Midlife Crisis-A lie from the pit of hell?

My morning outlook has changed drastically over the course of this year. This blog is about the personal journey that got me here. Example: we were late again this morning Cason (my 16-year-old) has had the flu all week and still feels awful but attempted to make it through school today. He wasn’t in the best mood this morning with reason. Then Logan (my 13-year-old) wasn’t looking forward to the Social Studies bench mark test he has to take today and dragged his feet while getting ready, trying to put off the school day as long as he could. Justen (the oldest who recently moved back home for a few months while in college) forgot to take his dog out and the beast was banging and knocking against the door to his bedroom hard enough to make me think someone was beating my door down; not to mention my husband can’t seem to understand that when I “dropped my basket” a month ago, I didn’t put all his personal responsibilities back inside my basket to carry for him. Top that off with the strange occurence that after 43 years of life, I have suddenly developed a shell-fish allergy and the swelling inside my mouth has yet to go back down to normal after eating ONE piece of shrimp 36 hours ago..

The question of the day is this. How in the world did I practically whistle through my morning, or feel so at peace inside when this type of chaos would have normally started my day off on the wrong foot?

Perhaps “dropping my basket” has something to do with it, I am not really sure. All I know is that at some point during this crazy year, I learned how to accept each moment as it comes without trying to change the moment into something other than what it was-good or bad; I discovered how to let that moment be just what it was—even if that “moment” literally sucked.

This is nothing short of a miracle for me because I am the type of person who will bend over backwards, while making myself crazy trying to fix something or make things better for others. It’s the female nature I guess, or the result of 25 years building a career out of being a housewife and mother, tending to those I love and striving to create a home life that is stable, secure and welcoming. I believed the words “children are a product of their environment” so I made it my goal to create an environment that would allow those within it to flourish.

Somehow, over the course of this crazy year, I ended up at a stage in life that I didn’t know existed. I have never heard it mentioned before the way I had overheard older ladies comment on “hot flashes or night sweats” It wasn’t passed down to me by a family member from the older generation as a pearl of wisdom for later in my life.  Perhaps it’s a place not many people find.

I somehow stumbled upon a mindset that is filled with an inner peace that allows me to leave a bad moment alone, without trying to change it or make it better. I “get” the significance of the old saying “it is what it is and it is what’s its going to be.”   I somehow let go of my need to transform a bad moment or a bad day into something it just wasn’t. The amazing thing is that with this knowledge came the ability to truly soak in the beauty of a good moment. I can’t count the sunsets I have paid attention to this year, or the times I have stopped whatever I was doing to really appreciate a gorgeous full moon and a clear night sky. I have experienced the laughter and joy over things so simple and fleeting when those same moments use to pass me by without notice. I somehow found this point in life where it’s truly acceptable to take each moment as it comes and being truthful about what is occurring in that moment– and the end result is liberating.

It’s therapeutic because one single moment does not affect the other moments to come in my day. A bad morning does not make a bad day. An unexpected problem does not determine my mood and someone else’s problems and issues do not have the free rein to create turmoil in my life. If I could bottle the recipe or the 5 step program in order for others to obtain this new outlook of mine, I truly believe I could write a self-help book and market it to the masses. I may begin to work on that and instead of calling it “40 is the new 30” I am going to name the book “Crazy is the new Sane”

I used to worry over everything and fear set the tone of my day-Anyone who has ever been a worrier, you know the drill– the way a thought takes hold and then you ponder it until you make yourself a nervous wreck. Those of us who worry; also know that fear is the leading force behind it. I worried over my kids, because I was afraid for them. (This list is too long to name, I feared everything from watching them drive out of the driveway at 16 and possibly having a wreck, to my daughter hopping on plane after plane in her travels abroad. Hell; I even worried they would choke to death playing with a jump rope when they were little, so I took it from them. If it could happen—regardless of the odds of it actually occurring, then I worried about it.)  I worried over my marriage because I was afraid of everything from the national divorce rate to financial security for myself should the need to divorce ever come to pass. I worried over my health because I was afraid of what would happen to my family and all the people I do things for every day, should I not be able to handle everything for them. I worried over the state of our Nation because I truly feared the direction it is headed in.

