Ring the Bells!

Ring the bells!

Joy to the world!

Hark! the herald angels sing! Glory to the newborn King!

I hear a lot of people asking when it's okay to listen to Christmas music. I agree that it's just fine to listen all year if you like, but I don't choose to. I listen to worship music constantly. I drive a lot for work, and I have 4 local Christian music radio stations programmed on the car radio. That way I can switch if someone starts talking. The music encourages me, reminds me of what's important, recharges me, and often pulls me out of a negative mental spiral. If I can't sleep, I have a Christian music stream on my phone to play softly and lull me back to sleep.

So, when my favorite radio stations start playing Christmas music after Thanksgiving, I'm not completely happy. Holly Jolly Christmas and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer don't have any power over my mood. For the first 3 weeks of December, though, I can usually find a station playing something I like. The last few days before Christmas though, it gets harder.

Yesterday I had a rough day. Things were busy. Lots of people needed me for lots of things. I wasn't getting my alone time, and I felt like I was under a lot of pressure. I behaved badly. I raised my voice, stormed around, cried a lot, even threw a few things. To be honest, I had a 5 year old tantrum. 

So today I was really happy to go to work. I get drive time to myself, and I even had a short day. Our old dog Maya hasn't been doing very well, and she's been riding along with me. I finished all my patient visits and charting, finished my Christmas errands, went to the butcher and got bones for the dogs. I stopped by the lake to look for birds and give the dog a walk.

As I turned the car toward home, a song came on the radio: Ring the Bells. Suddenly, I wanted to raise my arms and shout, 

"Yes! Ring the Bells! RING THE BELLS!" 

Christmas may have started with Jesus' first breath in the manger in Bethlehem, but the story really begins when Jesus took his first breath after the crucifixion and rose from the tomb. That was the breath that changed everything. That breath changed the world. So ring the bells, because the world has been given joy. Jesus gave us redemption, a gift that we should never stop celebrating.

I may be kind of Grinchy about some of the Christmas hoopla. I confess that I wrapped my family's presents in that brown paper that comes in the big Chewy box with the dog food. I still haven't made the gingerbread houses. I didn't put a wreath on the door. But Jesus is in my heart, God calls me His own, the Holy Spirit speaks to me. What priceless treasures I have because of Christmas.

Let's play some Christmas music, and ring the bells to celebrate!

The Grotto

The Grotto is the location of a Servite monastery and chapel.  The Grotto itself is a shrine carved out of the rock cliff.  Outdoor mass is held there weekly throughout the summer.  An elevator takes you to the top, where there is a lovely garden dotted with religious sculpture.  Pictured above is the Peace Pole.  The inscription is repeated in three other languages on the other sides of the pole, and it guards the entrance to the Peace Garden.  I wandered the gardens while the Sunday crowd attended mass at the chapel at the foot of the cliff.  I stopped in the meditation chapel to read familiar words from the Tao Te Ching: words I've been repeating like a mantra lately, "things arise and she lets them come, things disappear and she lets them go."  The monastery is here, secluded, at the top of the cliff; and I can imagine the peace and solitude the garden must offer at sunrise and dusk, when it is closed to the public.   I thought about staying to attend mass, but the spirit of the garden had already filled my soul, and I didn't want to chance spoiling it.

.

Rose

.

p.s. Click here to view all of today's photos on Flicker.

Da Vinci and Mary Magdalene

It seems somewhat ironic that I received the Bock book in the mail from Laura just days after watching a History channel special on the same subject, but I should begin at the beginning.

I haven't shared with a lot of people, primarily because they didn't ask, that reading Dan Brown's book instigated my first crisis of faith. I feel kind of exposed writing about it here, yet I have no compunction about sharing my story with anyone who is interested, so I will attempt to shed my self-consciousness and write openly. Many fundamentalists, as is their habit, warned churchgoers against reading The DaVinci Code when it was first published to widespread acclaim. I didn't initially have much interest, but jc brought it home from the library, so I read it.

Admittedly, I've always been a sucker for historical fiction, trying to separate the true from the invented. In this case, I was already primed for doubt. I wouldn't want anyone to misconstrue my story to mean that a fictional story caused the disintegration of my faith: quite the contrary. The very fact that I could entertain Dan Brown's fabulous hypothesis indicates that I must have already been engulfed in doubts that I had, until then, failed to recognize.

