Has God Been in your church?

Normally, I don't even open forwarded emails. But this one speaks to me, it applied back then and more so now. From an email I received.

One Sunday morning, an old cowboy entered a church just before services were to begin. Although the old man and his clothes were spotlessly clean, he wore jeans, a denim shirt and boots that were worn and ragged. In his hand he carried a worn-out old hat and an equally worn, dog-eared Bible.

The church he entered was in a very upscale and exclusive part of the city. It was the largest and most beautiful church the old cowboy had ever seen. The people of the congregation were all dressed with expensive clothes and fine jewelry. As the cowboy took a seat, the others moved away from him. No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were all appalled by his appearance and did not attempt to hide it.

As the old cowboy was leaving the church, the preacher approached him and asked the cowboy to do him a favor. "Before you come back in here again, have a talk with God and ask him what he thinks would be appropriate attire for worship in church." The old cowboy assured the preacher he would.

The next Sunday, he showed back up for the services wearing the same ragged jeans, shirt, boots, and hat. Once again he was completely shunned and ignored. The preacher approached the cowboy and said, "I thought I asked you to speak to God before you came back to our church.""I did," replied the old cowboy."And what was his reply?" asked the preacher.
"Well, sir, God told me that he didn't have a clue what I should wear. He said he'd never been in this church."

You are My Freedom

Just show up

It's Monday and I'm sitting here recovering from Lunesta and trying to drown out the bad taste lingering in my mouth with coffee. As I swiveled my chair to reach for a pen, I saw a bright glitter in the corner of my eye --then I saw the sun, dependable as ever, showing up for his role in this world. His color this morning is not quiet pure creme brulee'-its tainted with a blod clot or a bruise, but he still shows up. As Woody Allen says, eighty percent of success is showing up. So here I am groggy or not, I'm showing up to stare at my book.

To be or not to be white..

When I was in Cabo, I had a facial treatment and after it was done, the therapist told me, "See, your face is now white, very nice." I thought, well, maybe it's her lack of English skills that I misunderstood what she meant. But when she tried to sell me some skin whitening lotion, I knew she meant exactly what she said.

In the Philippines, skin whitening products is big business. Women there are brainwashed into thinking that a brown or dark complexion is less attractive. I knew this girl who had no job, no money whose only income is from what she can smooch off from her family -and mind you, her family are nowhere near moneyed, but she buys whitening pills and pops them like her life depended on it. Well, I guess you could say that her life depended on it, because she said that to marry well, she has to look "presentable."

I wanted to tell her that finding a job would be more dignified than finding a man who prefers a light skinned woman. She needs to read this article about what they do to light skinned people in Tanzania,

Insomnia. Osteo

I carry a torch for Sleep for several years now. I desire and long and pursue Sleep, like I desire Benicio del Torro or Javier Bardem. But Sleep and I could never get to a workable relationship at night.

Insomnia is his nickname and I hate him. Insomnia has been my trusted and dependable companion after I turned 40, and now, I also find that I am leaning more and more to the left. (And I'm not talking about my ideals or principles.) Osteoporosis. I can't even spell it without checking the dictionary. Insomnia is happier now in the company of Osteo. Freaky names, freaky behavior. Last night I had to sleep on the floor to try and straighten up my hip, or is it my spine or is it just my left leg? I looked like I was in a coffin -stiff and straight, but it helped. So there I was on the floor, straight and stiff and staring into the ceiling all night long. I figured I should stop worrying about sleeping, I'll do that when I die. When I stopped thinking about Sleep, that's when I fell asleep, well, that was at 4 this morning. Now, it's 1:16pm and I'm getting cross-eyed trying to finish this line, so nite, nite.

Death....

*In the Middle East a fable is told of a Baghdad merchant who sent his servant to the marketplace to run an errand. When the servant had completed his assignment and was about to leave the marketplace, he turned a corner and unexpectedly met Lady Death.

