This is a struggle in my life. As I observed the crowd following my Aunt's funeral I realized, even with the marital track record of Liz Taylor, I was once again alone. The last family gathering in which I was accompanied by a spouse was in the 70's! Our family is a hugging, say "I love you" bunch . . . well that side of the family is, and it is strengthening. Although my Aunt's death was sad, all the phone calls back and forth always ended with, "I love you." Unless my kids or grandkids visit, "I love you" isn't said in my home, except in my prayer closet. Sometimes I tell the critters "I love them," but that's a different deal; although they do respond.
As the phone calls were exchanged, I had talked to cousins and Daddy, and although my cousins and I always verbalized "I love you," Daddy and I don't, except I did in one of the calls, and the silence on the other end was deafening . . . I know he loves me, but he doesn't say it; and verbalizing it wouldn't even be considered on my mom's side of the family. Daddy's no spring chicken any more, well I'm not either, so it seems even more important. I was so thankful to be able to recall two conversations with my Aunt the week before her funeral, and both times, as sick as she was, she ended the call with "I love you." My last words to her, were those same three. That is a dear and precious fact that I cherish. Love is strengthening and to hear those words, priceless. To speak those words, has become a part of my mission in life.
I still remember the day I realized Mr. B didn't love me as a wife. It wasn't so much a realization, as his verbalization of such. He doesn't want me, he no longer shares my beliefs, but he doesn't want a divorce, so it's simply loveless. I could say I'm trapped, but that's not really the case, as I'm free to love others and say that frequently. I'm not talking about dating! I've already got a loveless situation, adultery certainly wouldn't improve the circumstances. I'm free to just love, seriously without expectation, and without physical inference. I'm a very friendly introvert and this loveless marriage is a protection, even if it's not preferred or the norm . . .
I have a husband who doesn't desire me as a wife, a mother who struggles in dealing with me, and a father who doesn't respond verbally to his daughter who said, "I love you," but Daddy shows his love in other ways, and accepting that is how I show my love for him. Not everyone shows their love in the same way, and some folks simply don't seem to show love to others at all. I've learned through the years, those people are to be pitied. To be loving means we are called to love those who don't love us back. To love others means we try to demonstrate our love for them in the way they feel loved. Some folks like quality time, some quality words, while others enjoy knowing you cared enough to remember something special that was shared between the two of you.
I'm not really sure how I best receive love, but I do know I want everyone who crosses my path to know they are loved by our Creator and me. I love to hear the words, "I love you," when they are genuine, and I guess I count them genuine, when I realize there is action with the words.
Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of Elohim; and every one that loveth
is born of Elohim, and knoweth Elohim. I John 4:7
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Monday, December 14, 2015
Monday, November 30, 2015
"I Love You"
Those three words mean a lot! Even though we know our Heavenly Father loves us and Y'hshuwah loved us enough to die for us, it's nice to hear the words audibly . . . Written throughout Scripture is definitely reaffirming, but still, we're human and we like to hear another human voice say it and preferably with meaning! This past week has truly made me appreciate the value of those three words.
For the past several months, I've made a point of saying, "I love you" to people I minister to and with, as well as many I simply speak with. I truly do love people, well some I have to try to love, but for the most part I do love people. I'm just a bit awkward, introverted, and stoic, which probably comes across as socially inept, but . . . nobody sees me sweat. This past week, however; has been a real eye opener in the value of love and hearing the words. Love isn't just a word, it also involves action, and now this princess has to put her words into action!
My dear, Sweet Aunt Nina has died. Not only am I really not ready for this, but years ago she asked me to officiate her funeral. We were all in good health, at the time, so of course, no problem, but now . . . the funeral is imminent. I am really trying to work through all my thoughts and words, as I choose just the right things to say in her memory. She was an encourager, extraordinaire, and at every parting, she always said, "I love you." So, rather than see her in the casket, as I prepare for her funeral, I'm seeing her in the background, telling me "You can do this! I love you." No, I'm not committing any necromancy and I have prayed for strength and asked others to pray for me, but it's truly who she was and I want to keep that image of her, especially as I prepare for a tribute to her.