Then suddenly(or perhaps more subtlety than I realize) after a year of issues that ranged from immense, senseless, trivial and devastating-I no longer had the ability to categorize these events as big or small because by this point even the small snowball was a part of the larger avalanche and equally stressful . Then maybe out of a need to back up and regroup or learn how to cope with stress, I discovered that regardless of how strong you are, or how many people you love and care for—there does come a “moment” in time where self-preservation kicks in. I am thankful I didn’t miss that moment because it changed my life.

I found the ability to break life down to a single moment. That one space in time I was guaranteed to be in. If I needed to say something in that moment-I said it. If I needed to be quiet in that moment, I was quiet. If someone else was bringing havoc into my moment, I didn’t take their garbage into my next moment. If we wake up late and have a chaotic morning, I am able to let it be what it is and roll on through it and leave it in the past once it’s passed.  Notice all the uses of the word “I” and “My”. That is because each moment belongs personally to me and to you. It’s up to us who we decide to share that moment with. We make that choice thousands of times in a day, without even paying attention to it. We may choose a moment of alone time with God; a moment spent hugging a child who needs comforting, a moment helping others, a moment arguing with someone or a moment completely alone. Other people DO NOT own your moments. If you feel someone else or life events are stealing your time; they didn’t hijack it; YOU GAVE IT TO THEM! It’s easy to believe that we choose the good moments in our life, that we are somehow responsible for them occurring, while the bad moments in our life are always someone or something else’s fault. How many times have you heard or even heard yourself utter the phrase “I was having a good day until……” (Fill in the blank with the excuse of who or what ruined your day.)

I discovered I could be mad as hell-disappointed as hell-dumfounded as hell—and walk out of that moment into the next one and find something to be truly appreciative of. I also found that most of the things that made me mad, disappointed or confused me were due to other people mismanaging their own moments and refusing to take responsibility for their own actions or problems.

This led me to a break through moment. One day I was struck with the analogy that human beings may have the ability to shed their skins as they grow, in truth I think we are blessed if we can say we have shed our skin several times during our life. It means we grew. The process isn’t pretty, the peeling outer layer has to come off to reveal the new improved you underneath. The process is painful, it hurts to let go and come out from under an armor you have covered yourself with for many years. But the end result is magnificent.  Imagine how uncomfortable and painful it is for the “snakes” in the world that are still wearing the same skin they did as a child and trying to function as adults in society. Those are the immature joy stealers who refuse to grow and shed their skin.

Living in the moment opens you up to truth.

Have I had a good year?

I can’t answer that. I had some of the best moments of my life this year, and some of the most stressful—the question I can answer is that I was present for the moments in my life this year. I felt each one of them deeply, I participated in them, I owned mistakes I made in them and saw clearly how I had allowed the needs of others to consume too many of my moments instead of simply directing them next door and into their “own moment”

Fear and the worry over what I feared seemed to disappear, because if your “present” in your moment-you kind of see yourself wasting that moment worrying over something that may not even occur in the next moment. Simple but true.

This Christmas, I feel like the kid from the movie Home Alone when he runs around the house yelling “I’m not afraid anymore!!!” If that was what this roller coaster year was about for me;  to finally be set free of worry and fear-to find this place in life where it’s not selfish to OWN my OWN moment, then I’m proof good lessons come from the craziest of times. Now- I fully expect my new outlook on life to be called a midlife crisis; but when you see me post a status from Nevada, and I am not there to gamble but to experience the Burning Man event-don’t judge. (LMBO) because in truth, my status update may simply come from the creative writing class I finally sign up for—the beauty of it is simply I have the freedom and the ability to appreciate the moments that come my way.  I realize that Behavioral Scientist want us to believe that  women are thrust into midlife crisis because they reach a certain age and discover that they finally have the opportunity to do all the things in life they have put off doing while caring for their family. I want to end this blog by saying strongly that I DISAGREE”

It’s not a midlife crisis, it’s shedding our skin. Perhaps the skin I had been wearing over the past 20 years needed to be covered with a thick layer of worry and fear-because the skin I wore before that one from the age of 13 to 20 something, was extremely thin and took offense to everything and didn’t have an ounce of worry or fear woven into the hide, trust me when I say that I feared nothing way back then and took risk so insane that I would cringe if my kids were to ever do the same.

