I Read Too Much

I read the other day, while flittering around in cyber-space, that there are three sides to every story - yours, theirs, and the truth.  At first I was taken aback a bit by the statement.  I mean, after all, aren't we all entitled to our view of something?  Then, after sharing this thought with a dear friend, and talking through it with her, the conclusion was drawn that it is assuredly the God's honest truth.  See there?  Truth.  Here's the thing, each of us, yes this includes us all, have our own perceptions.  It is our perception that forms our basis of truth.  Yet, what is it that forms our perceptions? I think those are formed by our feelings.  If it is something that makes us mad, angry, or even hurt, then we have a very dark bend on the the truth.  If it is something that makes us happy, glad, or even full then we have a very bright bend on the truth.  Honestly, both can be devastatingly wrong, and in some cases damaging to...

July 20th.  Another day to some, but one that used to hold a fond place in my heart.  You see, 11 years ago on that day...yesterday actually...I said "I DO".   July 20, 2002.  I walked down the isle in our sweet, little church which had been lovingly decorated by the ladies there with items donated from all the other couples that had just recently gotten married and with the floral arrangements the decorating committee had.  My step-dad, dressed in shirt and tie, walked me, a new, young mother who was shaking tremendously, down the isle to be given to the man who gave me the gift of a daughter.  Here I was 24 years old beginning, what I thought to be a life time of, well, something.  Meeting me at the end of that isle was a man who was doing the right thing.  Who was making us a family.  Who, now, was not actually my forever someone.  July 20th, 11 years ago. It was hotter than the hinges of Hades that day.  I can rememb...

I've thought about this for several days now.  I've talked to several of my friends and to the one that I love.  I won't deny that some topics are hard to discuss.  Painful at times, in fact.  Some bring out the ugliness in others and in some cases yourself.  However, this subject, the one that I think really needs a good, solid dose of reality thrown at it is: what is a Christian?  I can almost hear you now.  It's alright have at it.  I can't really hear you.  Not that I wouldn't mind listening to your opinion, after all you are choosing to read mine.  Yeah, it works that way. In the past several weeks I have had my Christianity questioned.  It's true.  Would be a silly thing, really, to lie about.  What do I have to gain.  Not a thing.  Here's the thing.  The main point.  The key principle (and yes, the grammar/slang is apropos) - AIN'T NOBODY PERFECT!  Yes, that means you.  I'm not h...

My biggest fear in life is failure.  I know this seems odd especially when there are more obvious fears like spiders, snakes, heights, etc.  But, no, not me.  I fear failure.  It consumes me really.  It takes me to places I don't want to go - mentally speaking of course. Well, I guess I have gone actual places too, but I will get to that later.  I need to admit something.  Not that I need for you to know, but because it is a form of healing.  It is a way to get the pain off my chest.  It is a way for me to move on, mentally.  I have failed.  I have failed at keeping on keeping on and it is tearing me up.  I know, this is vague.  Last October, when the floor fell out from underneath me, the first thing I clung to was my Bible.  I ran to it.  I spent hours a day scouring its pages looking for the answers to my pain, my hurt.  And I found them.  I found that the answer was sin; it tak...

I didn't get your last phone call.  I was too busy doing Heaven only knows what.  Life does that. It keeps you busy.  People will always tell you, mostly the older generation, that you need to slow down and stop and enjoy the simple things in life.  They are right.  I think it comes from a better understanding of what is truly important.  Because I missed that phone call.  The one that may have only taken a couple of minutes.  I didn't get to hear your voice for the last time.  I didn't get to say, "I love you grandma," for the last time.  You came into this world a chubby little blond haired baby on September 22, 1941.  You grew up like most kids in the depression, without much, but from the pictures we sifted through for hours and hours yesterday, you looked happy.  I think having siblings helped.  I saw you as a teenager in the 50's, a radiant beauty in the 60's, a bustling mom in the 70's, a proud grandma in the...

There comes a time when you know.  You just KNOW how someone feels.  You see their actions, their words and you know.  You know without a shadow of a doubt what they are going through, not because you have sat down with them, but for a reason all the more prominent than that.  You've been there.  You've walked a mile in those shoes.  You know.  You have a deeper understanding than many people do.  An understanding that you wish you didn't have because of what it is, but one that you do have because of what it is. I know the pain.  I know the struggle to hold on and fight and beg and plead.  I know the way it feels to come to the realization that there are no words left to fully express what needs to be said.  I know the anguish of the truth as it comes crashing down at your feet.  I've been there.  I've been in that place where you don't know if you are coming or going.  Where merely going through the motions of eve...