Information Access in Danger!

Earlier this week, my sister–in-law made an appointment with America’s Frontline Doctors. She spoke to a doctor and received a prescription that would come through the mail. The doctor did not push ideas or beliefs on her. The doctor listened to her, asked relevant questions to the illness, and then, she prescribed my sister-in-law medications that the government, Fauci, most medical doctors under the money umbrella of Fauci and Big pharma, and pharmacies in general will not prescribe or allow access to. These same esteemed folks who cry “listen to the science!” will not allow that there are medications that help – and there is science to reinforce and prove that medications exist that alleviate symptoms and get people on their feet quickly. It’s not their science, so it is labeled misinformation. (No matter the vast amount of evidences that their vaccine is killing people and damaging people in the thousands – this information is squelched, censored, removed … anything contrary to what they want YOU to know or believe is labeled misinformation.)

After my sister-in-law’s experience reaching America’s Frontline Doctors, I got on their website and tried to make an appointment. Time after time, I got an error screen. I could press “Make an appointment” but I could never get to the appointment screen. Error. Error. I tried on my computer and on my phone. Error. Error. I contacted my sister-in-law and asked her if that had happened to her at all. She said no, so she set out to make the appointment for me.

It worked for her. While she was getting the appointment secured, a thought crossed my mind.

It had come to our attention recently that the CEO of AT&T was anti-conservative – and we have already begun a discussion about choosing a different internet service, so as not to support AT&T and their CEOs agenda. In light of this, the thought that crossed my mind was … turn off your WiFi. What if …

Without my AT&T WiFi on, the Americas Frontline Doctors site worked perfectly. I was able to access the information my sister-in-law had put in on my account.

Deep breath.

Taking away people’s right to information to make decisions for themselves is NOT freedom. It is the opposite of freedom. It is communism. It is control “for the better of the people” … these ‘leaders’ think they know what is best for the people – and they’re going to control the narrative because right now, they have power. AT&T, I see you. You are determining what I can and what I cannot access. You’re not the only one … It’s disgusting. It is evil. It is wrong.

People have the inherent right to study and read and know for themselves – to access information wherein they can make informed decisions. When information is silenced, that access is denied to information – and that is WRONG.

I teach this in my classrooms – I will never be the professor who pushes a personal belief agenda on students beyond READ FOR YOURSELVES. Research. Read opposing perspectives! Weigh them against each other! Understand that in this world, you have to dig for opposing ideas because left and right information is being labeled as “misinformation” that is, in fact, just information that does not suit the powerful’s agenda. I teach my students to be informed people. Know all the angles. Know all the aspects. Seek the motivations – and make solid determinations for your own mind and your own soul. Seek knowledge beyond what is allowed to you. When a thing is hidden this hard, there is obviously something in it that someone doesn’t want you to know. This has been true throughout history. It’s common sense. Unfortunately, most people/sheeple don’t take time to know history, don’t have interest in the workings of humanity, and therefore they are easily led by power hungry elites.

I try to do my part in the classroom – teaching CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS. These are a lost art nowadays … I push my students to dig into the why of a belief – who is behind it, why does it exist, what is it based upon … I promise them I will never judge them or fail them if they have a belief that is different from my own. I want them to show me in their essays that no matter what their belief is that they can support it with evidence AND that they can admit opposing perspectives exist and counter those as effectively as they can through research and insight.

This becomes more difficult when even AT&T is controlling what YOU can read and what YOU can do online. This should concern EVERY person. No matter political belief because the funny thing about power is that it always changes hands.

Those who are wanting to take away freedoms now, when the power shifts, are going to want their freedoms back. The rules are okay now for them because they suit their needs … but the day will come where they will need cry rooms and a plethora of Kleenex as the tide turns. And it will. It always does.

That’s life – and if people would pay attention to history, they’d know that.

Suffice it to say, I’m looking over internet choices – and will be making a switch away from AT&T.

It is shameful that they will use their power to control what people can access. Shameful.

God does not do that.