Each skin is needed for a season. I have decided that I won’t buy into the lie that a little bit of shedding and peeling in order to reveal the birth of something new underneath is a “crisis” and meant to be managed. It’s a part of life and meant to be accomplished. We all think that what makes us different from the animals is our ability to reason. Humans are idiots. We “reason” ourselves right into corners we can’t get out of and justify standing there doing nothing, or we take ourselves off to people with medical degrees who are supposed to be better at “reasoning” than we are, and they hand out prozac or xanex to help you ignore the fact you are even stuck in a corner.

Animals are smarter than that. While some humans think our skin stretches to accommodate our growth, others fear that if they keep growing, they will outgrow their own skin, or that it will only stretch so far until it snaps. I think most people by the age of 40 have decided that it is easier to just stop growing  than risk the full-blown, mind snapping come apart that will occur if we out grow our skin, while society screams “you have gone crazy” This may be true to a point, but I am of the belief that we can also accept the possibility that perhaps we have the ability to shed our skin as we grow. My lesson for the year is simply this. Dont confuse the growing pains of shedding your skin as the excuse you have been waiting for to stop growing and settle for less than life has to teach you.

Dropping your basket…Southern Style

This is a long post-Its actually one of my blogs..but I feel all my lady friends need to read it–I am all for the way women are able to share those embarrassing or traumatic moments that only happen to US–So if any of you are running on empty or stressed to the max or being pulled a hundred different ways–read and enjoy a laugh at my expense.

To a southerner there are two terms most women know the definitions of that others around the world may not. One is called a “come apart”..and the other is being to the point where you are about to “drop your basket.”

The difference between a “come apart” and “dropping your basket” is fairly simple.
A come apart is a good ole fashioned hissy fit- the only thing that gets hurt is maybe someones feelings- while YOU on the other hand, feel a lot better after having one. You may throw a few things for effect-or scream like a lunatic or even threaten those on the receiving end with bodily harm…but a come apart is just that, a coming completely apart on someone else, where you appear to be crazy, but are enjoying the stress relief your hissy fit is providing you with–you may seem to have lost your mind, but as long as you know your perfectly sane…its all good.

“Dropping your basket” on the other hand is an old southern term for going Bat- sh%t crazy–as in “out of your mind” insane with or without a particular someone on the receiving end. A come apart can happen on the spur of the moment, dropping your basket is something you feel yourself literally TRYING to hold on to. That is until….you drop it.

I dropped my basket this week. I wont go into all the particulars, but lets just say between having my ADD issues spring up like they haven’t since I was in my early 20’s-and getting behind on EVERYTHING, as well as forgetting and loosing everything in sight, and the election results (haha) it was only a matter of time before I lost my mind for a minute as well.

I tried for quite awhile to hold on to it, but all control escaped me after getting to the check out line in the store the other day, completely forgetting my pin number to my debit card, pushing password after password on the key pad, until I locked myself out of my bank account, then being unable to find my car keys anywhere in my disaster of a messy purse, slinging my purse all over the parking lot in an attempt to find the keys which were still in the ignition where I had left them, convincing myself that my car wasn’t stolen because only a crazy person would have all the insane obama hating magnets on their car. I figured a crook thought the keys in the ignition had to be a trap. After getting into my car, I was distracted by the hot air blowing out my vents while it was set to cold, almost hit a car pulling into parking lot, flipping off the person who was blowing their horn and yelling at me–digging in my purse for nicotine replacement mints, even though I have not smoked in almost 6 years..then realizing I don’t have my wallet-turning around to go find wallet and sun glasses still in the parking lot where I slung the contents of my purse. Driving home and getting on the computer only to forget my online banking ID as well–getting someone on the phone at the bank who can’t help me, because well..I cant freaken remember any of my SH%T for them to “identify” its me with. Deciding to call it a day and hang on to my basket with all my might and get a good nights sleep…..

