Separation: We're not the only ones who experience the pain of that chasm!

Separation.  This word came to me loud and clear Saturday evening during Holy Communion.  Last week was rough.  My dog was attacked by another dog and I’ve been a wreck trying to process it all.  My dog is okay, thankfully, he’s got a puncture wound in the back of his neck just above his shoulders, but my friend and I took him to the vet Saturday morning who cleaned out that wound and put him on some strong antibiotics and pain meds.  He’s currently dozing next to me on his bed as I write this.  My reaction to this whole situation wasn’t the kindest, and I’ve felt absolutely terrible about it, so I knew that I needed to go to Confession before I was able to be comfortable with receiving Holy Communion.  So, when our Lord was being administered to those of us in attendance, I quietly shook my head as one of the Eucharistic Ministers walked by where I was sitting, letting this person know I’m not receiving our Beloved Lord.  I needed to talk to Him first to apologize to Him for my actions.  As I was sitting there in my seat, I was crying and apologizing to my Jesus for how disgusting my response was to my dog’s attack and how I’d allowed my rage to take over rather than hand it to Him.

Maundy Thursday - Mama

Mama, you knew your Son had come to save us all. You knew that you were the mother of our Creator, our Redeemer, Love in its Purest and most Gentle and Precious Form. You knew what you’d signed up for when St Gabriel at the Annunciation had told you what God wanted of you. Your consent to allow yourself to be used for such a Purpose for the entire world, your fiat, you consented to be part of a much, much bigger and sweet plan than the world had ever experienced – and will ever – know.

Your love for the Father and for all was enough for you to, without a second thought, say, ‘Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.’ (Luke 1.38) That simple statement changed the entire fabric of everything, because you didn’t flinch, you stood and said, ‘Yes.’

You knew that you would be a pariah in your community, and you knew that the gossip would flow like a river. But none of that mattered to you, because you knew that God had chosen you for a Special Purpose.

Let's talk about Lent!

I would like to talk about Lent just a little bit… Ash Wednesday is coming up, and I got to thinking I’d like to write a little bit about it… And without really any effort to look, I found my answer.

Recently, I read something that made me quite sad. Someone I know in a peripheral sense mentioned about becoming increasingly stressed out about ‘what to give up’ for Lent. Honestly… I reached out to this person and explained, ‘Hey, no, you’re going about this the wrong way!’

Now, understand, Reader, I am in no way perfect. I know, it’s a shock, isn’t it? But I tell you the truth, and this is going to be hard to understand for some: None of us are. Lent, though, shouldn’t be at all a stressful time! Preparing for it, during, or even Easter. It should be, honestly, a time of joy. We are preparing to meet our Beloved Lord in the desert. It’s a time to weed out those stumbling blocks that are causing us harm in our spiritual walks with Him.

My Brain Goblins Ran Amok.

Ah, September, we meet again.

I don't really know how to explain it, but September and I are not really cool.  We're more... frienemies.  Stressing on the 'enemies' part of that word.  ;)

This year will be eight years - eight!) since my mental breakdown happened.  The last day I saw my little dog I had before I got Emily.  The ball that got rolling when I ended up moving back to Ohio.

I am a thought-hoarder.  For y'all who aren't familiar with the show 'Hoarders,' check out one episode. Just one.  Trust and believe, if you transpose whatever  the client on that episode's hoarding for thoughts, well, then you've got my brain pretty much right there on your screen.  I'm not even joking.

This year, I'm facing something I've taken a lot of time circling around, poking at it randomly with a stick, even attempted to set it ablaze a few times (only to have the fire put out by rains of depression and woe.  Gee thanks, brain.  Thanks a lot!  +grumble+).  This year, though... It's different in a few ways, but the one that I'm willing to discuss in this article...:

Comfort - not just something physical!

Hey, so I want to talk about comfort.  It comes in so many different forms, as we're all aware, and as a species, doesn't matter if it's animal, human, or even plant, comfort is a thing we all yearn for.

