I love music. Music is a big part of my life. It shows up every day. I cannot remember a time in my life where there wasn't music. My siblings listened to music and I am pretty good at identifying 70's & 80's bands because of it. My parents always had music playing in the car. I know the Kingston Trio, Elvis, Cash, and Diamond.
My maternal grandparents played the guitar and piano. My grandfather sticks the tip of his tongue out the side of his mouth when he plays. It is adorable. I play the clarinet. Most of my family have beautiful singing voices. The Daughter plays the clarinet and is learning the guitar. The boys want to learn to play instruments. My Dark Knight plays bass and guitar. Music is clearly hereditary. Music is in my genes.
I enjoy almost all genre of music, except the steel guitar makes me cranky. Each type of music helps me through different moods or issues I may be having. When I am sad, I love listening to traditional hymns and love songs. These songs assist me to cry my eyes out while bringing a smile to my face. When I am frustrated, I need something loud and guitar heavy.
Music holds my memories. I cannot listen to a song or piece of music without remembering something from my past. Journey brings back a time when my high school best friend was learning to drive a manual transmission. Metallica was playing when I was a passenger in a car accident. Metallica is not allowed in the car because of the accident. Tom Petty is about old Ford pick-up trucks. I am reminded of a friend's laugh while driving to Vegas when I listen to Janis Joplin. Chris Ledoux reminds me of an ex-boyfriend. Nine-Inch-Nails is all about driving in the mountains finding a good camping spot. DC Talk brings back memories of driving around in a friend's pick-up.
Music makes me move. I love to dance. I dance while cleaning, with music blasting, singing my heart out. T has never been able to sit still when music is playing. He has had great rhythm since he could hold his head up. X-Man sings and grooves when he thinks no one is watching. MDK does this head thing I like to call the pigeon. It is fantastic! The Daughter has been moving and grooving since she was tiny. Even as I write this post, I am listening to music and have to move my foot to the beat.
I went on a date with a guy in college who stated he doesn't listen to music. "I'm sorry, what?" He stated he didn't really enjoy music. "This is clearly not going to work out. Have a good night." It was that simple, no music, no dating me. I also wouldn't date guys with terrible last names or if they have ever had a cold sore.
Hopefully you have something in your life as captivating as music is to me. I would never had made it through this year without music.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Scar Tissue (Yes, I do like the RHCP.)
I have a scar on my right calf that I have tried scar cream and vitamin E to lighten, but it will not lighten. It is the newest scar of my many scars but it is significant. This scar marks the ending of a relationship. I decided I will start with my first scar, April 18th, 1977, my belly button.
I was born on a bridge in Portland, OR in a Dodge, delivered by my father. Clearly we didn't make it to the hospital before I made my grand entrance into this world. Many people wanted to name me Rosalyn Bridgett, after the bridge, but I was told my dad wanted to name me Tara (Tar a road, not Tear a piece of paper).
I have a scar in my left eyebrow. It makes grooming my eyebrows a chore, never symmetrical, never. I fell face first into the coffee table and split my eyelid open, it grew into my eyebrow as I grew. My dad had to put butterfly strips on my eye for a week. Apparently, your one year old eyelid becomes your eyebrow.
When I was 7, I stopped myself on my bike using my right elbow instead of my breaks. My father heard me crash a block away. This scar is bumpy and ugly. My dad had to scrub gravel out of my elbow before bandaging it up. Two weeks of bandages because I split it open often. Seven year old's need to bend their elbows.
I contracted a nasty case of the chickenpox when I was in the 5th grade. I have 5 pock mark scars. My dad gave me a stuffed kangaroo with a joey in the pouch. The kangaroo was supposed to help me feel better, it didn't but it was a nice gesture.
I have many memories of my father assisting me with all my medical needs and he is attached to my scars left behind. So it seems appropriate to have received my most recent scar.
I received a phone call May 14th, 2014 at 10:15pm, caller ID stated Mom. Weird, my parents are old and go to bed at 8pm. I answered the call and it was my parents' neighbor. She told me my father had died. My mother was the sickly one, I am sure she meant my mother had died, not my father. My dad was strong and stubborn and needed, he couldn't possibly have died yet. My Dark Knight and I hopped in the car and drove to my parents' house. I know I called my sister, but I can't really remember what was said. I have very foggy memories regarding that night. But the neighbor was correct, my father had died.
