Shouts, Growls and Punches in the Dark

When I was a little girl, my siblings, who were much older than I, were left in charge of me quite often.  I’ve never been a fan of kids taking care of kids because . . . well they’re kids.  Both of my parents worked to maintain the home and pay the bills.  There wasn’t a lot extra for child care.  I’m not fault-finding, it’s just the way it was. 

One of their favorite games was to send the little girl out with the trash at night and hide along the route to surprise her on her way back in.  I hated the game.  The trash barrel was at the very back of our yard and we had a very deep back yard.  Beyond the garage, there were no lights back there. 

From the back door, which had a lighted porch, to the garage was a cake walk.  My dad worked in the garage at night a lot when he was home and I made that trek regularly from the time I could walk well.  Of course my dad would not be waiting in the shadows with a blanket or sheet to throw over me and grab me up to terrify me.  Rounding the side of the garage where the light was blocked out was where the terror began to mount.  They laughed and called me a baby.  I was pretty young but who likes to be called a baby.

Behind the garage my heart and head screamed in fear.  I don’t know how far that walkway between the two sections of garden actually was, but for a small child hauling a trashcan, it took forever to navigate.  Terror mounting, I would dump my load into the big barrel at the end of the walkway and begin the trip back toward the house.  My step quickened with each footfall.

I knew they would be there somewhere along the path, hiding in the shadows.  I would tell myself that this time I would not scream or cry but I would punch back before they could throw the blanket over my head.  I would swing the trashcan or a stick.  I would get away and get back into the light at the back door.  Logic told me it was my siblings.  Fear had a different opinion:  It was a fierce, great unknown monster, growling and speaking threats in a hoarse, deep voice.

Then when they had tired of the growls and threats and jostling, I’d be turned lose to make my way back to the back door which of course would be locked.  I’d pound and cry and eventually be let in.  I schemed to go around to the front which I knew was the door they would use, but by the time I was released, I always ran to the closest door which was the back door.  Just a child’s game?  To them it was.  They teased, berated and denied any part in it.  It continued frequently for years.  Eventually, my dad stopped working nights and the ‘fun’ stopped.

It left me with some permanent reactions that may seem odd or unwarranted to the unknowing observer.  I don’t know why that was such a hoot to my siblings.  At first it was just them jumping from the shadows and yelling out to startle me.  Eventually it grew into a terrorizing event. I don’t know how or where the idea to do something like that came from.  They refined it to an uncanny art. 

As an adult, through bible study and understanding the reality and nature of my heavenly Father, I’ve learned to deal with most of the leftovers.  Becoming a Christian had a profound release of the residual, unreasonable fear.  But recently I have realized that some people still play that game. They figuratively jump out of the shadows and throw a blanket over my head.  They yell and threaten and jostle and punch because they know I can’t really strike back.  Then when they’ve had enough, they leave me in a foggy darkness while they sneak off and deny any wrong-doing.  And no matter how much I reason or self-instruct, they will come back and do it all over again –and again.  When the effect begins to wear off and my reasoning negates some of the reaction, they will intensify and reinvent the game, but it is the same game.  I do not know what has caused their pain and grief and even when I suspect, I don’t know how to prepare myself for it.  I know it will happen again.  I just don’t know where and when. 

“Just distance yourself.” Comes a wise well intentioned word.  Yeah, the 3 year old couldn’t move out of the house either.  But there must be a line of wisdom that I can apply.  The battles when I was a child were never fought by slinging the trash can and running or by punching and getting away.  Saying “It’s my brother; it’s my sister” helped for a very short time but then the ‘boogie man’ became too real and I would succumb. 

Even as an older teen and adult, I faced moments of unreasonable terror.  I had nightmares.  I was crippled by fear in so many realms of my life.  When I realized where the unreasonable fear of my life came from, I learned to change from the inside by the help of God.  I overcame the inability to walk  or work in the dark.  I conquered the nightmares.  I became overly belligerent toward things that go “bump” in the night.  I learned to say “If you’re going to take me out, you’re going to have to crawl over my God and if he lets you, I’m going to heaven anyway.”

