Category: Mama Bear

Happy Halloween Animation! Witches’ Brew.

So, my daughter is quite an artist, and I’m a proud momma—I’m going to show off her work. She just posted a “Happy Halloween” animation yesterday, and I am showing it to everyone I know and everyone I don’t know! I mean, I’ve done that with her art since she was old enough to draw with a chunky crayon, but this differs from “Isn’t it cute?” It is now “Holy Cow, look what my kid did!” And graduated to “How did a kid that I made do something like this?” That part … it’s hilarious, wild, fantastic to see my kids grow up, become these amazing people who do incredible things, and I’m over here like … how the heck did that happen? I am grateful. Grateful to be her momma. Grateful for how she pursues her passions. Check out this Halloween animation she made! You’ll love it, too. Follow her … there will be more!

Also, in 2023, we published a coloring book of her giraffe art. Check that out, too!

A 2023 Message to My Children That Spoke to Me Today in 2024

1) It is well known to me that not all of you want to be in a group chat. I’m the Mom, your mother-in-law, your “mother,” your “Ma,” so I’m disregarding that anti-group sentiment for this message.

2) Life is short. Don’t waste it with anger or bitterness. Don’t treat people bad. Don’t be selfish. Don’t hold grudges. Don’t be toxic. Those things will destroy you inside. They will waste your life – and end you up alone. Choose peace. It is a choice – as are anger and bitterness.

3) Sonya, who has Stage 4 lung cancer and is now on oxygen, said last night, “I’m going to be happy.” And I sat there in wonder listening to her. She’s dying, and she knows it, and she’s making positivity and peace a priority! If she can, so can we. I mean, holy cow. Talk about seeing life for what it is. It has gotten real for her. It is brief. We are here to love each other. We are here to find peace. That is all.

4) Where do you find peace? God. HE is the answer. The Creator of Heaven and Earth and You. HE is the answer. The only answer. Sonya knows this. She believes. She has found His peace. She has discovered what truly matters. Grandma knew this to her core! Listen or don’t. That’s your choice.

5) Be honest in your life about who you are, where you struggle, where you are wrong, and how much you need the peace that passes understanding that Scripture talks about. Pick up a Bible and find out for yourself. Read. Research. Be proactive in your search for peace.

6) Know that you are loved. God loves you. I love you. I have made mistakes in this life, as do all people, but God is good! There is forgiveness, and there is peace. His peace. I choose that peace!

7) There is no need to respond to this message; there is no need to tell me you don’t want to be in a group chat. In fact, don’t respond to this. It is a one time use for something very important to me, and I want you to all know in one swoop that I have the same message for each of you.

8) I simply want to convey to all of my children this morning that what is most important in this short life is that God loves you. His grace is sufficient for you. He wants you to know His peace. He wants our eyes on Heaven and not on this earth where “self” and anger and division are the devil’s tools.

November 9, 2024 now. I’m clearing out messages on my phone that are old and taking up space, and I came across this text I sent to my children on May 6, 2023. Much has happened since that day – Sonya passed into the arms of Jesus, and I unexpectedly faced and went through open-heart surgery. Like Sonya did, I choose to be happy despite circumstances, even because of circumstances. As they come to us, to me, they are opportunities to be of use to Jesus, to show kindness, to be honest, to point others toward the peace found only in a relationship with God. Amen.

My greatest desire, and my prayer each day, is that each of my children find God’s peace and that they come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. Whether they choose to be in my life or not is irrelevant in that prayer. I pray God puts people in their paths to love on them in His name and for them to love on in His name as a result and a ripple effect through time.

So be it.

Amen.

BAW – Let’s Be Honest – Who Am I? – Who Are You?

“Let’s pretend there is something under the mask. Is there? Who are you?” p. 52-53

I am:

I’m not:

I adore:

I detest:

I have:

I have never:

I like:

I don’t like:

I love:

I hate:

I need:

I want:

I can:

I can’t:

I’m always:

I’m never:

I’m afraid of:

I’m not afraid to:

I’m pretty good at:

I’m no good at:

I want more:

I want less:

This looks daunting, and I am already calculating what I am willing to answer and what I am not willing to answer with honesty. Ironic when the point of the Burn After Writing challenges is to be authentic. Here I sit facing this list, and I am thinking about how to not be my real self on more than one of these. How often do we do this in life? That’s a question I ask myself, but I also ask in general (of you). We hide behind a mask, don’t we? We don’t let others see us. The question is, why? Why are we afraid to be authentic? Why are we so good, masters in fact, at only putting forward what is ‘socially’ acceptable by the elusive “they” out there in the big wide world? We are so good at this that I venture to say that a majority of us running around concerned about what others think and holding back our authentic selves do not even truly know ourselves well enough to answer these questions. This will be my attempt to be authentic and to not hold back. I’m going to give it a go. See what happens. I will be honest at the end about whether or not I accomplished the task at hand.

I am: concerned about answering the following questions with authenticity.

I’m not: going to let that stop me.

I adore my husband Patrick. He is my best friend, the love of my life. He never raises his voice at me. He is patient with me. He teaches me. He challenges me. He laughs with me. He tells me I am beautiful every day. He treasures me. He loves God. He has been sober for 36 years, and he has encountered God in ways throughout his adulthood that most people I have come across just don’t or won’t – including myself. He has lost two children, and he has maintained his faith in the goodness of God throughout his pain. He stands on his convictions, and he lives life on a day-at-a-time basis – full-steam ahead. He’s all man. And he loves me.

I detest gaslighting and narcissism. The more I learn about it, the more I have come to realize that those who have narcissistic traits know what they are doing to their victims. Somehow they justify their behavior, and the drama and trauma they strew about this life are disgusting – actually, it is evil.

I have my dream job – being a professor is what I am made to be. At least at this stage of my life. When I was younger, my parents (who were both teachers) said to me that I should be a teacher, and I was like – heck no! So, I ran from that – until, in my mid-30s, I sat in a classroom beginning my journey toward a master’s degree, and the teacher was boring. She was beyond boring. She was a drain on my time and every student in that classroom, and I determined sitting in her class that I could and would do it better than that. It clicked, and I was on a course to be the best teacher in higher education that I can be. I will be engaging and passionate about my subject because that’s what keeps students listening and learning, and growing. I love what I do.

I have never been good at dancing – a wallflower, if you will. And I am married to a dancer. Patrick is an incredible dancer – he can two-step and other dances and fly around that dance floor, and I stand by feeling all awkward … when, here’s the truth, I am too concerned about what others think about how I look out there on that dance floor. I need to and will just put myself into Patrick’s hands and let him spin me around. Just like I do with him in so many other areas of my life. I trust him in so many other ways – this one feels superficial now that I’m writing about it. Apparently, we need to go dancing. He will be thrilled. Oh, I just remembered that recently, “Sweet Child of Mine” came on at home, where we listen to music a lot, and Patrick was sitting by the fireplace smoking, and I let myself go … just for him. Danced like crazy – as much like Axl Rose as I could – felt the music – just for Patrick. He loved it – and I have no idea how it looked, but that man would love me in a paper sack and clogs with my hair in pigtails, so I didn’t care at that moment. Now, Dacia, translate that to the public … why do you let the ‘public’ stop you? Good question. Ugh, to the public. Be your authentic self!

