Yes. Too Long Away. I'm Fighting My Way Back.

I'm not sure where to start. It has a long time since I've tried to blog. My silly mind has not been my friend for a few months and my Multiple Sclerosis is responsible for much of the shenanigans. So ...

This year started with me throwing a fit by cancelling all the holiday plans and staying home and pouting about a lab bill that caught me unaware of a sneaky out-of-network slap in the face. I protested the bill and spent several months sending appeals and talking on the phone with our insurance. It's a long, stressful story and the end results are still pending. When this nightmare is over, maybe I will blog about the whole experience then. Or not. I've no doubt anyone reading my blog can relate their own nightmares with insurance and outrageous medical costs so reading about mine may seem redundant. Just know my heart relates. 

I retired from my cleaning business in June of this year. It called for a celebration so we combined my 65th birthday and my retirement party together and God gave me one of the hottest Saturdays to have it on! My husband made the calls and smoked the pork for the pulled pork sandwiches that were featured in the food we served. I tried spend most of the day in front of a fan while enjoying dear family and friends that ventured out in the heat to help me celebrate. it was a worthy celebration in spite of the hot day. 

Note to self:  Though my husband means well and I love when he takes the initiative to sponsor such fun ... but IF I, too, wish to enjoy said fun then a caterer or party planner is to be hired. My husband rocks in the set up, meal planning and clean up, but when the party rolls out he is found drinking with his buddies or being the social butterfly I'd strive to be... but am more often found tending to the needs of the guests and making sure food is hot or cold for the long haul. 

Also in June, we went on a bike trip with our dear friends, John and Camille Oberg. Loved the whole trip and took lots of pictures so instead of this blog being so long that I waste my whole day in front of a computer, I will gather my pictures and post a few and tell the tales of that trip in my next post.

Until then ...

February 2017 .... ALREADY!!!!!

I've been through a thousand emotions, nearly alienated all of my republican relatives and still get some harassment on Facebook since the election of perverted Trumpikin! I didn't get to march in the largest protest march ever recorded ... the Woman's March on Jan 21st, 2017. One day after Trumpikin's inauguration. Nor did I get to march in any of the sister marches ... one even held in Lincoln, NE. But I beamed with pride, to be a woman, on that day of the recorded largest, peaceful, protest ever!!!

So .... where is this blog going? I am so very sorry, if by some crazy chance I have a follower or two, that I have neglected this media. I wish I could say that I've come to some conclusion but not so ...'m

I'm one of the ones that had to go back into counseling to deal with the Trump election which triggered all my abuse memories and I'm still trying to sort all that out, along with a diagnosis of MS and my husbands shoulder surgery that took place January 5th. 

Give me a bit more time to regroup. Please.

Really? REALLY? CHEETO TRUMP IS PRESIDENT?

REALLY?

Trump is president?

Well, this slimy, bigoted, narcissistic, sexual assaulter IS NOT MY PRESIDENT!

I'm still in shock! How? What the fuck!

My first post on Facebook was, 'Hey, motherfuckers, Trump is president!' 

I don't swear anymore. I tried to let it all hang out. No filters. I tried to be a Trump. You guessed it ... I got jumped on by the very people who voted for this slime, those that accepted his dickness but ... God forbid, I should try to be like Trump. How rude of me. OF ME? 

Don't try to be like Trump without a few billion in your back pocket.

Now there are rules. And only Trump can be such a fucking ass and be worshiped!

But I don't want to be worshipped.

I just want to be heard.

Trump as president is crazy!

Trump as president is suicide for democracy!

We just stepped into a complete dictatorship!

Hitler is truly reincarnated!

I've been thinking about what direction to take this blog of Sam's Thots. Up to now it has been A LOT of rambling. A mis-mash of poems, journaling of an experience or two, memories, photographs, and anything I've wanted to post. But no real direction. Do I want to limit myself?

SO TRUMP IS YOUR GUY?

So Trump is your guy?
That tells me much about you.
A bully you worship makes me sigh,
Because no self love have you come by.

He calls people awful names,
And enlists a hate that pollutes.
No respect for the President fame,
He's for all the self worship he can gain!

He calls people fat, ugly and stupid,
And yet you all fall for his divisive scraps!
His platform is so very putrid, 
His words full of decayed meaning muted!

Trump will be a fatal missile,
That will destroy our democracy design,
With a Hitler like tinsel,
And a 'LOOK AT ME I'M SO GREAT' type missile!

Missiles of hate and a miscreant,
He's breeding a change to freedom for ALL,
Breastfeeding venom to his minions to vent,
And building his empire of discontent!

All the unhappy think they found a voice,
But vampire Trump feeds on that pain,
Faking to you that he's your voice,
Only as long as you believe in HIS choice!

He truly hates you, hates us!
He is of the billionaires club,
And his way is full of abhorrence,
His path full of ignorance!

