Animal Friendship

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survivor55:

This video proves that animals have souls just as we have souls. A soul is a mind, a will and emotions. They don’t have the spirit that God placed inside of humans, but they do have souls!! Such a great video!!

Originally posted on MOONSIDE:

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I Get It

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Do you know how you can understand something even if on some level you know you really don’t understand it?  Then one day something happens and suddenly you get it.  You honestly understand it.  That just happened to me a few moments ago.

Anyone following my blog knows about the circumstances regarding my neighbors.  In a previous post I wrote, My Outer Limit, I talked about how God had enabled me to keep enduring their treatment until I had gone past my limits of what the old me would take from another person.  For those who haven’t read that post, I talked about how we all have a limit, a line drawn in the sand that we won’t let someone go beyond.  Phrases like, “If you ever . . . ” or “I’ve reached my limit with . . .” or “I’ve had all I can stand and I can’t stand any more!!” come to mind.

Since I wrote that post nothing has changed with the neighbors because they will not change.  It doesn’t matter to me because that’s between them and God.  What matters is how I’ve changed.  So as they went about their normal harassment all day and all night, some days I’d start to say, “God, I’ve about reached my limit with them.”  I’d stop myself before I got past calling on God’s name.  I realized I had gone past my limits and was still in my outer limits.  It is in this area that I find I have no limits because I’ve never been here before.  This is brand-new territory for me.  There are no lines drawn in the sand.  It would be equivalent to saying there is an end to infinity.  It’s an oxymoron.

For reasons I cannot comprehend, the weekends have always been the worst.  More evil machinations abound.  I’ve done the best I know how to change my part of it by asking God to enable me to live on the weekends the way I do during the weekdays.

In the past, partly because of a week’s worth of constant interrupted sleep each night and mostly because I didn’t want to have to face what they put me through on the weekends, I’d stay up as late as possible on Friday nights so I could spend as much time in bed on Saturday.  This action on my part would mean I’d be up all night Saturday and sometimes all day on Sunday, too.  I’d be too wired, too nervous, too anxious to be able to relax enough so my meds would work and I could go to bed and sleep as much as possible.

For a long time I wouldn’t admit to myself that I was hiding out in my bed. I finally did admit it after I began basically sticking to my normal schedule on Saturdays.  Sundays I still spend a lot of time in bed.  “One day at a time” applies here — first Saturdays are conquered and then Sundays!! :)

This past weekend was the worst it’s been in a long time.  I have never felt such hatred directed toward me.  It was as if I could feel it trying to enter into my home like venom trying to poison me.  I was sick Sunday, Monday and most of yesterday.  I was not physically ill nor was it the physical illness that often, for me, comes hand-in-hand with the mental/emotional illnesses I have.  This was different.  As my best sister said to me on the phone yesterday, “You were poisoned.”

I slept and rested last night.  Truly slept and truly rested.  It was wonderful!!  It was magnificent!!  It was a gift from God that I asked for in a way I don’t believe I’ve asked before.  When God comes through, He really comes through.  Jesus does not do things halfway.

The evil schemes of the enemy of our souls and of my neighbors was fierce today.  One neighbor gets so upset when she can’t awaken me.  Please remember these are people who have banged on my bedroom wall and screamed at me through the bedroom wall when I’ve been wide awake in the living room reading a book, when I’ve been in bed reading a book, when I’ve been in other rooms doing things one has to do and when I’ve been in bed talking to God before going to sleep.  Apparently my very existence angers these people.  It’s sad on so many levels.  One sad level is the fact that they have never taken the time to get to know me.  I’ve tried by being kind to them and by giving them opportunities to know me.  Needless to say, it has not worked.  They have accepted my gifts, my kindness and my friendliness but they have not accepted me.

Another thing the neighbor(s) do is whenever I shut and lock my front doors for the night, they really pour it on.  Darkness and evil have always gone hand-in-hand.  Since they are bullies, they are really cowards underneath.  Cowardly people who are evil perform their evil actions when they feel protected by the cover of darkness.

This evening before I shut and locked my front doors, one of the neighbors began doing what she usually saves for after sunset.  The ones she eggs on joined her.  Bullies need to have others on their side because they are truly afraid underneath and need the support of others in order to do their bullying.

I couldn’t help but chuckle because it is so ridiculous!!  When it didn’t end after a few hours I knew I had to talk with God.  I quoted Scripture about Who He is and who I am in Him.  I started talking to my God in my living room and continued the conversation as I walked into another room and kept talking to Him as I was doing what I needed to do.