I like pizza. Unabashedly, it is my favorite food, and this is immediately where my brain went when I saw the words “I like.” I like pizza so much that when I’m creating multiple choice questions on exams, I often will toss pizza into the wrong answers, and I tell my students, “Don’t pick pizza.” It’s always on my mind. What do you want to eat, Dacia? Pizza. Where? Oh … see, there’s the rub. Recently, we discovered a restaurant called “Mando’s,” and the pizza there is the bomb-diggity. I freaking love it. It’s “authentic” – whatever that means. It’s delightful, is what it means. I like it.

I don’t like most vegetables. Talk about a superficial answer, but it’s the truth. I settle for helpings of raw spinach in my salads. That, I can eat. Peppers and onions don’t really count, I think, but I like them. Banana peppers – oh yes, load me up. Again, those don’t count so much. I can stomach cooked green beans if I have something to wash them down with. It fills me with pride that most of my children eat vegetables. How that happened, I do not know. It is not because of anything I fed them. The older ones discovered what they were missing out on, and now, Keenan, Kennedy, and Kadi all eat ‘exotic’ vegetable concoctions. I mean, ew, but also, great for them! I’m going to stick to pizza veggies. Well, except mushrooms. No mushrooms.

I love that I have love in my life. I am blessed with a husband who adores me and with relationships that are lifelong; I am indeed a blessed woman, and I know it – In my life, I have collected friends and family that I will always treasure, who I know treasure me. Patrick, Kennedy, Kadi, Lana, Jackie, my Dad, my brother, Veronica, Sonya, Maureen, my mother-in-love Patricia, Jenn Reedy, Sandy, Lauren, Karri, Joanna, Debbie, Rebecca, Jamie, Becky, Rhesa, Kimbra, Dawnnell, Tammy, Lynne, Kristi, Jessie, and more that I am typing too fast to allow my brain time to recall. On any given day, I know I can reach out to any of these people, and we will pick up where we left off because there is love there between us – love that is authentic and honest. Through the years, I have been naturally drawn to people who were strong and honest, and I look through this list, and I see it on all of them. Strong. Lovers of God. Loyal. Dependable. My people. There are days that I forget about how much love I have in my life because I focus on my failures as a mother, and I beat myself up, and I cry, and I think because I am not raising my youngest children, that I am not somehow worthy of love. What’s interesting is that not one of those people I listed above thinks this way of me because I am not raising my youngest children. They know my story. They love me and the fight I have given to survive and find myself, and the growth I have experienced. I am grateful for the love I have in my life.

I hate that I do not see my children on a daily basis. Of all things in life that I might ‘hate’ – that is it. To be a mother without her children is the worst. I addressed this above, and I do let it cause me to fall into self-hate at times when I let pathos rule my mind and heart, but then, I think. I push aside the emotion, and I remember my story. I remember what I walked through that brought this situation into existence. I remember the anger, the hate, the abuse, the narcissism, the drugs, the alcohol, the lying, the adultery, the psych ward stays, the suicidal thoughts and plans, the diagnoses which were wrong, the medications I was given, the therapy, the counseling, the torment, the fear I lived in for far too long. I remember the healing years – not days, not months, but years. I know what PTSD is. I remember that I was not in a healthy state of mind to fight for myself or my children for a very long time. I believed the lies that I was unworthy, that I was nothing, that no one would want me, and the one I told myself – I might as well be dead. I hate all of that. I hate remembering my story – BUT, God has given me many opportunities to talk with other women who need to be told they are worthy and that they are beautiful, and that there is forgiveness and love and life beyond pain. So, I focus forward. I am here on this planet at God’s will, and while I am here, I will be a woman who shares hope. That is what I will do – move forward each day focused on the day at hand – pursuing hope and peace – and telling my children they are loved as often as I can. I pray for each of them daily, and I ask that God direct their paths – that He brings them into His arms and His peace and that He uses them for His glory! Amen, and amen. It is for me to be in this day – and be what He needs me to be. Get thee behind me, devil; you may not fill my head with your anxiety, fear, or past torments. Not today. I am God’s – bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus Christ. Amen!

I need not much – in truth, I have what I need. I’m sitting here thinking over what I “need,” and nothing comes to mind except that I need to make a dentist appointment. I do need to do that. I have two cracked teeth. Eek! Maybe admitting that on here will ensure that I get that accomplished.

I want the dramas in my family’s life to come to resolutions. Father-son scenarios. In-law scenarios. Ex-scenarios. These are not all my stories to tell on the internet, but suffice it to say, I want peaceful resolutions so that we can move forward with happy get-togethers and build healthy grandchildren! Yes, to that! Right? Yes! Let the next generation be healthy by those of us living in today’s world getting our shit together. Holy cow. I mean, really. Fix your drama. Get over yourself. Life is short. Stop letting your feelers get hurt, don’t stay hurt, and stop holding on to grudges. CHOOSE to be at peace with people so that we can concentrate on raising up small, healthy warriors who have a crazy future ahead of them! They need to be armed with as much love and clarity as possible! Oh, my word! I want to knock some heads together.

I can only do what is mine to do. Patrick and I talk about this a lot. I naturally want to take responsibility for the actions of other people, and this is something I can no longer do. I am responsible for myself only, and I will do what is mine to do. That is … love on the people that God puts in my path. That is what I can do, and that is what I will do. I can and I will. End of story.

I can’t hold onto the past or its pain any longer. I will not live in fear, nor will I allow the past to cloud my future.

I’m always grateful. Every day I am grateful. Three years ago I had “By Grace” tattooed on my arm as a daily reminder that I am saved by Grace, and I am to live by Grace. I am grateful for Grace. I am grateful for God’s Grace in my life – that no matter what I’ve done, He works with me, and He directs me, and He forgives me, and He loves me. He wants me to choose each day to know that I am His – living in His Grace. I know this, and I am grateful. No one can take this away from me. No one. It is a beautiful thing to live under the Grace of God the Father. It took me looking at up Him – like the woman in John 8 – for me to grasp my need for His Grace, and I am unwavering in that understanding now. That is why it is tattooed on my skin. It is a daily knowledge.

I’m never unsure of my husband’s love. This is what came to mind first with “I’m never.” I know that I know that I know that this man loves me. He and I would spend every waking moment together if we didn’t have jobs that took us away from each other during the day. I’m a professor, and he’s in construction. Not sure how to marry the occupations, though when I’m not teaching and working on school stuff, I am at his side – learning about building, remodeling, and handing him screws – which I do quite well. I’ve gotten so adept at being his helper, that 9 times out of 10 I can anticipate what he needs before he needs it. That’s fun! I may be unsure of other things in the world, but never that this man loves me.

I’m afraid of a couple of things – though when I think on them both – I know that eternity steps in and the fear subsides. First, I’m afraid of my time with Patrick being cut short. We are older. He’s almost 60, and I’m 50. We didn’t meet until later in life, and we want to live each day to the fullest while we can. There are times when the reality of our ages and that construction has taken a toll on him over the 45 years he’s been working reminds me that time is fragile, and that makes me fearful because I do not want to be without him, nor does he want to be without me. Life is unpredictable, though, and we cannot go around living in fear of death. Neither of us is afraid of death because we believe Heaven awaits us, but neither of us looks forward to some time left on the earth without the other if one goes before. Live each day to its utmost. That’s the goal. With gratefulness. The second thing I’m afraid of is losing one of my children. Patrick has been through that twice – and I cannot fathom the depth of the anguish he feels. I hold his hand in those moments when he’s overcome by missing his son Brad who passed on at the age of 27 in a car accident or when he is missing out on what could have been with his son Collin, who passed away in his first day of life. I don’t want to know what that feels like. He does, and I love him through it the best that I know how. I do know a level of grief because I live without my children – it crushes me some days and moments and I can only imagine what that compounding with never see again in this lifetime would feel like. Those are my fears – but again, I know that this life is short, and on the other side of it, there is Heaven with the Father and with Jesus Christ. So, I choose to not live in fear.