We bring my mother to our house. Many people showed up and cleaned my parent's house, brought food and money, and many other wonderful things. My mom goes back home on the 16th and has a massive stroke. Now my parents' house needs to be cleaned out, my mom needs a guardian, my dad's services need to be coordinated, etc. My poor family had to function without me most of May through September. I spent every penny we had and worked little hours.
May 19th, I am cleaning out my parents' house and stop at the neighbor's house to pick up the mail they grabbed for me. They have a dog sitting down, ignoring me. I go to leave the neighboring house and that damn dog bit my calf. I have no idea what I did to provoke the dog since I never talked to the dog or messed with it at all. He bit through my jeans and took a small chunk out of my leg. The dog turned around and walked away. Clearly, he accomplished what he set out to do that day. Bite the grieving daughter from next door, check.
So, now I have a scar from the dog bite, another scar to remind me of my father. It is a humorous reminder of a terrible time. Who gets bit by a dog after her father dies and mother has a massive stroke? This girl! The dog bite was just the humor I needed to make it another day.
I never thought the scars I find ugly and a nuisance would be what reminds me of some good memories of my father. I am glad I have my battle scars, even if I can never have symmetrical eyebrows.
I was born on a bridge in Portland, OR in a Dodge, delivered by my father. Clearly we didn't make it to the hospital before I made my grand entrance into this world. Many people wanted to name me Rosalyn Bridgett, after the bridge, but I was told my dad wanted to name me Tara (Tar a road, not Tear a piece of paper).
I have a scar in my left eyebrow. It makes grooming my eyebrows a chore, never symmetrical, never. I fell face first into the coffee table and split my eyelid open, it grew into my eyebrow as I grew. My dad had to put butterfly strips on my eye for a week. Apparently, your one year old eyelid becomes your eyebrow.
When I was 7, I stopped myself on my bike using my right elbow instead of my breaks. My father heard me crash a block away. This scar is bumpy and ugly. My dad had to scrub gravel out of my elbow before bandaging it up. Two weeks of bandages because I split it open often. Seven year old's need to bend their elbows.
I contracted a nasty case of the chickenpox when I was in the 5th grade. I have 5 pock mark scars. My dad gave me a stuffed kangaroo with a joey in the pouch. The kangaroo was supposed to help me feel better, it didn't but it was a nice gesture.
I have many memories of my father assisting me with all my medical needs and he is attached to my scars left behind. So it seems appropriate to have received my most recent scar.
I received a phone call May 14th, 2014 at 10:15pm, caller ID stated Mom. Weird, my parents are old and go to bed at 8pm. I answered the call and it was my parents' neighbor. She told me my father had died. My mother was the sickly one, I am sure she meant my mother had died, not my father. My dad was strong and stubborn and needed, he couldn't possibly have died yet. My Dark Knight and I hopped in the car and drove to my parents' house. I know I called my sister, but I can't really remember what was said. I have very foggy memories regarding that night. But the neighbor was correct, my father had died.
We bring my mother to our house. Many people showed up and cleaned my parent's house, brought food and money, and many other wonderful things. My mom goes back home on the 16th and has a massive stroke. Now my parents' house needs to be cleaned out, my mom needs a guardian, my dad's services need to be coordinated, etc. My poor family had to function without me most of May through September. I spent every penny we had and worked little hours.
May 19th, I am cleaning out my parents' house and stop at the neighbor's house to pick up the mail they grabbed for me. They have a dog sitting down, ignoring me. I go to leave the neighboring house and that damn dog bit my calf. I have no idea what I did to provoke the dog since I never talked to the dog or messed with it at all. He bit through my jeans and took a small chunk out of my leg. The dog turned around and walked away. Clearly, he accomplished what he set out to do that day. Bite the grieving daughter from next door, check.
So, now I have a scar from the dog bite, another scar to remind me of my father. It is a humorous reminder of a terrible time. Who gets bit by a dog after her father dies and mother has a massive stroke? This girl! The dog bite was just the humor I needed to make it another day.
I never thought the scars I find ugly and a nuisance would be what reminds me of some good memories of my father. I am glad I have my battle scars, even if I can never have symmetrical eyebrows.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Being the youngest is the bestest.
I am the youngest in my family. Therefore, I am the favorite. It is a given, no explanations needed. My parents were seasoned parents when I came along. Most of my siblings were grown and out of the house by the time I was born. Some of them even forget me, the last child, because they are so much older. Yes, siblings, there are THREE girls in the family, quit forgetting about me. You know those memes stating they have the best sister? Well, I have two brothers who have posted that meme and stated they have TWO great sisters. Two? Who are you forgetting? Most likely it is me. Even though I am forgotten and had the least involved parents, I still believe being the youngest is the best.