As I continued talking — whispering actually, so I couldn’t be overheard by the neighbors since the walls are so thin — it dawned on me.  I finally got it by the time I sat back down in my chair in the living room.  By talking — or whispering — my thought processes as they progressed I found the Truth.

This is what life is!!  This is what each day of our life is all about!!

I know this.  I know the Scriptures where Jesus said, “In this world you will have troubles; but be of good cheer.  I have overcome the world.”  I know the Scripture where Jesus said, “If they treat the Master this way, how much worse will they treat the servant?”  I’ve had to memorize Scripture as a child, both in the denomination I was born into and at home as commanded by my dad.

Yet it took eight out of the ten going on eleven years I’ve lived here to be forced to endure, to learn how to persevere, to stay and obey God instead of saying, “To heck with this!!  I’m outa here!!”  Eight years of being “rubbed the wrong way” by these sandpaper people whom God put in my life for the purpose of teaching me, growing me up and rubbing off all the rough spots on this vessel of clay which He created.

Eight years of questions, eight years of doubt, eight years of complete faith, eight years of total trust.  Eight years of depression, anger, fear, PTSD, anxiety, nervousness, tension like you wouldn’t believe, upset stomachs, upset digestive system, upset nervous system, holding my breath the way I learned to do when I was a child in a dangerous environment, walking on eggshells the way I learned to do when I was a child in a dangerous environment.

Eight years of fighting God, eight years of yielding my will to His.  Eight years to get to the place of acceptance, eight years of reaching my outer limits and fifty-seven years to learn what Paul said is reality.  Paul said, “I have learned to be content in all situations.”

I’m not comparing myself to Paul whatsoever!!  He was an unbelievable man of God!!  What he endured was far worse than what I’ve endured, but his letters, his teachings, his life before He met Jesus on the road to Damascus and after He met Jesus is a shining example of what each of us could have.

I’m not sure if I’d qualify what I finally realized as “contentment.”  I think I’d qualify it as a deeper acceptance.  With that deeper acceptance came the realization that everything is fine.  Everything is good.  It doesn’t matter who does what or if they don’t do what.  It doesn’t matter who says what or if they say what.  It doesn’t matter who thinks what or if they don’t think what.  It doesn’t even matter what my best sister thinks, says, does or doesn’t think, say or do.

Nothing matters except Jesus and me.  Nothing whatsoever.

He has indeed, as it says in the twenty-third Psalm, prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  I’ve known this for quite a while.  What I now understand is this is what it means to daily take up my cross and follow Jesus.  It seems so simple, yet I did not truly understand it until now.

I follow Jesus, my God, no matter what, no matter who, no matter.  I pick up my cross daily and choose for that one day to follow Jesus.  Then the next day I pick my cross up again and for that one day I choose to follow Jesus.  Then the next day . . . and on and on and on until He calls me Home.

For the past eight years my cross has been my neighbors, their attitudes against me, their false accusations, their hatred, their actions, etc.

Since I am choosing each day to follow Jesus, I will continue to follow Him and keep my eyes on Him and keep my thoughts on Him as much as I am able to do so.

My God and I walk this walk together.  Nobody else walks with me, but Jesus.  Nobody else can walk this walk for me.  Storms may come.  Storms may go.  I may have doubts.  I will have temptations.  Sometimes I’ll be able to overcome those temptations and sometimes I’ll give in and sin.  Yet no matter what and no matter who, I’ll repent, be forgiven, take my cross up again and follow Jesus.

This is life:  A one-day-at-a-time walk with God.  Again, it’s so simple once you truly realize what that means — what that involves.

The enemies don’t leave.  They may change, but there will always be enemies.  My circumstances, my friends, my family, my physical/mental/emotion health, my finances, my dwelling, my feelings, my thoughts — all these may change and most of them probably will.  Yet still my life is choosing to pick up my cross in whatever form that may be and choosing to follow Jesus daily.

This is life and it’s okay.  I’m going to be fine.  I AM fine!!

I’m strong.  I’m a survivor.  I’m a conqueror.  I’m one who endures.  I’m one who perseveres.

This is my life and I’m beginning to like it.

This is my life and I’m so very thankful to every single person who ever prayed for me, who ever encouraged me, who ever forgave me for sinning against them and for those who still pray for me, still encourage me and still forgive me.