I’m not afraid to admit that I have weaknesses and faults and I have failed in exponential ways in this life. I choose to be open about where I have fallen short because it also affords me the opportunity to talk about God’s Grace. In my extreme fear of conflict, for many years, I never learned how to stand my ground or stand up for myself. I lived in fear of the unknown and fear of the known. I just lived in fear. To this, I will not discuss fear of what – though it was many things – I will not, though, out of respect for my children discuss their father. I will only discuss my own part in the demise of life in those years. I developed agoraphobia and rarely left my house for years; I developed a dependence upon alcohol to get me through my life instead of relying on God – because I believed my prayers for help went unheard and unanswered; I believed I didn’t deserve the grace of God – He didn’t hear me. I was a blob – an unlovable blob. I became an alcoholic, but I also turned to men – attention seeking and drinking – both drowning my pain as much as I could, but it was never enough. I committed adultery – and found myself farther down any hole I could have ever have nightmares about being inside! Drowning pain was all I knew, and I lost my ability to reason – drowning in alcohol, fear, emotion, hate, succumbing to anything and everything that might make the pain stop. None of it did. I found myself divorced, living with my parents, diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, and clinging to life – struggling to believe God could heal me from any of it much less even want to heal me, forgive me, love me … but He did. Today, I am on no medicine. I have no Borderline Personality Disorder – it was PTSD and alcoholism. I have been sober for 2 years and 4 months. Daily I thank God for his Grace. I am whole – and coming more fully into understanding what it is to live a sober life – sober in a fullest sense – a thought-provoked existence based on the knowledge that I am bought by the blood of Jesus and my life is His – not my own. None of this am I afraid to admit. This is me, and what I know is that God is good. I cried out to Him from the depths, and He heard me. There was no quick fix to my failures; it was a process of my own coming to terms with my responsibility to my Father in Heaven with this life that He gave me – what I do with it and how I love. Again, I am grateful.

I’m pretty good at engaging my students. This is where I shine. In front of a group of people, encouraging them to think for themselves – to consider possibilities – to research – to learn communication techniques and skills! It’s like a funny switch gets flicked, and I’m suddenly an educational funny gal who is passionate about helping people better themselves! I say I’m an “Edutainer.” Not sure if I made that term up or not, but I claim it. I teach Comp I, Comp II, Creative Writing, and wrap History, Government, and Psychology in wherever I can – always pushing students to think for themselves! Critical thinking skills are always the goal. In my own life, I understand my great need for those, and so I push and encourage and teach my students to develop those NOW, not later in life like I did. I tell them I will never score them low because I might hold a different perspective than theirs – as long as they can support their belief or opinion, then they get the “A.” I am not out to make apostles of Dacia, but I am out to have each one of my students able to navigate life and argument and critically think through all that life tosses them. At the core of it is my love of Jesus – who told me to love God first and to love my neighbor as myself – which I strive to do – and when asked – outside of the classroom, sometimes my students and I talk about God and religion and we have church. The Scripture says where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am also – meaning Jesus, and He shows up. Every time in conversation, I present an argument. They present an argument. We consider one another’s perspectives. We move forward with life. It is not for me to know what their choices are beyond the window of time I am given to speak into their lives. Good stuff. I wish more people could develop the ability to respect opinions outside of their own. What a world we could live in if folks would try that way of living.

I’m no good at math. Hahahahaha. I tell my students not to ask me to help with their math homework. It’s not that I’m bad at math, I actually got an “A” in Calculus my senior year of high school, and I quite enjoy Algebra. It’s that Geometry crap – and decimals and fractions – and real world math. That’s what fingers and calculators are for.

I want more time with my children. If I write much more here, I will cry ugly tears. One day. That’s what I tell myself. One day. It’s not for me to determine – God plans my path now; I am not trying to interfere with what He has in store. But yes, I want more time with my children. Want, want, want, want. But … I will do each day as it comes.

I want less ugliness in the world. A couple of years ago, I was connected with a few coworkers on Facebook – on one of their threads, I read a conversation between my coworker and their friend where it was stated that anyone who believed [politically] different from them should be shot in the head, so that the “good” people can get on with their lives. I sit in faculty meetings with this individual, and I think to myself while engaging with this person, you’d be okay with me being shot in the head – and yet, here you sit oblivious to the fact that I’m one of those people because I am able to separate work and politics. I am not at work to make political or religious followers. I am work to create a capable work force – giving TCC a strong reputation for assisting the Tulsa community with quality employees. Needlesstosay, I cleared my Facebook of those I am not of one accord with. In fact, I shut that account down, and only recently, started a new account that is full of those who I would share pictures of my grandchildren with. That’s my thermometer. It’s private. Not many have need to know about the inner workings of my life and the lives of my grandchildren, so it’s staying smallish this time – my social media. There’s just so much ugliness out there on the internet and in the world. It is my belief that I am to be a light in the darkness, and that is what I will strive to do while I am able, as long as God has me here, but I will do that in the classroom and in line at Lowe’s – not on social media.

And there we have it. This BAW list is complete. And yes, I was honest – bluntly so. I’m grateful for that – to be in a space now where I can say, “Hey, y’all, this is me. Like it or not. This is me.” I’m going to live each day to the fullest and strive for peace in all things. I will declare that God is good. I will live gratefully – knowing from what and where He has brought me and looking forward to where He takes me.

I challenge you to complete the list too. Be honest about who you are. See where it takes you.

Momma – A Reflection of My Mother

What follows are my reflections on my Momma – Marjorie Ruth Snare Hinkle – these I shared at her memorial service, though my eyes teared over as I spoke, and I was unable to read, so I ad-libbed most of what I said in her honor – which was not hard to do for such a precious Momma. My brother gave the memorial service message on joy and devotion (two words that aptly describe our mother) after I spoke, and it was incredible how many similar things about our Momma that we BOTH prepared to say without discussing it with each other. Such a testimony to a wonderful Momma – that her children would rise and call her blessed and say so many of the same reflections regarding her as a mother, a woman, and a Child of God Most High. 

Here are my reflections:  

I know you knew and loved the beautiful little lady that we celebrate today; that is why you are here, but she was my Momma, and I want you to know her from my point of view – if even a little.  

To you, she is Marjorie, Marjorie Ruth, Margie, Margie Ruth, Marge the Barge, Mrs. Hinkle. To me, she is Momma, at times Momma Ruth, and some days, affectionately, Mommy. Mommy a lot in the last few weeks – as her decline sped up, I cared for her as she had often cared for me.  