At this time, I continue to push the thought out of my mind, that I won't hear that upbeat, slightly sassy voice again, in this life. Her laugh was uniquely recognizable and her style was her own. She was a confident woman, a strong willed woman, and stoic to the nth degree, yet somehow demonstrated a gentle encouragement with those around her. She shared rather than drive or push. I never in my life, heard her say to anyone, "You can't do that!" That's not about morality, but about accomplishment! She encouraged everyone.
She "surrounded" her statement of "I love you" with encouragement, laughter, and sometimes a little too much stoicism to hide her own pain. At times, something I've said or a certain mannerism has been compared to her, and I cherish those compliments more than I can say, so . . . to put action to my words of telling her "I love you," it's time for me to officiate the funeral she asked for. She said no tears . . . I'll do my best to encourage all of us to remember her words of encouragement, and prayerfully put on a bit too much stoicism to hide my own sadness to fulfill her request. I'm so thankful to have had two conversations with her last week, and both of them ended with those words to each other.
Nobody said "I love you" like Sweet Aunt Nina.
For the past several months, I've made a point of saying, "I love you" to people I minister to and with, as well as many I simply speak with. I truly do love people, well some I have to try to love, but for the most part I do love people. I'm just a bit awkward, introverted, and stoic, which probably comes across as socially inept, but . . . nobody sees me sweat. This past week, however; has been a real eye opener in the value of love and hearing the words. Love isn't just a word, it also involves action, and now this princess has to put her words into action!
My dear, Sweet Aunt Nina has died. Not only am I really not ready for this, but years ago she asked me to officiate her funeral. We were all in good health, at the time, so of course, no problem, but now . . . the funeral is imminent. I am really trying to work through all my thoughts and words, as I choose just the right things to say in her memory. She was an encourager, extraordinaire, and at every parting, she always said, "I love you." So, rather than see her in the casket, as I prepare for her funeral, I'm seeing her in the background, telling me "You can do this! I love you." No, I'm not committing any necromancy and I have prayed for strength and asked others to pray for me, but it's truly who she was and I want to keep that image of her, especially as I prepare for a tribute to her.
At this time, I continue to push the thought out of my mind, that I won't hear that upbeat, slightly sassy voice again, in this life. Her laugh was uniquely recognizable and her style was her own. She was a confident woman, a strong willed woman, and stoic to the nth degree, yet somehow demonstrated a gentle encouragement with those around her. She shared rather than drive or push. I never in my life, heard her say to anyone, "You can't do that!" That's not about morality, but about accomplishment! She encouraged everyone.
She "surrounded" her statement of "I love you" with encouragement, laughter, and sometimes a little too much stoicism to hide her own pain. At times, something I've said or a certain mannerism has been compared to her, and I cherish those compliments more than I can say, so . . . to put action to my words of telling her "I love you," it's time for me to officiate the funeral she asked for. She said no tears . . . I'll do my best to encourage all of us to remember her words of encouragement, and prayerfully put on a bit too much stoicism to hide my own sadness to fulfill her request. I'm so thankful to have had two conversations with her last week, and both of them ended with those words to each other.
Nobody said "I love you" like Sweet Aunt Nina.
Monday, May 4, 2015
From Tomboy to Matriarch
All these attempts to teach children gender confusion is really bothering me. Children go through natural phases of "not liking" the opposite sex, as well as enjoying the same interests as the opposite sex, but that really isn't a reflection of their sexuality. Children are being sexualized at a very young age now, and that is, in my book, abuse. Our children are being robbed of the innocence of childhood. I truly shudder to think who and how I would be pressured, if I were a child in this day and age. I was sexually clueless for years. That may have been due to my multiple personality issue, but the point is, children today are inundated with sexuality from a very early age.
Although my mom was always on me about being more ladylike, and I never wanted to be like my mom, I never wanted to be a boy! I was a tomboy, loved the outdoors, and followed Daddy everywhere I could, I still never wanted to be a boy. I had two male cousins, one a year older and one a year younger and although I never gave any serious thought to our difference, I did realize peeing was much more convenient for boys. They didn't have to take off their shoes to go in the house, and possibly be detained by a parent who wanted them to stay in for awhile . . . Other than that observation, I was pretty happy being a tomboy and knowing I was a girl.