Most especially I am thankful to my God — my Abba, my Jesus, my Holy Spirit — for getting me to this point.  It’s been miraculous, desperate, unimaginable, fun, exciting, scary, wild, calm, wonderful, horrible, strange odyssey and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything!!

25 WAYS TO STAY ALIVE IN A HORROR MOVIE

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survivor55:

I don’t reblog many posts, but this is absolutely hilarious and wonderful!! I hope everyone takes the time to read it and enjoy it . . . and that you enjoy it as much as I did!!

Originally posted on yadadarcyyada:

horror71. When you hear a noise down a dark alley, or basement, up in the attic, in the woods, in the shadows, or a cemetery – don’t go to check it out or call out things like “Is anyone there?” or “Who’s there?”. You probably don’t want to know.

2. When confronted by a serial killer or zombie, etc. don’t try to come up with an overly elaborate Scooby-Doo-type plan to kill them. Run awd44way.

3. If you’re in a good hiding space, don’t leave it right away or make a lot of noise. Shhh!

4. Don’t depend on someone coming to rescue you, they usually get killed.

5. Don’t go all hero and decide you’re going to go and fight the serial killer, zombie, demon, etc. It rarely works and usually ends in death, dismemberment, maiming, or all of the above.

horror66. Don’t check into a…

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What This Question Means To Me

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I started following a new blog a few weeks ago and one day the owner of the blog mentioned she grew up in the southeastern parts of America.  She said it was during that time she was asked the same question over and over:  “Are you saved?”

I wanted to have a discussion with her about what that particular phrase means to me, but that has not happened.  She is of a different spiritual belief system, but her core belief is also part of my spiritual belief system.

I realize there are many people who believe they are doing God’s work by going door-to-door, mailing flyers, inviting family, friends, co-workers, classmates and even strangers to “come to our church.”  As a child, I was made to believe this is what a “Christian” does.  As an adult, I do not believe this way.

What do I think when I hear the words “are you saved?”  I’m not talking about what others are asking of people they consider to be outside of their spiritual beliefs.  I’m talking about what those three words mean to me.

As a follower of Jesus, I first think of the salvation of my soul and spirit.  Then I have numerous flashes in my mind’s eye of events throughout my life where God has saved me in other ways.

I think of all my foolish choices when I was a teenager and in my early twenties.  I was saved from God only knows how many consequences of my bad behavior, bad choices, sins and of being around others whose bad behavior, bad choices and sins could have caused harm to my body in several ways, even to the point of death.

I was date-raped . . . except when it happened there was no such terminology and no one to turn to for help.  There were no rape kits, no understanding police officers, no understanding healthcare workers, no understanding from anyone.  So I kept my mouth shut afterwards and handled it the best way I knew how.

Why did this happen?  I chose to trust the wrong person.  I made a bad choice and chose a companion I never thought would treat me like that.  Thank God, and believe me I have done so and do so every time I think of it, I didn’t catch an STD — though that wasn’t what it was called back then — and I didn’t get pregnant.  It did change a basic part of who I was at the time.

When I think of the words “are you saved?” I also think of all the times I could easily have been in a car wreck and God alone knows what injuries I would have sustained or even if I would have lived at all.

I grew up with a father whom I now know was in a severe depression for most of my life.  Unfortunately, he chose to self-medicate with alcohol.  As a child I didn’t realize he was drunk when he drove.  I just knew the terror that gripped my heart and squeezed it whenever he’d drive too fast along the dirt and gravel roads of the country in order, I know now, not to be caught by the police.  To this day if I am a passenger in a car when a driver even slightly displays the tendencies my dad did — not because they’re drunk, but because they are driving too fast when the roads are slick with rain, snow or ice or they are talking and run through a light just as it’s turning red, etc. — that very same terror grips my heart and squeezes hard.

I do the same thing now that I guess I did as a child in a car I’m not driving:  I hold my breath, tense myself up awaiting an impending crash, press my foot hard into the floorboard, as if there was a brake pedal on my side, and pray.  In order not to scare whoever the driver might be, I have learned to always have one foot pressed against the floorboard from the time I buckle my seatbelt, just in case.  This way I won’t try to slam on a non-existent brake pedal when they scare me with their driving.  If I moved my leg and foot in a quick response to press down upon the non-existent brake pedal I might cause the very accident I’m trying to prevent.