The look on her face so frightened him that he left the martkeplace and hurried home.
He told his master what had happened and requested his fastest horse so that he could get as far from Lady Death as possible-a horse that would take him all the way to Sumera before nightfall.

Later that same afternoon the merchant himself went to the marketplace and met Lady Death. "Why did you startle my servant this morning?" he asked. "I didn't intend to startle your servant-it was I who was startled," replied Lady Death. " I was surprised to see your servant in Baghdad this morning, because I have an appointment with him in Sumera tonight."

The statistics on death is quite impressive --one out of everyone. That means we can dodge, even escape the bill collector but not death. But death has no power over Jesus -He conquered the grave. So, how's your relationship with Him?

*page 119, One Minute After You Die-Dr. Erwin W. Lutzer

Marriage...

Someone said that marriage is: When you like what he likes, so you live in the same house so you know where the chips and dip are kept. Sounds good to me.

I went to the library the other day and on my way out, I saw on the shelf a small green book titled Whom Not to Marry. The title got me curious, so without looking inside I added it to my basket. Then I noticed that the author is a priest. Deduct some points right there....what does a priest know about marriage? Here's some of his advice.

1. Never marry a man who has no friends for he won't be capable of the intimacy that marriage demands.
My perspective on it: It's better if he has no friends because then, they don't come and eat all the chips and dip.

2. Never marry a man who sends birthday cards to his ex-girlfriends.
To me this is a good sign because it shows his memory is excellent, which means
he won't forget mine, because trust me, he soon will be my ex too if he continues this card thingy.

3. Never marry a man whom your mother doesn't like.
No problem here. My mother's dead.

4. Never marry a man whom your children doesn't like.
No problem here either. Chat will love anyone who will marry me.

5. Never marry a man who is not honest.
I don't want him to be too honest. If I'm retaining water and bloated, I don't want him saying, "Pee it off, babe"

I don't seek out self-help books on marriage, but based on the few I've seen, it seems unfair that they're mostly to and for women. And I know that men have requirements too. The last date I had, told me that he requires a woman to come with her own medical insurance. When I told him I don't have one, but I have half a million dollars policy on my life(which of course is a lie), it only took him a gulp of his tea and he said, "Then you're fine." I just love an honest man, don't you?

Empathy is Not Enabling

I used to be the most hardened and unforgiving person walking the face of the earth. But after I have accepted the mercy and grace that God bestowed on me, I can take a lot more crap now. But one thing that would still get my scales stand to attention, is a person who has no compassion on another persons weakness(es). You know, the kind who thinks he/she will never fall.

I can not say this enough: You can not deny other peoples' reality, you can only build on it. There are people who just can't let go of whatever it is that's keeping them in bondage. Some people (men or women) can not let go of bitterness or unforgiveness. Some, continually feels unloved, unaccepted, lonely and insecure. When I meet this kind of people, I don't tell them "snap out of it, move on already." Of course, I think it. In my mind, that's what I would like to tell them, but I don't say it because most likely they've heard that already. They already know the answer to their questions, they already know what to do. To empathize or listen to another person rant and rave about how justified they are in staying in their cesspool does not mean that you agree that it's the best place to be, it simply affirms that you care about her or him.

So today, let's put compassion in work clothes and let's start with ourselves. First, let us give ourselves permission to be not perfect, because only in acknowledging that we're not perfect that we can accept imperfection in others. When you see someone struggling with alcohol or drugs or lack of self-value, stop asking why they can't stop, instead, ask what made them fall in the first place. Because really, do you honestly think that they themselves believe that the cesspool they're in, is a cool place to be?

Home..again

I am home. I got back yesterday and am so excited to be walking around in my own apartment. I celebrated my homecoming by making challah bread...I don't know what to do with myself..I am just so glad to be back home after a month of being away.

Count Down....

Before I go back to my real life in Dallas.
Another tough day. Spent yesterday afternoon eating and talking at the beach.
I was invited to dinner and cake for Luis Enrique's 15th birthday Friday night. I just love these family.

Was invited again to spend the day at a friends house the other day. It's a tough life I am leading.