Only to wake up in a cold sweat at one am, knowing there was something I had forgotten to do…(ya think?) Being half asleep on ambien while digging through the bills to see what I may have forgotten to pay, or failed to mail or even open…that turned into making online payments at one am on a few of those bills–only to get up the next morning and remember my online banking password, that bit of happiness soon faded when I signed on and discovered that during my 1 am. bill paying marathon, I paid the same bill TWICE. The chaos continued on, between weeks of hubby using debit card and failing to tell me, kids sending me reminder text for things they needed done, the 16-year-old nagging every five minutes to drive somewhere, ballgames all over east Cobb, and my sanity slowly slipping…so it was no surprise that day brought with it at least 20 things I had forgotten to do, playing hide and seek with everything that ended up in my hands and then sat down somewhere I couldn’t recall, a full-blown screaming fit with the person behind me at Martins who blew their horn at me, pulling forward and almost hitting the little old lady who was pushing bread crates to the Colonial bread truck and had the misfortune of walking in front of my car. She had no way of knowing that the middle-aged lady driving the SUV was holding on to her basket with only one hand at that moment. Bless her..she has no idea that she had a guardian angel keep her from being squashed under my wheels as I gunned the gas pedal in the drive through after screaming and looking backwards and waving my stun gun out the window at the hick who had blown the horn at me for no reason.

So at about 4pm that day after a crap load of more stress I couldn’t process–I didn’t just drop my basket–I threw the SOB as hard as I could and as far away from me as I could.

My crazy self ends up pulled over, trying to decide if I want to stop a police officer and ask him to take me to jail where I can have a cot, some sleep, no cell phone or way to be reached, no ability to take care of anything for anyone and forego my one phone call so that no one knows where I am– Instead, I end up sitting there with a pen and a Walmart receipt because it was the only paper I could find anywhere in my purse or car…and I start to write down what all I do each day, who I do it for, and what is my “job” to take care of from day-to-day.

I would use the word ENLIGHTENMENT here, but it doesn’t suffice. After I had it all written down, scribbled long ways and sideways, front, back and across a fairly long Walmart receipt, I then circled the things that were stressing me the hell out. Amazingly, nothing I do each day in being a parent gave me any issues. Nothing I do in regards to being a wife, mother, housewife or friend stressed me out. Nothing I do for those in my extended family that I would die for caused me any grief. But there were a hell of a lot of “duties” I had somehow taken on that were above and beyond my job to do.

Example:

When I ask my husband why he didn’t make a sandwich and he tells me that it was because I didn’t TELL him there was HAM in the refrigerator…that is NOT my job. A grown man can go look and see for himself if the ham someone else bought for him is indeed there. Its my job to go grocery shop–but not to be responsible for someone not fixing themselves something because I didn’t tell them what there was to eat. Its my job to parent my kids, to check them out when they are sick, write an excuse when they go back to school. But it is not my “job” to bring Cason a drink to school because he is thirsty or check him out because he is tired from playing video games late or has a sub he doesn’t like. Its my job to clean my house, but not to spend an hour hunting something a child forgot to bring up to be washed or lost and needs ASAP. If one of the men in this house need new underwear-Hey..it might be my responsibility to pick some up while in Walmart–but inspecting each pair to figure out who needs new ones, well that isn’t my job. Its part of their personal responsibly to let me know. Everything I circled that had me stressed to the max was something I had somehow taken on that was another persons PERSONAL responsibility to themselves. The other things I circled were things I had NO control over-issues I cant change, things someone has to do for themselves or want to do for themselves. I had no idea how much I kept up with, reminded people of, took care of and took the blame for that are NOT my job to do.

I couldn’t believe all the BS that I had been holding inside that freaken basket–a basket that I had been trying so hard not to drop–Then I realized that it was an early Christmas miracle that not only did I drop it..but praise GOD..I DROP KICKED the stupid thing like a full blown maniac–Because everything that wasn’t mine, which somehow ended up in my basket outweighed my ability to utilize the coping mechanisms I have mastered over the years to accomplish anything regarding the things in life I LOVE to do!
My basket had become full of the responsibility of things we cant change, things we cant control and things that are other people’s personal responsibility to do for themselves. Carrying all those jobs take the pleasure and joy away from the things we are SUPPOSE to do. For instance, if a teacher’s job is to teach the children, but gets so weighed down with grade level meetings, team leadership, leadership teams, data collection, helping a failing school by initiating or participating in program after program, taking on duties of others…well…she doesn’t get to enjoy or do well the ONE job she is supposed to be doing and that is TEACH. She gets stressed and decides that maybe teaching isn’t for her.