I also think of the times I drove too fast on wet roads and the years I worked nights for the U.S.Postal Service.  I would drive without sleep on some of my weekends off to visit relatives.  Driving without sleep is as bad and sometimes worse than driving drunk.

I remember coming home from one of those weekends away and being so sleepy that I was tempted to shut my eyes and let my car swerve off into the ditch and hit the fence that ran parallel to the road I was on.  I think my dance with suicide throughout my life played a part in that particular temptation.

When I think of the phrase “are you saved?” I also think of how close I came to having to live out of my vehicle. At one point it was the only material possession I truly owned — if you exclude clothing, etc — because my doctor forced me to quit my job, I had to sell my home and was swiftly running out of money to pay my rent.  I’d applied over and over for Social Security Disability, the very fund I’d paid into all my working life, and had been turned down several times.  I wasn’t aware at the time that everyone is apparently turned down until persisting for an average of two and a half years to be given the help we need from the monies we — or most of us — paid into that fund all our lives.

It was one of the hardest lessons in trusting God I ever had to undergo because I’d always handled my finances from the time I was a child and learned about the right way to deal with money from the small allowance I received.  If I spent it all at once, my dad would not give me any more money for anything until he got paid the next month.  He taught me a valuable lesson.  While this helped me in my financial life, it made it more difficult to let go of my financial worries at the time and trust that God would take care of me.  I had to open my hands, let go of the money I had left and hold onto God’s hands.

He saved me from a life in my vehicle on the streets because when my hearing before the judge arrived I was granted Social Security Disability a few months later.  To my shock and absolute joy the check that was deposited into my checking account was retroactive to the day I first applied!!  Whew!!  God saved me and once again proved how trustworthy He is.

There are many other incidents I could write about, but I hope these are example enough to show how I view God’s salvation.  It didn’t begin nor did it end at the Cross.  I also think this topic is apropos for this Resurrection Sunday.

Whereas I realize the phrase “are you saved?” makes many people roll their eyes and let out a large sigh, groan, say or think something sarcastic, I am hoping these exact individuals will read this post and maybe get a new perspective on what this phrase could mean in their own lives.

 

Anniversaries

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On March 16, 2014 I was notified by WordPress:

“Happy Anniversary!  You registered on WordPress.com 2 years ago!”

I think about a lot of anniversaries during the first four months of each year:

Twenty-one years ago during this month of April is when these mental/emotional health issues I didn’t realize I had emerged full-force after a breakdown.  No professional person has ever labeled what I went through as a “breakdown”since it happened in the privacy of my own home.  I label it as such because that term is the only one I think applies to what I went through for a solid week.  The after-effects have lasted twenty-one years and, unless I receive a miracle, will last until the day I die.

Four years ago in January my meds quit working and I spiraled so far down until I came closest to committing suicide than ever before.  I wasn’t aware at the time that my meds quit working.  It snuck upon me slowly.  I thank God I had a wonderful psychiatrist at the time who would call me at home to check up on me.  It took until March before I was able to get out of the house and see him.  I think I scared him because I’d cut myself twice in a twenty-four hour period, since the first time I hadn’t cut deeply enough, and I don’t think he’d ever encountered that before.  He wasn’t a full-fledged M.D.  He was a P.A. (Physicians Assistant.)  He was the best doctor I ever had.  Unfortunately for me and all his other patients at the mental health clinic, he decided to transfer to Primary Care.  I miss him quite often!!

Two years ago in February, on Valentine’s Day, I had a mastectomy and survived my fight against breast cancer.  (The radiation came later, but I consider this date to be when I knew I had truly survived the ordeal.)

I’m grateful WordPress notified me of my anniversary with them.  My writing has changed since I first began my blog.  This is only right as I have changed in the past two years.

I chose my user name to reflect that I was a survivor.  This was something new to my awareness of who I was after surviving everything I’d been through in life, not just the breast cancer.

I also wanted to protect my privacy and the privacy of those I love as much as I possibly know how to do so.  This blog is not about identifying me as an individual, but it’s about my experiences and how I’ve survived, endured and persevered through them.  I also show the mistakes I’ve made along the way and am as open as I can be in a public forum to underscore the fact that I am a spiritual being residing in a human body and therefore I am still able to mess up big time.

My hope still remains that those who need to read what I write will be led here so they can see that if I, a regular person, can go through all I’ve gone through and am still going through, if I can survive, endure and persevere through it all, then so can anyone else.