1. Hand-me-downs. I know they are outdated and stained by the time you get them, but they are free clothes and you learn how to update your fashions with whatever you have got in the closet. You also don't feel bad if you dye the clothes or rip them up because they were free and you don't have to keep them in good shape because no one else is going to wear them.
2. Money. Once all those older siblings leave the home, the bank account increases. You want that new bike, no problem. Going out to lunch with friends, here's $20. New to you car, what color do you want?
3. Parents are tired. Always able to do whatever you wanted because the parents were too tired to care. My parents were never around, so I got to do whatever I wanted anyway, but you get the point.
4. Responsibilities are non-existent. Never having to take responsibility for anything. She's the baby, the sweet baby. She could do no wrong.
5. The Star. Getting attention, and keeping attention is easy. Rarely having to compromise, mostly getting your way. "It is all about me!" This also comes in handy when wanting to sell anything, idea, merchandise, job interviews. Very good skill.
6. Glass half full. The baby is rarely negative due to life experiences. It is really easy to be positive when your siblings have gotten into trouble for everything and you have not.
Here are a few "issues" I may have due to being the youngest.
1. I am incredibly irresponsible. I have learned to be much more responsible from MDK (the oldest in his family). I didn't become an unwed mother at a young age by making responsible choices.
2. I am a sore loser. I pout and stomp and huff and puff. I despise losing.
3. I have a hard time taking things seriously. I try to make bad stuff into funny situations. I think this is good sometimes, though.
4. (This one isn't necessarily an issue but it was something I had to overcome because I am the youngest.) The high school teachers already knew who I was before I stepped foot into their classrooms. "Oh, you are so & so's baby sister." I was proud to say I was the little sister. That is when the teacher would point out what a pain they were. Suddenly I have to be 10 times better because of the example before me. Thanks siblings!
I think being the youngest is awesome and I feel bad for all you middle and oldest children. Childhood had to have been rough.
1. Hand-me-downs. I know they are outdated and stained by the time you get them, but they are free clothes and you learn how to update your fashions with whatever you have got in the closet. You also don't feel bad if you dye the clothes or rip them up because they were free and you don't have to keep them in good shape because no one else is going to wear them.
2. Money. Once all those older siblings leave the home, the bank account increases. You want that new bike, no problem. Going out to lunch with friends, here's $20. New to you car, what color do you want?
3. Parents are tired. Always able to do whatever you wanted because the parents were too tired to care. My parents were never around, so I got to do whatever I wanted anyway, but you get the point.
4. Responsibilities are non-existent. Never having to take responsibility for anything. She's the baby, the sweet baby. She could do no wrong.
5. The Star. Getting attention, and keeping attention is easy. Rarely having to compromise, mostly getting your way. "It is all about me!" This also comes in handy when wanting to sell anything, idea, merchandise, job interviews. Very good skill.
6. Glass half full. The baby is rarely negative due to life experiences. It is really easy to be positive when your siblings have gotten into trouble for everything and you have not.
Here are a few "issues" I may have due to being the youngest.
1. I am incredibly irresponsible. I have learned to be much more responsible from MDK (the oldest in his family). I didn't become an unwed mother at a young age by making responsible choices.
2. I am a sore loser. I pout and stomp and huff and puff. I despise losing.
3. I have a hard time taking things seriously. I try to make bad stuff into funny situations. I think this is good sometimes, though.
4. (This one isn't necessarily an issue but it was something I had to overcome because I am the youngest.) The high school teachers already knew who I was before I stepped foot into their classrooms. "Oh, you are so & so's baby sister." I was proud to say I was the little sister. That is when the teacher would point out what a pain they were. Suddenly I have to be 10 times better because of the example before me. Thanks siblings!
I think being the youngest is awesome and I feel bad for all you middle and oldest children. Childhood had to have been rough.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
I am searching for my joy.
I am being a Scrooge/Grinch this year for Christmas. I am just not in the spirit of Christmas this year. Everything I see reminds me of what I have lost this year. I am not normally like this. I enjoy watching my kids visit Santa, putting up the tree, decorating, the cookies, the parties, the music, the movies, and the excitement in my children on Christmas morning. Normally. Not this year.