Coming face to face with my doubt sent me into a tailspin of emotional distress. My faith had been constructed on a framework whose basic tenet was the divinity of Jesus Christ. I can look back and acknowledge that a wife and child need not have negated Jesus' godhood, but at the time the two seemed necessarily mutually exclusive. Nor does frank examination of the evidence available seem to provide proof of either to me. Both the History channel special and the Bock book expose reasons why Dan Brown's claims are full of holes. I am even led to wonder whether Brown bears some malice toward the Catholic church, which prompted some of his fantastic notions.

You may want to ask: if The DaVinci Code doesn't get the credit for my change in beliefs, what does? I was raised in the protective bubble of Biblical fundamentalism. I attended Christian school and Christian college, worked at Christian summer camps, and even taught at a Christian school. I had little exposure to secular science or philosophy until my late twenties. I was taught literal, six-day creationism, and school science texts routinely debunked radiocarbon dating, and cited misconstrued fossil findings as evidence against evolution. Fundamentalists hold that obscure Bible passages and accounts such as creation are all equally true. The truth of the whole is integrally linked to the truth of individual parts. When I began to learn what science has discovered about the origins of the earth, and the history of mankind, I had to reject a 6,000 year old earth and the Adam-and-Eve story of man's origins.

It took several years for my concerns to accumulate to the point, that I rejected the Bible as truth outright. It has been about a year now since I felt that it was important to share my change in beliefs with my family. As I continue to read and learn, I do not regret the path I have chosen. I have more questions than ever, and yet I have no burning need to have the answers. I relish speculating on the questions. I describe myself as agnostic or freethinker, and I have no doubt that many would dismiss my views as secular humanist, a term that my upbringing uses to sneer at those who believe, as I now do, that how I treat people that I can see is more important than what I believe about a god who may or may not exist.

I've come a long way since reading The DaVinci Code, but I don't regret a single step.

Rose

Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light

I finished reading this before going on vacation, and the story is still compelling to me. The book is an edited compilation of Mother Teresa's private letters. It reveals the deep joy she had as a young nun, which caused one confessor to warn her of the dangers of "ecstasy". It then goes on to explore the horrifying emptiness of her soul, which began shortly after the commencement of her work among the poor. It is not my purpose to assess the truth of what Mother Teresa believed, but rather to accept that her world view was valid for her.
.
I feel compelled to point out that Mother Teresa vehemently denied that she was a humanitarian, insisting that her purpose was to bring souls to Jesus. This is an important point for me to make because of the conservative Protestant view that she was trying to gain salvation by works. Quite to the contrary, Mother Teresa wrote that she would gladly continue to endure her desperate earthly existence for eternity if it would bring glory to God.
.
I find the progression of the way Mother Teresa coped with her depression to be fascinating. I don't think that it detracts from her virtue to say that she was depressed. It is my opinion that she would have felt the same personal bleakness of soul no matter what her course in life, and that she interpreted it as the feeling of God's absence in the context of her life. She works through this darkness in a way that gives personal meaning to it. She refuses to accept her feelings as truth, continuing to pour her life into work for a God whose presence she does not perceive emotionally, but cognitively. By the end of her life, she has transposed what she believes gives God pleasure onto her own persona in such a way that it becomes the only pleasure she is able to experience.
.
If I interpret Mother Teresa's story in light of my own world view, it is true that I find her more than somewhat pathetic; however, in accepting her set of values, she becomes one of the strongest women in history, a truly selfless saint, a single-minded soul who is true to her ideals throughout her lifetime. Although Mother Teresa felt deep despair for most of her life, she is known for her cheerful smile.
.
R. Connors