What I want you to know about Momma is this … 

  • She was daily in the Word of God. Every morning growing up, I would later find Momma with her Bible open and a pen in her hand. A journaling notebook sat nearby, where she wrote many of her prayers. It was her private time, and I knew even as a small child to respect her time with God. Over the years, stacks of those notebooks filled her bookshelf in her bedroom. Never have I looked inside of one. 
  • Momma read to David B and me every night before bed – Bible stories, the Chronicles of Narnia, devotion books. We used stickers to mark the pages we had read, and I loved getting to put the stickers on the pages. Sometimes, she wrote notes on the pages – like the night she read a story in “Joshua Wiggins and the King’s Kids” about Joshua’s grandfather being ill and, in the hospital, going to pass away. We had a conversation that night after Momma read the story about Heaven and grandpas. She prayed with us; our Grandpa Hinkle went to Heaven that night. Momma wrote that special note in our book.  
  • She filled our home with Christian music – like “Bullfrogs and Butterflies,” “The Music Machine,” or “Marcy Sings Sunday School Songs” – I still sing “Have Patience” and “Self-Control” in my head when faced with squirrely situations in my own life. Momma loved Jesus, and she loved music, and she surrounded David B and me with Biblically-based music. 
  • When it was cleaning time, Momma made it into a game. We became the characters Matilda and Tildy Ann and had “fun” cleaning the house. Insert a raised eyebrow from me here. Still, in the last year, Momma asked me, with a raised eyebrow, if Tildy Ann had done her cleaning; I am not the greatest housekeeper. 
  • Momma let me help raise the ‘baby’ when David B was born. I was 5. And he turned out pretty well with “2 moms.” Momma never minded sharing him with me, though he is truly a Momma’s boy. Rightfully so.  
  • She built tents with us, played with us, colored with us, crafted with us – especially when Dad would be out fishing; he would come home with the catch, and Momma would fry it all up. The best days! 
  • Momma did not allow us to fight with each other; we learned to get along and be close friends. She often said, “This is the only brother you’ll ever have,” to me, and to David B, “This is the only sister you’ll ever have.” She ensured we loved each other and treated each other with kindness. 
  • Rides in the car with Momma were awesome! David and I would roll up in balls in the back of the station wagon (which we ‘affectionally’ called The Green Grasshopper) while Momma drove us around McAlester, and sometimes, she would come to a stop sign and say, “Which way? Right or left?” And we would get to decide where we were going!  
  • Momma often took us to the library, and I came to love the smell of well-read books, and I fell in love with reading – and writing, which was a love that Mom and I shared. She was a writer – though many people do not know that. She wrote a series of children’s books all centered in a land called Kindredland. Wonderful stories with moral tales; Momma was passionate about her characters and infusing their lives with Scriptural principles. She wanted so much for children everywhere to know the Gospel!  
  • She so often doubted her own abilities … those stories have not been published, but I have them. One of these days, I will make it happen for her.  
  • Within the last few months, Momma authored a short story about her mother, my grandmother. I quickly had it published on Amazon, and Momma was able to say she was indeed a published author! She got to hold the book in her own hands and sign copies for her nieces and nephews just before she grew unable. 
  • She loved stories! Stories about Jesus. Stories about God. Stories that pointed to God.  
  • Momma loved to reach Christian romance novels – this is something she shared more in common with Amy, my sister-in-law than with me. Karen Kingsbury was a favorite, and she loved the Janette Oke series – and anything by Francine Rivers. Momma loved to read books about Heaven and angels.  
  • She taught me to sew and to crochet … though, to her consternation, I never followed patterns – I would start well … but … yeah, I tended to wander off the pattern and create my own “masterpieces” … which were not masterpieces. Bless her heart and her amazing patience with me. Her last big sewing project was a navy-blue-based crazy quilt for me; I will treasure it always. 
  • Momma did beautiful sewing and crochet work, though she always struggled to see her own work as talent. She made sock monkeys for each of her grandchildren; those are treasured.  
  • Speaking of consternation, she faithfully set timers for me to practice piano – and I did not have the same love for playing the piano that she did, but she got her musician in David B. He is a trumpet player – we both love to sing though. 
  • The only time I remember being ‘horrified’ by Momma was when she called me out in 5th grade for holding hands with a boy named Paul Weaver in the back of her music class. Momma was my 5th-grade music, PE, and language arts teacher. I do not think I had a single year in K-12 without one of my parents in the same school as me; it was normal. Momma and I were at the same school building from kindergarten through 5th grade.  
  • The only time I remember being ‘afraid’ of Momma was when she threw our Cocker Spaniel, Blade, out the back door after he bit a hole on the skirt of the golden swivel living room chair. My favorite spinning chair – though not her favorite of my favorite things. David and I loved to sit there and spin and spin and spin … which we would do until we were noticed.  
  • Momma never cursed. But she would say, “Honest to Pete,” … which has sent my girls into fits of giggles numerous times. “Honest to Pete, Kadi,” she would say. “Honest to Pete, Kennedy.” They have no idea who Pete was and no memory of what they did to deserve their grandma’s “harsh” words, but they love the memories – and we say those words to each other now randomly.  
  • We also were not allowed to say “fart” in our home. Instead, we were to say “poot,” … as in “who pooted?” I can only now say, “Honest to Pete, Mom.” I will never be able to say “poot” without giggling. 
  • I loved hearing her say “David!” when Dad would suddenly take us off-roading in our 4-wheel drive Jeep Cherokee, daydream grand plans, or say something slightly inappropriate that secretly she found funny but would never admit to. 
  • Before she could not speak, her last words were “David, David…” – my father’s name. That is something I will always cling to. Her last words were to call for my dad, her love of 55 years. 
  • Memories of her playing the piano at home or church will forever be with me – I loved listening to her play and watching her fingers fly! It soothed her, and it excited her. It was beautiful to watch, to sit beside her and sing. 
  • It filled Momma with joy to lead the church adult and the children’s choirs – her energy seemed boundless! It is so funny that such a shy lady could be vivacious in front of a choir! It was because of the music. She loved music that celebrated God! 
  • Momma wrote a couple of children’s musicals. At least one was performed in church. 
  • I loved worshipping next to my Momma in church … especially when the music was too slow for her liking. Oh, how she loved music! How she wanted all worship to be JOYFUL and excited because we are singing to our God! She used to say it is not supposed to be a dirge. I would giggle and say, “Momma … they’re trying to be reverent.” She would raise an eyebrow. I know she is singing in an excited choir now! 
  • Anytime I sat next to Momma in church, we held hands, and I twirled her rings on her finger. When I was a little girl, I would lay my head on her lap during church, and she would rub my hair. 
  • When I needed my wisdom teeth removed at 20 years old, Momma came to Joplin and drove me to the appointment. How she got me back to the dorm is beyond me, as I had been sedated, and I only have brief recollections of consciousness from the drive back to the dorm. Somehow that little lady got me to the car from the oral surgeon’s office and then to my dorm room. She talked to me about how students were milling around the campus, and no one offered to help her with her inebriated grown child – not even to open the doors. I have no idea how she managed to get me to my bed, but she did. That lady was strong and determined.  
  • Momma was sensitive to the Spirit and Spiritual things – she knew the supernatural realm is real, and she was a woman of prayer and blessing – this was intensely personal to her, but something she shared with me. She would often pray over rooms in our home, the homes of others, her classrooms, her students, and our friends. This was private to her – between her and our Father. 
  • Momma always welcomed our friends into her heart as her own children – her family. There are so many I think of that my Momma loved as her own daughters among my friends; Lana, Jackie, Kiley, Debbie, Wanda, Tammy, Jenny, Lauren, Karri, Becky, Sandy, and most recently, Veronica, Rebecca, Sonya, Haley, and Maureen.  
  • She had deep abiding friendships through the years – ones I am so grateful for – for her. Joan Hagood Donelson, Pat Howe, Patricia Wilson, Elane Crosby, Carol Walker, Cheryl Patton, Jeretta Sudduth, Connie Cooper, Zelda Waldron, Lynne Holman, Jane Glenn, Diana Jackson, her sisters Doris (dec.), Dorothy (dec.), Mary (dec.), Lesta, and Wilma, her sisters-in-law Anita Hinkle, Jan Hinkle, and Aldeana Hinkle (dec.), Bobbie Snare (dec.) – she loved you and treasured your friendship. I know I am leaving some out – not intentionally at all. My mind is racing. 
  • Most recently, Patricia Cunningham and Dorothy Egnew became Momma’s special friends – as my life took an amazing turn, and I married into the Cunningham Clan. To the Cunningham Clan, thank you for the last year and ten months of loving my Momma as one of your own. My mom and my dad became a part of the family – and Momma loved the get-togethers, the laughter, the honesty, and passing the trash … she loved the family for who they are and how they love me.  
  • In January 2021, God directed me to Patrick Cunningham. The circumstances of our meeting can in no way be described except by God’s direct intervention – my mother knew this, and she treasured Patrick. To Patrick, in front of those gathered for Momma’s memorial, I said, “You two had, and will always have, a special connection – kindred spirits – it relieved her of many concerns to know that you love her wild-at-heart and once broken daughter. You are an answer to her long-suffering and faithful prayers.” It is true. Momma relaxed in life once she knew I was safe and loved. Part of me wants to feel humiliated and guilt-ridden that I was such a great cause of worry and pain to her over the years, but I will no longer take that on. She would not want me to. Momma knew Patrick was the answer to her prayers over my life. She and Patrick had a private conversation just after hospice care began for Momma. I watched but was not fully privy to what they talked about. It was theirs – their conversation. Their love and appreciation exchanged.  
  • As a grandmother, Momma was sublime – she played store with my children, did crafts with them, and read to them; she loved them unconditionally and was patient with them – a haven of safety for each of them always. Keenan, Kennedy, Kadi, Koel, Caley, Blake, Klayton, Koby, Joey, JT, and Moti … Grandma prayed for you daily. Nothing brought her more joy than her grandchildren’s smiles and “I love you” … except sweet hugs from her great-grandbabies, Josephine and Kaleb. 
  • Momma and I talked on the phone for hours in this lifetime. We were the best of friends – though I often shocked her – she loved me through my roller coaster life – she never condemned me or judged me – she loved me. She listened when it was hard. She loved when she did not want to. She was always a shoulder. She prayed faithfully. She was and is the best example of grace, kindness, and self-lessness God could have given me …  
  • In her final days, we sang hymns together, and when she could no longer sing, I continued with Dad and David B to sing hymns over her – hopefully bringing her peace and comfort as she slipped from us. 
  • Patrick came to the hospice room, knelt next to Momma, and read Scripture to her. She relaxed as she heard the Word of God read to her. That woman loved the Lord and loved His Word. 