I am praying that I will now be enabled to thrive, to shine, to be myself no matter the circumstances around me.  I hope those who have read my blog and are reading it will stick with me and see how this turns out.  Hopefully, I’ll have another anniversary to celebrate:  “The Day I Began To Thrive!!”

 

My Outer Limit

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For a while I’ve been wanting to write about an amazing change God has transpired within me.  I decided not to since it concerns my neighbor(s) and I don’t want to write about them.  They’re in the past and that’s where I want to leave them.

Nevertheless, this urge would not go away.  Within this past hour I discovered something else that’s happened and now I know why that urge would not diminish.  I’m doing my best to piece it all together because it’s brand new and it’s amazing.

A few weeks back my neighbor went out of town for a few days.  Unless I have my front door open onto the porch that we share I am never certain she’s left — especially when she leaves her vehicle here.  It should be cause for celebration and thanksgiving once I realize she has gone and won’t return for several days.  It was the first time she and her people left.  I was thrilled!!  I was overjoyed!!  I sang praises to God and danced and felt alive and free!!  Then she returned.

For reasons only she and God know, whenever she leaves town she does her best to sneak out of her apartment.  Whenever she returns she does so with all her people in tow making as much noise as possible.  Evil has returned and I once more am subjected to all the stupid things she and her people feel are necessary to do to me for whatever reason they feel justified in doing so.  The first time she returned in this manner, I went into a deep depression.  From then on I could never enjoy her absence realizing those few precious days of freedom only makes the return more unbearable.

Imagine yourself being forced to stay in a pitch-black room.  Suddenly a light is given to you after years of being in this darkness.  Think of how wonderful it is to have light!!  You can see again!!  Think of how you start to become used to having light whenever you want it.  Think of how that light allows you to do things you are unable to do in the darkness.  Think of soaking up all that wonderful light until you are actually beaming with light.

Now think of someone coming and snatching that light away so quickly it takes your breath away.  Think of being plunged back into pitch-black darkness.  Think of how unsure you would feel.  Think of how each step is uncertain.  Think of how your senses must be heightened to make up for the absence of light.  Think of how you would jump at every strange and unexpected sound.  Think of the fear that settles in your bones.  Think of the depression that envelopes you making the darkness even darker.

Once you are certain you have these feelings and thoughts completely in your mind, once you’ve truly tried to experience this then think of how you would feel the next time the light comes back on.  How can you trust it?  How long will it last?  Can you let yourself feel the exhilaration you felt the first time?  No, because you know it won’t last.  You literally have the knowledge of good and evil.  The light is good.  The darkness is evil.  How can you rejoice in the light when you know the darkness is coming.  Once you’ve seen the light, the darkness is even darker than before.

If you can envision this, you will be able to understand why I’ve never been able to truly enjoy my neighbor’s absence since that first time.  Until a few weeks ago.

She and her people left silently.  The dog didn’t yip once.  The vehicle stayed in its spot.  I realized she was gone and would be gone for a few days . . . and I was happy!!

I was able to truly enjoy every single day and every single night that she and her people and her dog were gone.  I had no dread of her return.  I had no distrust of my freedom.  I had been set free to experience freedom, normality, peace and quiet and all the wonderful things one should be able to have in their own home.

What had caused this change?  God!!  God and I have been working together to change me.  I have been asking the Holy Spirit to change my thought processes.  I wanted the path where my old thought processes traveled, which I have heard actually cause ruts in your brain if you think the same way over a certain amount of time, to be filled back in.  I wanted the Holy Spirit to train my thoughts to travel a different pathway, creating a new groove in my brain.  Yes, I wanted to get my groove on!!

Doing the best I could, whenever I would begin to think old thoughts or begin to use certain words I would stop and talk to the Holy Spirit.  I’d thank Him for enabling me to see I was starting to think down those old ruts.  I’d ask Him again to create new pathways of thinking.  I wanted my thoughts to become His thoughts.

I did this so often every day and many times during each night as I was awakened from my sleep by various noises made for that purpose.  As I prayed for myself, I began to pray for my neighbor(s).  I’ve prayed for these people many times in the past, but I haven’t always had a good attitude and I probably haven’t asked for the right things to be done or to happen.