God is good. He allows people choice – He allows all of humanity the ability to choose for themselves – and people make a mess of life because we are flawed, greedy, selfish, pridefilled – and He allows it. He does not shut off access to information – He lets us plunge into the depths of whatever we choose … and we find ourselves lost and trapped and trying to fill endless holes in our souls for power, wealth, health …

That way – when people come to the end of themselves and finally turn to Him and choose Him – it is because they have come to admit that their own pursuit of knowledge and power are nothing without Him.

Some will. Some won’t. He knows that. He allows that. He wants followers who truly love Him. Who choose Him.

Governments could learn a lot from following God’s ways. But they won’t because that requires giving up their false perception of control. Ah life … it just rolls on and ONE day, He will call it all to and end. Maranatha, Lord. Maranatha.

Wonder how long it will take for this to get flagged in some way as misinformation. LOL. All I am saying is allow people access to information so they can THINK for themselves!

AH … that’s right, you don’t think they can, do you, Fauci or Biden or any number of other power elites? You don’t think we can think for ourselves.

God wins in the end. It’s already written.

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.

Tattooism: When Tattooed ‘Scary’ People Come to the Church Door.

Last Sunday morning – October 31, 2021, Patrick and I had been to Lowe’s to acquire materials for ongoing home projects, and on our way home with a bed full of lumber, he pulled our ol’ truck in at Tulsa’s Lighthouse Church, which sits perched atop the hill at the junction of 71st Street and Hwy 75.  Of late, we have discussed, from time to time, finding a church where our son might have an opportunity to make some good connections.  As the adults in this situation, we have our source of fellowship where we interact with other believers and share, in honesty, the struggles of our lives and how great and good our Father God is.  Everyone shares.  For us, this is a blessing of authentic life as believers, sharing with other believers.  Patrick desires to find a similar circumstance for our son. 

So, he turned the lumber-laden truck into the parking lot of Tulsa’s Lighthouse Church.  He parked under the large awning that shot off from the front of the building.  Three men in crisp, khaki suits stood just inside the two sets of glass double doors.  Each had his hands folded in the fig leaf stance with their legs just shoulder-width apart. My inner spirit recoiled at the sight – having been in many environments of church where you were acceptable only if dressed appropriately. Over the years, I’ve come to a place of belief more akin to ‘Come as you are’ to our God; suits are for funerals and weddings, if even then. Still, Patrick was undaunted because his motive was our son.  He stepped out of the truck in his ripped jeans and getting-work-done t-shirt and headed straight inside. 

For those who don’t know, my husband has worked construction for 43 years in multiple capacities in the concrete industry – labor, supervisor, owner/operator; he’s weathered, leathered, and tattooed.  His eyes are eagle sharp, and he carries himself like a lion – head high, ever watchful, ready to pounce when needed.  He has no fear of men. He looks a man straight in the eye and fears only our Heavenly Father. 

He entered the building, and from the truck, I observed the three men in suits come near to the door he entered and gather around him with their arms now folded across their chests. They crowded him and kept him just inside the door, not allowing him entrance beyond that space where the glass door closed behind him.  No smiles crossed their faces, and time ticked past. 

A conversation took place – what was said, I had no idea – though I surmised, and upon the conversation’s conclusion, Patrick returned to the truck where I sat beyond curious about what had taken place inside. The men were still at the glass doors, their arms still folded.  They watched us. I refrained from making childish faces.

We drove away, and he told me he asked them questions about their meetings, their beliefs, and they stood like unfriendly Gestapo – one of them staying off to the side, moving somewhat behind him as Patrick had turned to speak to the man more to his right.  Patrick told the man in front of him that the man behind him made him uncomfortable – that it was unnecessary. Their answers to his questions were short, and no one moved or changed stance.  So, Patrick thanked them for their time and said to them they’d told him all he needed to know without really saying a word. 

Needless to say, Tulsa’s Lighthouse Church is not where we would entertain venturing again.