My mind is beginning to churn.  Wisdom is right behind a thin curtain.  I shall continue my journey after such an episode.  It’s not taking me off the path I’ve been given, but I would like to find a right conclusion.  In all my getting I wish to get wisdom; in all my searching I hope to find understanding.

Grow up and act like royalty

Recently I wrote a post about learning to be God’s princess.  Tonight, the concept grew up!  Below are some excerpts from the post just to set the thinking for the rest of this write.

A few years ago some friends who are very concerned and impressed with material possessions began treating us like 3rd world rejects.  We just weren’t ‘good enough’ on so many levels. . . .  I was frustrated.  You may say they weren’t really friends when you read this, but they were and are. . . .  

These people made me feel needlessly small, unappreciated and unimportant most of the time.  I could have said “Woman up, Donna.  Get over it.”  But really, how do you? 

I began seriously praying about my attitude . . . . .  and my Father assured me that he loves me more than I can even start to imagine. . . . . He told me I am his princess. . . . . .  He assured me that he would be with me in life and usher me through the transition to immortal existence when my part of this life is done.

When the slights come, he reminds me to say “I am the daughter of the King.”  It’s not an arrogant thing, it simply says that regardless of what others think or do, I am loved and I am provided for royally.  If people treat me like a servant, I will own the title and add “Servant of the Most High God.”  If people look down on my art, my craft or my person, well that person can deal with my Papa. 

This has changed the way I view life in general. . . . . “I am the daughter of the great King.”

Tonight I again had the ‘opportunity to call out in my spirit “I am the daughter of the Great King!” and then on the way home, I called it out aloud.  I spoke the obvious: “They are yours; I am yours.  Help me to understand that you care regardless and can take care of the rest.”  

In my spirit I heard the Father say “When are you going to start acting like it?”

I thought that He was reprimanding me for whining about being slighted and put down at first.  I started asking for forgiveness and strength to change my attitude.  He interrupted again and asked me when I was going to begin behaving like royalty.

Having been well trained in false humility, I totally mistook the question at first and he again told me to grow up and start acting like a princess.  I asked what he meant.  This is what I understood.

True royalty is not as concerned with itself as it is with the kingdom.  There is an image to be held that respects the position of royalty.  It is a mature refinement that refuses to dishonor the kingdom.  I don’t think I’ve ever truly understood the concept though I have been acquainted with it before.  Royalty is not entirely a matter of birth, but also of behavior and attitude.  In recent history, we have watched a ‘royal’ abdicate the throne for personal affection and desire.  Call it love if you wish.  It seems so romantic and honorable, so true to the heart and ethical.  Yet it dishonored the kingdom and disqualified the person for rule.  This person was no less ‘royal’ in a human sense, but the position of leadership and influence was lost.  We have watched this at various levels in the Kingdom of God.  It’s so easy to lose sight of the real thing when you concentrate on the glitter and glam. 

God revealed to me that the ability to put the good of the kingdom above my own petty desires and feelings is part of taking my place at his side as his daughter, his ‘princess’.  Fine clothing and surroundings, well fixed hair, nails and make-up, to a degree even the training in protocol must be overshadowed by the desire to honor and advance the kingdom in influence and respect.  While people will always find fault, and always maintain fault, while bad behavior and excess will continue, true mature royalty understands the temporary effect of a story without substance.  It understands that untruth will always exist and that people often love a lie as much as they love a truth. True royalty is not thrown off task by the complaints and opinions of petty people or gossip columns.  It is not about the finery or pomp. It’s not about a person being exalted or even protected.  It is about the kingdom being exalted and maintained in strength and integrity.

I am his own; I am his princess.  It is time to grow up and act like it.  I have much to learn.

God's little princess

A few years ago some friends who are very concerned and impressed with material possessions began treating us like 3rd world rejects.  We just weren’t ‘good enough’ on so many levels.  My man was oblivious and tried to see the ‘intent of the heart’ in the whole thing.  I was frustrated.  You may say they weren’t really friends when you read this, but they were and are.  Yet so many times they expressed concern if we offered to host anything or they acted like we were too poor to participate in anything worthy.  We are not rich, but we are richer than 98 percent of the world according to one global wealth app.  For awhile we were in the 90+ percentile in the US as well.  Yeah I’m into all the analytical stuff.  I must say, I don’t know where we stand now, and being retired –sort of- I don’t really need to find that out.  Yeah, that was a rabbit trail. 