I had to remind myself a while back that God has boundaries of His own.  By the limits He has set, He can only act according to an individual’s free will.  If I ask God to bring about something good in someone’s life and they have chosen not to receive it then God is not going to force it down their throat.  If someone refuses to listen to God, it doesn’t matter how loudly He speaks, how many times He speaks or the various methods He uses to get through to them.  They have made themselves deaf to Him.

I shudder to think of how often I’ve ignored Him without being aware I was doing so until He finally managed to get my attention.  That’s the moment I’m able to look back and realize all the opportunities I had to listen to Him but chose not to — whether I was consciously aware I was making a choice or not.  The outcome was the same.  I didn’t listen to Him and I suffered until I did listen to Him.

Today I was conversing with God as I walked from one room into another and I said, “I had such hopes for this apartment when I moved into it.”  Memories came back and I indulged myself in what transpired before I left my efficiency and moved into this one-bedroom apartment.  By the time I left that room and came back into this room I said to God, “My hopes for this apartment will never come true . . . but maybe different ones will be realized.”  That’s when it dawned on me:  Something else has changed in my soul.

I’ve had a greater-than-normal amount of harassment lately.  It’s been more consistent as well.  These circumstances combined with lack of good sleep, lack of rest and interrupted REM time makes me subject to giving into the temptation to retaliate evil for evil.  God, in His goodness, mercy and grace, has enabled me to resist the temptation.  I think the temptation came strongly again shortly before I had my walk-and-talk with God.  That may be why the realization came to me when it did.

I realized that since I haven’t given into the temptation to repay evil for evil, but instead have chosen to pray for my neighbor(s) — and I mean truly pray with a sincere heart, a right attitude and an earnest longing for them to not be filled with the things that fill them up in order for them to behave year after year the same way — I’ve gone further than I ever have with anyone in my life without saying something (whether hateful, sarcastic, hurtful or even extending an olive branch — which I’ve done several times with these people if anyone reading this is curious to know) or doing something.

In other words, God has taken me beyond my own limit.  God has enabled me to cross a line I didn’t even know existed:  a line that I must have drawn some time in my youth that I will allow people to treat me a certain way for so long and then when I reach my limit, that’s it.  “I won’t take it any more!!” is the phrase that comes to mind.

This quite surprised me and I wondered when did I draw that line?  Why did I draw that line?  Has that line moved from the first time I drew it?  Does the line start out in the same place with every person I have ever known and then do I change it depending upon our relationship?  Is it flexible with some people and permanent with others?  Did I learn to draw this line in my childhood?   Was it when I was taught to always try to be fair, to be kind, to be polite, to be nice?

Then I wondered if every person has a line that they have drawn at some point in their life that says, “You can come this far, but you better not ever cross this line or . . . “

God has a line.  The Bible says He will try over and over and over with someone.  Then there comes a time when He washes His hands of them and gives them over to the devil.  I heard Charles Stanley preach a sermon about this once.  I can’t recall the Scripture right now, but I had never looked at those verses that way.  It shows, as you follow one word after the other, the path that a person who turns their back on God follows.  One bad thing, followed by a greater bad thing, then an even worse thing until there’s no going back.  A point of no return.  How incredibly sad for that person!!  The torment they must be in!!

Or maybe they don’t feel the torment now.  I suppose only a person with a sensitive conscience would feel tormented.  Maybe these people will only know torment later, when it will indeed be too late, because their conscience has been seared.

Wow!!  This is really heavy!!  It’s also funny because it was just yesterday that I saw a sign on the internet that said something like,”If life gets harder, then you just leveled up.”  I knew that was true because I remember the times I’ve asked Jesus to take me to a higher level with Him.

The last time I was totally aware of finally getting my entire being on that next level was the week before I realized I had breast cancer.  Jesus needed me to be on that level to be able to endure what was to come.

I don’t know if I’m on a higher level now or just at a place of a better realization of what has been going on in the spirit realm.  When I was going through so many spiritual crises quite a while back, I kept thinking of Job and writing of him.  The first few chapters of the book of Job in the Bible shows us what Job couldn’t see:  What was happening in the spirit realm.

I knew the devil didn’t like the changes God has transpired in my soul to get me to the point where I can truly, sincerely and earnestly pray for my neighbor(s).  Yet I did not know satan was going to increase the temptation because God wanted to take me beyond my limit.

Talk about the outer limits!!  Wow!!

Stream Of Consciousness

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There certainly have been a lot of changes taking place inside me.  I’ve wanted to write about everything, but it seems I find I don’t have the time to put into my writing as I have had in the past.