A History of God- book review

I've finally finished this book, which I've been working on for a little over a month. A review of any meaning would prove difficult and lengthy, so I'll simply post some of the notes I made for myself while reading. I found the book to be well-researched and carefully thought out. Karen Armstrong is the voice of reason, but also the voice of hope.
.
"Effectiveness rather than philosophical or historical demonstration has always been the hallmark of a successful religion."
.
God is beyond thought and cannot be attained by thought. It is only possible to know God when one becomes aware that God is unknowable.
.
Humans create gods that resemble themselves.
.
The roots of monotheism are steeped in pantheism.
.
Because God is essentially unique, he cannot be compared to anything.
.
"A compassionate and commited atheism can be more religious than a weary or inadequate theism."
.
.
I am left to continue my journey of spiritual exploration and discovery. I do so with the expectation that there is more to find. I am confident that the belief system I have left behind has great lack. I am open to learning from any source. I find myself growing from the despair I felt when I first questioned my beliefs and the consequent insecurity in expressing myself to a new confidence and curiosity, and yes, a certainty that there is something out there for me to believe.
.
Rose

PC

Is it appropriate to discuss personal religious beliefs socially? I was trained to actively proselytize for my faith, yet those who do so are perceived by many to be among the most offensive. Last night at work, I experienced the other side of the coin. An associate, who I'll call Blondie, seems to have taken me on as a project. I've been reading "A History of God" by Karen Armstrong. It is what it says, an academic approach to monotheism through the ages. It attracts a lot of attention. After glancing through it, another coworker asked, "Is it favorable to the lord?" Well, what do you say to that?

.

During a conversation about the origin of the details on Christmas, I mentioned that the pope superimposed the Jesus celebration on the existing pagan solstice celebration to promote observance. Later Blondie asked,

B "Are you an atheist?"

rc "No."

B "What are you then?"

rc "I'm an agnostic."

B "What does that mean?"

rc "It means I'm not sure of anything."

B "Do you know what faith is?"

rc "I don't want to get into a theological discussion with you."

B "Do you know what faith is?"

rc "Yes."

B "What is it?"

rc "It's believing in something that you can't prove."

B " 'Faith is the substance...' "

rc " 'Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, for by it the elders obtained a good report.' I've read the Bible five times. I used to be a Christian."

B "Oh, so you know what faith is, you're okay."

.

I'm not precisely sure what that means, but that's what happened.

.

rc

Yom Kippur

I'm not Jewish, but the Hebrew observances have always been interesting to me. Perhaps it is due to the importance of the Hebrew history in the Old Testament to the belief system I grew up in. Of course no one can forget Joel's memorable Yom Kippur in Northern Exposure (6-03).

Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement, when believers observe a 25 hour fast and repent of their sins against God and man from the previous year. Granted, it might be good to worry about how you treat other people more than once a year, but on the other hand, better once a year than never at all.

I won't begin to fast and pray at sunset, but there's no harm in giving an extra moment's thought to how I stand with my fellow sojourners.

Rose

Questions or Forgiveness Revisited

Do the actions of others affect my own?
Most definitely. "No man is an island." I do not exist in a vaccuum. I react emotionally, often easily affected by the influences exerted on me by others. My reactions are often extreme and inappropriate, resulting in the opposite of what I hope for. Sometimes my reactions are even detrimental to myself.

Should they?
Probably not. But I have yet to achieve perfection.

What controls my actions? Free Will?
I believe in free will. I believe that I have the capability of controlling my own actions. I know that I make wrong choices at times. I know that I sometimes treat others unfairly. My judgment may be clouded by emotion. My consciousness may lack the maturity to choose appropriate actions.

Divine Influence?
I have experienced the perception that God was influencing my behavior in the past through the influence of the Bible or the "Holy Ghost". I have alternately acted with or against this perceived influence. In retrospect, I attribute this influence to factors like emotion or exhortations from peers or spiritual leaders. The moral principles found in the Bible are ingrained in me by culture and upbringing, therefore when I act on them, I am responding to the influence of other people.

Am I correct to judge others by their past actions?
Past events are the best predictor of future events. I would be a fool to expect others to act in a manner incongruous with their past behavior. It seems inhuman to me to forget past behavior. However, I accept the possibility that others may change. Proof of change is necessary to alter my judgment. This does not make me right to judge. Judging others may
be detrimental to myself. If I do not use past actions to judge others by, I risk suffering a repeat of the same insult. If I judge others too harshly, I risk ruining all hope of finding good in others.

Must I forgive others to receive forgiveness myself?
Yes. If I expect my own shortcomings to be forgiven, it would be consistent for me to forgive shortcomings or disappointments in others. A world where noone forgave anyone else would be insufferable.

