No truer words have been spoken. This blogging thing has been an eye-opener for this chick.
What these peepers have seen is a lot of smoozing. "I'll link your blog if you link my blog." "Why are you at this blogging convention...you're not in the Who's Who of the blogging world?" "Ohhhh...I'm going on vacay...will you guest blog for moi? I'll return the favor when you go on vacay!"
Another sight I have beheld is, bloggers with 5,324 followers and 716 comments on sweet photos of family and pets and all they blogged was a recount of the day that just passed. Naps and playtime and walking the dog in the park. I got the wrong blogging information packet.
This clues me in that my blog, itsmyo, is seriously no big deal. I don't have any pictures on it, except one of me. I have lots and lots of words.
I have been told by the popularity blogging analysts that I must do the hokey-pokey perfectly to have a reader following.
Anyone even READ my blogs? They are NOT full of photos with captions like: See Jeanna craft. See Jeanna bake. See Jeanna and her friends toast each other. Nonononono. They are VERY wordy.
I was told that there are different types of blogging. You, Jeanna, have NOT found your target readers for your type of blogs!
When I began, all I knew was I loved the written word and I loved the truth to be spoken. I valued principles and how you could apply them everyday in a practical way. Goofy me thought there were others just like me. They must ALL be on vacay!
I have been tempted to go with a lighter blogging approach and upload tons of pics of my everyday musings and post every whimsical thought that passes my children lips and involve lots of color and eye-candy. But I realize...that is not my calling.
To be a wildly popular blogging phenom with a reader following up in the thousands would be ideal and exciting. I would love to be so popularly read that the search engines directs everyone to my blog when they search topics, but I don't hokey-pokey enough for that to happen, nor do I swear & curse, nor am I liberal, nor do I swoon over Hollywood and their morals, nor do I dog men, nor do I spread hate language, and nor do I write incessantly about the color pink.
Face it, Jeanna. You write about words and their significance and their influence and their importance to humans when they're applied to the spirit. They're a check of reality for the lives lived in denial. They have a pulse to help life when it gets stuck. In these words I write there are thoughts provoked to aide where you keep falling down. They point out, they show, they clarify.
Do people even want to read that kind of stuff...or do they really need an ooo-wee picture of a tiny cutesy-poopsey puppy that just joined the family and asks the readers to cast ballots to name it? Do people want to be encouraged in their daily struggles and shown where to get help or do they need a photo posted of me in my swimsuit showing my parts for strangers to ogle? Idk. I'm asking.
If you read this to the end, would you acknowledge that you did by simply typing 'read it' in the comment box? If you don't comment then I'll know that you did not read it and don't care to read it and that I don't need to quit my day job.
Sincerely,
Jeanna, the Wordy Blogger
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Feasting on Famine Food
Do you know what the words 'famine food' mean? It is a phrase describing food that is used to feed third world countries or people that have suffered devastation and need food. This type of food is cheap, quick to cook, void of any natural nutrients but peppered with man-made chemical additives, it turns to sludge in the intestines, and is so processed that hunger is back fairly quickly. Thus, all the bloated bellies.
We wince when we see all those poor people suffering from starvation and want to send money to help them, but your money would only purchase the same food that is causing the starvation to begin with. White rice, white flour, white sugar, white sugar substitutes, fructose anything, and all the products that have these items listed on their food labels have been stripped of the good stuff (fiber, bran, so forth), and then they're primed and pumped full of fake nutrition.
This is not a word that I made up, you can Google it, it's a certifiable word. If those famined people had clothes on, their swollen bellies would hang over their belts. America is not a third world country but we are drowning amidst the same famine food. Our bellies, waist, and back fat hang over our belts because we feed on the same famine food. It may have different names and prepared different ways but it's still the same thing.
Famine food is cheaper to buy, it's quicker to serve, and many households can only afford this food. There are ones that don't care and there are others that are just unaware of what is in our Standard American Diet (SAD). But the naked truth is...our intestines and colons are literally clogged and retaining instead of flowing and releasing.
At this point, you know what I'm talking about. I'm not zoning in on the body's nutritional health. There are thousands of health professionals that do that everyday. I am a health professional of the spiritual kind. When you see the doctor, he listens to your heart, lungs, and stomach with his stethoscope. He wants to hear if things are scattin' and beboppin', if they aren't, he runs tests or prescribes meds. Usually, you would go to a specialist for specific problem areas. Did I just tell you anything that you don't already know?
Not only am I a spiritual health professional, I am a SOUTHERN spiritual health professional, a SSHP. I specialize in diseases of the heart, lungs, and colons of the body of Christ in the Bible Belt. A huge percentage of our bellies are hanging over our Bible Belts. Yes, we are bloated and swollen with the ritualistic usage of undernourished food. Jesus referred to His words as food. So from here on out, think of His Words as food, okay? Humor me.
Bible Belt Christians know all there is to know about The Good Lord, The Man Upstairs, Church attendance and membership, stewardship, 5th Sundays, covered dish suppers, Sunday School, choir, and door to door visitation. In the Bible Belt someone in your bloodline was or is a preacher.
The church that I went to raised me to quote Bible verses, Psalms 19:14 was my favorite..."Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight, oh Lord, my Rock and Redeemer". I was really good at Bible drills, too, where we shouted the books of the Bible in military unison and I knew each and every Bible story and all the characters involved.