The point is that these people made me feel needlessly small, unappreciated and unimportant most of the time.  I could have said “Woman up, Donna.  Get over it.”  But really, how do you?  With friends like these, who needs muggers?  Oh, by the way, if a mugger has a gun, does he fire mug shots?  Okay, that’s enough of that, or as some would say “Squirrel, big squirrel.”

It’s hard to feel like a princess when you’re cleaning up poop –figuratively or not.  I’m not a prissy shopper.  I don’t have to have the newest or latest, though I appreciate good quality, nice things.  Frequently, I’d rather make it than buy it, though the making may be as expensive as the buying in some cases.  It’s just who I am and generally speaking, I am okay with how I was crafted.  But some people can make me look around at my world and say ‘Ouch!’  These I mentioned above are like that, though they don’t have the best of everything either.  They name drop, they light up when they see expensive finery and they love titles.  And they notice greatly that we are not part of that system. 

So a couple of years ago, I began seriously praying about my attitude and my Father did something totally unexpected.  Instead of the scriptural reprimand I was expecting, he assured me that he loves me more than I can even start to imagine.  He helped me see that some things he does out of love for me and others are not recognized as love at all by our human reasoning.  He told me I am his princess.  I am the daughter of the great King.  He assured me that he would be with me in life and usher me through the transition to immortal existence when my part of this life is done.

When the slights come, he reminds me to say “I am the daughter of the King.  I am my Father’s child.”  It’s not an arrogant thing, it simply says that regardless of what others think or do, I am loved and I am provided for royally.  If people treat me like a servant, I will own the title and add “Servant of the Most High God.”  If people look down on my art, my craft or my person, well that person can deal with my Papa. 

This has changed the way I view life in general.  It hasn’t changed the way others view me for the most part –though in some cases it has.  In the case mentioned above, it has greatly improved our interaction, though not changed their love of all things exalted.  They see us a bit differently.  AND in those other moments, “I am the daughter of the great King.”

I woke this morning and heard the little dog howling.  She has howled all night for two nights.  So I was heading to let her out when I was met by an incredible stench.  She was leaning against the side of the kennel trying to stay out of the poop.  Her tummy has been upset since they came home.  I let her out, propped open the door to let the smell out, carried as much out into the yard as I could and cleaned the foam tiles under her kennel. I woke her owner to give her a bath while I finished cleaning.  That’s life.  

No, I don’t really feel like a princess when I’m cleaning up poop- real or figurative.  But I know it’s true.  I don’t need a fairy god mother.  I have a heavenly Father and I’m his.  He will work on my behalf.  One day I will meet the Prince when it is time and there will be no rags, no crude furnishings, no poo on the fingers or mud on the face. 

Have a Heart!

AMEN!

Disclaimer:  My prayer life has been going through an overhaul of late.  This is not meant to be accusatory; it's just some of the process I've gone through in my own prayer journey.

So what does AMEN mean to you?

            AMEN – I’m done now. 

            AMEN – Let it be done according to my request.

            AMEN – Let it be done according to your wisdom and grace.

Ummm, well when you put it like that, we will probably all choose #3.  But what are we really saying when we say AMEN?  What goes on in our mind or life after we say AMEN?  What would you say if you could not say AMEN at the end of a prayer.  How would you end it?   

#1:  Like a friendly intrusive conversation. “Well, I’ve said all I have to say for now and I really have to get busy. I’ve neglected my world.  I’ve enjoyed it, but I gotta go now.  So be it.” 

#2:  Like an urgent request to an understanding benefactor.  “I know you’re going to give me what I’ve asked for because I’ve really thought about it because it’s reasonable, I’m not being selfish and I have lots of scripture to back me up on this. I know you can do it and I thank you. So be it.”

