The Sista Can Testify!
March 27, 2011 Leave a comment
Okay, every so often I have to plug-in an entirely religious based post. So, Warning, this is a very Pro-Christian post and if that might offend you, you are perfectly capable of not reading, and not commenting. If you do, being that I’m obviously stating right here that I’m not trying to shove my religion down your throat, I would kindly ask you try not to shove yours, or lack thereof down mine. Still going to read? Okie here I go…
I was born into a deeply religious Christian family, and like most preteens and teens, I fell away from it. My reasoning was, I didn’t feel that I had been sinful enough at the tender age of two for God to punish me with a loss of innocence, and thereafter making my life different shades of unpleasant. Those words can’t even begin to describe it all, but to go into that would be better done in a tell-all book…later. So, for all of my teen years and the beginning of my adulthood I hated the Christian God, and varied from atheism to other theisms.
I never stopped being a generally good person, I believe, but life got worse and worse anyway. Till finally I found myself in a two-year relationship from hell. Mental abuse, infidelity, daily reminders that though I was told I was cherished and special, I was really just a worthless, replaceable possession he wouldn’t let go of. It was one of those relationships where we were on again off again, but the off was on and the on was off and it got so confusing that sometimes I couldn’t remember if we were supposed to be broken up or not. Lies, all lies! It brought out the very worst side of me. The earliest adult lessons can be the hardest, but this one I wish had come a bit later in my adulthood, not right at the beginning.
Just before my pregnancy I realized that things had to change. I was going to start a new life and (insert expletive here) everything and everyone else. The pregnancy made me change my plans. For some reason they don’t let pregnant females go into boot camp. So, I had a lot of time to think about how to change my situation while I made all the other recruits jealous (I could go out and smoke and they couldn’t). The other girls were relieved we didn’t put our pee mixing idea into effect…I was the only one that came up with a positive on the pregnancy test. Wouldn’t that have raised a few eyebrows if every single female recruit came up with a positive pregnancy test?
Anyway, I started going back to church. Even though it may have seemed like God prevented me from getting away from my bad relationship, I came to realize that he had a reason. A little over eight years later, I understand even better. My weakness was internal, and though it was hell, that relationship was exactly what I needed to realize and become the stronger person I’ve become. Moving away from everything wouldn’t have been the answer, that was just running.
I also needed to forgive and be forgiven by God. Yes, my childhood was mostly ruined by someone close, but what I came away from that with was a stronger determination to protect my children’s innocence, no matter what. By loosing faith and getting it back, I can bring my children up with a stronger faith, even when terribly bad things happen. And with my stronger relationship with God, I was more in tuned to what he had to say.
I’m no saint, not even close. Despite my many flaws, I’m still loved by him. My prayers get answered every time. The bad things in my life soon show their purpose, and what I get is better than what I lost. Life isn’t perfect, but it is beautiful. I started out thinking that just by believing again, I was okay, but later I found out that every so often, God uses another person’s voice to tell me something that I needed to hear, and that sometimes, a church family can be more supportive than a physical family.
Now, I’m not one of those that believes that if you don’t believe in exactly the same things as me that you’re going to Hell. I know I don’t have all the answers. I’m sure that truly bad people are going to have to pay for it eventually, but God is the only one that has all the answers. Muslims, Jews, Hindi, Wiccan, Gay, Strait, Bisexual, Black, White, Yellow, Red, Chartreuse, He made us all, he had a plan for us all, and he knows what’s in our hearts. That’s all. Most everything else is filler from and to a bunch of guys that died centuries ago.
You can disagree with me all you like, but I hold to my golden rule, Do unto others as you would want them to do unto you, and Love thy neighbor as yourself. I used to hate myself, so it’s kind of funny that even when I hated myself, I loved total strangers. Until a wrong has been done to me, I do love anyone I meet, and just as I warned everyone in the beginning of this post, I would want to be warned if what I’m about to read would be offensive. I would then read on and reap that, or pass it, knowing that it wasn’t something I wanted to read.
Just in closing, I’m sure there’s someone who will point out that I’ve written unfavorable critiques of books in this blog. Where’s my Christian ideals there? First off, the one that I knew personally and won’t name, I’ve forgiven her for her part in a bad situation, just as I forgave the other third of the equation. I very honestly tried to read her work, and I was going to keep my mouth shut about everything I perceived to be wrong with it, but that would have gone against the “do unto others” half of my outlook. If I wrote, published and tried to sell off a bad piece of work, I would hope someone would come out and BLAST it to the far reaches of space, not because I wrote it, but because it held no merit on its own. If something in my work doesn’t work, I want people to tell me. Yes, it may initially hurt my feelings, or make me angry. I may initially try to defend it, but I’ll tell you now, that critique will stick in my head, and I’m self-conscious enough to believe it a bit.
I was in a Creative Writing class that was run as a sort of Writing workshop. I got critiqued by all of my fellow students as well as the teacher, and I came out of that class with some positive and negative feedback. I also came out of the class with a realization that I have an extreme hate of pretentious bastards who rape the English language with a thesaurus. Its like Lord Farquad and his castle, you’re compensating for something. There are people who use an extensive vocabulary and write about wonderfully deep things. I enjoy their work immensely, then there are the people who are trying to show off. Pooh on you!
Large words and rhyme do not eloquent pros make.
Damn, I got on a soap box there. Well, back to my transfer of my 14-year-old fiction…trust me, I’ll be laughing, crying, smacking myself in the head and repeating over and over “I was fourteen years old, I was fourteen years old, I was fourteen years old…)