If so, from whom do I receive forgiveness?
I receive tacit forgiveness from others all the time for simple things like social fopaws or traffic blunders. jc overlooks a multitude of my shortcomings. Others I am in contact with certainly must do the same.

If I accept the presumption that God has forgiven me, does it indeed make it easy for me to forgive others?
First, I don't accept the presumption. Assuming that I did, the presumed nature of God is so much different from my own, that it would be difficult for me to act in the same manner that he does. Ease of forgiveness is more determined by factors like seriousness and repetitive nature of the insult.

Does the fact that I have done wrong help me accept errors in others?
Most definitely, but with limitations determined by my perception of my relationship with others and the nature of their offenses.

R. Connors

postscript I hope to achieve forgiveness in the present situation, if not for the benefit of the offender, certainly for my own well-being. I just haven't completely gotten there yet. What was taken away can never be replaced or corrected.

rc

Always Planning

I'm quite confident that I live too much in the future and not enough in the present

Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving till the right action arises by itself?
The Master doesn't seek fulfillment.
Not seeking, not expecting, she is present,
and can welcome all things.
~Tao Te Ching No. 15

Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
~The Holy Bible Matthew 6,34

Regardless, I'm already planning next summer's vacation, though.

"Thus the Master travels all day without leaving home."
~Tao Te Ching No. 26

Rose

Hard to Identify

I was riding around on my (borrowed) bike this afternoon looking for an image to illustrate what I wanted to write about when I came across this unlikely pair. I can't be entirely sure what they are. My best guesses are California Gull and Caspian Tern. But I should come to the point. These birds are hard to name precisely, just as my feelings are a little bit up in the air. I'm frankly delighted that the little orange bar on my stat counter that indicates repeat visitors has been growing higher every day. I welcome my friends and family here.

When I started the blog, I was sure that my clever pseudonym would keep those I know away, giving me perfect freedom to write about anything I wanted. Little did I realize at the time that, in many ways, a more real freedom came when I went public. Some of you have clicked on archived posts that scandalized you. It's true that I never meant for you to see them, but now that you have, that's one less secret that I have to keep, one less silent lie to tell you, one less brick in the wall that separates you from knowing who I've turned into.

Now that it's happened, I understand that I never truly wanted to be artificial with you. A burden has been lifted. For some of you, this means you can add specific items about me to your prayer lists. That's okay. I'm not sure right now where the prayers go, but I'm willing to admit that they could help me. SheWCBN (She Who Cannot Be Named) is certain that I'm thinking clearly enough to come around to the truth eventually. Mr. Clean assures me that I'll find the real truth when I die if I fail to admit it sooner. Baptist Nun offers me an ear and counsel when I need it. Each one has her own level of acceptance and understanding.

What am I asking for? Understanding would be wonderful, but I know that not everyone can. Acceptance is nice too, whether complete or partial. I would not be so foolish as to expect approval, nor do I need it. This is Real Life. I've chosen my Partner, who gives me unconditional love, acceptance, understanding, and approval. He's as easy to name as a Meadowlark.

Rose

p.s. I welcome your comments. I know you have something to say.

happy christmas, war is over

I made the call today. It was to tell Mother that I no longer hold the religious beliefs that I was raised with. She couldn't understand, but I expect that. I emailed my siblings an invitation to the blog after sharing the same information with them. Welcome, if you come. It feels good to be honest with my family about that. Belief is the most important thing in the world to them. Honesty is near tantamount on mine, and I'm happy to have everything out in the open. I won't apologize for my change in belief. It is mine to own.

rc

Finding the One You Love

jc and I were talking last night about how lucky we were to find each other. My older sister Baptist Nun told me a while ago that she has given up on finding a man. Big M was getting pretty desperate by the time church friends basically set him up with his wife. Only Mr. Clean found his wife in the traditional evangelical way. He seems to have escaped the pervasive anti-social tendency that the rest of us have some degree of. He dated so many girls in college that he was bound to find one that was marriage material. During the three semesters that we were in college together, I had to make a special appointment to see him, often over breakfast.
Robin and I stepped outside the mold completely when we chose our husbands. We were groomed (badly)from an early age to grow up and be the wives of preachers or missionaries. We were taught that the man is the head of the household and to disobey him is a sin, even for the wife. Even when I bought that, I determined that I would only marry a man who wouldn't want to tell me what to do.