These 'ingredients' are well and good to the rearing up of young-uns in the Gospel...BUT...here. I. go. (takes in big breath so there is no stopping until truth be told)...we are drowning amidst famine food. Like in America, where we are covered in aisles and aisles of food (Word, remember?) and we are driving through the fast food lanes, gulping down prepared toxic meals and letting prepackaged, disposable, trays of anything go down our throats and we become drowsy and puffy and need naps and then we become dull of hearing and with our eyes shut we don't see what God is really doing and we let the preachers spoon and bottle feed us pablum and milk and we let the workers of the church move our arms and legs to exercise us and change our poopy pants and we cry and throw fits or storm off mad at the church and move to another and our carnality just keeps getting bigger and bigger until it completely droops over our fatselves belts (breathe here).
Yes, I am insinuating that we are famined and fat at the same time, undernourished and dying of starvation because of lack true nourishment. Those who have made complete and positive transformations of their health because of heart, lungs, and colon issues, had to take their own health into their own hands. So do you my Bible Belt friend. Church should only be confirming what you should be giving yourself at home or beyond the church walls. Activities and programs in the church setting do not nourish you completely, you should be lifting the Word to your mouth daily and feeding on it and listening to teaching/preaching to enhance your foods flavor and add to that worship/praise music to complete the entire dining experience!
Coming from a long line of preachers and being a member of your church for 30 years does not prevent you from starvation and nutritional depletion. Spiritual nutrition is a daily bread. Feeding purposely on God's food (Word, remember?).
If you're looking to trim your waistline by a few inches and get your innards flowing and releasing again say this prayer to the Father of the Feast..."Father, give us this day our RDA (recommended daily allowance), of worship to You and Your Word to nourish me, strengthen me, trim me, and to make me an active participant in my letting go of famine foods and let me eat freely at your banqueting table, because your banner over me is love."
We wince when we see all those poor people suffering from starvation and want to send money to help them, but your money would only purchase the same food that is causing the starvation to begin with. White rice, white flour, white sugar, white sugar substitutes, fructose anything, and all the products that have these items listed on their food labels have been stripped of the good stuff (fiber, bran, so forth), and then they're primed and pumped full of fake nutrition.
This is not a word that I made up, you can Google it, it's a certifiable word. If those famined people had clothes on, their swollen bellies would hang over their belts. America is not a third world country but we are drowning amidst the same famine food. Our bellies, waist, and back fat hang over our belts because we feed on the same famine food. It may have different names and prepared different ways but it's still the same thing.
Famine food is cheaper to buy, it's quicker to serve, and many households can only afford this food. There are ones that don't care and there are others that are just unaware of what is in our Standard American Diet (SAD). But the naked truth is...our intestines and colons are literally clogged and retaining instead of flowing and releasing.
At this point, you know what I'm talking about. I'm not zoning in on the body's nutritional health. There are thousands of health professionals that do that everyday. I am a health professional of the spiritual kind. When you see the doctor, he listens to your heart, lungs, and stomach with his stethoscope. He wants to hear if things are scattin' and beboppin', if they aren't, he runs tests or prescribes meds. Usually, you would go to a specialist for specific problem areas. Did I just tell you anything that you don't already know?
Not only am I a spiritual health professional, I am a SOUTHERN spiritual health professional, a SSHP. I specialize in diseases of the heart, lungs, and colons of the body of Christ in the Bible Belt. A huge percentage of our bellies are hanging over our Bible Belts. Yes, we are bloated and swollen with the ritualistic usage of undernourished food. Jesus referred to His words as food. So from here on out, think of His Words as food, okay? Humor me.
Bible Belt Christians know all there is to know about The Good Lord, The Man Upstairs, Church attendance and membership, stewardship, 5th Sundays, covered dish suppers, Sunday School, choir, and door to door visitation. In the Bible Belt someone in your bloodline was or is a preacher.
The church that I went to raised me to quote Bible verses, Psalms 19:14 was my favorite..."Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight, oh Lord, my Rock and Redeemer". I was really good at Bible drills, too, where we shouted the books of the Bible in military unison and I knew each and every Bible story and all the characters involved.
These 'ingredients' are well and good to the rearing up of young-uns in the Gospel...BUT...here. I. go. (takes in big breath so there is no stopping until truth be told)...we are drowning amidst famine food. Like in America, where we are covered in aisles and aisles of food (Word, remember?) and we are driving through the fast food lanes, gulping down prepared toxic meals and letting prepackaged, disposable, trays of anything go down our throats and we become drowsy and puffy and need naps and then we become dull of hearing and with our eyes shut we don't see what God is really doing and we let the preachers spoon and bottle feed us pablum and milk and we let the workers of the church move our arms and legs to exercise us and change our poopy pants and we cry and throw fits or storm off mad at the church and move to another and our carnality just keeps getting bigger and bigger until it completely droops over our fatselves belts (breathe here).
Yes, I am insinuating that we are famined and fat at the same time, undernourished and dying of starvation because of lack true nourishment. Those who have made complete and positive transformations of their health because of heart, lungs, and colon issues, had to take their own health into their own hands. So do you my Bible Belt friend. Church should only be confirming what you should be giving yourself at home or beyond the church walls. Activities and programs in the church setting do not nourish you completely, you should be lifting the Word to your mouth daily and feeding on it and listening to teaching/preaching to enhance your foods flavor and add to that worship/praise music to complete the entire dining experience!
