I belong to a book club with a few fabulous women. Once a week we get together and sometimes read a book. Often we're a dinner club, but we won't admit it. Even if we don't have a book, we have always have intelligent conversations about life in general, and we laugh.
I'll outline the players here and their personalities, and then I'll inform you of the high drama this past week:
Carrie: A smart sophisticated professional woman, strong in her opinions and believes. She considers herself "it's black or white" and is slowly but surely beginning to see the rainbow that encounters our universe in different thought patterns.
Miranda: She's occasionally been to church, is a member of a local ghost group, is a renowned Medium and considers herself more of a pagan than a Christian in her belief system. I do believe I have succeeded in bringing her to the light, maybe just a little bit.
Renee (me): Christian. Jesus freak. Opinionated, yet can take the criticism that comes my way. I'm a professional, yet I rarely live in the black and white. I prefer spending my time in my spiritual world. My friends have lectured me on balance, and sometimes I listen. . .
Charlotte: The sweetest, soft-spoken advocate for anything you manage to get yourself involved in. She's a professional therapist by trade and I consider myself lucky to have such a woman in my inner circle, if not for the therapy costs that I'm saving. . .ha ha.
The BC met at Carrie's house, and after the fabulous dinner she cooked, we started a fire in the fire pit and were sitting around having some great conversations.
"Angels Miranda!" I scorned her for minimizing angels and calling them deities.
"Deity spirits." She attempted to explain the definition of this silly word. I interrupted her mid-sentence. . ."Angels" I say slowly and loudly. "Say it Miranda. You can do it." I scorn. At this point Miranda is verbally exhausted and gives up. I'm good like that.
The conversation went on for a little longer when we heard what appeared to be fire works coming from the front of the house. We all looked toward the noise, assumed fire works and before we had a chance to discuss it, an explosion occurred, complete with an array of colors of sparks coming from the front of the house, so much so we could see them sitting in the back yard. Immediately after the explosion, my friends all ran toward the house in an attempt to go in the house, myself being the only one heading in the opposite direction contemplating jumping the fence in the back yard to get to the next block, informing my friends that they were nuts for running toward the explosion as I did so.
Miranda gave the all clear saving me from high tailing it over the fence, so I reluctantly and slowly approached the house.
Well, it appears as if the transformer blew in front of the house, taking out the electrical lines down the entire block. We were instructed by the first fireman on the scene not to leave my friend's yard as the wire was was still "live" and since this "live" wire miraculously laid itself down inches from all of our neatly aligned cars parked in front of the house, we were not to touch our cars.
I got home around midnight that night. And no Miranda, this was NOT my fault. ha ha ha.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Newspaper Article and The Police Were Very Nice
Family Of 11 Year-Old Boy Struck By Vehicle, Spreads Awareness
Jun 06 2010 3:49 pm
PHOTOS: (Photo in extended article contains women) The family of an 11 year-old boy struck and injured by a vehicle, is doing what they can to prevent it from happening again. The boy, pictured, was driving his bicycle on Pine Street last Thursday morning, when a driver stuck him, leaving him with a broken Collar Bone. The driver then fled the scene. This afternoon, the family stood in the hot sun at the intersection of Pine Street and Martin Luther King Drive, holding signs reading “Drive Safer”, “Hit and Run 11 yr old” and “Slow Down”, in attempt to get drivers to slow down on the high-speed road. The family also hopes the driver who fled the scene may turn himself in, or is tracked by the Police.
Jun 06 2010 3:49 pm
PHOTOS: (Photo in extended article contains women) The family of an 11 year-old boy struck and injured by a vehicle, is doing what they can to prevent it from happening again. The boy, pictured, was driving his bicycle on Pine Street last Thursday morning, when a driver stuck him, leaving him with a broken Collar Bone. The driver then fled the scene. This afternoon, the family stood in the hot sun at the intersection of Pine Street and Martin Luther King Drive, holding signs reading “Drive Safer”, “Hit and Run 11 yr old” and “Slow Down”, in attempt to get drivers to slow down on the high-speed road. The family also hopes the driver who fled the scene may turn himself in, or is tracked by the Police.
Being Angry in Peace
Getting mad, or getting angry is a normal emotion.
It's how you deal with it is key.
Accidents happen.