It’s easy for a woman and a mother to take on everything-its hard for us to decipher what is within our power to do or change and what is simply allowing our efforts to enable someone else so that they do not have to utilize their own power. My Walmart receipt and the list written all over it while I sat in my car with a crazed deer in the headlight expression, brought everything back into focus. I ended up picking my basket back up, I carefully put back inside it all the things I wished to keep–and felt no remorse for the items I left on the ground. It’s now a whole lot lighter. A word of wisdom for any of you ladies dealing with too much day-to-day stress, drama or worries; I guess you could calmly sit your basket down and go through it as if you were spring cleaning–but half our problem is thinking we “have it all under control” until we don’t. I have decided that is what the “come aparts” are for..they are basket cleanings when it gets to heavy…Without the come aparts..I promise your going to drop the thing and either make one heck of a mess or beg a cop for a ride to the jail house for a mini vacation on the tax payers dime. 🙂

The Death of America or the call to Revival?

I watched the election results come in on November 6, 2012 in stunned disbelief, much like I watched the airplanes crash into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on 9/11.  I felt the same sense of loss and I honestly couldn’t comprehend it. How could my heart carry such a heavy weight over the outcome of a presidential election? How could I sit there and feel so sick to my stomach over an election with a four year term limit set in place by our founding fathers for our protection?  I truly felt like the lowest person in the world last night as I beat myself up for even silently and mentally comparing my disgust, despair, fear and anger as I watched Obama win a 2^nd term with the emotions I felt years ago on 9/11. I wondered what in the world was wrong with me that I could associate my stomach turning as Obama gave his acceptance speech with watching Americans die trapped inside the tallest buildings in New York while a plane used as a weapon by Al-Qaeda was planted in the side of the Twin Towers, as the planes fuel seared and weakened something as strong as the time-tested,old-fashioned American Steel that held the buildings up.

I heard the news commentators on each channel blame the women in America for the turn out in support of Obama on election day, claiming it as a show of support for their right to their own bodies. I saw all the red on the map of this country and the dots of blue in heavy hitting states such as California, Ohio, and Florida the entire time thinking to myself that America didn’t elect this man, selfish women in certain states re-elected this man. I listened as one of those women gave shouts of victory that her right to an abortion was protected. At once, all my confusion and all my agony over the gut wrenching despair in my heart all night long made perfect sense. At five am this morning, the only thought I could hear in my mind were these words

“A VOICE WAS HEARD IN RAMAH, WEEPING AND GREAT MOURNING, RACHEL WEEPING FOR HER CHILDREN; AND SHE REFUSED TO BE COMFORTED, BECAUSE THEY WERE NO MORE.”

I could not even remember where in the Bible I had read these words, but I looked it up, and soon found Matthew 2:18 speaking to me as never before. The guilt I had over comparing my feelings to 9/11 fled. I was morning death just as I mourned for the people trapped in those buildings unable to escape.  On 9/11 the symbol of freedom and liberty etched into our minds, we cried as the smoke rose high in the air from the collapse of the buildings, while a split screen showed the statue of liberty not far away as her blessed homeland was under attack on home soil. We remembered and took pride for a moment in the statue of a woman holding a torch to guide those safely into the harbor who were ready to be re-born in a country where they were free to worship God, and reside in a land where our motto was simply life, liberty and justice for all.

The statue of liberty is a woman because the female gender represented the basic nature of life. While God created man first and then woman, all men have come from a woman since then; she represents the continuation of LIFE.

The statue represented the liberty a mother gives to her child as she teaches that baby to walk and then steps back as he takes off alone. There is nothing you do today that you were born being able to do for yourself. We all came into the world tiny, helpless and screaming in fear as we were snatched from the warm, safe harbor of our mother’s womb;  but at your mother’s breast you were fed, at her knee you were taught, in her arms you were consoled—a good mother gifted her children with the skills to be independent and free. Unknowing to most, a woman gave you the mysterious sense of a right to LIBERTY.

Finally, it was a female in your life who first showed you any justice. If you think back to the days of childhood, the safest place in the world was the safety of your mother’s arms, or the arms of a female who took on that role for you. When you think of her arms, you recall the welcoming feeling of coming home, the protection of a lioness if someone threatened her cub, and knowing you had at least one person who would stand with you and defend you while teaching the concept of right and wrong-a person who measured out justice fairly each day in her home.  A female represented all that was stable and secure, with an ability to love deeply and fiercely, while also symbolically teaching us to inherently know that we deserved LIFE, LIBERTY and JUSTICE and so did others who were not fortunate enough to have been born into the arms of a country that protected it.