Marjorie Ruth Snare Hinkle was a strong little lady who did not complain but bore her (and our) struggles, her two bouts with breast cancer, her diabetes, her COPD, and her heart failure with a faith rooted in daily Bible study and prayer. She smiled in the storm even when it was dicey because Momma kept her eyes on Heaven with a song in her heart! Over the last couple of years, “God Will Make a Way” became a theme for her, and I sang it to her multiple times over the week that her health declined. The words that brought her so much comfort …  

“God will make a way 

Where there seems to be no way 

He works in ways we cannot see 

He will make a way for me 

He will be my guide 

Hold me closely to His side 

With love and strength for each new day 

He will make a way; He will make a way.” 

I have watched her, learned from her, and I understand the lesson … Live my life understanding, as Momma did, that I am not a citizen of this earth but a citizen of Heaven and a child of God Most High. Be in His Word – and weigh everything against His love.  

So, You Need to Be Right? Why?

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The last year and eight months of my life have been blessed beyond my understanding, and I attribute this to God’s grace and wisdom and His gift of my husband, Patrick. In that time, I have learned much about love – some of which I knew for years deep in my soul had to be possible but never thought I deserved (especially because I was told I didn’t deserve it), thinking it was for other, better people. I want to share what I have learned with you, and you’ll read it if you want to consider how to be peaceful in your relationships.

I don’t care what the situation is; fighting wastes time. There is no ‘but’ to that statement. It is what it is. And it is a choice. Fighting stems from one person not getting their way, not feeling respected, insecure, or embarrassed by their partner. Each of those things is emotion-based. Emotions have choice behind them. We choose to remain in feelings. Whether it be anger, frustration, hate, sadness, or embarrassment. It is a choice to remain in any of them. Each of those things is self-focused – not the other person concerned. Remaining in such a state will keep a relationship in turmoil. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about that.

Argument is an altogether different thing from fighting. In argument, there are no harsh words, no name-calling, and no raised voices –no hateful eyes, no drool, no violence. According to the actual definition, an argument is a back-and-forth exchange of ideas in a calm and courteous manner. It is valuing the other person and listening to their thoughts and opinions without chiming in every two seconds or even every minute while speaking to pronounce one’s thoughts and try to be right or “win.” Argument is listening to understand and seeking the best solutions to issues for all parties involved. It is about giving respect – which can NEVER be demanded. It cannot be questioned. It cannot be expected – not for it to be real.

Respect is something earned. It will never come when demanded. Again, that is what it is. Respect is something earned by the maturity of an individual to decide to treat others in kind, efficient, productive, and challenging ways. Not by tearing them down, calling them names, abusing them in any way, playing victim cards, or controlling them. What those bring about is not respect … those things bring fear, anxiety, and hate … that’s what demanding respect creates. Hate. The exact opposite of respect – not to mention love. 

I listen to people fight and think, “what a waste.” It is. A total waste of time – my soul has always known this. I thought this as a child. I felt it during my young adulthood, and I’ve always felt it in work relationships, friendships, and as a mother of fighting children. During a fight, no one truly listens – each person prepares their next diatribe or escape – fight or flight – be louder, be angrier, be violent, get that person’s attention no matter what – WHICH DOES NOT WORK in the way a fighter wants. WIN! No. There are no winners – this is not Boxing or MMA. This is your life. This is your home at stake. Productivity and health do not come from in-fighting in marriages or relationships. I never found value in fighting (the opposite of true argument). It is a waste of time and energy. And … it’s a choice.

Regularly I tell my students that I want them to get the application of this deep in their souls earlier in life than I did. My ENFJ personalitied self wants all people to get this – fighting wastes time, and it is by choice.

You decide how you want to live and how you want to be in relationships. You are responsible for YOU before God in Heaven. Only You. How do YOU treat others? That’s what matters. The world would have you believe you have a right to complain about how others treat you, to get your feathers ruffled because this person upset you or hurt you, that you can feel justified in your anger at another person because they did you wrong somehow. Really. That’s not a question. That’s me saying … really, no. You are responsible for your own damn self, so watch out for pointing your finger at others because those three pointing back at you should remind you that you’re allowing yourself to feel anger built on something inside you. The question is why. What is at the root of that anger? Where is it coming from inside of you? This imperative question is where AA principles come into play. 