Unfortunately, accidents will occur more often in an area where people drive like madmen. It's statistically proven.
Today, there will be a non-prejudicial, non-hate, Safe Driving Rally where my nephew was hit by a car.
My theory: We might possibly be heard, and maybe only by one person. That person could drive safe, and a child's life could be saved.
Amen.
It's how you deal with it is key.
Accidents happen.
Unfortunately, accidents will occur more often in an area where people drive like madmen. It's statistically proven.
Today, there will be a non-prejudicial, non-hate, Safe Driving Rally where my nephew was hit by a car.
My theory: We might possibly be heard, and maybe only by one person. That person could drive safe, and a child's life could be saved.
Amen.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Prejudices
Prejudice, in any form, is not good. I myself, being far from perfect, having one prejuice since I was a kid, was prejudice people. That just always bothered me, and it was always a natural mechanism to defend, speak up for, and advocate for those being tormented by evil prejudices.
Jesus says "Love your brother."
So, my nephew gets hits while riding his bike by a person of a certain community. I myself jumped on the bandwagon of their community and blamed them there folk for the accident that happened.
In reality, it could have been anyone of any color who hit my nephew and left the scene. It's truly not fair that I, or anyone would blame the community folk for this wrong doing. . . or is it?
I've lived in this area pretty much my whole life, give or take several years. And for years I've wondered why this certain community drives the way they do. I pondered and often thought that maybe they all went to a special school in like New York or something to learn how to drive. It's bizarre. I drive a lot for work as a social worker and the drivers of this community have almost taken me out several times. Now I just pull over and let them do what their going to do so I don't get hurt.
Really. It's that bad.
If you mention this certain community you will hear prejudices. "They don't pay taxes!" "Good for them." I reply. "They this and they that. . ." Most of it's nonsense so I often ignore the prejudices that I hear because in reality I truly don't care. People are who they are. Personally, I enjoy experiencing other cultures and believe doing so is a blessing in it's own right. I truly have no qualms with this community.
Except their driving.
I'm not the best driver in the world, this I know, and I really can't judge other people's driving. It's not right. But when an entire community drives like madmen. . .there's something up with that.
So, is it wrong to target a specific community on their driving skills? I'll ask God about it. See what He says.
Jesus says "Love your brother."
So, my nephew gets hits while riding his bike by a person of a certain community. I myself jumped on the bandwagon of their community and blamed them there folk for the accident that happened.
In reality, it could have been anyone of any color who hit my nephew and left the scene. It's truly not fair that I, or anyone would blame the community folk for this wrong doing. . . or is it?
I've lived in this area pretty much my whole life, give or take several years. And for years I've wondered why this certain community drives the way they do. I pondered and often thought that maybe they all went to a special school in like New York or something to learn how to drive. It's bizarre. I drive a lot for work as a social worker and the drivers of this community have almost taken me out several times. Now I just pull over and let them do what their going to do so I don't get hurt.
Really. It's that bad.
If you mention this certain community you will hear prejudices. "They don't pay taxes!" "Good for them." I reply. "They this and they that. . ." Most of it's nonsense so I often ignore the prejudices that I hear because in reality I truly don't care. People are who they are. Personally, I enjoy experiencing other cultures and believe doing so is a blessing in it's own right. I truly have no qualms with this community.
Except their driving.
I'm not the best driver in the world, this I know, and I really can't judge other people's driving. It's not right. But when an entire community drives like madmen. . .there's something up with that.
So, is it wrong to target a specific community on their driving skills? I'll ask God about it. See what He says.
Friday, June 4, 2010
More On Anger
Recently, my nephew, while riding his bike, was hit by a car.
He lives in a cultural community and some of this culture doesn't know how to drive. This culture is a God culture, very Holy.
He hit a kid on a bike, then left the scene.
My nephew, thank God, is okay. He only suffered a broken collar bone.
The police are aware of the situation.
Yeah, well, anger has crept in and those of you who will see me standing on the corner in this community overly voicing my opinion about "WHO HITS A KID ON A BIKE AND KEEPS GOING?" is me. I'm sure I'll draw media attention and my friends and family are aware to provide bail money if needed.
He lives in a cultural community and some of this culture doesn't know how to drive. This culture is a God culture, very Holy.
He hit a kid on a bike, then left the scene.