Yes, if Trump is your guy,
It tells me much about you.
You hate yourself so much that you'd lie,
Full of such hate and no desire to even try!

You've closed your mind,
You have no desire to know any truth!
A mind of hate doesn't want to find,
A love for us ALL to share and bind!

No, you'd rather kill with Trump in the lead,
And spit on your neighbor,
And sleep with your gun by your feet,
Irrational fear is ALL you see!

You are a different terror to me,
Yet not different than that which you fear,
And like those Muslims you'd hate to be,
You've have your own Sharia Law to feed!

Pretending to be so noble and brave,
Kissing Trump's feet like he's your god,
Not caring that there is no one he will save,
Or that he will send you to an early grave!

This is NOT like his reality TV show!
That is for entertainment built on all that is fake!
This is your life he'll deal a deadly blow, 
Becoming his greatest victim yet to grow!

Kiss your children goodbye,
Should this man become president,
Since Trump is your guy,
Prepare for all you love to die.

Sandra K. Harrison

February 5, 2016

The Pillars Have All Gone Now

I think it is interesting that my last post to this blog was about a pillar of my local church passing and the thoughts I had in the wake of losing him. That was back in November. It was my last post of 2015. This opening post of 2016 will begin with the loss of another pillar of my local church, Brother Max Towell. 

Brother Max (Pastor Max to me), died this past week and was laid to rest yesterday. It seems to me that he was the Pastor of my church home forever. But he only moved to Ogallala in 1969 when I was 16 years old. By that time I was a wild child. A few traumatic experiences between my baptism by Ivy Conner at 13 and that 16th year of my life, found me soured on God. I was also battling something that later would be labeled depression and my teenage hormones magnified everything into a crisis, I was a mess. Pastor Max had his hands full trying to tame this wild beast and, sadly, wasn't able to do so before I sneaked out of Grandma's house one late night, a few weeks after my son's birth, and ran pell mell into a dark life until the late 70's.

Son in tow, I ran away at the age of 18 and didn't come back until 1985. By then I was in my early 30's, separated from my husband, after five years of marriage, with my son and a four year old daughter. I ran back home from Lincoln, NE to protect myself and my children. I had married a recovering alcoholic whom became very scary when he returned, like a dog, to his own vomit. Years later he would sober up and become a walking miracle! I am very grateful for the friendship we now share.

Enter, Pastor Max. He and his wife, Viola, rented me a trailer that matched my budget. They then came to my new home for Bible lessons. I'd like to say I invited him. I just didn't say no when he asked if they could come 'visit' and those visits turned into Bible lessons for most of the time I lived in that trailer. I'd also like to say that it was a wonderful time. I was a challenge to them. I still carried a chip on my shoulder when it came to God so I asked them to explain a lot of why my life was a mass of violence, shame and heartache ... which they could not. It would take me several more years before I would learn to stop blaming God. But those visits were not lost on my heart. My soul may have been hardened but their love and patience with me softened it's core. And my heart bloomed with love for them. They were there during a tough time in my life and they anchored me to Hope.

Max and the Church of Christ family were like life rings to my dysfunctional family. Sometime after I had ran away from my Grandma's home, my Mom had begun to go to church regularly and, later, her 4th husband, whom proved to be a keeper, began attending and became one of those pillars in my life that brought me closer to loving God more than ever. 

I could never identify with a healthy father figure but with Pete I finally found a Dad ... a Father. He healed some deep wounds and he became my greatest draw back into the Church of Christ family. He and Mom loved Brother Max dearly and watching their faith grow made me respect Pastor Max and the Church of Christ all the more! I found I could finally pray to a loving Father because I experienced that love from some healthy 'Father' figures. I could pack away the God of violence that I falsely believed picked me as a punching bag. I finally recognized the changes I needed to make to bring this fascinating, loving, forgiving, Lord deep into my heart!

Max was there with such tenderness when Dad died. His son, Jay Towell, was then the 'Pastor' and in his inherited, skilled gift of teaching, officiated the most tender of funerals. I still hear the song he and his talented family sung, acappella, during that service. Brother Max was such a strength for my Mom during that difficult time and visited her often. 

When my Mom became very sick 8-9 years ago with a major infection, Max was one of the most frequent visitors with a couple of other 'Brothers' of the church family. Most folks were scared to come see Mom, but Max showed a love that overcomes fear. 

I was staying with Mom to care for her. I remember, I was having such difficulty understanding Mom's illness and keeping her home sterilized that one day, I just lost it. I mean, I really lost it! I was screaming at my Mom that I wished I had died during her difficult birth with me (I was a breach baby .... hm, that should explain why most of my walk through life has been butt first!) and hated having to deal with everything! Who should come to the door at that very moment ... Pastor Max and someone else ... darn if I can remember who came with him though. I just remember crumbling into a sobbing mess and dear Max helping me work through my despair and shame at screaming at Mom. He and his helper prayed over us and I, still to this day, feel that overwhelming calm that came over me that day. The memory still brings tears to my eyes. 