A good preacher's wife is an unusual person. She greets everyone with a warm smile and a handshake for the men and a hug for the women and children. She is perfectly dressed and groomed. She remembers everyone's name after being told once. She is at the disposal of the female members of the congregation for counseling or prayer. She is at the disposal of her husband for child-rearing, housekeeping, and anything else he wants. She never complains and always has a Bible verse at the ready that applies to any given situation. She holds herself to a higher standard than is expected of the general population. Needless to say, there are few women who actually fit this role perfectly, so most preacher's wives are fakers.

I spent my first four and a half years of college pursuing this ideal. My dream was to become a nurse so I could gain access to some country that didn't allow missionaries. Many of my college crushes were on pre-med students that were H&P classsmates or Chemistry lab partners. I had a glowing vision of how we would serve god and mankind together as a team. Later on, a ministerial student seemed like an equally good catch.

Now for the ironic part: guess how many dates I was asked on in college? (asking anyone out myself would have been unthinkable) Well, I don't know exactly, but you could count them on your fingers. I don't know how it works in the real world, but in our small church community, college is your only chance. You go away to the big "meet market" where the boys are expected to acquire degrees and wives. It's perfectly acceptable for the girls to drop out once they are engaged; that's the point. If you make it through college without finding someone, you might consider a master's degree. Otherwise, you go home where all the single christian men you aren't related to are either ten years older or younger than you.

Back to the point: why weren't men interested in me? I know my fashion sense is poor and I'm not much for social conversation, but I'm neither ugly, fat, nor stupid. I think the bottom line is that I'm too honest and opinionated to suit that type. That's where my upbringing went wrong and that's my interpretation of why Baptist Nun is an old maid and Robin and I married heathens.

jc and I met on match.com and I will forever tout its virtue, but that's another post.

Rose

ps-hoping that happiness is around the next corner for those who haven't found it yet.

Daily Reading

Mother and Father send us a complimentary subscription to a biweekly conservative religious publication called The Sword of the Lord. When we received the daily Bible reading guide and calendar in the end of January, I decided to read through once with a more open mindset. jc agreed to participate in the experiment. We've just now finished the book of Genesis. To tell the truth, I had forgotten that there were so many racy stories in there. So far we've read about Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and Joseph; oh and don't forget Eve, Sarah, Rebekah, Tamar and Dinah.

rc

Speaking but still Thoughtful

Suppose a man receives a letter from his father in law containing these (among many other) words:

After I had invested twenty-some years of my life in her, thousands of
prayers, and thousands and thousands of dollars, I did not want some man thinking
that she was a cheap sexual object to take advantage of.

Is the man's wife wrong to believe that her father sees her as nothing but voiceless, thoughtless, choiceless Property? An investment. Is she wrong to wonder if any supposed relationship with her father has been a meaningless charade?

The letter goes on to encourage the man to be a spiritual leader in the household and make sure his wife goes to church and reads the Bible.

So the man's wife is reduced to a caged animal who cannot decide when to have sex, what to read, or where to go.

The man's wife is very upset with the man's father in law.

RC

Laughs with Friends (and Angst)

I'm too old to be doing this just now for the first time, but I am still in the middle of a major parents, religion, status quo rebellion meltdown. The recent visit from Mother and Father has left me ranging from contemplative to resentful to soul-searching to downright angry. Dahlia Man and Tazmom both listened understandingly to my confused ramblings about why this is such an emotionally powerful crisis situation for me. j. is the picture of kindness and sympathy. The hormonal fever that my body is going through can't help at all.

Yet I am happy and contented and fulfilled.

Ki'il and the Scholar stopped by for a pleasant if short visit. They joined us in poking fun at the crooked shack that we are soon leaving. Ki'il has agreed to help me with the terminal cleaning here. We look forward to spending a lot more time with them. We always have such pleasant and interesting conversations and they are able to laugh at the world in much the same way that j. and I do.

A midnight trip to Wal-Mart yielded needed things for the house and a new sports bra which is helping to soothe my aching chest. Upon our arrival home, we packed up a large contribution for the garbage man.

Now I'm going to relax and enjoy some one-on-one with my Best Man. I missed him over the weekend.

