my careless contagion

I chose this photo because it makes me feel happy. I'm choosing happiness. What could make a man happier than to be greeted by his dog and his girl? Who we surround ourselves with is an important aspect of the healing process. A recovering drug addict cannot hang out with his old druggie friends. He has to be with people who uplift and make him want to stay sober. I recently posted what my mom sent me called "Devotional: Healing the Brokenhearted," which was from Derek Prince Ministries. It spoke to my heart as only God can. So many things lately speak to my heart. My heart is listening. I prayed God would heal my heart. I prayed He would give me a new heart. I prayed He would change my heart. Change me. Everything I could think of. Finally, I simply gave my heart to Him. I gave up. And that's when I started to see change.  A huge part of the healing process involves forgiveness and the deeper the trauma, the more there is to forgive. I could recount for days the awfu...

Sometimes it is necessary to issue apologies. Celebrities do it all the time, at the risk of being canceled otherwise. Well, I'm no celebrity, and there is no risk of me being canceled, except by God. But, sometimes we have to say we're sorry.  So, I'm sorry. There. Done.  Oh, wait. I should probably get into detail a bit.  I apologize to my ex, whom I slew a great deal on my blog. She's an ordinary human being. She is flawed. I didn't need to ax her asunder as I did. I wouldn't want anyone to tear me up the way I did her on these pages. I'm sorry for that. For the record, she seems quite happy without me and has no intention of letting me back in her life. She must have been happy to unload me.  I apologize to my parents, who did the best they could raising me. They did a lot to make sure I got the right opportunities and missed out on things that were less than savory. As for their faults, all I can say is everyone is human. There are no perfect parents. A...

The story of the woman with the alabaster box has been preached around the world in every country, just as Jesus said it would. It is a very important depiction of a believer's relationship with Jesus, as I will try to reveal. It is a special story I hope to do justice. Below is the excerpt from Luke (Luke 7:36-50), though it is found in each of the gospel accounts. It appears there are two similar, separate accounts of two different women. One involves Mary , brother of Lazarus. She is named. This woman is not named, though she is designated a sinner (aren't we all?). This particular account occurred about a year before Jesus was crucified. It could be she knew Jesus would die for her sins. We don't know. What we do know is she knew Jesus was the Savior. She was genuinely repentant and full of love for Jesus. But, there is more to the story. Let's begin. *** 36  And one of the Pharisees desired him that he would eat with him. And he went into the Pharisee's ...

John is my favorite gospel writer. He has a rare way of writing. And he wrote The Revelation , which is rapidly approaching. Anyway, in the book of John, we find this beautiful story of how God forgives our sin: Jesus and the adulterous woman (John 8:1-11). I will relate the story, then explain what it means to me. I have a hard time reading this story without crying because I am the adulterous woman (okay, I'm not a woman, but you catch my drift). God has forgiven me so much. I can't help but feel grateful. This is a short story, but it is so telling. *** 8  Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. 2  And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. 3  And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, 4  They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. 5  Now Moses in the law c...

I wrote this post to myself. It wasn't intended to help anyone other than me, but if it helps someone else, then okay. I've gone through life trying to avoid being triggered by bad memories. As I sit here, I can cough up quite a few, but those are merely at the surface. I can recall the time my dad and I built a crude birdfeeder, which I hung pretty low (so I could fill it) on my favorite ponderosa tree. My brother later told me he would take the BB gun and go up to birds feeding on it and blow them away at point-blank range. I stopped refilling it. My dad probably thought it was a waste of time to help me build it. Then there's the time I was playfully snatching popcorn from the giant bowl my ex sat down with next to me. There was literally popcorn for ages, but she got upset and threw the whole damn bowl on me because it was her popcorn . And, of course, there are other and numerous romantic heartbreaks, which seem to be the gift that keeps on giving.  All of t...

Toxic relationships. It's fodder for songs (like the obvious and, frankly, glamorizing Toxic by Britney Spears) and movies and books. And my life, apparently. The reality is far less glamorous than any pop song, however. An article here at Hey Sigmund (a site with an obvious psychological bent) details how toxic relationships work. I had a conversation recently with someone when I realized that nearly all of my close relationships have been toxic, starting with my family, the basis for how I interact with the world.  Yes, I would consider my ex-wife to be a toxic person at times. But how did I agree to be in that kind of relationship? It goes back to my childhood experiences with my parents and brothers. The article mentioned above does a good job explaining how toxic relationships work, which was a head-nodding thing for me to read. Reading is believing. Sometimes we get so bogged down in our lives that we lose perspective. That outside perspective is what liberates u...

A Scientific American article here purports that much of the "mindfulness" trending in our culture is perhaps not what people need. Yes, mindfulness can help one recover more quickly from a bad experience or lend clarity to the future, but intense experiences — good and bad — do more to define us than anything else.  Why do I care about this? I'm 41 years old. Am I not defined yet? Well, I made a pretty big midlife U-turn, which caused me to wonder who I was exactly. What is my new life supposed to look like? In short, yes, I need some defining.  When I was in high school, I remember reading an article about a girl from my school who went to Europe. She said her favorite part of the trip was touring a WWII concentration camp. I thought that sounded ridiculous. What a sad experience, I thought! But, you know what, that experience and the intensity of it, is what helped define this young woman. What I saw as horrible was pure gold to her.  There are many times wh...