

And the best quote of all, and if you know how I think, you will immediately know why...

"What we see as a flower or a tree or any other kind of plant is just an extension of what's at the root.  You won't see magnolia leaves sprouting from the roots of a dogwood tree, nor will you see ears of corn shoot off a cucumber vine. What we are in the light is determined by who we are in the dark. Our fruit is merely the product of our roots. Only through tending to our mental emotional and spiritual roots will we bear the healthiest fruit possible.  Ignore the roots, and the plant will suffer. Nurture the root and the plant will thrive. (Location 2848)

Whoo-wee! Honey, you know how I holler about seed and harvest and fruit and trees and stuff like that. This was right up my alley.

What was also intriguing was the fact that much of this fantasy is deeply rooted in childhood emotional baggage, and it is the brain's way of trying to deal with some deep emotional pain. I thought that was a little far-fetched, but interesting nonetheless. The author presented a compelling argument for such.

Alas, it is why Kentucky said what she said to me when she finished reading this book: "It is up to you to make sure you're emotionally grounded."

She said a bunch of other stuff with that, but that was the main point. I agreed with her. You have to do the mental and spiritual work to get rid of some of these secret things.

What I liked, as an example of that, is she told someone to get rid of all distraction for a few days, spend some time in the Word, spend some time journalling, and spend some time praying. And when that person did that, they found the root of their sexual issues (I think this woman was sleeping around hard on her husband... with his friends). Hmm...

All in all, this was a good book, with plenty of examples, a few of which made me holla
"SAY WHAT??!!?"  But those people were brave enough to seek out the help they needed.  And that's a good thing.

Definitely an interesting read. And like I said, the discussion could be extrapolated to many other problem areas in life, whether it be bad habits, addictions, and a host of other problems.

I am glad I took the time to read it.