It was worth stopping to ask questions – though our thoughts regarding much of what is provided by many church environments were validated.  Truth and honesty, people who are authentic to their core about sin and grace, are not welcome there.  A line from Bug’s Life comes to mind … “They come, they eat, they leave.  They come, they eat, they leave.”  Show up.  Put your mask on. Sing a song or five.  Try to stay awake.  Have shallow conversations.  Hide your sin, cloak it under a smile and nice hair-do.  Wear your nice clothes and stop questionable-looking folks at the door.  

(I’ll never erase from my mind that one day a youth minister I know stopped a visiting young woman, a teenager, after church one Sunday evening; he told her that if she were going to come back, she’d have to wear a longer skirt. She never returned. My child – who relayed the story to me – was horrified, angered … her skepticism of church deepened, much to my chagrin at that time – as I once was a die-hard you-have-to-go-to-church-to-be-a-Christian individual.)

It strikes me with irony, amusement, and irritation now that my husband, to good ‘well-meaning’ church folk (like I used to be), is someone to stop at the door and question his intentions. Yet, at AA meetings, he, with his almost 34 years of sobriety, which he wholly attributes to the Lord God Almighty, is respected and heard and a minister in a sense – though AA has no such hierarchy.  Every time he shares a testimony, the Lord uses him to touch the lives of others trying to walk on a path toward understanding God, authenticity, and sober living.  There is true fellowship there—a challenge to honest living.  A deep internal look into sin – and those things are shared, not kept hidden.  They are rooted out, and the love between members deepens for not only one another but for God as they journey together.  Never have I ever witnessed or been a part of such authenticity before!

Those well-dressed guard men at Lighthouse missed that about Patrick.  It was evident that the look of him – all tatted up, combined with his confident walk – concerned them. 

It is what it is.  We move forward – content in the skins and personalities and talents that our Father gave to us.  In our dining room, there is a plaque that holds the words of Joshua.  “Choose you this day who you will serve, but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”  That is what we will do – and in that, it has had been thinking all week. It has me thinking about the “Isms” involved in discrimination – because discrimination occurred when Patrick entered the glass doors of Tulsa’s Lighthouse Church. 

Racism is the most renowned of the “Isms” inside discrimination. Ageism, Sexism, Classism, Anti-semitism, Ableism … these ideas exist upon the differences by which ‘we’ separate ourselves from other people or people separate those who are different from themselves.  The ideas birth prejudice wrapped up in fear of the unknown and distrust of the unknown.  It struck me that Patrick had just faced discrimination from khaki-suited, well-meaning churchmen, and I joked to him it was “Tattoo-ism: When tattooed ‘scary’ people come to the church door.” It’s funny – because I know my husband loves the Lord of Lords with all of his heart, soul, mind, and strength, but it’s also not funny at all – because I know my husband loves the Lord of Lords with all of his heart, soul, mind, and strength.  It then became sad as I processed the “ism” he’d been a victim of in that church. 

He’d been stopped at the door.  Disallowed entrance to a place that proclaims on their website, “Come Find Family: ‘I moved 400 miles to attend this church. The people are so friendly and inviting; it’s like one big family.’ – M B.”  It also states, “At Tulsa’s Lighthouse Church, you will experience the life-changing power of Jesus Christ! You will hear the truth preached and be part of Old Time Pentecost! ‘And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh… (Acts 2:17).’”

After suggesting that it had been tattoo-ism, I became contemplative, and now, after a week of thinking, I sat down to write out my thoughts. Upon all flesh … except tattooed flesh, apparently. 

That’s not the way I hear the heart of God.  When He says WHOEVER, He means WHOEVER. 

‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.’ – John 3:16

May we live lives of authenticity in our pursuit of God. All believers. No “isms,” just Grace – for God extends it to WHOEVER will call upon His Great and Holy Name. So should we.

Pro-Riot Rally Descends on D.C. … Is that right? Insert a raised eyebrow.

Words have power.