I feel very sad today. Those pillars of my life that have helped me become a less dysfunctional person have all gone now. Max was the last. His son is preaching in Red Cloud, NE... so far away ... and I will miss his tremendous gift of teaching God's word. 

I don't attend my church home regularly now-a-days. Something has changed. They are still the most awesome family and I love them all. I'm sure it is just me. I don't handle change well ... unless it is rearranging the furniture in my home. I like that change.

Well, Pastor Max, if you could see this post ... I would close with how much you will be missed. So many lives you touched. Such a life you lived! And an awesome banjo player to boot! I didn't remember that about you. But there you were with your banjo in that wonderful slide show of pictures they shared celebrating your life from youth til God took you home with Him. You would have enjoyed that slide show. Your family and dearest friends will miss you most. I love you, Max. I thank the Lord for you. I attribute my strong love for the Lord to you, sir. You had a big part in that love growing. 

You've got another good man there, Lord. I hope to see him again. Maybe I can see him, finally, pickin on that banjo? 

TsK Tsk Tsk

9-20-2015, Allan Brown died of a heart attack.

Allan was an elder at the Church of Christ in my home church and home town of Ogallala, NE. What a dear man!!!

We moved to Ogallala, NE from Paxton, NE the summer of my 13th year. A new neighborhood, a new school and a new group of friends. Sherrie Lee and Nola French invited me to church and it became a regular pattern for our Sunday's and Wednesday night's at the Church of Christ.

Allan was there, too. He and his wife Mabel and the rest of their family. I don't remember the kids as well as I remember Allan and Mabel. He was one of those members ... always warm and such a gentle soul ... unless you were three rowdy teenagers sitting in the back pews, giggling and not being respectful ... for then Allan, or Mabel, would become shoulder tappers. Or if he and Mabel sat in front of us, he would shake his head and Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, or he would just turn around and look stern. Regardless of what he did, it commanded our respect and swift mode to worship or song. He never let our rowdiness keep him from hugging us or just putting his arm around our shoulders or a loving hand upon our shoulder later.

He was stern and loving and time rigid and yet mostly forgiving. He was a great teacher and answered my questions with patience and honesty. I believe he was the first to tell me, when he didn't know an answer to some of my life question;

"I don't know, Sandy, but God does."

I don't know why such an answer, that really never answered my questions, was such a comfort to me. Maybe because Allan's faith in a God that knew everything and would reveal all one day was enough then and still calms and comforts me today.

I'm glad Allan was one of the first healthy influences for my troubled teen soul back then. I'm also grateful that he never wavered in his warmth and kindness toward me over the years since. Never mind that I'm not a regular church attendee, or that I often visit other church families. Allen always welcomed me and made me feel so at home.

Allan's kindness enveloped my Mother who came to my baptism during that 13th year and started attending regularly thereafter.Years later, both she and her 4th husband (whom I adored) would become members and elders. Allan enveloped our dysfunctional family in such love. Did he know he gave a couple of us a lifeline to change? 

Jesus was mimicked by many of those who were Church of Christ elders and nearly no stones were thrown. No stones were thrown by Allen Brown. He will be missed! I wish he knew how much of an impact he had on my family and I. God knows.

I am grateful I was able to attend Allan's funeral. It was a packed church, proving he touched the hearts of many. It was one of my favorite funerals to date. Can one have favorite funerals and not be considered odd?

A slide show sharing precious memories, a moving eulogy presented by his son revealed much I did not know about the father he loved, and the testimony of Allan's influence by several folks were special moments. 

Allan even wrote the message that was read by the officiating pastor, George Robinson, thereby preaching at his own funeral. A message that helped me understand why a funeral can be a celebration ... a reason to hold onto one's fork because the best is yet to come. Sorry, this is one of those 'should have been there' moments, to understand this fork reference.

Allan's message centered on Revelation 21 & 22, which focuses on Heaven. I had read Revelations 21 just that morning in my regular morning Bible reading. Hm ... I like to think that was a God moment and His way of letting Allan, once again, answer some lingering questions for me. 

I hope Allan would be smiling if he knew that though I don't attend a church regularly, I do read my Bible from cover to cover, over and over, 1-3 chapters nearly every day and have for the last 14 years. I wonder if Allan is where he can hear me talk to God every day and that I pray way more often now then I did when he use to encourage me to pray. 

I wish I could tell him that I'm less rowdy. Though the aging youngster that I am, knows that he would be Tsk, Tsk, Tsk'ing me about my life choices that I make today. Still ... I smile ... though I miss him, I am looking forward to that hug when I see him again and I imagine him saying;

"See, Sandy, God knew. Welcome home."