I watched the polls come in, heard the cry of victory from the American women who celebrated their success in re-electing a leader who DID NOT expect her to protect her young as a lioness protects her cubs, but elected a leader who promised to protect her right to kill that child should she decide she didn’t want it. The women in America today who call themselves anything from liberal, feminist, to average undecided voters who were just protecting their rights to their own bodies celebrated the victory and their new-found power. Their unprecedented vote of almost 60% was based on abortion, contraceptives and health-care their voice gave Obama the name on the front page of the New York Times this morning. The caption reads BAM. THE LADIES MAN: with the picture of females in a crowd almost swooning as he gave his acceptance speech.

While watching 9/11 I cried as our country was attacked on home soil by our own planes that were turned and used against us. Last night I cried as our country was attacked by our own citizens, the mothers of our nation whom I always thought would protect us, were used against us when over half of the female voters turned on her own children and the children of others and those of generations to come in order to fulfill selfish desires.

On 9/11 I sat in shock as the unthinkable occurred and our liberty was rocked as never before, by a group of terrorist who sought to force their Islamic ideals on Americans with a selfish desire to justify the death of those killed by claiming it was pleasing to their GOD and in doing so, they succeeded in changing the way we live forever.  When the smoke cleared on 9/11: gone was our idyllic existence. We feel the effects everywhere, from security measures as we board a plane to the Patriot act limiting our freedoms; we watched helplessly as our way of life was forever changed.  Last night I sat in shock as the unthinkable occurred and the liberty of the rest of this country was decided by those seeking to force their self-centered, egotistical desires to justify the death of the innocent lives they wish to take in the name of a “basic right” to their own bodies. Gone was my idyllic existence where I truly believed that no matter what happened in the world as a whole, that the good mothers outweighed the bad, that a woman would always rise up and protect others over protecting herself when push came to shove and not just because it was expected of us, but somehow a part of WHO a woman is.

Last night I watched helplessly as the choice over a woman’s right to think only of herself changed the way the rest of the nation will live forever.

On 9/11 I cried for justice-for retribution to be dealt out swiftly to those who were responsible for the gut-wrenching terror of those jumping from the tallest floors of the twin towers while the nation watched on the news in stunned disbelief from the safety of their home or from the streets below ground zero in New York. The desire for justice ate at me back then as I watched those trying to rescue the ones helpless inside the blazing building be killed along with the rest, their bodies trapped in the heap of rubble when the towers fell.  I felt the same need for justice when the aftermath hit, and the first responders who survived the ordeal, became sick with cancers and health issues from the very air they breathed while attempting to help.

I found myself crying for that same justice last night, for a reckoning to come to those women responsible for the death of our children, for those innocent babies trapped inside the womb of a woman who wants the right to abort the child, more than she wishes to give it life; while those struggling with infertility issues cry tears into their pillow each night with the need to love a child. I thought of the broken lives left years after the act of abortion, the bodies of the innocent in the rubble and the hatred and attacks directed at the “first responders” who attempt to hold true to their faith and belief in God within a country that was supposed to protect that basic right. Our country was sacrificed to a socialist leader by the very women who don’t really want to protect their rights to abortion, they secured that right years ago. They now want that government and the Godly people within this country to now to pay for their right to kill through government health insurance and tax dollars. I cried for the innocent young women, teen moms and low-income families who believe the lie that abortion is the only way and the easiest way; their scars will be jagged and deep-and regardless of the lies women tell each other, the scars–they never completely heal.

The statue of Liberty still represents the female image it was carved into. The image of a female holding a torch that still stands for the motto: LIFE, LIBERTY AND JUSTICE—only now, the image of a woman stands for the right to take that LIFE without question or repercussion, the LIBERTY or freedom to choose which created soul within your womb you decide to keep and which color of that child’s skin makes his life of more value than another; as well as the JUSTICE or at least feeling justified to vote in leaders who pay for your mistakes, by way of planned parenthood, Obama-care,and the required distribution of birth control to young girls through their school or church.