I teach this to my students – because it is true. The media, marketing firms, writers, movie makers – they all KNOW this, and they are gifted at this – what I like to call in the classroom – MANIPULATION. And … the sheeple just go … baaaaa and believe all the pretty, crafted words without digging in past the headlines or one-sided perspectives.

This morning as I looked for a potentially divisive article to use as we work on how to use OUTLINES (the practice is to come to a common agreement on a divisive article – and it WORKS every time. It has for 13 years in my classes), I came across this:

“This Weekend: Pro-Riot Rally Descends on D.C. …”

Certainly, the words “Pro-Riot” and “Descends” are intentional to stir emotion in headline readers who will not dig in deeper – or seek to try to understand other perspectives. The Huffington Post knows this about their readers. So … hence the fear-inducing word choices in the headline, but also in the article – where it seems the writers have forgotten to mention riots, damage, or deaths that have occurred at the hands of the opposition to the Far-Right crowd. I am sitting here shaking my head, but also applauding their ability to manipulate their readers and information.

The Right and the Left. Both do this.

Words have power.

Baaaaaaa.

What if the cops had come?

It is my strong opinion that reading a story the way the author intended its message is important in the classroom. This is what I do; I am an emotive reader.

Today, I read “So What Are You Anyway?” by Lawrence Hill. https://mryathonsroom.weebly.com/uploads/1/1/9/1/119190447/whatareyouanyway.pdf

After class, the man whose office is next door to my classroom stopped me in the hallway to ask if everything was okay. He stated that he had almost called the campus cops to help in my classroom as there sounded like trouble in the ranks! … but he noticed mine was the only voice he heard, so he hesitated, but was bothered by what possibly might be occurring. He waited by the door for me to leave my classroom.

I assured him all was well, and I told him I was reading “So What Are You Anyway?” by Lawrence Hill, and that I am an emotive reader ~ that I want my students to feel and experience the story as it would have come from the mind of the author.

I said he should read the story for himself – also giving him a rundown of the story. The section of the story that had concerned him and stuck in his mind, and he quoted at me, which I had read quite strongly was when Carole screams at Mrs. Norton … “Leave me alone!”

“How would you like it if that happened to you?” Carole says. “So what are you, anyway? What are your parents? How would you color them? Well, I don’t care! I don’t even care!”

My Carole was in near tears, and apparently, quite loud. All students’ eyes were on me as I read. It was electric. And apparently … convincingly worthy of dialing 8888. The campus cops.

Y’all … I think this is funny. Should I think it’s funny? Poor guy. I had him panicked. I really want to giggle. And … I must say, it feels rather like a Mr. Keating moment to me.

Oh man. What if the cops had come? I probably would have invited them to pull up a chair. 🤣🤦‍♀️😎💥

It’s ‘Science’ Y’all.

My hair began to thin in my twenties, and it was horrifying.  I tried to wear it in particular ways so that it would not be obvious.  My vanity took a whopper of a hit.  Into my thirties, the condition worsened, and once in my forties, there was as much scalp visible as there was hair.  While still living in St. Louis, I went to see a dermatologist for help.  This visit to Dr. Lisa Ring was in 2013 or 2014.  Funny how time melds together once it’s past, and distinguishing markers of events confuse themselves with each other.   Upon blood work and inspection of my scalp, she told me there was no hope for me and that I would continue to go bald.  I was devastated; I wanted hair, so I went to a wig shop, bought one.  Never wore it.  It looked worse to me than my thin excuse for hair, and I did not have the money to visit one of those hair loss centers where they move hair follicles around – or whatever it is that they do.  Dr. Ring’s science said nothing could be done, so life went trudging on, and I “dealt” with it.