The one difficulty I've had about being female, is the fact that my mother voiced her disapproval, and my sister was the picture of femininity, and we don't get along either. I couldn't play the piano, but lessons were required. I had to walk across the living room with a book on my head, so I didn't "lope." Summertime sports beyond swimming or tennis was out of the question. Absolutely no softball! I've always enjoyed being a diverse female, but I felt that I just didn't measure up. I never felt the need to look for female approval. Now with a husband that doesn't find me desirable, still a very disappointed mother, and one daughter who clearly stated she wouldn't want to be like me, I truly enjoy being the woman I am. This may sound strange, but I don't respect the opinion of the naysayers, so I'm not defined by their opinion, but what about the children now? So many are looking for a place to belong.
I still love the outdoors and can handle my share of physical work. I can't do what a man can, but I am not a man and don't want to be one. I do love men though! Interestingly, the majority of men I've known through my life have consistently made the comment, that they've never known a woman like me, but it's never been said negatively toward me or other women, just in a very matter of fact statement. I'm still an odd woman. Everyone wants to be loved. I'd love to be in a loving relationship, and I realize it would take a unique man to love me, but a man, none the less. As the agenda intensifies, it appears that these children are going to be programmed to believe if someone finds them different, or they don't feel like everyone else, there is a sexual or gender identity issue and that simply is not so.
As the agenda gains momentum there have been many comments about choosing to identify . . . We all know there are little girls growing up that don't feel loved by their mothers. Will they seek that love, later in a same sex relationship? Many little boys are growing up with no respectable male role model. Since the gay agenda has now changed its stand about born that way, to choosing to identify, how many of these children will be recruited simply because the agenda targets them at a certain phase or preys on their insecurities? To introduce sexuality at a very young age causes nothing but confusion. This is not about allowing children to express themselves, this is invasive programming, indoctrination, and recruitment! This is targeting children through natural phases of life, to draw them into an unnatural lifestyle.
If I hadn't been the tomboy I was as a child, I would not be the matriarch I am today!
Although my mom was always on me about being more ladylike, and I never wanted to be like my mom, I never wanted to be a boy! I was a tomboy, loved the outdoors, and followed Daddy everywhere I could, I still never wanted to be a boy. I had two male cousins, one a year older and one a year younger and although I never gave any serious thought to our difference, I did realize peeing was much more convenient for boys. They didn't have to take off their shoes to go in the house, and possibly be detained by a parent who wanted them to stay in for awhile . . . Other than that observation, I was pretty happy being a tomboy and knowing I was a girl.
The one difficulty I've had about being female, is the fact that my mother voiced her disapproval, and my sister was the picture of femininity, and we don't get along either. I couldn't play the piano, but lessons were required. I had to walk across the living room with a book on my head, so I didn't "lope." Summertime sports beyond swimming or tennis was out of the question. Absolutely no softball! I've always enjoyed being a diverse female, but I felt that I just didn't measure up. I never felt the need to look for female approval. Now with a husband that doesn't find me desirable, still a very disappointed mother, and one daughter who clearly stated she wouldn't want to be like me, I truly enjoy being the woman I am. This may sound strange, but I don't respect the opinion of the naysayers, so I'm not defined by their opinion, but what about the children now? So many are looking for a place to belong.
I still love the outdoors and can handle my share of physical work. I can't do what a man can, but I am not a man and don't want to be one. I do love men though! Interestingly, the majority of men I've known through my life have consistently made the comment, that they've never known a woman like me, but it's never been said negatively toward me or other women, just in a very matter of fact statement. I'm still an odd woman. Everyone wants to be loved. I'd love to be in a loving relationship, and I realize it would take a unique man to love me, but a man, none the less. As the agenda intensifies, it appears that these children are going to be programmed to believe if someone finds them different, or they don't feel like everyone else, there is a sexual or gender identity issue and that simply is not so.
As the agenda gains momentum there have been many comments about choosing to identify . . . We all know there are little girls growing up that don't feel loved by their mothers. Will they seek that love, later in a same sex relationship? Many little boys are growing up with no respectable male role model. Since the gay agenda has now changed its stand about born that way, to choosing to identify, how many of these children will be recruited simply because the agenda targets them at a certain phase or preys on their insecurities? To introduce sexuality at a very young age causes nothing but confusion. This is not about allowing children to express themselves, this is invasive programming, indoctrination, and recruitment! This is targeting children through natural phases of life, to draw them into an unnatural lifestyle.
If I hadn't been the tomboy I was as a child, I would not be the matriarch I am today!