My nephew, thank God, is okay. He only suffered a broken collar bone.
The police are aware of the situation.
Yeah, well, anger has crept in and those of you who will see me standing on the corner in this community overly voicing my opinion about "WHO HITS A KID ON A BIKE AND KEEPS GOING?" is me. I'm sure I'll draw media attention and my friends and family are aware to provide bail money if needed.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Anxiety and Anger
I suffer from anxiety.
"Well, Renee, you might want to cut down on your caffeine intake." One might say.
I have cut down on the java juice.
I didn't realize how bad this was until recently. One of my favorite Bible passages is "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication (to ask humbly and earnestly of) with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." - Philippians 4:6. Well, that's always been easy for me. Financial problems, not anxious. Divorce, not anxious, a new job, not anxious. A flight across the world, okay, a little anxiety on the plane, but nothing too bad. So I just let stuff fly off without being anxious.
Except this one thing.
I can't help it, and I don't mean it. It's a physiological response that overcomes my being. I'm gripped with fear and panic. I can't talk. Sometimes I can't move. When I do mustle up enough courage to speak in this situation, it comes out like I'm being rude, or at least it's being perceived as being rude. My first response is to flee. Leave. Walk away.
I know why this happens to me. It's because of my past. No, I'm not about to incriminate myself here, but those who are close to me know me and know why I endure these uncontrollable panic attacks. Last night in prayer, God and I talked about it, and we're going to work on it. We've worked on a lot these last few years, and we still have some more work to do.
Anger is hurt. Pain. Somewhere, somehow, in this crazy little thing called life, I learned that instead of crying, get mad. I lived for years believing I was under constant attack, and my first instinct was always to attack back. So, inasmuch as I believe I recently endured a spiritual attack, I'm proud of myself. Not once was my voice raised, no one was threatened and no one went through a wall. I remained politically correct, some emotions escaped, but that was it.
I don't suggest pushing me and I'll continue to pray for those who felt the need to insert themselves into my little crisis for their own personal agendas.
It's funny though. I cry. That was something I didn't do for a long time, and I'm truly thankful for it.
"Well, Renee, you might want to cut down on your caffeine intake." One might say.
I have cut down on the java juice.
I didn't realize how bad this was until recently. One of my favorite Bible passages is "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication (to ask humbly and earnestly of) with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." - Philippians 4:6. Well, that's always been easy for me. Financial problems, not anxious. Divorce, not anxious, a new job, not anxious. A flight across the world, okay, a little anxiety on the plane, but nothing too bad. So I just let stuff fly off without being anxious.
Except this one thing.
I can't help it, and I don't mean it. It's a physiological response that overcomes my being. I'm gripped with fear and panic. I can't talk. Sometimes I can't move. When I do mustle up enough courage to speak in this situation, it comes out like I'm being rude, or at least it's being perceived as being rude. My first response is to flee. Leave. Walk away.
I know why this happens to me. It's because of my past. No, I'm not about to incriminate myself here, but those who are close to me know me and know why I endure these uncontrollable panic attacks. Last night in prayer, God and I talked about it, and we're going to work on it. We've worked on a lot these last few years, and we still have some more work to do.
Anger is hurt. Pain. Somewhere, somehow, in this crazy little thing called life, I learned that instead of crying, get mad. I lived for years believing I was under constant attack, and my first instinct was always to attack back. So, inasmuch as I believe I recently endured a spiritual attack, I'm proud of myself. Not once was my voice raised, no one was threatened and no one went through a wall. I remained politically correct, some emotions escaped, but that was it.
I don't suggest pushing me and I'll continue to pray for those who felt the need to insert themselves into my little crisis for their own personal agendas.
It's funny though. I cry. That was something I didn't do for a long time, and I'm truly thankful for it.
I Hear God and Angels Talk to Me
Not to make light of this subject, or in the least bit minimize this spiritual gift, please understand that I'm not crazy in the way of schizophrenia, I don't hear voices and on the norm, I'm relatively sane. I've been spiritual since I was a kid and didn't even know I was being spiritual. These days I'm a Jesus freak, but I try keep my air of normal about me for the sole purpose to be approachable, and it works. Christianity has a scary component about it, and when you mention God or Jesus in a conversation, well, let's just say it's an easy way to clear a room. I can't preach perfectness in any conversation because like the rest of us earthlings, I am far from perfect. But I do believe in Jesus, and I believe that with Him and through Him, I can't go wrong.
