An atheist nephew and I had ugly words on Facebook.
He posted what I would call a baited post.
One of those posts with a picture and inflammatory words
that is designed to get a reaction from people.
I knew it was a baited. I knew it and I responded anyway.
That was my first mistake.
The second mistake I made was letting his heated response
to my original response get under my skin.
But his words came fast and ugly towards me and caught me off guard.
I had told him "Shame on you" for posting this to Facebook.
His response was to call me morally deficient and stupid
for believing in, in his words, "an impotent and evil god."
He went on for a few more paragraphs and ended his diatribe with
the words "Shame on You".
And I felt it...that shame that he heaped on me.
I wanted to retaliate with a few choice words of my own
but the thought popped into my brain that this is what he wanted.
He wanted to engage someone in a heated debate.
Why else would you want to post something so inflammatory
and so flagrant by a known atheist?
Pity me for the only fool who rose to the bait.
I will not be so easily fooled or tested again.
My nephews anger towards me rendered me speechless.
I didn't know how to defend myself or the God I love and believe in.
Isn't that horrible?
I know better than to get into a debate with this kid.
He's brilliantly smart... freakishly so.
He's a nuclear physicist or some such thing at NASA,
he's 30 years old and he's been angry at God his whole life.
I normally steer clear of him.
How horrible is that??
Avoiding my own nephew because he feels toxic to me.
This isn't or wasn't my first encounter with him RE: God.
So, yeah, maybe shame on me for engaging with him over Facebook.
I wonder if the devil made me do it.
I'm confused as to why most atheists seem so angry all the time.
The God I love and worship and believe in makes me happy.
HE brings me so much peace and serenity.
I don't want to fight and argue over what you choose to not believe in.
Life is all about choices. You make yours and I'll make mine.
But I still feel like I need to defend myself against that stupid FB post!
The atheist talks about sick and dying children and their parents.
How millions of children suffer and die each year
While their parents prayers go unanswered.
The atheist wants to know how can we worship a God that
lets children die?
And that's what hit my sore spot.
I don't feel like God killed my child.
I don't feel like God let my child die.
I don't blame God for taking her from me.
I don't blame God for letting my sister die.
I don't blame Him for killing my father or my grandparents.
How do you accuse God of causing death and heartache and suffering
and in the next breath say you don't believe in Him at all?
See what I mean ?
That is essentially why I feel that that FB post was baited.
And I am truly sorry that I allowed myself to get all riled up about it.
I'm sorry that I ever responded to it.
I wish I had prayed instead.
I wish I had prayed for that atheist and for my nephew.
I wish I had prayed for myself to not be tempted.
I wish I had prayed to God to give me peace in that moment.
To close my eyes, help me to take a deep breath, and to let it go.
As long as I continue to wallow in this, the devil wins.
So I'm letting it go today.
My God,
I beg your forgiveness for not knowing how to defend myself
against another persons anger and beliefs.
I beg you and thank you for your Grace that covers all of my sins.
Be with me today, as I let this thing go.
Grant me the peace that I am looking for, a peace I know I can find in you.
Help me as I learn to share You with others in a peaceful, loving way.
Amen.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Again?!? For shits sake.
I don't want this blog to be about sickness...again
but Alas, it must, for now.
Or at least (hopefully) only one. more. post.
It is what I write about, I know, quite a bit of the time.
But what do you write about except what you live with?
I contracted some sorta virus.
It's not strep, but it hurts like a muther to swallow. Or talk.
I can barely drink liquids...am drinking scalding hot tea mostly.
Ice water too. And Popsicles.
Wish I was a sword swallower.
Then I could tip my head back and insert that orange Popsicle
straight down to cool the burn in my throat.
Fever, horrific body aches, dizziness.
Today is day 5 of having this virus
Yesterday I developed tiny blisters on my hands.
So...lemme see here.
I cannot eat. I cannot talk very well. My hands burn and itch.
My body temp switches between sweating and freezing.
It almost feels like a message from God. Almost.
If one cannot eat, one cannot keep stuffing in the fattening stuff, can one?
If one cannot talk, one cannot contribute to gossipy conversations or
snap at one's spouse for folding the towels "the wrong way", correct?
If one's hands burn and itch...hmmm....I got nuthin' for this symptom.
If one is too dizzy to drive to the store, one cannot spend money on crap.