#3:   “I know you have heard my request and I believe I am in agreement with your word.  I know you give what I ask for in Jesus name.  I know you have the power for all things.  But I understand that sometimes your love and mercy may not give me what I have asked for.  I trust you regardless.  I believe regardless.  I praise you regardless. So be it according to your will.”

The word actually means “So be it.”  But the question remains, what does that mean to you?  I’m going now?  Go get on that?  Not my will but yours be done?  It will probably depend on how you view prayer.  It may depend on what you believe about God.

One more word.  SELAH - "Stop and think about it."

This is me.

  Every so often I do a “Who I am and where to find out” kind of post.  This is one of those.  If you don't want to read, but want the links to my life, page down and you'll find them.

I am a writer.  I am an artist.  I am a teacher.  I am a believer.  I am a designer/builder.  I am a gardener.  I am a chef (homebased).  I study and grow herbs for my own health sake and share them, when I have abundance, with people who ask.  I am a wife, mother, sister, daughter, aunt. 

  I have a dog and a cat and a large aquarium with two fish because one of those doesn’t play well with others and it has an amazing long life span, it would seem. I encourage lots of birds to hang around with some winter feed outside my door because I love birds and find I don't like cleaning up after them.  

  I love outdoor activities but am not a huge fan of discomfort and personal injury.  I’m a conservationist who still has the bulk of my brain and reasoning process in tact. You can take that statement any way you want to.  I have houseplants that are older than I am-which says a lot.  

  I am frugal and resourceful.  I am opinionated, though I do love to research ideas.  Some thoughts and beliefs are not negotiable, though I thoroughly respect your right to be wrong.  I was raised in a family where cynicism was a refined art; I'm not incredibly thin skinned.  I am not a multi-tasker and I’m working hard to defeat any notion of being a perfectionist.  

  I am a connoisseur and collector of great music from many genre.  I would talk about my own music, but this is a ‘who I am’ session not a ‘who I was’ session.  I’m not good at those ‘Give us one little-known fact about yourself’ icebreakers.

  I try to be a good friend even though I know that friendship reaches its port now and then and people tend to disembark and find another cruise.  I try to leave behind good memories.  I am also learning to take the advise: “Be thankful for what you were given, not angry about what you were denied.”

  That’s the short story.  Now for the meat!

I have been writing stories since I was a young child.  I love to craft words and tell images.  I've written some very long stories, but do best with short stories as I chase rabbits in the long ones.  Not sure where the rabbits get in, but it happens.  I love poetry and faith based expression (for lack of a better classification).  I write from the heart, the spirit or my quirky sense of humor (again for lack of a better classification). 

  This blog, There must be a reason, is my most random blog, though much of it is about my journey through the fields and landmines of faith and personal growth.  I thank you for reading and acknowledging my writing.

  Incidents of poetry are scattered through my blogs.  I like to write poetry.  It just seems to flow out of me at times.  Other times I purposely try to find a new door into the craft of poetic writing.  Sometimes it’s pure sap.  Sometimes it’s deep or emo.  All of it is me.  My poetry page is Poems and Processes but I have lots I've never published here or otherwise.  I have had my poetry published elsewhere a very few times.

My other blogs here are:

‘Family to Go’  

‘Sweetness BetweenFriends’

‘Goodies but Oldies’        

‘Chuckles and Giggles from 360 days'

‘Artsy Types in Close Quarters’   A journal of an artists trip to the southwest.

 

I welcome readers and comments.  If you use really bad language or become offensive, I’ll just take the comment off.  But I’m not easy to offend.  Aaaah, don’t try just to try.  I still have a lot of old Multiply blogs to add to the above pages.  I’ll probably link to them every now and then.

I am an artist and a teacher.  My website for my studio is  www.donna-by-d-sign.com  But I must warn you that it is always undergoing change.  Just visit again and you’ll see what I mean.

I have a photography page:  Life Captured  Some of the albums are private.  Most are not.  You are welcome to look.  I’d rather you not take my images without permission.  I’m pretty easy going on most of it.

So much more I could say, but you’ve either read it in the blogs, will read it in my blogs, or don’t really want to go there.  This is me – or a lot of me anyway.