Coming from a long line of preachers and being a member of your church for 30 years does not prevent you from starvation and nutritional depletion. Spiritual nutrition is a daily bread. Feeding purposely on God's food (Word, remember?).
If you're looking to trim your waistline by a few inches and get your innards flowing and releasing again say this prayer to the Father of the Feast..."Father, give us this day our RDA (recommended daily allowance), of worship to You and Your Word to nourish me, strengthen me, trim me, and to make me an active participant in my letting go of famine foods and let me eat freely at your banqueting table, because your banner over me is love."
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Does This Cocoon Make My Butt Look Big?
I have been in this cocoon for 12 years and 9 months, I am ready to come out of it.
I'm mature enough to know that just because I am ready to come out of it does not mean I am ready to come out of it, but I tell you, I am ready to come out of it, in the impatient sort of way.
I sold my dance studios in 1999 with the intentions of going full time into dance ministry. It was called "Dance and The Word" Workshops. The desire to teach and dance as a secular business no longer intrigued me. The days of company teams, dance competitions, hours of extra rehearsals, the constant proving myself as a leader in the dance community had lost its lure and I desired to offer dance as a tool and a gift with a more eternal value.
At the time of my business selling I was up and running with the workshops and had several bookings to teach on weekends. I had written a book called "Disciples of the Dance" and it was selling pretty good. I was ready to make the transition. I had my last show as Artistic Director of Encore Dance Co. in May of 1999, making the announcement onstage at the end of the show that I was leaving and introduced the new owner/director. It was all done and I was ready to take on the new thing that I felt God was taking me to. And then...nothing...no phone calls...no bookings...no workshops...no interest from anyone. It all dried up.
I went through an identity crisis. Who was I? What was going on? Where did I miss it? I had been a dancer, teacher, choreographer, and a community presence since 1972, now I was at home doing nothing.
For sure, I grew and expanded and developed and learned things I didn't know that I didn't know, spiritually as well as emotionally. But, I still couldn't wrap my mind around why the world had stopped and I had fallen off of it.
It wasn't until the following year of 2000 and I was signing my tax returns when I saw under my name "housewife" as my occupation. That was when I got it. I was a housewife. The title Instructor/Artistic Director had always been there. Now housewife had replaced that.
It was at that moment I became very resolute like Scarlett O'Hara was about Tara. If that was what I was, then I was going to be the best housewife there EVER was! If this was my cocoon then I was gonna embrace it and have peace while I was in it. After all, how long could this process possibly take? Right?
In 2004, exactly 5 years and 5 months after the sale of my studios I began to teach for one of my students who had graduated and left for college and had returned to her hometown to open a Christian dance school. She opened it in 2002 but I did not feel led to be in the studio atmosphere, AT ALL, besides I had signed an agreement with the new owner of Encore that I would not teach in a local school within a five mile radius for 5 years. The beginning of 2004, God began urging me (with not a lot of enthusiasm from me) to help this former student of mine with her vision to have a Christian inspired dance school with uplifting and motivating music, godly movements as well as devotion and prayer time as part of the classes.
Still, without much gusto I consented and joined in with her call and ministry. Her business grew and flourished by leaps and bounds. She achieved everything in 2 or 3 years that I had tried to accomplish in 17 years with my school and never did.
I continue to grow and still continue to wonder why this dormancy. What about MY dreams, MY visions, My desires that are wrapped up somewhere in this cocoon that I think is going to split open, at times, because I feel like I'm protruding hugely out of it!
When it's time, will I be too snug to come out of the rug? Will I be this big, fat, aimless, worm or something that has lost its butterfly vision?
I have heard that if you try to help a butterfly come out of its cocoon, even if it is coming out on its own already, that it will die. It won't make it.
So, as I continue to squirm in this personal cocoon and try to survive the transformation process, I will stay attached to the place where it all started...to God...the author and the finisher of my faith. I will cling to His method that is equipping me for my EMERGENCE!
There are times I think I'll be squeezed to death. There are times I don't think I have the strength to push out. I feel that my life is ebbing away and what will be left of me will be worthless, of no value to anyone.
Help me, God, to be the best cocooned housewife that there EVER was for I believe there will one day be an emergence-y of me, I will come out, I will fly.
"Come, my people, go home and shut yourselves in. Go into seclusion for a while....." Isaiah 26:20
I'm mature enough to know that just because I am ready to come out of it does not mean I am ready to come out of it, but I tell you, I am ready to come out of it, in the impatient sort of way.
I sold my dance studios in 1999 with the intentions of going full time into dance ministry. It was called "Dance and The Word" Workshops. The desire to teach and dance as a secular business no longer intrigued me. The days of company teams, dance competitions, hours of extra rehearsals, the constant proving myself as a leader in the dance community had lost its lure and I desired to offer dance as a tool and a gift with a more eternal value.