Maybe I'm looking too far into this or maybe it's the fever talking.
I must be getting better tho, right?? If I'm able to be pissed at him
for not doing the dishes the way that I do??
Not really pissed, per se....... but I did feel it needed mentioning.
I've not done a thing since Saturday at 10:00 am when this virus hit me.
And it shows in my house.
To me...it shows to me.
On one of my bleary, feverish trips to the bathroom, I saw him
rifling thru the laundry hamper....effectively blocking my entrance
to said bathroom. Whatcha doin'? I croaked
Laundry he replied.
Then why are you digging to the bottom of the hamper? I ask.
I'm looking for my work clothes, so I can do my laundry, he says.
Did ya get that? "My laundry" he said.
He was only washing HIS stuff. HIS STUFF!!!
I didn't at that moment even know how to process that.
It would hit me later.
Today, when I got up, I found one side of the kitchen sink
full of dirty dishes and empty recyclable containers
while the other side of the sink held one clean frying pan.
The counters were sticky, not having been wiped down
(I'm guessing here) since Saturday at 10:00 am???
The house reeked of dog piss and a kitchen garbage can
that hadn't been taken out since...oh never mind.
The cat was rubbing hisself on my legs, trying to get my attention.
I was afraid to see what the litter box looked like.
I was right to be afraid and I apologized to the cat for my being sick.
I found two baskets of clean??? laundry wrinkled beyond redemption.
And about 7 more loads strewn about the house, over chairs, on tables,
from the floor on his side of the bed and from the already overflowing bathroom hamper.
He mentions to me that he has done 5 loads of laundry....
I don't believe him.
I see no evidence of it except for the 2 badly wrinkled baskets
still sitting and wrinkling in the middle of the kitchen floor,
one of which was the load I had left in the dryer on Friday.
So 5 loads? No. You didn't.
The bathroom garbage can is undetectable under a mound of tissues
and assorted whatnot that usually goes into a bathroom receptacle.
The sink....UGH! The sink!! I will not explain.
I will not mention the horror called a commode.
How does a grown man NOT see this filth?
How does he walk past it and not grab this or that to throw it away?
How does he get up in the middle of the night to pee
and not trip over or get his feet tangled up in the tiny mountain
of dirty socks and belts and yesterdays jeans that have been left there?
Does he not see it?? Smell it??
Is he waiting for me to get well to see it?
Does he want me to know that he suffered whilst I was sick?
Is he trying to make me feel like I have job security?
Nobody can clean as good as you, Hon.
Tsk.
I want to write about Jesus-y things.
I want to write about how I see Him throughout my day.
What I perceive to be Him trying to get my attention.
In truth, I see Him everywhere. I hear Him everywhere.
Little signs alert me to His presence. All. Day. Long.
A bird singing, or the wind thru the trees, or in song lyrics that I hear.
In a grandchild's eyes, in a newly bloomed Hollyhock plant.
A strangers smile, thunder & lightening, rain, sunshine.
I don't see Jesus in 7 loads of dirty laundry, a sink of dirty dishes,
Or a bathroom that needs to be replaced...Yes, replaced.
(Let's just get a new one..it'll probably be easier than cleaning this one.)
So maybe that's what He's showing me.
That He can be everywhere, anywhere he chooses to be.
That He can show Himself to me through all of the good in my life
and also through all of the not so good...the illness and the dirt.
Day 5 finds me swallowing just a tad easier.
The fever is gone as are the body aches.
That mountain of laundry remains to be cleaned as does that bathroom....yikes.
Dishes were done (by him!) before he went to work, bless his heart.
Whaddya say Lord? Wanna meet me there? You can pick.
You want to meet me at the laundry mountain or in that defiled bathroom?
Tell ya what....I'll look closely for You in both places.
but Alas, it must, for now.
Or at least (hopefully) only one. more. post.
It is what I write about, I know, quite a bit of the time.
But what do you write about except what you live with?
I contracted some sorta virus.
It's not strep, but it hurts like a muther to swallow. Or talk.
I can barely drink liquids...am drinking scalding hot tea mostly.
Ice water too. And Popsicles.
Wish I was a sword swallower.
Then I could tip my head back and insert that orange Popsicle
straight down to cool the burn in my throat.
Fever, horrific body aches, dizziness.