It’s funny to hear those words in my head, because when I did have the time to write nothing seemed to come to mind.  Sometimes I’d start a post and it would fizzle out or not feel right, so I’d trash it.

I could write about these changes God has been doing inside me, but it’s connected to things I’ve written about in the past.  Even though it concerns ongoing issues, I find I’m not wanting to write about it.

I guess I feel like I’ve been pulled up out of that particular muck and mire.  Therefore if I write about what has been muck and mire, I’ll be dealing with the past. I no longer want to deal with the past.  I’m more interested in the present.

Don’t get me wrong — I love my good memories and my good photos of my life and the people, animals and places in those memories and photos.  That aspect of the past I want to keep so I can cherish and be thankful for it all.

I am trying to concentrate on now.  I try each day to concentrate on that day only.  I also aim to get something done, even though most days I fall short of the mark.  I might not accomplish what I’d planned the day before, but sometimes I surprise myself and accomplish something totally different.  That’s cool.  As long as I accomplish something, I am doing well.

Weekends are still rough for me.  Yet I still ask God to change that.  I’d like for them not to be any different from the other days of the week.  I look at it as a work-in-progress.

That’s what I am:  a work-in-progress.  I hope I’ll continue to be a work-in-progress until I die.  Death, hopefully, will mean I’ve done what I was sent here to do.

There’s also a lot of things I could urge myself to write in my blog as these months have passed, but I find I want to keep most of it private.  This, too, is all right.  It’s my life, my business, my thoughts, my plans, my ideas, my needs, my desires, my option and my free will to decide if I want to share what I’m thinking, feeling or doing.

To do this without putting extra pressure on myself is a nice freedom.  I have always put pressure on myself to do and to be.  It seems that I’ve always had a nagging voice inside my head and it’s so nice to not have it as often.  It’s also nice to become aware of the nagging thoughts and put a stop to them.  I thank the Holy Spirit for enabling me to do so.

I’m not certain why this has happened, but I’ve actually felt fairly well lately.  Since I couldn’t function a week ago, this might sound contradictory.  Yet even knowing I couldn’t function for four days — not eating, not drinking anything except for my favorite beverage which is frowned upon by my healthcare professionals, sleeping too much or not sleeping at all, hygiene out the window, unable to speak to the one I love most on this planet — I wasn’t suicidal.

This is not the norm for me.  Not at all.  Usually if I’m in a position where I cannot talk to the one I love most on this planet, I’m suicidal.  I was astounded — or I would have been if I had been able to feel anything.  I wasn’t numb.  I knew I was depressed.  I simply didn’t feel sad, yet I cried a lot at shows I’d watch on the internet.  More contradictions.

Naturally, I talked to God quite a bit during this time.  We talk from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep.  As I talk to my God I get images in my mind’s eye.  It’s as if He sends these images to me to make me understand or they form as I’m talking with Him in order for me to see more clearly.

I saw myself as a workhorse — actually the lower part of my legs looked more like the Budweiser Clydesdale that are shown on commercials during the month of December.  I found I was in an incredibly thick substance which made any forward movement extremely taxing.  Yet, like the workhorse I was (am) I kept pushing forward.  Jesus was near me, but not in this thick substance.

When I think of workhorses, I think of horses worn down from a life of hard labor.  Their backs are bowed, their heads are down and there are callouses or rough patches where heavy lines, reigns and other workhorse items were placed on their backs and around their necks day-after-day, year-after-year.

This was not what I saw of myself.  Once again, that Budweiser Clydesdale were what I saw as who I was in this image.  My back was not bowed.  I was not worn down.  I was not worn out.  This is contradictory to what I have written in the past.  Instead I was giving it my all as I tried to move my legs just an inch or two through this thick substance.

This tells me I see myself differently now.  This tells me that it might be tough going, but I’m making progress.  This tells me I am indeed better.

Will there be setbacks?  Of course there will be.  Life, especially life with various mental, emotional and physical health issues, is not a bed of roses no matter how many different ways I was told as a child that’s what life was for grownups.

Will I keep writing my blog?  When I want to, I will.  When I feel well, I will. When I have things I want to share, I will.

If you’d like to, please stay tuned.  God only knows what this workhorse will accomplish by this time next year!!

By the way, to those who have remained faithful followers, readers and/or commenters of my blog I want to take this opportunity to say, “Thank you!!”

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