Category Archives: Life

Hot Air

Her ego filled the room
like hot air fills a balloon

If only she’d jump in the basket
and float up, up and away

Spare me from her know-it-all
contradictory statements

But alas, she does not
so I smile and nod
planning my escape

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I missed the last Quadrille Monday because I was focused on getting a writing contest entry done. The entry is done and submitted so I decided I had time today for 44 words. The Quadrille Monday prompt at dVerse Poets Pub this week requires the word “balloon” to be included in our 44 word poems. This is what I came up with.

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Showing My Scars

This Saturday I’ll be speaking at a conference called Shattering Stigma with StoriesI attended this event last year and experienced the powerful and informative stories of real people who struggle with mental illnesses, including anorexia, depression, and bipolar disorder. One of my writing friends, Leanne Sype, was one of the speakers. When we later met for coffee, I mentioned that I had a strong desire to tell my story and that I was drawn to this ministry. So she arranged for me to meet with the woman who created the Shattering Stigma ministry at Lake Grove Presbyterian Church.

Well, almost a year later I’d all but forgotten about this ministry, thinking they were never going to ask me to speak at their conference. That’s when Leanne contacted me to ask if I would be on a trauma panel. It didn’t take much thought to know the answer was yes.

So, the conference is this Saturday. Oh wait, I said that already. Can you tell I’m excited?

It seems weird to be excited about telling my story of having endured trauma and struggled with symptoms of PTSD and depression as a result. But I am excited because I know that God will use my story, just as He used the stories of the speakers last year, to shine a light on the truth about people with mental illnesses. That truth is that they—we—are loved by God. He desires to step into our circumstances and bring hope and healing. He desires for us to be a part of His Church and He expects His Church to minister to us in the midst of our struggles and pain.

He expects us to show the scars of the wounds He has healed so that others may find healing, too.

 

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Giggles of a Cutie

I didn’t mean to get him in trouble
But I couldn’t help playing peek-a-boo
with the cutie in front of me
squirming in his father’s arms
at Ash Wednesday service
we’re supposed to be solemn
But I made him giggle
I think God smiled

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Had to share one more real-life experience from this week that involved giggling for dVerse Poets Pub‘s Quadrille Monday.

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God’s Sense of Humor

Do you think
Jesus giggled
as a little Jewish boy

Did He make the children
laugh out loud
when He told them a story

When God created
the platypus
did He chuckle to Adam and say
Look at the crazy creature
I made today

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I’m finally catching up with dVerse Poets Pub‘s Quadrille Monday for this week. The word of the week is giggle. I actually wrote the first two stanza of this on paper on Tuesday evening, but haven’t had time until now to finish it.

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Pondering 1984

I’m a big fan of dystopian literature, like Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and 1984 by George Orwell. I don’t know what draws me to this kind of story of a society gone wrong while attempting to make everything perfect (at least for some).

I recently started rereading 1984 in an attempt to avoid writing. The parallels between the Party platform in Oceania and the platform of the pro-choice feminist movement of today are uncanny. The Party in Oceania stands on the three-pronged slogan: War Is Peace; Freedom Is Slavery; Ignorance Is Strength. Pro-choice feminists of today stand on the slogans: My Body, My Choice; Abortion Is Women’s Health.

The biggest problem for the pro-choice position is that they don’t have an engine like the Ministry of Truth to eliminate all the history and scientific facts that prove their slogans false.

Scientific facts prove an unborn child is not part of its mother’s body. It is a distinct human being with different DNA and sometimes different blood type of its mother.

History and her own writings prove that Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood, didn’t advocate for choice. She was a eugenicist whose goal was to eliminate potentially undesirable babies from the population through abortion and forced sterilization.

Pro-choice feminists can try to reframe the argument to be one of choice, but absent more than one option and information about all options, there is no real choice. When abortion is the only option, it’s not choice to choose it.

Mounting evidence reveals that abortion harms the women who have one, leading to depression, PTSD, suicide, infertility, and increased risk of breast cancer. Mounting evidence also reveals that sex traffickers and abusers often force their victims to have abortions against their will so that the abuser can continue their abuse.

I am thankful that there is no Ministry of Truth to erase the facts about abortion and its negative impact on women, men, and society as a whole. I am also thankful that we have the Truth, Jesus Christ, to help us fight the lies this world passes off as truth.

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The Holy Ghost

King James and Wycliffe
called Him the Holy Ghost
like He haunted and terrorized
men, women, and children alike
Some terrible ghoul
roaming the graveyards of earth
Representing death and destruction

Yet He is life
Spirit of God
Spirit of truth
Advocate and Counselor

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It’s Quadrille Monday again at dVerse Poets Pub and the word of the day is ghost. The pub opens at noon Pacific Time. Head on over and see what ghostly Quadrilles poets are offering up today.