Fast forward to 2020 in Tulsa.  Still bothered by my hair loss, which continued to get more visible, I made an appointment with a dermatologist through Utica Park – Matt Dohlman, PA-C.  He had blood work done, verified it was not my thyroid or Lupus, studied my scalp, and he came to a conclusion.  I was NOT a lost cause.  He said what was happening was the strands of hair on my head had themselves been thinning, and we could plump them back up.  He also said there would be some hair regrowth from hair that had fallen out over the years.  I began a regimen of Spironolactone and Men’s Strength Rogaine, which have to be taken together, not separately.  Spironolactone is a blood pressure medication that has other positive effects.  For me, it’s a twofer.  Addressing the high blood pressure and the hair loss at the same time.  My hair amazes me now.  I no longer see my scalp when I look in the mirror.  I see HAIR.  Granted, the hair I see is white, but I see HAIR.  My hair.  Dr. Dohlman said in 5 years that I would not recognize myself regarding what my hair will look like – healthy and full.  His science worked for me! It continues to work for me!

I’ve written about this before, but this morning it is with a new angle for consideration. 

One doctor’s science said I was a lost cause.

One doctor’s science said I was repairable.

What if I had only listened to Dr. Ring?  What if I took her at her word and had gone on living like a lost cause? What if I had not stepped out in the faith that ‘science’ is not ONE set of ‘facts’ and that there may be HOPE for me?  I’m SO GLAD that I did not cling to Dr. Ring’s science and kept searching! 

Just because one ‘science’ says a thing is true does not make it wholly so. 

Fauci.  Dr. Rand Paul.  Doctors getting silenced across the world – all in the name of ‘science.’ 

Something to consider.

A Kiss in The Rain

It’s surreal to be sitting here looking at copies of my novel. They’re so pretty on my coffee table, and don’t get me started on how they feel! It’s a matte cover, and it feels so nice. To say that I’m pleased with the final product does not encompass how exciting this is! And the smell! Y’all! Each has that intoxicating new book aroma.

Ahhhhhhh …..

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My First Novel is Out!

In all the hub-bub, I neglected to announce this fantastic news in my blog space! Good grief! 😁

“A Kiss in the Rain” is now available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle formats. And, I said “First Novel,” which is true. However, this is its third time in publication. Twice it has been with small publishers, and I value those experiences. When the second one closed its doors, I found myself having to start from square one with an original manuscript. What an experience for me! A little over a year passed while I edited and added, edited and removed. The story is not changed, but many scenes are altered. In the years since I initially wrote “A Kiss in the Rain” much has happened in my own life that now shapes and colors my writing from new perspectives. So, for those who have read it before, you will find the story refreshed and, hopefully, more mature.

Friendship is the building block of this story which follows two women who meet in a grocery store line. Each woman is confronted with ‘life’ in its ugly and joyful forms, and it is their friendship which sees them through. For me, it was a digging into the possibility of a friendship with a checker I knew in St. Louis named Joan – every time I went, I chose her line no matter how long it was, just so I could talk to her. That, combined with a photo I found on the internet of this old lady sitting in a windowsill; she was dressed in brilliant, obnoxious colors, and a giant cigar hung from her mouth. Instantly, I knew I wanted to be her when I grew up. Minus the cigar. So, my mind wandered and combined these two women. Joan and the old woman with the cigar. She became Adeline. And I, in some ways, was/am Danielle.

In some sense, this is a romance novel, but it is more an inspirational fiction story. These two women struggle, laugh, dance, and cry through the events that unfold, one holding firm to faith, and the other learning to lean on faith as her roller coaster journey sweeps her along. Both women experience romance and lack of romance in relationship. For instance, Danielle’s love is lost to her at a young age, and she endeavors to create a life for herself without him; she discovers that God has other things in store. Adeline’s story is much more colorful, attributed to the fact that she is much older, and she has lived an incredibly full life, though keeping herself from happiness because of what she perceives as unworthiness.

Readers have expressed to me that they want stories now about the lives of more of the characters from this novel. I’m toying with that idea, though for me, the central characters are Adeline and Danielle. Writers will understand this. Readers too. These women are my friends, and I know them. The other characters are not engrained in my heart in the same way as these women are. I’m not saying I’ll not consider the possibilities of stories evolving from Victoria Clark or George or Lynne Gunnison, but I will wait for them to tell me their full stories over a tall glass of Diet Soda, since I don’t drink coffee. Insert a smirk here.

