My Opinions

Hello dear reader.

Today has been an interesting day, to say the least.  I saw Dr. K.  He said my MRI was “as normal as it gets for me.”  Everything is “stable.”  This is good news, and not so good news.  It’s good because it means I don’t have to undergo another surgery, always a good thing, right?   The not so good part is now we have to find out why my symptoms are returning.  With surgery there would be a definite end in sight.  That’s not the case now. 

I remember at one point, when things were really bad with the pain (several years ago), I asked Dr. K. if this disease (Chiari) would kill me.  He told me “not anytime soon.”  I cried for days because that meant there was no end in sight to the pain, the weakness, and the feeling of being useless and a burden.  I  can endure anything as long as I know it will be over at some point.  The hardest part of this is not knowing if that’s the case.  So often it feels like it will never end.

Enough about that…
I’ve been very involved in some research recently which will probably raise a few eyebrows.  I’m studying the Koran.  I’m marking the similarities between it and the Bible.  I intend to write a pretty extensive piece on how much the two religions have in common.  I’ve found many things that are different, but have been amazed at how many stories parallel each other.  I think it’s going to be a really good article.  My hope is to reduce some of the  prejudice toward Muslims by showing the things we have in common.  Every religion has extremists who do horrible things in the name of God, but those are the exceptions, rather than the rule.  I think it is a horrible shame that those people are seen as the norm, as representatives of that  particular religion.  For example, Pastor Terry Jones of the Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida decided the “Christian” way to World Outreach was to burn Korans. Then we have Pastor Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church who spreads God’s love by encouraging violence against law enforcement officers and especially gays and lesbians. People like that give Christianity a bad name, just as the Boston Bombers and 911, among others, give Muslim a bad name.

Since I’m on a roll with controversial subjects tonight, I would love for someone to explain to me how same-sex marriage will “destroy the sanctity of marriage.” I am a heterosexual who is getting married next month. No matter how many same-sex marriages happen, the sanctity of my marriage will not change.

I simply cannot abide all of the prejudice and judgement I see every time I turn on the news. I’m very sad to say that a large part of it comes from so-called “Christians.” The meaning of the word “Christian” is Christ-like. I’ve studied the Bible my entire life. Christ’s life was about compassion, love, acceptance, healing, forgiveness, etc. There is no place in the Bible where He condoned violence or hatred.

What I write here is strictly my opinion. You are certainly entitled to have a differing opinion. As a matter of fact, I would love to discuss these differences with you in a respectful and civil manner.

I have no idea why my writing went this way today, but it just goes to show that you never know what’s going to come out of my head. I’ll try my best to focus on something much more positive next time.

Until then…

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A childhood sanctuary

Hello dear reader,

I have no idea what to write about today, so I’m just going to start and see what comes out. 

It’s stopped snowing and the sun is shining brightly.  The sky is that deep blue that I’ve never seen anywhere besides here, with light fluffy clouds floating by.  They’re the kind of clouds that are made for lying on your back in the grass and watching, seeing animals and castles and anything else your imagination can invent.  It’s a perfect day to sit in the sun and read a book, or better yet, lie in a hammock and read a book.  It’s the kind of day sheets should be flapping on a clothesline getting that wonderful smell that can’t be gotten any other way.  It’s a day to have all the windows in the house open, letting the fresh air make everything smell clean.  Very soon the wildflowers will be blooming everywhere.  They bring a rainbow of colors that are constantly changing, making the mountains look like a multi-colored quilt still being made.  It is almost time for camping and hiking, being in the middle of nature and all it’s glory.  Leadville is a very small town, but even here there are the sounds of cars and motorcycles, stereos blasting, and sirens wailing,  In the woods there is none of that.

When I was a young child in Coventry, Connecticut I lived very near Wangumbaug lake.  It was a wonderful place.  In the summer “the shack” would be open.  It was a little building where you could buy candy, chips, soft drinks, and on the weekend they even sold hamburgers and hot dogs. 
To get to the beach from my house, I turned left from the house and went to the end of the dirt road (it was called Fox Trail), then made a left to go down Wangumbaug hill.  This was one of the steepest hills I’ve ever seen in my life.  Being able to ride your bike all the way up the hill was a rite of passage, a show of strength and determination.  At the bottom of Wangumbaug hill was another hill.  There was a road down to the beach, but the rest of it was a wonderful grassy hillside.  At the bottom of the road down to the beach was the usual sandy beach and the lake.  On weekends during the summer they would show free movies at the beach.  Everyone would come with their blankets and sit on the grassy hillside to watch the movie.  The shack did a lot of business on movie nights. 

Wangumbaug lake was part of winter fun as well.  The lake would freeze and people would skate on it.  I loved to jump on a sled at the top of Wangumbaug hill, race down it then hit the hill to the beach.  The speed would propel me a good ways onto the lake.  It was worth the huffing and puffing it took to get the sled back to the top for that incredible ride down.

If I were to  turn right from the house and go to the end of Fox Trail, then turn right on the blacktop I would go down a much gentler hill and to wooded area.  A stream ran between the road and the woods.  I caught my first fish in that stream.  To get to the woods, I had to jump from rock to rock across the stream.  On the other side of the stream was a small trail (probably a deer trail) that led into the woods.  It didn’t take long to be surrounded by trees, shaded by all the leaves.  The ground was soft and mossy.   The only sounds were the birds and the crickets.  Following the trail even further,  I would come to a beautiful field.  It was almost a perfect circle with trees surrounding all of it.  In this field were beautiful flowers, grass, and sunshine.   Those woods were my hideaway.  I’ve mentioned in previous posts that my childhood consisted of misery and abuse.  But in the field, in the woods, there was no screaming, no pain, and most of all no fear.  There was peace and beauty and, as strange as it may sound, love.  There was an incredible sense of freedom.  I could be alone surrounded by beauty.

Even in the winter the woods were full of beauty.  One of my clearest memories is of an ice storm.  Everyone was upset because the power was out and it was hard to get anywhere on the roads.   There was also no school, of course, so I went for a walk to my hideaway.  The sun was shining and everything sparkled brightly.  The trees seemed to be covered with diamonds.  The stream was frozen and the snow wasn’t very deep, so off to my hideaway I went.  There were no birds singing or crickets chirping, just absolute silence and stillness.  There were no flowers, but the field was covered in beautiful pristine snow.  I didn’t go into the field because I didn’t want my footprints to mar the perfection.  I just stood at the edge of the field for a long time basking in the beauty and perfect stillness.

Well, that’s what came out today. Thank you for taking this stroll down memory lane with me.

Until next time….

My new blog

Hi everyone! I decided I wanted to start writing a blog, but at first I was at a complete loss as to what I would have to say that anyone would find interesting.  I’m an ordinary person who lives a pretty ordinary life.  What do I know?

I know from personal experience about child abuse, domestic violence, chronic illness, depression, and love being conditional.  I also know from personal experience about the joys of raising children, finding out that love doesn’t have to be conditional, learning not to be a victim, and turning all the pain in my life into tools to help others.  I know about doing more than just surviving, but thriving.  

This blog is a journey I hope you’ll travel with me.  We’ll be going into some hard and ugly places on our way to life and hope.

Until tomorrow—