Today is day 5 of having this virus
Yesterday I developed tiny blisters on my hands.
So...lemme see here.
I cannot eat. I cannot talk very well. My hands burn and itch.
My body temp switches between sweating and freezing.
It almost feels like a message from God. Almost.
If one cannot eat, one cannot keep stuffing in the fattening stuff, can one?
If one cannot talk, one cannot contribute to gossipy conversations or
snap at one's spouse for folding the towels "the wrong way", correct?
If one's hands burn and itch...hmmm....I got nuthin' for this symptom.
If one is too dizzy to drive to the store, one cannot spend money on crap.
Maybe I'm looking too far into this or maybe it's the fever talking.
I must be getting better tho, right?? If I'm able to be pissed at him
for not doing the dishes the way that I do??
Not really pissed, per se....... but I did feel it needed mentioning.
I've not done a thing since Saturday at 10:00 am when this virus hit me.
And it shows in my house.
To me...it shows to me.
On one of my bleary, feverish trips to the bathroom, I saw him
rifling thru the laundry hamper....effectively blocking my entrance
to said bathroom. Whatcha doin'? I croaked
Laundry he replied.
Then why are you digging to the bottom of the hamper? I ask.
I'm looking for my work clothes, so I can do my laundry, he says.
Did ya get that? "My laundry" he said.
He was only washing HIS stuff. HIS STUFF!!!
I didn't at that moment even know how to process that.
It would hit me later.
Today, when I got up, I found one side of the kitchen sink
full of dirty dishes and empty recyclable containers
while the other side of the sink held one clean frying pan.
The counters were sticky, not having been wiped down
(I'm guessing here) since Saturday at 10:00 am???
The house reeked of dog piss and a kitchen garbage can
that hadn't been taken out since...oh never mind.
The cat was rubbing hisself on my legs, trying to get my attention.
I was afraid to see what the litter box looked like.
I was right to be afraid and I apologized to the cat for my being sick.
I found two baskets of clean??? laundry wrinkled beyond redemption.
And about 7 more loads strewn about the house, over chairs, on tables,
from the floor on his side of the bed and from the already overflowing bathroom hamper.
He mentions to me that he has done 5 loads of laundry....
I don't believe him.
I see no evidence of it except for the 2 badly wrinkled baskets
still sitting and wrinkling in the middle of the kitchen floor,
one of which was the load I had left in the dryer on Friday.
So 5 loads? No. You didn't.
The bathroom garbage can is undetectable under a mound of tissues
and assorted whatnot that usually goes into a bathroom receptacle.
The sink....UGH! The sink!! I will not explain.
I will not mention the horror called a commode.
How does a grown man NOT see this filth?
How does he walk past it and not grab this or that to throw it away?
How does he get up in the middle of the night to pee
and not trip over or get his feet tangled up in the tiny mountain
of dirty socks and belts and yesterdays jeans that have been left there?
Does he not see it?? Smell it??
Is he waiting for me to get well to see it?
Does he want me to know that he suffered whilst I was sick?
Is he trying to make me feel like I have job security?
Nobody can clean as good as you, Hon.
Tsk.
I want to write about Jesus-y things.
I want to write about how I see Him throughout my day.
What I perceive to be Him trying to get my attention.
In truth, I see Him everywhere. I hear Him everywhere.
Little signs alert me to His presence. All. Day. Long.
A bird singing, or the wind thru the trees, or in song lyrics that I hear.
In a grandchild's eyes, in a newly bloomed Hollyhock plant.
A strangers smile, thunder & lightening, rain, sunshine.
I don't see Jesus in 7 loads of dirty laundry, a sink of dirty dishes,
Or a bathroom that needs to be replaced...Yes, replaced.
(Let's just get a new one..it'll probably be easier than cleaning this one.)
So maybe that's what He's showing me.
That He can be everywhere, anywhere he chooses to be.
That He can show Himself to me through all of the good in my life
and also through all of the not so good...the illness and the dirt.
Day 5 finds me swallowing just a tad easier.
The fever is gone as are the body aches.
That mountain of laundry remains to be cleaned as does that bathroom....yikes.
Dishes were done (by him!) before he went to work, bless his heart.
Whaddya say Lord? Wanna meet me there? You can pick.
You want to meet me at the laundry mountain or in that defiled bathroom?
Tell ya what....I'll look closely for You in both places.
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