We put up the tree two days after Thanksgiving. I didn't pull everything out of the Christmas boxes. I only grabbed the stuff my kids insisted needed to be out. I started hiding stuff back in the boxes before they could see it so I didn't have to bring it out. I did complete a wreath project I have been wanting to do for a couple of years. It felt nice to have something that has no ties to any memories. Plus, it is freaking adorable.
I went to my church's Christmas party for the women. This is something I go to every year. I love this event and am chomping at the bit waiting for this event, normally. The Daughter decided not to go with me this year so I took T. I know he is not a female but I wasn't sure if I was going to make it without some support. T wanted to go home shortly after we arrived because someone commented about him being a boy and it was a party for girls. I was very tempted to leave. One of my friends came and sat with me and started talking about everything but Christmas and it was nice, so we stayed. The party usually has a mug exchange game. Inside the mug you bring, you write on a piece of paper your name and birthday. Whomever gets your mug prays for you every time they use the mug in that year. (I have three mugs from the same person and she happens to be a good friend.) I love this because I remember who's mugs I received each year and what I prayed for them. It gives me a purpose for my mug more than just to drink out of. This year the mug I received was from a guest and she didn't want to participate in the name/praying part. This broke my heart and I cried driving home. Now I just have a mug that isn't special to me. I will probably re-gift it.
I took X-Man and T to the local Home Depot yesterday to participate in the children's project. They made garden stakes with three different designs on them. They are cute and were very simple. They reminded me that my dad would grow a big garden every year and allow my kids to pick what was planted. He would have loved these garden stakes and would have put them proudly in his garden.
Afterward, we went to the zoo because it was free yesterday. It was raining pretty hard at the zoo but not too cold. Santa was at the zoo in an education building which has big windows looking out to the the lions. We stood out in the rain in line to see Santa. Everyone in front of us had strollers with babies, many brand new, unable to hold their heads up. I couldn't understand why these parents were standing in the rain waiting for Santa. Do you remember that photo all over the internet last year with sleeping Santa and the sleeping infant on Santa? That happened at the mall where I live. That Santa knows what he is doing. Take your newbies to the mall, out of the rain with the seasoned Santa. The zoo Santa didn't know how to hold the infants and was very young under that suit. He was struggling but did okay and was very pleasant. My boys just wanted to talk to Santa and see the lions who were right next to the windows. The staff wouldn't let you look at the lions because you could get a picture of Santa if you were by the windows. Each staff member reminded me I was absolutely not to take my own photo of Santa. I had to explain 8 times that my boys just wanted to talk to Santa.
We finally get to Santa! Don't worry, I did not take my camera out of my purse the whole time. (I really need a sarcasm font.) T goes first, he wants a video game. He stated he was a good boy except to his brother who deserves it and brings it on himself. He let Santa know that it was his decision if he was on the naughty or nice list, not T's. (This did make me smile.) X-Man goes next, he wants The World Record Paper Airplane Package and a cursive book, which he practiced saying the whole time we were in line. He states he is a good boy and wishes him a Merry Christmas and we walk out the door. T turns to X-Man and lets him know that guy was just some guy in a Santa suit, not really Santa, he didn't even have a mouth because of his fake beard. X-Man didn't let that deter him from believing he met Santa.
I can't listen to Christmas songs or watch my favorite Christmas movie, A Charlie Brown Christmas. Everything reminds me of my parents. Many of my friends still live in my home town and posted videos of the Christmas parade. I didn't know how much I missed the intimate experience of a small town parade. My parents always watched the parades no matter the weather. (It probably helped the parade route went right in front of the bars.) The friends I lost this year were always in the parades with me growing up. But I loved watching my friends' videos and seeing people I knew, even 20 years after I moved away.
The boys have decided they want to host a Christmas party for their friends this year. This is new and I am very excited to start something new, just like my wreath, no memories yet. I am excited to make a craft, have snacks, and exchange gifts at our home with all these little children. (I am also excited that we have very little money to spend, so it will be a simple affair.) I will have friends attend as well, which will be nice, and new. I may not be able to make it through all of this year's Christmas festivities without shedding a tear, but I think making new memories will help the Christmas season to be less painful. Who said Christmas needed to be painless, anyway? I am pretty sure the first Christmas was very painful with joy mixed in.
We put up the tree two days after Thanksgiving. I didn't pull everything out of the Christmas boxes. I only grabbed the stuff my kids insisted needed to be out. I started hiding stuff back in the boxes before they could see it so I didn't have to bring it out. I did complete a wreath project I have been wanting to do for a couple of years. It felt nice to have something that has no ties to any memories. Plus, it is freaking adorable.