We have basic instincts/needs as humans. These include Self-Esteem, Personal Relations, Security, and Ambition. When these are threatened in any way, resentments are born in us. When we hold resentment regarding any event or person, before jumping into a “right” to destroy said person or event, we must question which of these basic human instincts has been ‘affronted’ in us/you, and in that affront, what is your responsibility? Have you been self-seeking, dishonest, fearful? From there, if you hold even a variant of responsibility (which we usually do), ask yourself what the exact nature of your response/responsibility is using the seven deadly sins as a guide: envy, gluttony, greed or avarice, lust, pride, sloth, and wrath. What is happening inside of YOU that needs to be dealt with before you can point fingers at others? AA is about personal responsibility, and that is everything. Your responsibilities. Your choices. How you handle your instincts and the affronts to your instincts. When we don’t look inside ourselves and root out the WHY of our aggressions and the reasons we fight, we will continue to put ourselves before others and be angry.

There is no room for resentment or selfishness (which is a response in direct correlation to resentment born from instincts being attacked/hurt) in marriage. None. There is no room for selfishness in a healthy relationship – that applies to siblings, friends, coworkers, parents, and marriage. The same principles apply across the board. Whenever I talk about these things with anyone, especially in my classes where we discuss communication skills and arguments… it always comes down to one central idea. Love your neighbor as yourself. Treat others the way you want to be treated. To be able to practice these things, taking a deep hard look into your resentments is an important consideration. Understand yourself and why you react and respond the way you do so that you can be better with who YOU are. You have to be good with YOU so you can even begin to be effective in relationships with others. THEN, love your neighbor as yourself and treat others as you want to be treated come into play. Both of those are choices, and they are truly the same idea. Be kind and respectful – to everyone – even yourself.

Before those, though, for true peace and happiness in any relationship comes ‘Love the Lord your God will all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength’ Want to know how to have peace in your marriage and relationships? Get to know God on an intimate level. Read His word. Talk to Him. Meditate.

Romans 12:9-18 comes to mind as an excellent passage to meditate on.

“9 Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13 Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

14 Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. 15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. 16 Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position.[a] Do not be conceited.

17 Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. 18 If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

Patrick always says, at the end of the day, ask yourself if you’re comfortable in your own skin – are you good with who you are? I like that, but I want to add this thought … at the end of your life, when you stand before God, you are responsible for yourself alone. Your choices. Your responses. How you CHOSE to live your life. This life will not be long. It passes fast. Our time here is to be spent in good, productive ways, spreading love to people who need love, everyone you encounter. Especially your spouse and close relationships. Why would you waste time?

My husband Patrick and I choose to keep God first in our lives. We both strive to treat one another appropriately – knowing this … Patrick is a child of God, and I am a child of God. Neither of us has the right to tear down, hurt, or denigrate in any way a child of God – i.e., each other. We understand this, and we choose to be devoted to one another. We do not fight. We discuss. We choose peace. Our home is peaceful. That’s not to say that potential divisive things do not arise because they do.

But we VALUE each other more than either of us needs to be “right.”

Maybe you’ve heard me, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe my inclusion of God into the equation puts you off. Sorry, not sorry. He is the answer to all of this – that’s basic. If you are resistant to the addition of God in the equation, all I can do is share my insights and experience based on wisdom, research, teaching ‘argument skills’ to thousands of students, my life’s roller-coaster path, and the goodness of God through it all. If you want to get along with people, learn how to participate in a true argument. This action requires knowing and respecting yourself and your audience before engaging with your audience. It is never about demanding that others respect you or agree with you. Never. You may get a ‘modicum’ of what you’re after because it comes to you based on fear, anxiety, or hate, but it won’t be real. Not true respect. That audience will fight you – even if it is silent and unnoticed by you – hate will grow. And then … BOOM!

It’s all a choice, so be the best version of yourself that you can be.

To tag this at the end, some people are incapable of this critical thinking process. Being in a relationship with them will remain toxic for you and your children if you have them. Here, again, lies another choice. If this is your situation, help does exist. I found a Bible-believing therapist who taught me how to establish boundaries and how to value myself as a Child of God. I took steps to learn healthy means of communication – I made big changes in my life, and now, I am at peace. I chose to walk away from toxicity. I reference Romans 12:18 again, “ If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” If it is possible. It is not always possible with some people. You have a choice.

The Devil Hates God – And He Hates You

“Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance:

Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst.

But for that very reason, I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life.

Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.”

I Timothy 1:15-17

As the apostle Paul stated, so I say, I am the worst of sinners. Paul was a man of violence who persecuted Christians. He was a murderer. Then, the mercy of Christ took hold of Him – and he was forever changed. I grew up in the church, went to Bible college, was an excellent church girl – I married and raised 6 children “in the church.” I was judgmental, legalistic, pride-filled, and self-focused. My life was full of lies and fear. I believed God did not love me. I was told I was unworthy and unloveable on earth, so I walked in that falsehood – I became an adultress, an alcoholic, a cheater, a liar, a woman lost in fear and self-hate on a path of destruction – despite a head full of Scripture – my heart believed the lies of the devil – and I was suicidal.

Then, came my Damascus Road moment (Acts 9). The woman caught in adultery moment (John 8). Despite my sin, the mercy of Christ saved me. I’d read those stories multiple times in my life, but never, until I was in the depths of sin and despair, did I learn to cling to the Cross – did I look up from my filth and see Jesus holding out his loving hand to rescue me. He told me I am worthy. He told me that I am His – and I am to dedicate my life to sharing His love with others.

I thought I had been doing that years before, but it was laced with law and religion’s rules. It was not a life walking in understood mercy and grace.

Now, I see differently. God is Good. He is the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the ONLY GOD.

His will is that ALL will come to a saving knowledge of Him.

The devil does not want this – the devil wants all of us to die in sin because then he feels a sense of victory in his anger toward God. He hates God – and therefore he hates mankind. The devil knows the Scripture forward and backward. Make no mistake. But just as it didn’t sink into my heart because I allowed the devil’s lies to overtake me – the devil himself is overcome with hatred – and it will keep eternally separate from God!

Thank God I was jolted out of that existence! Thank you, Lord!

God loves mankind, and in that great love, He gives mankind the choice to love Him. It is not true love if it is forced … so the devil does his best to kill and destroy. He does not care at all about any one person – he just wants each person removed from the grace of God.

This is a spiritual war. There is a battle for souls playing out in this world – and the devil is on the prowl … he lies, he deceives, he stirs fear and selfishness. He pushes greed and self-preservation. He does not want any person to recognize their need for God. (Ephesians 6:12)

Yet, God has placed a desire for His truth inside each heart. Ecclesiastes 3:11 tells us that God has placed eternity in the heart of every human – a longing for truth. He is patient. He is gracious … but He is also just.

The day will come when He will send Jesus again – and at that great day, there will be judgement upon those who chose to wallow with the devil and seek after the pleasures of this earth.

BUT … For those who choose His mercy and walk new every day in His love – realizing that this earth is not our home, we are heaven’s citizens! We are to be prepared and understand this is spiritual battle! For those … there is eternal life with God! Ephesians 6:10-20 full says:

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. 19 Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, 20 for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.