At the time of my business selling I was up and running with the workshops and had several bookings to teach on weekends. I had written a book called "Disciples of the Dance" and it was selling pretty good. I was ready to make the transition. I had my last show as Artistic Director of Encore Dance Co. in May of 1999, making the announcement onstage at the end of the show that I was leaving and introduced the new owner/director. It was all done and I was ready to take on the new thing that I felt God was taking me to. And then...nothing...no phone calls...no bookings...no workshops...no interest from anyone. It all dried up.
I went through an identity crisis. Who was I? What was going on? Where did I miss it? I had been a dancer, teacher, choreographer, and a community presence since 1972, now I was at home doing nothing.
For sure, I grew and expanded and developed and learned things I didn't know that I didn't know, spiritually as well as emotionally. But, I still couldn't wrap my mind around why the world had stopped and I had fallen off of it.
It wasn't until the following year of 2000 and I was signing my tax returns when I saw under my name "housewife" as my occupation. That was when I got it. I was a housewife. The title Instructor/Artistic Director had always been there. Now housewife had replaced that.
It was at that moment I became very resolute like Scarlett O'Hara was about Tara. If that was what I was, then I was going to be the best housewife there EVER was! If this was my cocoon then I was gonna embrace it and have peace while I was in it. After all, how long could this process possibly take? Right?
In 2004, exactly 5 years and 5 months after the sale of my studios I began to teach for one of my students who had graduated and left for college and had returned to her hometown to open a Christian dance school. She opened it in 2002 but I did not feel led to be in the studio atmosphere, AT ALL, besides I had signed an agreement with the new owner of Encore that I would not teach in a local school within a five mile radius for 5 years. The beginning of 2004, God began urging me (with not a lot of enthusiasm from me) to help this former student of mine with her vision to have a Christian inspired dance school with uplifting and motivating music, godly movements as well as devotion and prayer time as part of the classes.
Still, without much gusto I consented and joined in with her call and ministry. Her business grew and flourished by leaps and bounds. She achieved everything in 2 or 3 years that I had tried to accomplish in 17 years with my school and never did.
I continue to grow and still continue to wonder why this dormancy. What about MY dreams, MY visions, My desires that are wrapped up somewhere in this cocoon that I think is going to split open, at times, because I feel like I'm protruding hugely out of it!
When it's time, will I be too snug to come out of the rug? Will I be this big, fat, aimless, worm or something that has lost its butterfly vision?
I have heard that if you try to help a butterfly come out of its cocoon, even if it is coming out on its own already, that it will die. It won't make it.
So, as I continue to squirm in this personal cocoon and try to survive the transformation process, I will stay attached to the place where it all started...to God...the author and the finisher of my faith. I will cling to His method that is equipping me for my EMERGENCE!
There are times I think I'll be squeezed to death. There are times I don't think I have the strength to push out. I feel that my life is ebbing away and what will be left of me will be worthless, of no value to anyone.
Help me, God, to be the best cocooned housewife that there EVER was for I believe there will one day be an emergence-y of me, I will come out, I will fly.
"Come, my people, go home and shut yourselves in. Go into seclusion for a while....." Isaiah 26:20
Saturday, January 28, 2012
If It's Not One Plague It's Another
I'm a survivor. I used to suffer from Roseanne Roseannadanna Syndrome.
This syndrome was named after her because it has only been in most recent years experts have been able to pin down and identify what causes this debilitating chronic nastiness.
How was I diagnosed? Well, it was a self-diagnosis.
I had the usual symptoms, repeated chaotic plague-like situations that would cause upheaval in my little world. It would leave me flinging my arms around in Lost-In-Space-Robot fashion yelling, "Danger danger, Will Robinson!". Then, I would find myself, as I could see another bout heading my way wailing, "If it's not one thing it's another!" huffing in a disgusted breath.
These plagues weren't always all my doing, they did sometimes involve the dastardly deeds of another person which would domino and the law of 'Cause and Effect' would take over. But more times than not, they were because of my own lack of knowledge of what would set a plaguefest into motion.
Below I have compiled a Survivalist Information Guide to help you identify and to stop the plague madness, but if you deem this useless, well.....plague on my brother.
You might be a Plague-ee if...
1.) Symptom: The bare essentials of your necessary existence (food, clothing, shelter, water, income, relationships) have been tainted and taken from you on numerous occasions.
This is the blood plague. Intensified Tide cannot remove this.
After-effects: The loss or theft of personal everyday belongings, finances, friends.
2.) Symptom: Feelings of helplessness take over as you arm wrestle unwanted intruders.
This is the frog-lice-flies-locust plagues. Like someone projectile vomited all over your belongings.
After-effects: You seem to run around putting out proverbial fires. It's like you spar with an unseen force that messes everything up on a regular basis.
3.) Symptom: You experience trauma from the breakdown and/or death of your work-mules.
This is the livestock plague. The things you need to perform duties die in the middle of its active service.
After-effects: Your car, washing machine, A/C, hair dryer break down and your utilities have been shut off. In other words, what you need to help you breaks down or dies.
4.) Symptom: Your immune system keeps allowing the crud and croup, infections and inflammation. It does not defend you. Oh the heartbreak of Psoriasis.
This is the boils plague. The never ending parade of aches, ailments and meds.
After-effects: Debris from the parade. The aftermath after the destruction.
5.) Symptom: There is sadness/unhappiness when you view your kingdom and what remains of it.
This is the hail plague. You have no damage control plan. Your crops keep getting ruined.
