Satan, You Dumb Fuck

For as cunning as you are, you’re one dumb fuck.  Don’t you understand that this past evening disappears when it is stacked up next to the Life I’ve received?  Or are you not privy to all that He has done on my behalf?  Can you not see it all?  How could I not choose His way over yours?  Good try though, tonight you almost had me.  For the night I mean, not like, forever.

David really sick for the last ten days?  The kids sick for the last 3 (really 7) months?  Strep throat for me?  Diarrhea blowout at 10pm?  An overwhelming interaction that nearly made me retreat to the safety of the sofa instead of continue on with the Words and Purpose?  Pain everywhere?  Crappy sleep once I finally did get those three hours in?  This is what you throw at me in the last 24 hours to get me to stay silent?  Your ransom?  Like I said, you’re one dumb f#ck…

Tomorrow when Healing Strep Throat meets No-Sleep-Mama; when Sick Kids clashes into Dirty Kitchen; when Physical Pain partakes of Oxy Would Take It Away; when “Be Strong and Courageous” seems a little smaller, then I get to rest under the biggest Mama Hen ever.  I get to snuggle up into the Rainbow Maker’s light.  I get to choose faith, and hope, and LOVE (because feelings are not facts).  Peace will flow like a river that has never known drought.

You can't see them but there are tears on that keyboard.
You can’t see them but there are tears on that keyboard.

And do you hear that songbird out there perched in the Japanese Pagoda Tree?  She is up at the crack ass of dawn singing her little heart out.  Her song of joy to the pre-morning’s pre-light.  It’s her song of Creation.  She can’t hear the clacking of the keyboard, or sense the tears trickling, but they are my Song.  They are where I choose to grab onto victory instead of victimhood.

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Layers

It’s like this:

We were born into a world with sticky, hot heat.  Like Orlando but worse.  And from day one we were told that lots of thick heavy layers were the only way to combat this climate, this world.

“It keeps your skin and senses safe from…everything…”

“Huh?  How could…?”

“Just wear them.”

So we do.  We wear everything we are told to wear (and some we aren’t).   Until we decide not to.  And we start taking off these layers, these scarves and sleeves. Then we are naked, or maybe one thin layer away from naked.  And naked feels so good for the first time.  Those coats were thick and heavy, we thought they were good and useful.  They dripped with sweat, steam, and shame.  They were not easy to un-peel from your body either.  At least mine weren’t.

Behold:

Coats 3

The coat of  “all people are inherently wicked.”

 

Coats 2

The “But that’s what they said at church and youth group” one.

 

Coats

“You need to…”

 

Coats 1

“You should…”

 

Coats 4

“You shouldn’t…”

The things you always felt were true may have always actually been true.  Just like you knew deep down that layers and layers in summer in Orlando is bat-effing crazy.   Maybe going to college is nuts, or maybe it isn’t?  Maybe church is nuts, or maybe it isn’t? Is it possible homosexuality isn’t everything everyone says it is?  What if hell isn’t what we’ve been told it is?  Perhaps not every human needs to look thin and fit and camera-ready every moment of the day?  Maybe perfection sucks?

I’m really enjoying the exhausting un-peeling.  The act of stripping down is never really pleasurable (real stripping, anyway), but I finally feel the summer breeze saunter through these big front windows.  And wow do those afternoon drizzles feel refreshing!  Those coats sucked.  Naked and unashamed is good.

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18

So we have 18 frozen babies

and we can’t afford to keep them frozen anymore…

and,

 

I might have just had

18 abortions

Like, fetal genocide.

All with Lumpkin blood

All heirs

All looking like

Lucy

Rae

and

Atticus.

All Funny

All special

All beautiful

All wonderful terrors

Now all His.

 

It feels like a donation to the Angelic Cause.

Do I get an extra jewel?

A lifetime warranty?

How about a book deal?

Because I released 18 of my little beings back to You?

Ugh…

 

 

Scan 24

 

(I drew this while waiting for my eggs to get harvested.  It was too early, and that’s why this man waiting for his wife doesn’t have a face)

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