Amen. Amen. Fearlessly make known the mystery of the Gospel – the Good News of Christ!

Jesus is Alive! He is returning one day – and all of the troubles of this earth will pass away! The devil will get his due – and all who chose to follow him will as well.

Before then, if you are wallowing in the devil’s grasp, know that GOD IS GOOD – and HE LOVES YOU – and HE WANTS YOU TO COME TO KNOW HIM. John 3:16 is a great place to start to get to know our Heavenly Father. Pick up a Bible. Find that place – and begin to get to know Him.

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Censorship is Out of Hand

In most things, I keep my thoughts and opinions to myself. Today, though, I will say this, I value and respect the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Because of that, I am deleting my Facebook page – and will be using other sites.

Facebook’s removal of the Canadian Trucker Convoy page bothers me to my core. Censorship is getting out of hand.

The refusal to allow people the right to access information and opposing ideas is wrong. People have a right to know that opposing ideas exist. They have a right to read for themselves and to make decisions for themselves.

People have the right to weigh information, to check it against litmus tests for themselves. If they have only the information before them that is approved by the people in power, that’s not right. There is nothing right about that.

I don’t care what side of any of the issues you fall on … it is not right to remove people’s opportunity to have knowledge regarding multiple viewpoints and perspectives. It is not right to remove people’s opportunity to think for themselves.

No matter what any of us believes, that should be something that is bothersome to your soul – and something recognized as evil.

Make no mistake that if it suits you now, when power shifts in government – which it will, the same rules that suit you now, won’t suit you then when your thoughts/ideas get censored and they will if this kind of behavior by big tech is allowed to continue to increase.

It is not just the right that loses their voice right now. It is the left too … when that day comes. And it will.

I posted this to my Facebook page, and I’m going to let it sit here for a day, so I can get my information downloaded and saved, and then, I will delete this page. I’m also interested to see how long it takes my post to get flagged as misinformation.

Go for it, Facebook. It’s been real.

ALL is an Ugly Word

The problem is lumping people into groups. Generalizing. Saying things like …

All white people are racist

All Republicans are Deplorable

All Democrats are out of their minds

All black men are dangerous

All cops hate black people

None of those statements are true. Not one. I scroll Facebook and Instagram and see the posts of friends and family, and what I read hurts me deeply because of the blatant lumping of people into ALL groups. It is wrong, and I do not understand it.

People, we are ALL human and unique. Stop labeling ALL white or black or cops or political party or age group as ONE thing. It is inaccurate. It is wrong. It perpetuates the problems we see all over the news.

I just don’t understand. I watch the news, read posts, and find myself baffled at so many things.

The hatred of the President is another thing that I cannot grasp. I understand disagreeing with words, policies, etc, but the hateful rhetoric is childish and helps no rational debate. Attacking the person is a logical fallacy, and it is manipulative language used to stir anger rather than create constructive discourse wherein change can actually occur.

It’s only 9:35 a.m. and the ALL lumping language and hate speech I’ve read this morning has me feeling reflective, confused, and sad. Perhaps unless WE (I almost said YOU but I have to include myself) have been in someone’s shoes, done their job, walked their pathway, experienced their pains and sorrows, gotten a grasp of the why of their beliefs, and therefore, have the “right” to be judge and jury, perhaps, maybe (facetious word) we should be respectful of all persons, be listeners, be conversational, and be … well, be loving.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

That is the vehicle for change. “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” – Gandhi

I’m adding “All” to “never” and “always” in my “ugly” word bucket. Just saying.

Does the Story Change if They’re Black?

Since when does a protest get to equal destruction of property, trashing of city blocks, looting of stores, and vandalism without consequence? I’m watching buildings burning on the news, and my heart goes out to the owners of those businesses, just like it did during Ferguson days. I worked in Berkeley, Missouri at that time – next to Ferguson. What happened there that you saw on national news, happened in Berkeley, in Jennings, along HWY 70 through St. Louis, but it’s called ‘Ferguson.’ I saw Ferguson and the other areas rebuild after the riots, saw the communities pull together to help each other recover from the rioting done by people who largely did not live in their areas at all. People taking advantage of an opportunity to get away with bad behavior. Newsflash! Protesting does not equal a right to destroy!

Peaceful demonstrations are our right in this country. Peaceful. The right to protest, speak freely, band together with like-minded individuals in support of a cause. Start petitions. Have speeches. Change laws. Be aware. Get involved in politics for the good! Fight for justice the right and lawful way! Much like the example set by Dr Martin Luther King, Jr for us ALL!

There is no justice in looting Target. There is no justice in burning down businesses that are community member’s livelihoods – 16 of them! Trashing streets. Burning cars. Trashing cash registers with hammers to steal money! Throwing things at police. Capitalizing on the chaos. What I see on the news is tragically distracting from the George Floyd story. Now, it is just a mob mentality destruction vendetta serving no purpose that I can understand! You loot Target because you’re angry at a criminal action, and it doesn’t make sense to you that that perpetuates criminal action at your own hands! It’s a vicious, irrational cycle! This does not help! It does not change a narrative! It makes it worse! People are getting hurt! Their livelihoods lost! They are innocent! Should they then have the right to go to the rioter’s homes and trash and burn them? Good grief! No! People!

What happened to George Floyd is evil. It is wrong. The officers involved deserve swift punishment for this murderous act – whether it was all of their actual knees or not! One knee and three other officers just standing around. Doing nothing! It is wrong. It is disgusting! It is heart-breaking. It CAN begin a narrative that must take place!

Racism exists – and it must be addressed!

But … rioters, what you are doing is damaging that! You are hitting back at criminal action WITH criminal action! It detracts from the conversations that need to take place! We need to be discussing love and kindness and understanding in an honest way … but you, this rioting, promotes MORE hatred! Don’t you see that? It’s like trying to fight a fire with gasoline! It just burns hotter and bursts out of control! That cannot be contained without drastic action!

And … the media making George Floyd’s death into a political firestorm frenzy … SHAME ON YOU. I just watched a black woman on the news justify the rioter’s behavior because black people have a right to their protests! OMG! Is that not a racist thing to say? She was angry that police were there with guns and rubber bullets and in riot gear, because they only showed up that way because it was a “black” protest! Basically, she’s giving license to “black” people to burn down businesses, loot, steal, destroy neighborhoods… because it’s their right to protest. Is she saying that only black people riot in such a way? It’s not true! There are young folks of all colors running those streets causing destruction. Is she saying it is okay to act destructively when angry only if you’re black? Lady! THAT (destructive behavior) is why the police were in riot gear! I am BLOWN away by this. It makes NO sense to me! Zero.

Despite all of that … I am angry at George Floyd’s death! It was murder. And justice needs to be swift. Do I think race played a factor in it? Yes, I do. That is what my gut tells me. Was I in those officer’s heads? No. I wasn’t. But, a man is dead. A knee was in his neck for far too long, and it killed him. Why was the officer’s knee in his neck in the first place? Who does that to anyone?!?!? It is unconscionable! He was handcuffed and there were multiple officers on scene! It is wretched and tragic. Punishment is deserved! I pray the DOJ does justice by George Floyd’s family and friends in a swift way.

