Scriptures

Faith…or Fate

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Faith moves mountains
You often said when despair embraced me

Fate moves mountains
I often said as control is in another’s hand

Faith moves mountains
Through troubling times optimism was your shield

Fate moves mountains
Through troubling times alcohol was mine

Faith moves mountains
You believed in a God that would nurture and care

Fate moves mountains
I believed in a God that was cruel and malicious

Faith moves mountains
You rarely shed tears and if you did
they fell with a purpose

Fate moves mountains
I cried everyday 
angry tears driven by self-pity 

Faith moves mountains
Cancer came back for you
this time it latched on 
You cried once in the hospital
and I knew you knew
hope fought

Fate moves mountains
Cancer came back for you
I couldn’t pry it loose 
I cried as much as I drank
and you knew I knew
hope lost

*** It’s been three years since you drew breath. You were in my life for 54 years. I guess I’ll be mourning till the day I join you. I cry mostly mornings, when another day begins, without wine or bourbon. During the days I’ll smile as memories, come in and out, out and in. Looking forward to more smiles and fuzzy feelings when memories hit instead of pain and tears.

I love you mom, my mom.

A lil Griping…

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I know few people who enjoy spending 30-40 hours working for a company that is not their own. I know few people who own a business and I know few people who enjoy spending those hours with co-workers from hell.  I am one of those few people that I know.  I am also one of the millions of busy worker bees not seen on TV bragging about my wonderful fourteen hour a day job at a Fortune 500. Instead I gripe-no, it is not complaining for gripers are unique in their own right as the word gripe is. For me, griping is done silently, in the form of internal dialogue-not to be confused with voices barking out psychotic orders.

When griping graduates to redundancy and excuses are used up and I can no longer blame myself, I blame GOD and angrily ask, “Why are you punishing me? What sin did I commit that deserves this unjust reward? Where are the guardian angels, the spiritual ones, the keepers and watchers of anguished souls?  Why can I not win the lottery? If you let me win, I’d never complain about anything…EVER…again!

Of course, my questions go without response. At God’s doorstep, questions are presented and often left under the ‘Welcome’ mat. HE does not operate the way I would like HIM to and who am I to tell HIM what to do? HE may also not give me what I demand and after time has passed and I am mad at him again, I realize what was given turns out to be what was needed.

After the tantrums, the whining and sniffling centered on my wretched circumstances brought on by my own poor planning subsides- I pray. My prayers surprise me for I pray in gratitude mode, sending out thanks for the stuff that is going right, for the stuff I do have, for the stuff I enjoy and the people, I enjoy doing stuff with.

When I pray, HE listens and when I don’t, HE listens- to the silence. 

At times, I pray for better circumstance such as the time the “C” diagnosis came for a short visit, an uninvited guest who decided to move into mom, my mom’s colon. The eviction chemo was trying and draining on mí alma (my soul).  I prayed, screamed, hollered and read aloud Mathew 7 with a concentrated effort on the ask and it will be given to you part. The asking, begging and bargaining on my part was relentless. And now, three years later, I thank HIM every week, after receiving communion for saving my mom and allowing the chemo to do its’ job.

Griping about work-now back to the beginning of all this.

In due time, once the fog has rolled out or better yet after the first three weeks in this new position, I  am able to see the commonality shared with the so-called co-workers from hell.  We love to eat lunch and enjoy doing so. I will eat healthy, they will not.  I believe in integrity and working hard regardless of the crap pay and the lack of Thank Yous from the higher ups while the co-workers complain and back stab one another, smiling, as they walk out the door fifteen minutes before quitting time, well, so much for commonality.

I need to and have to work. No choice, for the bills gotta be paid and the insurance must be active. So I work, begrudgingly for I’d rather be home writing, chasing the internet, FBing, emailing and sometimes just basically wasting time while my fingers punch in alphabet keys.

Wasting time does not pay the bills-so I work, begrudgingly.

A lil griping relieves the frustration and the tension.