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Ms. Kruschke’s Kids

This is a Kyrielle I wrote for my niece’s second grade class. I think they liked it!

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Bailey boasts curious classes
One has nine lads and eight lasses
Would-be writers and strong readers
Ms. Kruschke’s second grade Tigers

They learn about magnets and maps
While waiting for recess perhaps
Soccer and playing four corners
Ms. Kruschke’s second grade Tigers

Morning meeting starts each new day
Math, art, and music lead the way
Teaching these promising scholars
Ms. Kruschke’s second grade Tigers

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Pondering the Why of Suffering

When Jesus and his disciples encountered the man born blind as recorded in John 9, the disciples wanted to know why he’d been born blind. Was it the man’s sin or his parents’ sin that had caused this tragedy?

Why me? Why her? It’s a question we all ask in the face of tragedy and suffering. I know I do. Why did my mom have cancer not once, but three times? Why did her dad die of cancer when she was only 14? Why did my sister die of cancer at only 61?

Why was I raped by someone I thought I could trust when I was only 14? Why was I faced with the impossible situation of a teen pregnancy because of being raped again when I was only 17? Was all this tragedy ordained by God to make me the person I am today? Would I have been less compassionate and more judgmental if I’d never experienced all the suffering I have?

I have a friend who is a Christian and yet she lacks empathy and compassion. Her words reveal the pride and judgment of others that flow from her heart. She hasn’t experienced the trauma I have or anything close to it as far as I can tell. I wonder if I would have been just like her—legalistic and critical—if I’d been spared the fertile soil of suffering that mercy needs to grow.

Or perhaps my suffering and my mother’s suffering are God’s punishment for the sins of her parents, my grandparents, or even earlier generations. There is certainly scripture to support the conclusion that God punishes the children for the sins of the parents even to multiple generations.

Then again, my own suffering may have been the result of my own sin. The first time I was raped happened in large part because I disobeyed my parents and hung out with the guy who did it. And after that it was one sin after another that led to more suffering.

I’ll probably never know why this side of Heaven. I can speculate until I’m blue in the face and never know for sure. So perhaps it’s most profitable to stop asking why and focus on the next part of the story of the man born blind.

Jesus answers His disciples, saying that the man was born blind that God might be glorified. Then He heals the man. He gives the man who had never seen so much as a blade of grass full sight. He took the man’s utter darkness and gave him light.

He did the same for me and that’s what matters. He healed my brokenness that He might be glorified. I’ll admit that there are days when even that answer can cause tears of anger to well up in my eyes. Couldn’t there have been an easier way for God to be glorified than for me to struggle under the weight of multiple traumas?

Then I remember the story of Joseph who was sold into slavery by his own brothers, thrown into jail by Pharaoh for a betrayal he didn’t commit, and then ultimately raised to a position of power in Egypt. When his brothers came to him for food in time of famine, fearing he would punish them for the wrong they had committed against him, Joseph responded: “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Genesis 50:19-20 (NIV).

I ponder that perhaps God intended the harm that has befallen me for good, to accomplish great things for Him. This helps me let go of the “why” questions and focus on where I can encourage others who have been through similar circumstances and haven’t yet found His healing light. Perhaps I can even be used by God to save many lives.

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Divided We’ll Fall

It dawned on me
late last night
before the dawn
there’s only moonlight

The days may be longer
but in darkness they stand
as hatred and murder
shroud our fair land

Together we’d stand
but divided we’ll fall
without our God
one and all

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Quadrille Monday has dawned at dVerse Poets Pub and Bjorn has given us the word “dawn” to incorporate into our 44-word poems. I won’t have time to read any Quadrille’s today, but you should head over and read what others have to write about the dawn and to read one of my favorite Robert Frost poems that Bjorn has quoted. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.

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My Memoir Monster

If my memoir is a monster
Taking on a life of its own
Does that make me Dr. Frankenstein
Madly nurturing what I’ve grown

Or am I more like Dr. Jekyll
Consumed by my Mr. Hyde
A raging egomaniac
Fueled by wanton pride

Maybe it’s Leviathan
The great monster of the sea
Tamed at last by God alone
Just like the sin in me

I wish it were a jigsaw puzzle
Of Bigfoot or old Nessie
With pieces that fit neatly together
Instead of being so messy

In the end it’s just my story
Dying to be told
One page at a time, not in rhyme
Hopefully before I am old

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Decided to share this for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub today.

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