After-effects: What you DO have is broken, torn, dirty, unrepairable, dinged, dented, collapsing/failing.
6.) Symptom: Head spiraling confusion-indecisiveness-fear-lethargy jousts with you.You're swinging
a sword and can't see the evil knight you're swinging at.
This is the darkness plague. You have no definition of who your real enemy is.
After-effects: Exhaustion from beating the air or lassoing the wind and the culprit giggles at your dumbness.
7.) Symptom: A sense of loss permeates your every day. Loss of talents, hobbies, friends, family, and yourself.
This is the death of the firstborn plague. Life rots and stinks for you.
After-effects: Things and situations lie unused and untapped. Carnage is everywhere.
HOLD THE PLAGUES!
It was never intended for God's Property to experience plagues. The proof of that statement is in Exodus. Only the Egyptians were zapped. GP's were untouched.
Yet....once in the desert, plagues DID come a-calling.
We believe we are unsuspecting victims with no power to change our circumstances. Lie.
It is cards that were dealt us. Lie.
It's our lot in life. Lie.
We are bit actors in a drama forced to play out our role. Lie.
PLAGUES ARE CONSEQUENCES IN ACTION!
We want our golden calf and His golden blessings, too! That's a NO-GO in God's eyes. You gotta choose! It's an either or, neither nor choice. The willing and obedient eat the good of the land, not just willing and not just obedient, but both. Both.
How negligent and unreasonable would it be for the Holy Spirit not to inform, whisper, hint, or instruct us as to what He wants us to do everyday? How to make right decisions? How to stop the plagues?
Roseanne Roseannadanna always believed that plagues were a normal part of life and never knew what caused them or when they would hit, thus the Roseanne Roseannadanna Syndrome.
I, however, as a survivor of the plagues, feel the need to warn others of the flying monkeys.
This syndrome was named after her because it has only been in most recent years experts have been able to pin down and identify what causes this debilitating chronic nastiness.
How was I diagnosed? Well, it was a self-diagnosis.
I had the usual symptoms, repeated chaotic plague-like situations that would cause upheaval in my little world. It would leave me flinging my arms around in Lost-In-Space-Robot fashion yelling, "Danger danger, Will Robinson!". Then, I would find myself, as I could see another bout heading my way wailing, "If it's not one thing it's another!" huffing in a disgusted breath.
These plagues weren't always all my doing, they did sometimes involve the dastardly deeds of another person which would domino and the law of 'Cause and Effect' would take over. But more times than not, they were because of my own lack of knowledge of what would set a plaguefest into motion.
Below I have compiled a Survivalist Information Guide to help you identify and to stop the plague madness, but if you deem this useless, well.....plague on my brother.
You might be a Plague-ee if...
1.) Symptom: The bare essentials of your necessary existence (food, clothing, shelter, water, income, relationships) have been tainted and taken from you on numerous occasions.
This is the blood plague. Intensified Tide cannot remove this.
After-effects: The loss or theft of personal everyday belongings, finances, friends.
2.) Symptom: Feelings of helplessness take over as you arm wrestle unwanted intruders.
This is the frog-lice-flies-locust plagues. Like someone projectile vomited all over your belongings.
After-effects: You seem to run around putting out proverbial fires. It's like you spar with an unseen force that messes everything up on a regular basis.
3.) Symptom: You experience trauma from the breakdown and/or death of your work-mules.
This is the livestock plague. The things you need to perform duties die in the middle of its active service.
After-effects: Your car, washing machine, A/C, hair dryer break down and your utilities have been shut off. In other words, what you need to help you breaks down or dies.
4.) Symptom: Your immune system keeps allowing the crud and croup, infections and inflammation. It does not defend you. Oh the heartbreak of Psoriasis.
This is the boils plague. The never ending parade of aches, ailments and meds.
After-effects: Debris from the parade. The aftermath after the destruction.
5.) Symptom: There is sadness/unhappiness when you view your kingdom and what remains of it.
This is the hail plague. You have no damage control plan. Your crops keep getting ruined.
After-effects: What you DO have is broken, torn, dirty, unrepairable, dinged, dented, collapsing/failing.
6.) Symptom: Head spiraling confusion-indecisiveness-fear-lethargy jousts with you.You're swinging
a sword and can't see the evil knight you're swinging at.
This is the darkness plague. You have no definition of who your real enemy is.
After-effects: Exhaustion from beating the air or lassoing the wind and the culprit giggles at your dumbness.
7.) Symptom: A sense of loss permeates your every day. Loss of talents, hobbies, friends, family, and yourself.
This is the death of the firstborn plague. Life rots and stinks for you.
After-effects: Things and situations lie unused and untapped. Carnage is everywhere.
HOLD THE PLAGUES!
It was never intended for God's Property to experience plagues. The proof of that statement is in Exodus. Only the Egyptians were zapped. GP's were untouched.
Yet....once in the desert, plagues DID come a-calling.
We believe we are unsuspecting victims with no power to change our circumstances. Lie.
It is cards that were dealt us. Lie.
It's our lot in life. Lie.
We are bit actors in a drama forced to play out our role. Lie.
PLAGUES ARE CONSEQUENCES IN ACTION!