Because of the strong potential that George’s death was racially motivated …. a big conversation needs to take place and it needs to keep going until every person has been faced with the realities of prejudice and racism, sexism, ageism – all the isms! And it is happening among many people! On Facebook, I’m reading those conversations. I’m hearing people talk while out and about! Honesty. Hurt. Healing. Let that be your protest!!!!! Talk! Rational talk!

Be honest about hidden racism and hate and fear and prejudice! Be open to learning about others and stretching yourself to step outside of comfort zones! Learn new things, new cultures, new vocabulary! New stories! This applies to everyone of every color! It’s not just “white” people who need to learn about “black” people. It goes every which way! My brain gets so bamfuzzled at labeling entire groups of people as one thing or another! It makes NO sense to do so! There is no way you can say ALL WHITE PEOPLE THIS, ALL YELLOW PEOPLE THAT, ALL BROWN PEOPLE THIS, AND ALL BLACK PEOPLE THAT. All Democrats this. All Republicans are deplorable. That thinking is stupid and it is divisive. Rampant. I understand that, but it is stupid. No, ignorant is a better word. Without knowledge. Ignorance abounds! And what is scarier than ignorance is the people who race bait … using their crafted words to incite hate and stir up riots to get ratings and spotlight. Disgusting.

We are none of us in any group all one thing.

There are 320 million people in this country, and we are ALL different. We are each one UNIQUE! And … We have to live together. We have to work together. We are all HUMANS. We have to stop looking at skin color! My God, we all bleed the same! Cut us open, and the color of skin does not matter!

We all hurt. We laugh. We work. We love. We die. We are all created with talent and purpose! We are all children of God! Made in His Image! We have been given clear rules for relational living that leads to peace. But, like petulant children, we want to do it our own way … and, well, it’s like this:

One day when my daughters were 16 and 14, they were fighting in the kitchen – my kitchen. Catty fighting. Exhausting fighting … that mess where no one is listening to the other, just a pissing match to see who can be louder, scratch the hardest, inflict the most pain, pull the hair the hardest. I reached my done point with their chaotic protesting of one another’s very existence beyond just being a variant of pestilence sent by demons to inflict suffering upon their very lives (such drama). Stepping between them, I announced, “All I know is that neither one of you is loving your neighbor as yourself!”

Mom out. Drop the mic.

They both looked at me like I was insane, but the fighting stopped. Funny … you just can’t argue those words. It’s not funny though. It’s just the truth. Love your neighbor as yourself. Those are Jesus’ words when he was questioned about the most important commandments. He said, Love God and Love Your Neighbor as Yourself. Simple, but because of our petulance, somehow these simple ideas are the hardest to live by. We isolate. We choose ignorance. We fear. We hate. We jump to bombastic conclusions. And Target gets destroyed.

We need a big Come to Jesus moment in this country! 320 million people. Each one important. Each one valuable. Each one beautiful. Each one needing love. Each needing education about others. Each one needing to hear good stories about others. Here’s a story for you:

Yesterday I needed to get out, just to be somewhere other than home if even just a little while … the Salvation Army Thrift Store always calls my name in situations like that … so, I acquiesced, and shopping I went. I particularly enjoy the Salvation Army store on 71st because they play Christian music, and I tend to think it is Karaoke hour and sing along while perusing rack after rack of clothes.

The store was full of folks having the same mindset as me … get out and have some “normalcy” … so, there I was and they were, and the shopping was good. At the dresses, I picked up a dark brown dress to observe it closer. “Put that back!” I heard a woman’s voice, and I looked up. She was smiling at me. “It doesn’t go with your hair! Don’t wear that color! It’s not right for you!” I laughed, said, “Ok,” and I put it right back on the rack. Conversation ensued. I couldn’t help myself. She was fun. Probably in her 60s, but the smile was bright and energetic. Youthful.

She introduced me to her sister-in-law with whom she was shopping. Well … former sister-in-law, she informed me as she laughed and said she didn’t keep the husband, but she kept his sister! I laughed. Said I have one of those too. The three of us continued to shop, all of us commenting on each other’s choices; it was a hoot! Apparently, I can only wear jewel tones and black because of my white hair. They’re not wrong. We picked out snazzy dresses for their saucy “older” lady selves too.

After a while, we went separate ways … I ventured to pants and capris, while they went to housewares. After I made my purchase and headed towards the front door, I came upon the dresses ladies near the exit. Both of their carts were piled sky high with clothes and couch pillows. I said to the woman with the amazing smile, “Thank you for shopping with me today!” She insisted on looking in my bag to make sure I made only smart choices in my colors! Ha! Okay, so I let her, and she exclaimed how proud she was of me. I laughed and said, it was all because of her. She said, “You’re too pretty to wear wrong colors!” I left with a huge smile on my face and a warm heart. What a lovely time in one of my favorite places.

Does my story change if I say they were black?

It shouldn’t.

The “Where is the Love” Link is below … Thank you, Black-Eyed Peas for such an amazing song.

https://youtu.be/WpYeekQkAdc

My Aspie Went Walkabout

Written on April 6, 2015

In the midst of a house full of family and friends this evening, my 18-year-old son decided to go for a walk. He told no one. Not one soul – all of his closest friends were here. He told nobody, just slipped away. We searched the house, the darkest parts of the yard, called him, texted him, and nothing. No response.

In mother-style, I was ready to call in troops and organize search parties.  We did … In the manner of Sprint Family Locator. And where was the boy? In Maryland Heights! That’s a 15-20 minute drive, let alone a walk! What was he thinking? That’s my question. We tracked him, found him, recovered his speed-walking self.

He’s home, fully lectured and scolded by his shorter-than-him mother. I stood under his face, finger pointed up to his nose, and I felt taken back in time to days long past when he occasionally stood shorter than me and in trouble – big blue eyes watering because mommy was upset.  Rarely happened. Just a look from me was all it took. So, again to my adult son, I gave that look. Only from beneath his questioning blue eyes this time..

Questioning because he does not fully grasp the situation. What’s it like to parent an Aspergian child? This. Something spurred him to take that walk. I’ve not received an answer from him concerning what as of yet. None of his friends knew. Not a sister or a brother. No reasoning. That will come, but in the moment when the walk came to his mind, he could do nothing but. And walk, he did – my eldest Aspergers boy.

We’ve done the calculations – seems he walked over 10 miles before his father found him.

Frightening? Yes, but not for the reasons that first come to mind. Safety and all. That’s not it. It’s that this boy is a man. Almost 19. Soon he will no longer live under my roof and walkabouts can be a regular part of his routine.  That is fine, I think. In most social settings he does fine. He gets by.  People like him. He’s genuinely a great guy, older than his years in many ways – serious, focused, without need of much silliness or play. He does not grasp how his actions affect those around him. Nor does he comprehend how to appropriately navigate emotions from others. This is where the momma bear in me whats to always be on hand. I have to guide him and his ancient soul.

Perhaps though, that is exactly what I need not to do.  Perhaps, walkabouts are just what he needs. Via this ordeal, I’ve discovered this is not his first adventurous blind walk. There’ve been several, unbeknownst to me. What I told him was this … (this was his lecture) … as long as you live under this roof, tell someone you’re going for a walk. Answer your phone when we call you.  Once you’re on your own, walk whenever you want. Be Forest Gump, I said – and drew a laugh from the boy-man.

Ah … walkabout.