Rose

Memoirs of a Geisha- movie review

link

I thought I heard poor reviews of this movie, but we liked it. It's a little over two hours, I know that's long for some people, but it kept my attention. I don't really know anything about geishas, but the portrayal is stark and far different in many ways from the image we have of beautiful, talented, alluring women. Here are some major images that were altered in my mind.

Misconception #1- a career choice

Geishas were sold into slavery by their own families. If the geisha house didn't want them, they became prostitutes. If the geisha house decided they weren't good enough, they became servants.

Misconception #2- virgins

A maiko could not become a full geisha until she sold her virginity to the highest bidder. After that, she wasn't supposed to have sex again.

If the story is true, then it is full of all the ugliness that women can be to each other. Lies and backstabbing and setting each other up in a cruel competitive dance that could sometimes mean surviving or not for the geisha house. Sadly, is a dance that is put on for men. Yet this dynamic goes on every day in the school, the workplace, the home, and the public for many American women.

Although we have the freedom in this country to choose a life and a career, what are the factors that enslave American women? We are constantly reminded by ScienceWoman how hard it is for a woman to pursue a professional career in science, and of the fierce competition and bias toward men in the field. Although, I was lucky not to experience this, many women in the Christian circles that I grew up in are taught that their only acceptable role is wife and mother. That said, I believe Father censures Robin for her choice to go back to nursing school with a husband and child to care for. If you look at the media at all, you'll receive only a few images of powerful women. Most of the images there are the American version of geisha: how to make yourself up and play the patriarchal game in which women are pawns.

What about sex? We've got a corner on the virgin/whore dichotomy. It's popular wisdom that if a girl doesn't "put out" by the third date, a man will move on to someone else. So does that mean a girl has to have sex on the third date if she doesn't want to lose the guy? And of course she's supposed to sleep with her date to the high school prom. All the while, she should maintain the snowy white purity that will allow her to wear white on her wedding day.

On the other hand, consider the chastity movement. Girls (and presumably boys) are wearing bracelets inscribed with TLW (True Love Waits) to remind them to save it for the wedding night. This is considered "safe sex". Can't get any diseases if you don't "do it", right? No further sex ed necessary. Sorry, abstinence crowd, it doesn't work. What it does accomplish is, when she finally decides to do it in a moment of passion, she doesn't know what a condom is, much less to ask for one. Or maybe she'll just fool around. Oral sex isn't sex, right? Wrong.

Well, everyone knew we have this problem in America and it didn't have much to do with the movie. But that's what I'm alll about, saying what I think while I'm thinking it.

Rose

playing hooky and loving it

As predicted, work was relaxing compared to entertaining Mother and Father. My urge to spout obscenities for no particular reason has blossomed in their presence so that every night at bedtime, j. is treated to a whispered litany of all my favorites. I spent a few hours with a blind patient in her ninth decade who couldn't remember she was in the hospital, but was enlightening on details of local history. I got to see some work friends who I've missed in the few weeks since I worked last. I made a little cash & then I came home and went to sleep while Mother and Father went to church. I was happy to wake up with both kitties cuddled nearby. I opted out of church this evening without bothering to offer an excuse, which is why I have time to type in this much-neglected-of-late blog. It's nice to have a moment to myself.

Does this mean I think I'm more important than God? Well, at the moment, yes. Are my priorities out of whack, as Mother and Father might have, but in fact restrained from pointing out? If I thought so, I'd be at church right now. Would I rather listen to j. snore than listen to the reverend drone? Most decidedly.

(As an aside, Is blogger beta worth it? It doesn't seem to be.)

Rose

nothing to be nervous about

I made it through two church services today, and enjoyed the day otherwise. The important thing is, Mother and Father enjoyed the church that I chose. I thought the guy said some pretty spurious stuff, like claiming that tornadoes and hurricanes are God's punishment on America for having legal abortion. He was also pretty negative. When I go to church, I guess I like to hear a reminder to be a good person or something like that. We talked too much today about how vengeful God is supposed to be for my taste. There was also some singing that I considered to have dubious claim to be music. Al things considered, it was a good result. j. didn't go to church, and there was no questioning about the whys and wherefores of our worship habits or lack thereof.