We want our golden calf and His golden blessings, too! That's a NO-GO in God's eyes. You gotta choose! It's an either or, neither nor choice. The willing and obedient eat the good of the land, not just willing and not just obedient, but both. Both.
How negligent and unreasonable would it be for the Holy Spirit not to inform, whisper, hint, or instruct us as to what He wants us to do everyday? How to make right decisions? How to stop the plagues?
Roseanne Roseannadanna always believed that plagues were a normal part of life and never knew what caused them or when they would hit, thus the Roseanne Roseannadanna Syndrome.
I, however, as a survivor of the plagues, feel the need to warn others of the flying monkeys.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
What's Peas Got to Do With It?
This is a sensitive subject matter about being sensitive.
Sensitivity is a sensitive topic of the senses because you have to be sensitive to sense it.
Following is a parable about sensitive sensitivity:
There once was a Princess, her name was Princess Pea Pod. Why? Just go with it. Anyways, she sensed in her heart it was time to get married.
By co-inky-dink, Prince Hogh was sensing the same thing at the same time. Being a Type A personality, Prince Hogh checked out the e-Royal Highness Matchmaking Service (for Prince and Princesses don't date they just match and marry).
The King approved heartily.
When they both realized that they were meant for each other, the Prince had one test to prove Pea Pod's genuine sensitivity level. The "I Sensed That" test.
So, since they were friends on Facebook, he began to post things on her status that only she would 'get' because they had formed a relationship and were at the place where she should sense their meaning.
She would feel a lump in her heart every time he would post, "If you love me you'll do what I ask." Not a lump of disgust in the feminist sort of way, but a lump of knowing he was asking her to be sensitive enough to 'hear' him even if words were not used.
A prompting, an urging, a hint, an inkling, an unction....a sensitivity...she did recognize and respond to them all. Therefore, Prince Hogh knew that Princess Pea Pod was the one formed and fashioned for him.They married and lived sensitivi-ily ever after. The End.
Every daughter and son of The King is a Princess or Prince and is encouraged to sense the messages from Him. We are exhorted to be sensitive to His nudgings. His subtle gestures.The urgings and unctions are sent to you by Prince Hogh (Holy Ghost) EVERY DAY.
He'll put a pea under your stacks of mattresses and see if you'll respond to it by saying I sensed that. Then He wants you to love Him by doing the thing you've sensed. Recognizing there's a pea is only part of being sensitive. Doing something with the pea is an offering of love and a display of maturity when you do something with all the peas in life.
If you love Him, will you do what He asks?
Sensitivity is a sensitive topic of the senses because you have to be sensitive to sense it.
Following is a parable about sensitive sensitivity:
There once was a Princess, her name was Princess Pea Pod. Why? Just go with it. Anyways, she sensed in her heart it was time to get married.
By co-inky-dink, Prince Hogh was sensing the same thing at the same time. Being a Type A personality, Prince Hogh checked out the e-Royal Highness Matchmaking Service (for Prince and Princesses don't date they just match and marry).
The King approved heartily.
When they both realized that they were meant for each other, the Prince had one test to prove Pea Pod's genuine sensitivity level. The "I Sensed That" test.
So, since they were friends on Facebook, he began to post things on her status that only she would 'get' because they had formed a relationship and were at the place where she should sense their meaning.
She would feel a lump in her heart every time he would post, "If you love me you'll do what I ask." Not a lump of disgust in the feminist sort of way, but a lump of knowing he was asking her to be sensitive enough to 'hear' him even if words were not used.
A prompting, an urging, a hint, an inkling, an unction....a sensitivity...she did recognize and respond to them all. Therefore, Prince Hogh knew that Princess Pea Pod was the one formed and fashioned for him.They married and lived sensitivi-ily ever after. The End.
Every daughter and son of The King is a Princess or Prince and is encouraged to sense the messages from Him. We are exhorted to be sensitive to His nudgings. His subtle gestures.The urgings and unctions are sent to you by Prince Hogh (Holy Ghost) EVERY DAY.
He'll put a pea under your stacks of mattresses and see if you'll respond to it by saying I sensed that. Then He wants you to love Him by doing the thing you've sensed. Recognizing there's a pea is only part of being sensitive. Doing something with the pea is an offering of love and a display of maturity when you do something with all the peas in life.
If you love Him, will you do what He asks?
Friday, January 13, 2012
I Opted Out
What did it mean when I said yes to Christianity?
Did it mean I'm free to say "Hallelujah" and "Pass the margaritas" in the same sentence? Yes, it does.
But, I opted out.
Am I allowed to post scriptures on my Facebook wall and then pay money for tickets and attend a comedy show that the language would melt the jewelry off my body? Yes!
But, I opted out.
In order to be thrifty and save a buck (practicing my stewardship in this economy) is it okay to stay in and watch all the crude nude-y booty movies I can for the evening? Sure thing!
But, I opted out.
So, basically, saying yes to Christianity means I have freedom to choose what I want. Right?
I can chew a plug and spit.
I can sip a little bit.
I can cover my behind and lie.
I can tell someone I hope they die.
I can bark at you.
I can sing catchy songs about hedonism, as long as it has a
good beat I can dance to.
I can become best friends with a slot machine.
But, what does saying yes to Christianity really mean?
I'm free to hate on you.
I'm free to key the car parked too close to me.
I'm free to take office supplies from my workplace.