All of this to say – if you are an empathetic person, grab some Kleenex. Even I, the author, cried when I read this story back through. Several times. No, truthfully, it was multiple times that tears flowed down my cheeks as I edited and rewrote and flushed out scenes through the nearly 300 page novel. The overarching idea that friendship can come to us in many forms touched me deeply, and even I, as I made my way through the manuscript, was reminded to embrace friendship and care for it, to let people love me and enrich my life. I am grateful for “A Kiss in the Rain,” and it is my hope that it can be a blessing to you.

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On Being Mrs. Cunningham

~I’ve learned that what I believed of myself and what I deserved, according to myself or others, was not the basis God used or uses to determine blessing.~

This man that I have married is what many consider ‘rough around the edges,’ but his heart is God’s, and I love every bit of him!  He is hard-working, fierce, passionate, just, and kind.  Meek is the word – in the Biblical definition …  Power under control.  ‘Been there, done that’ is his story as he has fought and kicked his way through life; he has grabbed onto it and made it happen – struggling to follow God’s desire for his life in the way he understood it.  Never have I ever known a man so dedicated to living every moment as God would have him do so – and this is in no churchy way, never based upon any religious rule or doctrine, but on what he has read in Scripture for himself.  It is in a standout like John the Baptist kind of way, like the Apostle Paul – hard core and misunderstood.  He doesn’t fit a norm; he loves God, and all that he does is colored by his understanding of the years he has spent studying the Word of God.  He seeks justice and right as they align with Scripture, and he will not waiver, nor will he compromise what he believes is right.  He will stand for what he believes. He does stand for what he believes.

Many believe that to be a ‘Christian,’ you must belong to a church building … this is not his (nor mine) reality, not what is for us.  We fellowship with believers regularly.  We worship our Father together in community and in conversation with others and between the two of us, the three of us when Joey joins.  At home, we read the Bible together, and we listen to messages from the Word while we work on the house, sit on the front porch, or drive in the car. The Word goes with him, with us.  He ensures that God is the deep foundation of our home.  And although he is patriotic, my husband deeply grasps that the reality of all the political mumbo-jumbo in this world is for naught in the light of the second coming of Christ.  We are to be about the things of God.  We talk about what the Bible says about what will occur before Jesus returns … and some of these things that so many Christians are praying against happening are things that must occur, rather WILL occur, before our Savior returns to take us all Home.  My husband gets charged up about these things! He lets God use him in hard places – places many don’t want to go or be bothered with.  He is unafraid and unencumbered by the world.  He does not seek or want men’s approval. This place, this earth, is not his home.  He is a citizen of Heaven.  It is humbling to be the wife of such a man, one who does not see himself through these eyes at all.  Patrick lives simply, and he values faith, right, and peace.  He wants to please God, not men.

I’ve always had this ‘wild at heart’ thing about my spirit, and it has never been free to explode or explore.  So many times, my broken, imprisoned heart cried out to God – I desperately wanted more, wanted to be unencumbered in my love for God and in my love for my husband.  I had hidden myself to be acceptable, not embarrassing or “inappropriate”; I had squashed myself – questioned the inner stirrings of my spirit when they told me things were not right in relationship, in the church, in life. I was afraid to speak about what lay heavy on my soul, what I wanted, or what I believed what right.  I was someone detestable to myself.  I always knew that I was supposed to be explosive in spirit!  For God!  For life!  For love!  I knew it to my core, but I had a framework of fear and anxiety that never allowed my spirit to be free.  I never allowed myself to be free.  And then, God gave me Patrick.