 

The Silent One

/ Anelemc / 2 Comments

Our society, in just about every profession or social engagement only hears those who boast the loudest and ignore those who remain silent.  This is especially true when ‘ good deeds done  or charitable works for others are involved.

There are those who grab and hang onto the BULLHORNS (those who brag too loudly) to announce their good deeds to the world.
Yes, I donated $1000 to the such and such fund and plan to donate another grand to that other such and such fund. And, did I mention I also gave such and such fund over $500 dollars last year.

Others boast in a whisper (you know who they are), not to be associated with the ‘BULLHORNS’ but nonetheless making sure their good deeds are known.
Oh, I see my name is in the brochure. How thoughtful of them to recognize my contribution. Oh yes, we give every year and will continue to do so. Well we withheld our contribution two years ago after I noticed we weren’t mentioned in the brochure.

Yet, others diligently and quietly (they have no need to say anything at all), carry out their good deeds.
** silence**

I have the privilege of knowing one who is a ‘BULLHORN’ and another who is ‘silent’.

Which one do you think has my respect and admiration?

Not the ‘BULLHORN’!

The ‘silent’ one does carpentry, plumbing and handy man jobs at our church and he does not charge for his work or hours put in. Yes, his work is free. The ‘silent’ one is a quiet soul who usually thinks well and hard before speaking and views his work as a pledge to the church’s ministry- meaning, he gives of his heart through his hands what he cannot give of his wallet in dollars and cents.

I volunteered to assist the ‘silent’ one for two days on a carpentry project at our church. His serene attitude towards the scope of the work at hand, attention to detail, enthusiasm and getting the job done correctly was infectious. The work was hard, and he took the time to explain the tools of the trade, measurements, and techniques. I was sore, had trouble standing after the first day of work but the feeling of accomplishment and joy within the work environment outweighed the pain. I was satisfied spiritually, intellectually, and felt my contribution had more of an impact than at my so-called paying part-time job.

So I thank the ‘silent’ one for reaffirming in my sometimes doubtful mind that there are good people out there who share my faith but also are role models for giving to others unselfishly without the ‘BULLHORN’.

Living

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Mom, my mom, loves to quote scriptures. Stories of revenge on the news and she will say, “You see, the Lord said ‘an eye for an eye’.” Mind you, for mom it does not matter if the person taking the revenge was the one who started the whole thing in the first place, received a reciprocal blow from the other and instead of allowing it to end, decided they had to have the last word.

Mom’s interpretation of bible scriptures is conducive to whatever mood she may be in at the time. The power of the words written by the all knowing from above is all she needs. Like whip cream on top of bread pudding her usage of the scriptures solidifies her point. Bible passages are converted to validate her opinions and predictions. The interpretations of the best theologian scholars have no merit and forget the thousands of hours these scholars spent researching and dissecting. Mom’s interpretations are set in stone-figuratively not literally, for she lacks the strength to hold a chisel and is not related to Moses-the movie kind of Moses, i.e. Charlton Heston, where the hand of God writes in stone tablets.

“Living is giving. All things would die if only receiving” is a favourite quote of mom’s, my mom, used frequently throughout my childhood into adulthood. When asked about the origins of the quote, she will swear it is from the bible. Using the phrase verbatim during a search in Google as well as the enlisted research skills of friend did not lead to any hits on the internet to prove this. So its origin remains a mysteriously (unless someone reading this can verify where it actually stems from).

“Living is giving. All things would die if only receiving”, mom will say when someone is complaining about someone else’s selfishness and that someone complaining is usually me. I get it, I think.

One must be able to give in order to live. What is the definition of “living”? Day struggles or conquering the world? What exactly are we to be “giving”? Money, volunteering, time, presence? We give, we live, we live, and we give. What happens when we give too much and others are content receiving too much? What happens is we give too little? Are the receivers aware that the giving is too little? If I give and do not receive, can I justifiably be angry or resentful?