I'm free to be jealous of the attention your kids get and charge up my credit cards so mine
will be well supplied and popular and in the clique, like yours are.
I'm free to fudge on my taxes if it suits the situation.
I'm free....I'm free...Jesus made me free. That's right, honey.
One thing I know for sure, Grace comes with the Christianity deal. That means when I choose to do one or all of the above mentioned, Grace turns its' head the other way as if I didn't do it and says, "All is well with Thee and Thine, try to do better the next time." Ummmm.....NOT!
Is that what it means to say yes to Christianity?
What does it mean then? Opting out...it means opting out.
When my debt has been paid and I am free from clauses and stipulations, rules and regulations. I can tell satan & company, that wants me to stay under their iron clad contract, that I AM FREE TO OPT OUT...I am opting out!
Where I exercise my freedom and use my gift of Grace is when I use its' ability to help me to NOT do the stuff that keeps me bound in the Law of Sin & Death. Freedom & Grace helps me to OPT OUT!
Every time I opt out on a deal that will keep me a "free agent", I sing the song "I'm Coming out" by Diana Ross, but I changed the words to "I'm opting out...I want the world to know...got to let it show". I do that because its got a good beat to dance to.
Did it mean I'm free to say "Hallelujah" and "Pass the margaritas" in the same sentence? Yes, it does.
But, I opted out.
Am I allowed to post scriptures on my Facebook wall and then pay money for tickets and attend a comedy show that the language would melt the jewelry off my body? Yes!
But, I opted out.
In order to be thrifty and save a buck (practicing my stewardship in this economy) is it okay to stay in and watch all the crude nude-y booty movies I can for the evening? Sure thing!
But, I opted out.
So, basically, saying yes to Christianity means I have freedom to choose what I want. Right?
I can chew a plug and spit.
I can sip a little bit.
I can cover my behind and lie.
I can tell someone I hope they die.
I can bark at you.
I can sing catchy songs about hedonism, as long as it has a
good beat I can dance to.
I can become best friends with a slot machine.
But, what does saying yes to Christianity really mean?
I'm free to hate on you.
I'm free to key the car parked too close to me.
I'm free to take office supplies from my workplace.
I'm free to be jealous of the attention your kids get and charge up my credit cards so mine
will be well supplied and popular and in the clique, like yours are.
I'm free to fudge on my taxes if it suits the situation.
I'm free....I'm free...Jesus made me free. That's right, honey.
One thing I know for sure, Grace comes with the Christianity deal. That means when I choose to do one or all of the above mentioned, Grace turns its' head the other way as if I didn't do it and says, "All is well with Thee and Thine, try to do better the next time." Ummmm.....NOT!
Is that what it means to say yes to Christianity?
What does it mean then? Opting out...it means opting out.
When my debt has been paid and I am free from clauses and stipulations, rules and regulations. I can tell satan & company, that wants me to stay under their iron clad contract, that I AM FREE TO OPT OUT...I am opting out!
Where I exercise my freedom and use my gift of Grace is when I use its' ability to help me to NOT do the stuff that keeps me bound in the Law of Sin & Death. Freedom & Grace helps me to OPT OUT!
Every time I opt out on a deal that will keep me a "free agent", I sing the song "I'm Coming out" by Diana Ross, but I changed the words to "I'm opting out...I want the world to know...got to let it show". I do that because its got a good beat to dance to.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Oh, You're One of Those
Many moons ago, as a newbie to the wife and mother lifestyle, in between teaching dance and choreographing, I thought it would be advantageous to supplement our family's income by selling Mary Kay Cosmetics. Yes, I was a Mary Kay Beauty Consultant.
You know how it goes...you order the kit, you get bookings, a friend tells a friend, you try to conform all you meet to the awesomeness of the products (because the secret of Mary Kay is she bought the recipes/ ingredients list from a tanner that used these ingredients in tanning his hides). But most of all, you absolutely must have stock on hand so you can immediately make an instant trade, cash for product. It is so uncool to get an order and have to wait for it to come in.
This is why I end up at my bank. I'm young, I've never gotten a loan by myself before. I'm nervous. I sit down at the loan officer's desk, I'll call him Mr. Curmudgeon (if you don't know what that means, please Google it before you read on). I hand him my application, he looks at it and says, "Oh, you're one of those."
I was crushed! Why, you ask? Because I thought the same thing he did about salesmen. In reality, I was a salesman.
One of my best customer's husband called me "The Pusher". You see, there is an unspoken language that comes with unspoken implications when your occupation is salesman. Salesman, of course, is not the only word with which we do stereotypical deciphering.
Take...
homeschooled
stay at home mom
unemployed
oh, here's a good one...stepparent.
I've seen the look on people's faces, you can almost hear their thoughts out loud when I say I homeschool my grandkids. Ohhh, poor child, won't they be behind? Disadvantaged? They won't know how to be social. These things have been said to me. A stay at home mom?...gee, how fulfilling is that? As if staying home to rear your children is a death sentence. Being unemployed, as I see it, does not make me an undesirable...I'm gainfully employed and the benefits are stupendous!