My dog, she's most comfortable wherever I am that she can touch me.  If we're sitting on the couch watching a movie, she's right next to me, right at my hip, usually under her blanket (she's a Dachshund, and Dachshunds are known burrow-dogs).  My cats, they're fairly comfortable wherever they decide to be.  Sometimes on my lap, sometimes on the back of the couch, my bed, wherever they feel like being that they know is within their permissible boundaries to be.

Personally, I'm comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, barefoot, running around in the sunshine.  If it's cold, I'm happiest indoors, of course.  If I HAVE to go out, then I want a silly hat and usually, I can get by with a hoodie.

But, I didn't decide to write this about physical comfort.  No.  I want to talk about comfort that goes deeper than the surface.

Random actual update. :)

Happy New Year, y'all!  I hope you had as great a time welcoming the new year as much as I did.  Welcome, 2019!  You were anticipated!

Being a rainbow when everything's black and white.

Recently, I had someone come to me and ask for advice on how to survive. Specifically, how to come ‘out’ to the family about their sexual orientation. This person has expressed concern about having been previously treated as a pariah, sending this person – not compassionately – to counseling as a way to ‘purge’ this information from this person.

This… is a delicate matter. There are a lot of people who don’t agree with this lifestyle, and there are a lot who do. It’s been a constant source of contention for many, many years, probably centuries. But, sticking with the modern era, and with some of the crusty old political types trying to force us back into the 1950s, well, I can see the concern as being quite valid.

Love hurts when it ends. But, why?

Love. There are varying definitions of that word, but I want to talk about romantic love, and specifically, why does it hurt so much when a relationship ends?

My niece asked me to try to answer this question. I told her I would do my best. I won’t go into the specifics behind her reason, but I will say that there’s not been one person I know who HASN’T gone through the blistering heartache of a breakup. We all have, regardless of how amicable (and in some cases, toxic) it was.

Alright, so here we go.

'The Devil beating his wife' - what does that even mean?!

I don’t know about you, but I use a lot of really old (and sometimes cliche’ [don’t judge me!]) phrases and sayings.

For example: last week, my neighbour and I were sitting on her patio talking, and it was raining. At one point, while it was still raining, the clouds opened up, and my neighbour commented, ‘Oh, no. The Devil’s beating his wife now! The sun came out and it’s still raining!’ We sat and watched the weather shift a little and she and I pondered about the origin of that statement. How did it even come about? WHY would someone say such a thing? The devil wasn’t ever married … was he? Is he? I don’t think so. Given what he is (species), as far as I’M aware, there’s no such thing as marriage for him or any other angels.

It's time we get serious about our fun, people.

Alright, boys and girls, let's take a moment to talk about a little something with big, serious, and weighty consequences.  Bullying.  Specifically, in this case, AUTHOR BULLYING.

No one likes to be picked on or attacked.  Growing up, as children we tested the proverbial waters of what is, and is not, socially alright.  Regardless of what isn't alright, though, sometimes there are those people who do cross the line and say or even do terrible things to their fellow humans for whatever ridiculous reason that drives them to ugly behaviour.  Bullying, in any form, is NOT alright.  PERIOD.

DIY MFA Prompt #2 - Honouring My Reality

This isn't an easy one, but it must be addressed.

Animal advocacy.... It's not just for Sarah McLaughlin.....

I'm going to go off into left field for a bit, I need to have a vent.  Pardon my frustration and anger, but this needs to be said.

I can't breathe. An open letter to those who have never buried their own child.

Loss is a very real thing.  Grandparents, parents, siblings.... But what about when someone loses their own CHILD?  What then?

I have something to say to you, and you are not going to like it, but that is just too bad.

My eyes are open, and now my heart can heal.

Generally, I don't talk much about my LDS days. It's…. too traumatizing, if I'm to be honest…

Don't get me wrong. I come not to blast the Mormons, I come to share my… perspective.  Experience.

Take this as you wish, but please take it only for how it is intended, and not for how it sounds, because what I am about to say is going to make me sound like a raging jerk. And again, I don't mean to come off that way.

Tobias (fiction)

My name is Tobias. I'm 14 years old, and I don't like to talk much, because my Mom hit me in the face when I was 10 with a baseball bat and it left me with a serious speech impediment that I get bullied for constantly. It sucks, but what can you do, right?