Last night we talked about that very thing.  God’s grace and his mercy in gifting me to Patrick and Patrick to me.  It is beautiful.  I was awake at a time in the morning that I am NEVER awake.  That morning at 2:30 a.m., my eyes popped open, and after some soul searching, a headache, and crying out to God for some answers, I found myself browsing on the Zoosk app just before 4:00 a.m.  I came upon a man with the clearest blue eyes I’d ever seen, and something about him made me stop and stare.  “He’d never talk to me,” I thought, and I kept swiping, but then, he showed back up, and I stared at his face.  Looked deep into his eyes.  Something drew me.  I say “something” … we know and believe now that it was the Holy Spirit that morning.  I sent him a quick note saying, “I have to tell you that you have the most amazing eyes,” and I thought that would be it; there’d be no response.  He responded immediately.   For two weeks, he’d seen my pictures and had read through my excessively long and intentionally daunting profile; he thought I would never consider a construction guy.  So, he never said hello, just looked and moved on several times.  In fact, he’d grown disgusted with the dating app scene as he continually came across married women or women who needed therapy.  He’d been encouraged to try the dating app by his sister because he’d taken to sitting on his back porch by himself, singing, playing his guitar, listening to sermons, and just communing with God – alone.  She wanted him to get out a bit, see what/who was out there.  So, that morning, early, he was awake and making some coffee, going to get ready for work, but he wanted to delete the app before leaving for work and be done with that search for a ‘someone.’  He was deleting his profile when my message came through.  We’ve not stopped talking since. 

This man is my friend.  Truly my friend.  Our friendship began instantaneously, and it is as if we’ve always known each other. Our spirits knew and know each other. We are like-minded.  We are both ‘wild at heart,’ and we agree on the things we know and learn of our Father in Heaven.  He makes me laugh, tells me I’m beautiful. He cares about my mind and my heart.  He wants me to pursue my doctorate, to be all that I can be based on the talents God has given me.  He challenges me, questions me, pushes me, makes me think, makes me better.  He embraces all of me and is not embarrassed ever by my wild spirit.  He joins me.  We dance.  We laugh.  We sing.  We play.  We talk.  We cry.  We share.  He likes it when I wear flowers in my hair, and he wants to show me off.  I am humbled over and over at how he sees me and how he loves me. 

Never did I ever think I’d be so blessed by God.  I didn’t believe I deserved this partnership – this marriage centered on faith, but I’ve learned that what I believed of myself and what I deserved, according to myself or others, was not the basis God used or uses to determine blessing.  It took many years for me to hide, push, pull, and fight to be ready for God’s blessing – despite my unworthiness. It was about readiness.  Looking back, I see that now, and I am beyond grateful to be Mrs. Cunningham.

Never in my life have I been able to be wholly me with another person until now.  Until Patrick.  He and I have lived through similar things, and because of that, we understand each other.  Our faith aligns, and our stories align in such a way that connects us body, soul, spirit, and mind.  If we didn’t have to attend to our careers, we would spend every waking moment together.  “You’re everything that feels like home to me” are words in what Patrick and I have dubbed as “our song.”  The entire lyrics of the song “Under Your Scars” by Godsmack reflect our relationship; this first verse, for instance …

“Do we make sense; I think we do
In spite of everything that we’ve been through
When you say black, and I say white
It’s not about who’s wrong
As long as it feels right
Don’t think those stars won’t align!

Under your scars I pray
You’re like a shooting star in the rain
You’re everything that feels like home to me, yeah
Under your scars, I could live inside you time after time
If you’d only let me live inside of mine
Live inside of mine

Would you still be you if we, weren’t we?”

It is not ours to diminish or remove each other’s scars but to love and encourage one another through the healing process as we each extract ourselves from the enemy’s chains that previously bound us as individuals.  We make sense despite everything either of us has been through.  There is no holding the past against each other.  There is forward motion.  Patrick says we are, and will be, bystanders to what God wants to do in our lives.  And I say … Amen! We are both broken, scarred people who acknowledge that God’s got us as we walk this road together – living inside each other’s scars and loving each other despite and through them in God’s grace. 

Moral of this piece of writing:  I’ve learned that what I believed of myself and what I deserved, according to myself or others, was not the basis God used or uses to determine blessing.