The one that gripes my butt, though, is the stepparent one. Every time, through my career as a stepmother to Tangae and Stacey, because someone would say "you don't look old enough to be their mother" many times I would just let it ride. Many times people would go on and on and I would tell them that they were my stepdaughters. Here would come the dismissal. It would be as if you just said, "I am their step (not-valid-not-a-part-of-not-viable-not-necessary-not-a-real-parent) mother."
I cannot count the hundreds of times I would say, "And these are my stepdaughters" and I am not joking, people would say out loud, "Oh." Like, it does not matter that you've helped raise them since they were 2 and 3 years of age and they are now 41 (almost) and 42. Or that you were there for every event in their lives except their births or loved them like a mama would through every situation. It has always been, except for a few exceptions, just like when I was seated in the bank at Mr. Curmudgeon's desk. "Oh, your one of those." A step mother. Not a real mother, you just play one on T.V.
That same feeling that I felt at Mr. Curmudgeon's desk would hover over me. It would crush me. In reality, I AM a step mother. I must accept that stigmas come attached to this word. I remember once when Stacey had spend the night company over, I heard the little girl say to Stacey, "She's not mean at all" with which Stacey replied, "I never said she was." It was just implied, stepmother = wicked/evil. Thanks to all the fairy tales!
I have looked at my being selected to be their stepmother as being hand-picked by God, Himself. For me to "step" in and fill a space that was presented to me upon the marriage to their father. I took the position knowing that I was called from the foundation of time to be their stepmother. God specifically told me that from all the women on the face of the earth, He had chosen me to be their stepmother. I have always considered it a privilege and a great honor to hold that title. Even without the kudos.
I gladly step back and let the real parents have their roles, their names, Daddy, Momma, I'm happy to be called Jeanna, Tangae and Stacey's stepmother. I don't take it as a slam or a demotion to be listed as one, even when our culture negates any positive meaning to the name stepmother, 'cause God and I both know that I relish and revel in the fact that...yeah...stepmother, I'm one of those.
You know how it goes...you order the kit, you get bookings, a friend tells a friend, you try to conform all you meet to the awesomeness of the products (because the secret of Mary Kay is she bought the recipes/ ingredients list from a tanner that used these ingredients in tanning his hides). But most of all, you absolutely must have stock on hand so you can immediately make an instant trade, cash for product. It is so uncool to get an order and have to wait for it to come in.
This is why I end up at my bank. I'm young, I've never gotten a loan by myself before. I'm nervous. I sit down at the loan officer's desk, I'll call him Mr. Curmudgeon (if you don't know what that means, please Google it before you read on). I hand him my application, he looks at it and says, "Oh, you're one of those."
I was crushed! Why, you ask? Because I thought the same thing he did about salesmen. In reality, I was a salesman.
One of my best customer's husband called me "The Pusher". You see, there is an unspoken language that comes with unspoken implications when your occupation is salesman. Salesman, of course, is not the only word with which we do stereotypical deciphering.
Take...
homeschooled
stay at home mom
unemployed
oh, here's a good one...stepparent.
I've seen the look on people's faces, you can almost hear their thoughts out loud when I say I homeschool my grandkids. Ohhh, poor child, won't they be behind? Disadvantaged? They won't know how to be social. These things have been said to me. A stay at home mom?...gee, how fulfilling is that? As if staying home to rear your children is a death sentence. Being unemployed, as I see it, does not make me an undesirable...I'm gainfully employed and the benefits are stupendous!
The one that gripes my butt, though, is the stepparent one. Every time, through my career as a stepmother to Tangae and Stacey, because someone would say "you don't look old enough to be their mother" many times I would just let it ride. Many times people would go on and on and I would tell them that they were my stepdaughters. Here would come the dismissal. It would be as if you just said, "I am their step (not-valid-not-a-part-of-not-viable-not-necessary-not-a-real-parent) mother."
I cannot count the hundreds of times I would say, "And these are my stepdaughters" and I am not joking, people would say out loud, "Oh." Like, it does not matter that you've helped raise them since they were 2 and 3 years of age and they are now 41 (almost) and 42. Or that you were there for every event in their lives except their births or loved them like a mama would through every situation. It has always been, except for a few exceptions, just like when I was seated in the bank at Mr. Curmudgeon's desk. "Oh, your one of those." A step mother. Not a real mother, you just play one on T.V.
That same feeling that I felt at Mr. Curmudgeon's desk would hover over me. It would crush me. In reality, I AM a step mother. I must accept that stigmas come attached to this word. I remember once when Stacey had spend the night company over, I heard the little girl say to Stacey, "She's not mean at all" with which Stacey replied, "I never said she was." It was just implied, stepmother = wicked/evil. Thanks to all the fairy tales!
I have looked at my being selected to be their stepmother as being hand-picked by God, Himself. For me to "step" in and fill a space that was presented to me upon the marriage to their father. I took the position knowing that I was called from the foundation of time to be their stepmother. God specifically told me that from all the women on the face of the earth, He had chosen me to be their stepmother. I have always considered it a privilege and a great honor to hold that title. Even without the kudos.
I gladly step back and let the real parents have their roles, their names, Daddy, Momma, I'm happy to be called Jeanna, Tangae and Stacey's stepmother. I don't take it as a slam or a demotion to be listed as one, even when our culture negates any positive meaning to the name stepmother, 'cause God and I both know that I relish and revel in the fact that...yeah...stepmother, I'm one of those.
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