Sometimes, I will be pushed in conversation, like the one this afternoon about Revelations and Jesus comes out. God comes out. Don't try to debate me on the subject. You'll never win.
My recent devotions has made this want to come out.
Yes, I hear God. God will answer me. I'll pray for an answer, and I'll get it. I'll either hear a soft inner voice that's not my own associated with an over-whelming feeling. Sometimes I'll hear one song over and over and over and over for days. It will eventually hit me that I've heard this song like twelve times in 2 days, so I rush home and google the lyrics and wala. The funny part is, the song that I hear repeatedly, i.e. I'll hear the 1970s tune in the car, later that day in the supermarket, early the next morning on television, then later in that day at work as I'm walking through a center, the girl who works there is playing her favorite cd with that song. It's God giving me my answer.
There are no such things as coincidences.
Sometimes God just tells me what to do, the same way. I get in trouble for that one when God tells me to talk to other people. "God told me to tell you. . ." Yeah, that one always goes over real well.
Angels also communicate with me, or I believe to be the angels communicating with me. God talks to me or plays me music repeatedly. Angels are messengers from God and they are enumerated, which means there are too many too count, with us, around us, talking to us. I will get a song from the angels. Now, I can hear a song on the radio in the car and the often annoying tune will stay in my head for hours. . .that's not what Angel music is. Angel music is a song that pops in out of nowhere and there's a feeling associated with it. The song is loud and my entire body hears it, it's not just in my head. They come through so strong that often I'm startled at first.
It's amazing what happens when you believe in, talk to, and hear God.
Sometimes, I will be pushed in conversation, like the one this afternoon about Revelations and Jesus comes out. God comes out. Don't try to debate me on the subject. You'll never win.
My recent devotions has made this want to come out.
Yes, I hear God. God will answer me. I'll pray for an answer, and I'll get it. I'll either hear a soft inner voice that's not my own associated with an over-whelming feeling. Sometimes I'll hear one song over and over and over and over for days. It will eventually hit me that I've heard this song like twelve times in 2 days, so I rush home and google the lyrics and wala. The funny part is, the song that I hear repeatedly, i.e. I'll hear the 1970s tune in the car, later that day in the supermarket, early the next morning on television, then later in that day at work as I'm walking through a center, the girl who works there is playing her favorite cd with that song. It's God giving me my answer.
There are no such things as coincidences.
Sometimes God just tells me what to do, the same way. I get in trouble for that one when God tells me to talk to other people. "God told me to tell you. . ." Yeah, that one always goes over real well.
Angels also communicate with me, or I believe to be the angels communicating with me. God talks to me or plays me music repeatedly. Angels are messengers from God and they are enumerated, which means there are too many too count, with us, around us, talking to us. I will get a song from the angels. Now, I can hear a song on the radio in the car and the often annoying tune will stay in my head for hours. . .that's not what Angel music is. Angel music is a song that pops in out of nowhere and there's a feeling associated with it. The song is loud and my entire body hears it, it's not just in my head. They come through so strong that often I'm startled at first.
It's amazing what happens when you believe in, talk to, and hear God.
First and Foremost
I don't like spiritual attacks.
Nope. Their not on my "favorites" list.
In church this past Sunday, I actually prayed "Dear God, I believe I'm here for You, but I don't know if I can do this. I'm weak. I'm not strong at all and I don't know if I can handle the attacks that come along with working for You."
Then, after much prayer and meditation, well. . .
"Devil, get behind me!"
Also in prayer God reminded me of who I was. I've blogged for a few years now, this one a recent one, so anyone who is new to reading this, wouldn't know where I'am at, or more importantly, who I am.
Their about to find out.
Nope. Their not on my "favorites" list.
In church this past Sunday, I actually prayed "Dear God, I believe I'm here for You, but I don't know if I can do this. I'm weak. I'm not strong at all and I don't know if I can handle the attacks that come along with working for You."
Then, after much prayer and meditation, well. . .
"Devil, get behind me!"
Also in prayer God reminded me of who I was. I've blogged for a few years now, this one a recent one, so anyone who is new to reading this, wouldn't know where I'am at, or more importantly, who I am.
Their about to find out.
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