I went to my church's Christmas party for the women. This is something I go to every year. I love this event and am chomping at the bit waiting for this event, normally. The Daughter decided not to go with me this year so I took T. I know he is not a female but I wasn't sure if I was going to make it without some support. T wanted to go home shortly after we arrived because someone commented about him being a boy and it was a party for girls. I was very tempted to leave. One of my friends came and sat with me and started talking about everything but Christmas and it was nice, so we stayed. The party usually has a mug exchange game. Inside the mug you bring, you write on a piece of paper your name and birthday. Whomever gets your mug prays for you every time they use the mug in that year. (I have three mugs from the same person and she happens to be a good friend.) I love this because I remember who's mugs I received each year and what I prayed for them. It gives me a purpose for my mug more than just to drink out of. This year the mug I received was from a guest and she didn't want to participate in the name/praying part. This broke my heart and I cried driving home. Now I just have a mug that isn't special to me. I will probably re-gift it.
I took X-Man and T to the local Home Depot yesterday to participate in the children's project. They made garden stakes with three different designs on them. They are cute and were very simple. They reminded me that my dad would grow a big garden every year and allow my kids to pick what was planted. He would have loved these garden stakes and would have put them proudly in his garden.
Afterward, we went to the zoo because it was free yesterday. It was raining pretty hard at the zoo but not too cold. Santa was at the zoo in an education building which has big windows looking out to the the lions. We stood out in the rain in line to see Santa. Everyone in front of us had strollers with babies, many brand new, unable to hold their heads up. I couldn't understand why these parents were standing in the rain waiting for Santa. Do you remember that photo all over the internet last year with sleeping Santa and the sleeping infant on Santa? That happened at the mall where I live. That Santa knows what he is doing. Take your newbies to the mall, out of the rain with the seasoned Santa. The zoo Santa didn't know how to hold the infants and was very young under that suit. He was struggling but did okay and was very pleasant. My boys just wanted to talk to Santa and see the lions who were right next to the windows. The staff wouldn't let you look at the lions because you could get a picture of Santa if you were by the windows. Each staff member reminded me I was absolutely not to take my own photo of Santa. I had to explain 8 times that my boys just wanted to talk to Santa.
We finally get to Santa! Don't worry, I did not take my camera out of my purse the whole time. (I really need a sarcasm font.) T goes first, he wants a video game. He stated he was a good boy except to his brother who deserves it and brings it on himself. He let Santa know that it was his decision if he was on the naughty or nice list, not T's. (This did make me smile.) X-Man goes next, he wants The World Record Paper Airplane Package and a cursive book, which he practiced saying the whole time we were in line. He states he is a good boy and wishes him a Merry Christmas and we walk out the door. T turns to X-Man and lets him know that guy was just some guy in a Santa suit, not really Santa, he didn't even have a mouth because of his fake beard. X-Man didn't let that deter him from believing he met Santa.
I can't listen to Christmas songs or watch my favorite Christmas movie, A Charlie Brown Christmas. Everything reminds me of my parents. Many of my friends still live in my home town and posted videos of the Christmas parade. I didn't know how much I missed the intimate experience of a small town parade. My parents always watched the parades no matter the weather. (It probably helped the parade route went right in front of the bars.) The friends I lost this year were always in the parades with me growing up. But I loved watching my friends' videos and seeing people I knew, even 20 years after I moved away.
The boys have decided they want to host a Christmas party for their friends this year. This is new and I am very excited to start something new, just like my wreath, no memories yet. I am excited to make a craft, have snacks, and exchange gifts at our home with all these little children. (I am also excited that we have very little money to spend, so it will be a simple affair.) I will have friends attend as well, which will be nice, and new. I may not be able to make it through all of this year's Christmas festivities without shedding a tear, but I think making new memories will help the Christmas season to be less painful. Who said Christmas needed to be painless, anyway? I am pretty sure the first Christmas was very painful with joy mixed in.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
You are so ignorant. Thanks, Mom.
I am going to rant a bit and you can opt out of reading. You have been warned...
I have established I am a Christian, I attend church, and I find it important in my life. I went to a Christian college and I feel I am educated. I grew up in Nevada and was exposed to many different lifestyles and beliefs. I do not feel these lifestyles or beliefs changed my faith or relationship with Christ. I learned about the theory of evolution throughout school, including the Christian college I attended. Is it what I believe, no, but I do not think others need to believe in the theory of creation to be educated about it. I have a strong belief in being educated about the world around you. I believe I am a better person for knowing about other theories and beliefs.