Sunday, April 12, 2015
An Interesting Dream
Most of my dreams seem fairly insignificant. I do have a few that I recognize to be of spiritual significance, but I really don't have all that many memorable dreams. I do, however; dream in color. Having now used three sentences to say nothing, let's get to the point.
I dreamed I was speaking to a group of young women. In the dream I was aware that all of these young ladies had some sort of inferiority complex in regard to their appearance and/or shape. The group, as I remember, was basically average. No one was dramatically beautiful or intensely homely. The young women were not what I would call obese, but all indicated they were not pleased with their weight or their appearance. They were all in search of "something" that would make them more attractive, which was to be the topic of my presentation.
As I spoke, I produced past photos of myself through the years. This would be very out of character for me, in that I consistently hated to have my picture taken, always feeling fat and ugly. With each photo, I gave my age and basic life circumstances at the time. The presentation was somewhat interactive, so the girls made comments and asked questions throughout. With each explanation on that trip down memory lane, a different girl would raise her hand to offer some sort of acknowledgement or insight. It was amazing how many of the girls just couldn't understand why I had such low self esteem in those photos. I responded with the same question and comment to them.
In the dream I seemed so natural and relaxed, which in and of itself is odd . . . One photo, stood out amongst all the others. It was a wedding photo in which I was so thin, my complexion was ashen. They asked me how I felt about myself at that time, and I answered honestly. It was the one time and last person who made me feel desirable, but . . . I was really sacrificing my health to be that size and more importantly, by then I realized, I was counting on him to make me feel like a woman. Ultimately, when the new wore off and it was time to just be a couple, I blew it. He loved me, or at least tried to love me, for who I truly was. My youth and weight made no difference to him, but my inferiority complex was so deep, I couldn't grasp that. As I shared that with the girls, they fell contemplatively silent. I could see their wheels turning.
In sharing the last wedding photo, I shared with the girls that I truly thought I "had it together" spiritually, emotionally, and was physically comfortable in my own skin, until . . . my honeymoon was a disaster and I found myself hanging on by a thread, spiritually. I clung to Messiah. Many times over, I found myself quoting the Psalm about the Rock that is higher than I. Something had to change, and I was obligated to my circumstances. It would take me a full 10 years to realize my self-image was not based upon how someone else, that man, looked at me. In 2012, I looked in the mirror, finally happy with the reflection looking back.
As I moved out from behind the podium, I stood there 57 and full figured, and simply stated. "I like myself the way Abba created me to be. Being content is beautiful!"
As I spoke, I produced past photos of myself through the years. This would be very out of character for me, in that I consistently hated to have my picture taken, always feeling fat and ugly. With each photo, I gave my age and basic life circumstances at the time. The presentation was somewhat interactive, so the girls made comments and asked questions throughout. With each explanation on that trip down memory lane, a different girl would raise her hand to offer some sort of acknowledgement or insight. It was amazing how many of the girls just couldn't understand why I had such low self esteem in those photos. I responded with the same question and comment to them.
In the dream I seemed so natural and relaxed, which in and of itself is odd . . . One photo, stood out amongst all the others. It was a wedding photo in which I was so thin, my complexion was ashen. They asked me how I felt about myself at that time, and I answered honestly. It was the one time and last person who made me feel desirable, but . . . I was really sacrificing my health to be that size and more importantly, by then I realized, I was counting on him to make me feel like a woman. Ultimately, when the new wore off and it was time to just be a couple, I blew it. He loved me, or at least tried to love me, for who I truly was. My youth and weight made no difference to him, but my inferiority complex was so deep, I couldn't grasp that. As I shared that with the girls, they fell contemplatively silent. I could see their wheels turning.
In sharing the last wedding photo, I shared with the girls that I truly thought I "had it together" spiritually, emotionally, and was physically comfortable in my own skin, until . . . my honeymoon was a disaster and I found myself hanging on by a thread, spiritually. I clung to Messiah. Many times over, I found myself quoting the Psalm about the Rock that is higher than I. Something had to change, and I was obligated to my circumstances. It would take me a full 10 years to realize my self-image was not based upon how someone else, that man, looked at me. In 2012, I looked in the mirror, finally happy with the reflection looking back.
As I moved out from behind the podium, I stood there 57 and full figured, and simply stated. "I like myself the way Abba created me to be. Being content is beautiful!"
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