I felt the same emotions coursing through me last night because it WAS the same emotion I was feeling: bereavement.  On 9/11 I mourned the death of our innocence as we were deceived by the very ones our country gives safe harbor too-immigrants from another country who were here on Visa, being protected in our country while we paid to educate them on how to fly a plane. They took what we gave and attempted to use it to destroy our way of life. On 11/6/2012 I mourned the death of our country and the ultimate betrayal that the United States of America and those living within this country were handed over to the enemy by the very ones believed to protect us above all else; those with the power to give birth to us; those that in a few years some child they decide to keep with call Mother. They voted in a leader based on his agreement to respect, protect, and pay for the right of a woman to not give birth to a child conceived inside her.

Melodramatic? I don’t think so.

Is it racist propaganda because of the color of Obama’s skin? Not in the least.

The majority of all Planned Parenthood clinics are located in low-income, minority neighborhoods. The locations are so disproportionately located within these areas that it is estimated that a black baby is 3 to 4 times more likely to be aborted than a white baby. Since 1973 and the onslaught of these government-funded Planned Parenthood clinics, the black population has been reduced by at least 25%, possibly higher.  One commentator stated a while back that every 3 days more African-Americans are killed by abortion than were ever killed by the KKK or other hate groups. 80% of all the Planned Parenthood clinics are located in minority neighborhoods. Only 13% of American women are black, but those mothers make up almost 40% of the abortion rate. This is not a new argument. Follow this link if you have time, the mother of birth control in a rare interview in the 1950’s. She uses the word Birth Control which at that time was abortion, the back door clinics that she helped to promote with her skills as a nurse and her reasons for doing so-from her blaming of the Church, Christianity, her views back then on homosexuals and being born as such. It’s educational if nothing else. She even gets down to people having a problem using their tax dollars to pay for the birth control or abortions and why the government should have to pay for such, as well as described her views on how the government should dictate to the church how they should feel on the subject. Watch to the end-listen to her views on infidelity, divorce, the greatest sin being the birth of a child a mother does not want, and her acceptance of divorce. The year was 1957-the views of this woman in 2012 are not only accepted, but fulfilled in ways she could have never imagined. A female– a mother– a woman scorned by the media and most of the world only 50 years ago is now the Mother of the movement which put in office a president who protected her views in the year 2012.

http://www.hrc.utexas.edu/multimedia/video/2008/wallace/sanger_margaret.html

If aborting the number of black babies in America was not enough, check out this link regarding planned parenthood in Africa where they plan to up abortion services in that country by 82%.

http://www.lifesitenews.com/news/african-genocide-planned-parenthood-to-ramp-up-african-abortion-services-by

 

We live in a country where genocide is accepted; taxpayers and churches are forced by the government to cover the cost of it; the mothers fail to protect their children and fathers fail to stand up and be the leaders they are required to be. The new America we have entered into has a new definition of Life, Liberty and Justice. For those of us who disagree; our hope is to hang on to our values. To pray and to continue to stand for what is truth in the shadow of the lies. Mothers raise your children in the way they should go, and when they are old they will not depart from it. The other 40% of women voters who cast their votes yesterday for what was best for this country—our power is within our homes, with our children and our families, as well as communities. Shine your light and hold your torch that leads the way and is a beacon for the blind, lost, and deceived. Be the unfailing statue of Liberty within the lives of those around you. Don’t think evil conquers good or that wrong always wins.  Four years from now, regardless of the state this country is in—the blood of Rachel’s children will not be on your hands. When the verse of Isaiah 59:3 is read—you will know your heart is clean. The word was spoken years ago

“For your hands are defiled with blood and your fingers with iniquity; Your lips have spoken falsehood, Your tongue mutters wickedness…”

What we are experiencing is not new to God; it’s heartbreaking I am sure, but not a surprise or unforeseen. Remember the words of Isaiah 1:21 “See how the faithful city has become a harlot! She once was full of justice; righteousness used to dwell in her–but now murderers.”

But remember God used the hardest and most evil of times to draw his people to him in ways that were miraculous. Those who waited and stood firm in his ways witnessed things that the mind can’t explain and experienced God in a personal way as never before. We who know better need to remember verses such as Psalm 118:8 “It is better to trust and take refuge in the Lord than to put confidence in man.”

Consider this next four years a call to revival for those of us heartbroken over the state of our country. Four years to draw closer to the leader we follow who is the ruler of the entire world-The Lord Jesus Christ.

I can be sarcastic, cutting and even shocking with my words—but the only peace that comes from disappointment and despair is found in words full of love, peace and promise. It’s the balm of Gilead people—lets apply it to heal our wounds instead of licking them.