I also took a class in college about Eastern religions. It was only one class and I am sure I only learned a very small amount, but I loved learning what others believe and why they believe it. Also, other religions have a direct impact on my religion and I what to know why and what those impacts are. Plus, why are so many different religious sects fighting over land consisting of dirt and rocks in the Middle East? Have you seen the Middle East? I want to know more about the bloody past of Christianity. I know a bit but there is more to learn. In my job I work with many different people with many different faiths. I had to train a direct care staff in the early morning one time and I knew she was Muslim. Because I have been educated in this religion, I knew the breakfast sandwich I was going to bring her couldn't have pork in it. My knowledge helped me to make the training experience more enjoyable. She didn't have to explain why she couldn't eat the sandwich and we didn't have to veer from our objective. "Here, I brought you breakfast to thank you for filling in so early in the morning. Let's get started."
I have encountered many people who are so angry about an Islamic church moving in down the street from where I live. I have heard they are terrorists and are here to make a plan to bring down America. Really? Another person stated he needs to take the fighter jet he pilots and bomb them while they were at church. Wow. These type of statements are not beliefs I want to be exposed to because they break my heart. I do not feel more educated, I feel pain. Why is there so much hate in these people?
Did you know many people in the Christian church do not believe women should be pastors? As if having breasts and a vagina makes someone unable to be called to ministry and preach the word of God. I do not have a limit on the God I know and He is able to use all beings for his purpose.
I would like people to look at others with love. Let's learn about how others think and believe. I know why I believe what I believe and it isn't because someone told me to believe it. I know what is out there to believe in and I have chosen my belief system. Yes, they may not be what you believe, but that is okay. Do I believe in evolution? No, but it is fascinating to hear why you do. Do you believe in the Holy Spirit? No, will you let me tell you why I do? Take me out for coffee and I will talk your ear off about whatever comes up. I love getting to know people and why they tick the way they do.
I have established I am a Christian, I attend church, and I find it important in my life. I went to a Christian college and I feel I am educated. I grew up in Nevada and was exposed to many different lifestyles and beliefs. I do not feel these lifestyles or beliefs changed my faith or relationship with Christ. I learned about the theory of evolution throughout school, including the Christian college I attended. Is it what I believe, no, but I do not think others need to believe in the theory of creation to be educated about it. I have a strong belief in being educated about the world around you. I believe I am a better person for knowing about other theories and beliefs.
I also took a class in college about Eastern religions. It was only one class and I am sure I only learned a very small amount, but I loved learning what others believe and why they believe it. Also, other religions have a direct impact on my religion and I what to know why and what those impacts are. Plus, why are so many different religious sects fighting over land consisting of dirt and rocks in the Middle East? Have you seen the Middle East? I want to know more about the bloody past of Christianity. I know a bit but there is more to learn. In my job I work with many different people with many different faiths. I had to train a direct care staff in the early morning one time and I knew she was Muslim. Because I have been educated in this religion, I knew the breakfast sandwich I was going to bring her couldn't have pork in it. My knowledge helped me to make the training experience more enjoyable. She didn't have to explain why she couldn't eat the sandwich and we didn't have to veer from our objective. "Here, I brought you breakfast to thank you for filling in so early in the morning. Let's get started."
I have encountered many people who are so angry about an Islamic church moving in down the street from where I live. I have heard they are terrorists and are here to make a plan to bring down America. Really? Another person stated he needs to take the fighter jet he pilots and bomb them while they were at church. Wow. These type of statements are not beliefs I want to be exposed to because they break my heart. I do not feel more educated, I feel pain. Why is there so much hate in these people?
Did you know many people in the Christian church do not believe women should be pastors? As if having breasts and a vagina makes someone unable to be called to ministry and preach the word of God. I do not have a limit on the God I know and He is able to use all beings for his purpose.
I would like people to look at others with love. Let's learn about how others think and believe. I know why I believe what I believe and it isn't because someone told me to believe it. I know what is out there to believe in and I have chosen my belief system. Yes, they may not be what you believe, but that is okay. Do I believe in evolution? No, but it is fascinating to hear why you do. Do you believe in the Holy Spirit? No, will you let me tell you why I do? Take me out for coffee and I will talk your ear off about whatever comes up. I love getting to know people and why they tick the way they do.
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