In the afternoon, we went to see a house that we might be renting and then we played bocce in the yard. I never played it before, but I got the set specifically for this visit, knowing that Father has to be doing something active a certain percentage of the time. Mother won the game by about six points.

We had another late dinner- at least 8:30- and now it's time to "hit the hay" so we're ready for another full day tomorrow. I'll be exhausted by the end of this.

Rose

demons

I had a long talk with Robin today about all the demons we grew up with and are still in the process of purging. Of course religion is the number one biggie and may be the ultimate demon that spawned all the rest. The jury is still out on that. First a little background. There are five of us. Big M, who is 38, just got married two years ago, a few months after I did. Baptist Nun is 36; after several years as a missionary in Mexico, she is now teaching at a Christian boarding school and told me herself that she has given up on men. I'm next. Then there's Mr. Clean, who is 28 or 29. He got married a year out of college to a real nice Christian girl and is now the youth pastor/Christian school administrator at his wife's church. They have three young boys, the oldest of which got "saved" last week. Poor kid is in for a lifetime of indoctrination. My heart goes out to him. Robin is 24. Like me, she is married to a heathen, and she has a 1 year old daughter. My parents don't believe in birth control. That they only had five children I can only attribute to subfertility or lack of sex.

Back to the demons. I thought I had a lot of them. I am in the process of trying to figure out where to take my parents to church when they visit since I don't go anywhere most of the time. I will dutifully hide all the booze and consume all the beer before they arrive. j. and I will probably both "have to" work the Sunday that they are here. I was deathly afraid of Father growing up. We all were. I'll never forget the time during family devotions that I told him how to pronounce "Adoniram" and had the book thrown at me, literally. I would never ask him for anything; if I wanted something bad enough I would wheedle Mother into asking him if I could have it.

Well, now I discover that Robin has far more demons than I. Somehow Mother discovered that she was masturbating as a teenager and confronted her with: "I know what you're doing and it's evil." Robin was the last one left at home. The rest of us had each other. She spent all her high school years trying to book weekend visits with friends to avoid the misery she felt at home. When she left home, moving to another state after two years of college, Father had spies who told him of her doings. She thinks he still might. She has to keep Mother from telling A.E. that she's Bad.

I'm glad I moved far enough away. I'm glad he didn't find out about all the marijuana I smoked and those nights I spent with XBFRN. I know I can trust Big M anyway. My heart aches that my children won't have grandparents nearby, but given the choices, I'm glad we're most of a country away. Sometimes I wonder if it's not just completely misguided to try to avoid hurting the parents with the truth; and sometimes I wonder why telling them lies should bother me in the least.

Rose

whine, gripe, moan, cry, smile

Aunt Flo(w), the witch, the hag, the monthly, period, menses, curse from Eve. Call it what you will, it is here. I guess I committed some great sin. I suffer more than most from Eve's curse, but am not blessed by the fruit of it. The "sorrow of conception" that God promised her will not visit me. In this moments, my illogic assures me that my parents and Bible teachers were right and I am being punished for my rash action: marrying that heathen and subsequently turning heathen myself. To borrow from Jimmy Stewart, "that's what I get for praying." And if that's not enough, there's the cruel trick of raising my hopes and making me think I might be pregnant every month with breasts large as cantelopes and sensitive as an open wound for a week. If I'm lucky I'll make it through this one without the narcotic pain relief that I usually need. I guess my body is crying over its failure too.

I am blessed to have the arms of my husband to run to. In his eyes I have no shortcoming; I see only sympathy for the pain he knows I feel in my body and in my heart. "Go ahead and cry" he assures me. j. is confident that one day we will have our own child. I know we will adopt someday if we don't. For now, I just thank Fate that I'm not miscarrying, that we have a wonderful life, that every day brings new happiness, that I have friends who will suffer my lunacy and listen to my tears, that a kitty is always ready to curl up on my lap and ask silently, "Mommy, why are you crying?" Because they know when something is wrong, they are empaths, my daughters.

I hope I can restrain myself from consuming the whole six pack of Amber Bock by the time my company gets here this evening. Maybe Fate is smling on me after all, and maybe by some Felicitous Fluke it will happen next month- that crazy cell collission that we worship at the altar of. I think I'm getting drunk and I have no idea whether I spelled collission right. I better go. Thanks for listening. (If you made it through.)

ooorrssnnce