I learned that you are dead.
Although words say you have passed, your cruel deeds committed by you to me as a child still lingered for decades.
You might have softened and treated your own children better than you treated your foster children.
I had a condition you judged as a plea for attention. Rather than love and understanding you provided physical and verbal abuse.
Perhaps you learned cruelty from those that mistreated you. I have pity for you or anyone in that circumstance if that was the case.
Perhaps you thought you taught discipline and tough love. You were mistaken.
I learned from you how it was to feel neglected and mistreated.
Because others that showed me what unconditional Love was, I was given the gift of learning that not all in the world were evil and cruel.
With this gift I have strived to the best of my ability to choose Love.
Love has the power to break all chains, yes, even the chains that until this point attempted to bind me, even from the grave.
Dedicated to all child victims and survivors of abuse, neglect, and those many many upstanding Foster Parents that instill Love and understanding to those in need. God Bless You.
For those that aren’t military or around the military, Jody is the name given to the person that a spouse back home cheats with/leaves the deployed spouse for.
Glowing Taxi tail lights fade into the night. The hybrid vehicle’s virtually silent on freshly Long Island fallen snow. This is a long way from Afghanistan. 24 hours earlier I have been in the sweltering desert heat. Who’s car is that in the driveway. I know I have the right address. Fumbling with the keys, I hear the dog barking through the door. A light comes on. An unfamiliar male voice is muffled. As I reach for the door handle, I hear the door unlocked from the inside. The door is chained. Then I see her eyes. I guess I should have called.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly photo-prompted 100 word writing challenge. Based on a photo prompt, the challenge is to pen a work of 100 words or less. If you’re interested in joining, or would like to read Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog; Here
There is a saying that when you hold onto anger, it’s like drinking poison while expecting the other person to die.
Last year at this time we were part of the loving vibrant church. It was a large part of who we were as a family and we miss it dearly. I won’t go into any details of what happened at the church other than to share how I feel. I can honestly say I don’t hate those responsible for destroying the church as it was, as hate is too strong a word even for those I am angry with.
Yes, I still find myself angry.
I am angry with the lies and rumors that they chose spread even after they were shown to be untrue.
I am angry with those who failed to make amends towards my family and to those close to me.
Jesus Christ took away our permission to call people sinners and said, love your neighbor. And by the way, (here is the tough part ) everyone is your neighbor.
Up until this point in my life I feel I have been a forgiving person. I have gone toe to toe with someone, got my nose busted but afterwards sat down for a beer together as if nothing ever happened. Perhaps it was because physical wounds are easy.
Recently I was sharing with my best friend on how I was amazed that my children could be so forgiving of those who have crossed them while I as the parent, struggled to be forgiving of the infraction against them. It’s simple she explained, those are your children and you want to protect them.
I believe as Christians, if we want to hate sin, it must be our own sin.I must now choose to spit out the poison of anger. The sin of anger. May God have mercy on me. Amen.
Training Day 1 (T-1) of Marine Corps bootcamp many years ago, we were told. “Look at each other and let’s make something clear!” “There is no black, white, yellow, brown, or red!” “There is only green!”Some may be dark green or light green but you are all green and equally worthless!” It was the removal of looking at each other as a different color in “stressful” circumstances that empowered us to succeed as one. Brothers forever. Amen #semperfi #alwaysfaithful
Recently I came across a few forums supporting the argument of not taking up the offenses of others i.e. ….fight your own battles. Additionally, 1Thessalonians 4:11 states:“Do all you can to live a peaceful life. Take care of your own business, and do your own work as we have already told you”.
In other words mind your own business. I couldn’t agree more.
However, human decency dictates that it is your responsibility to stand up for those without a voice or being treated unfairly. In my humble opinion, that should be your business.
Years back I took an ethics class where the curriculum was structured around ethical questions such as your stand on abortion, corporate accountability, etc… What I truly enjoyed about the class was there were no wrong answers/opinions.
The objective was to peel back the layers of laissez faire positions on posed ethical questions. I was surprised by the level of passion throughout the class as we became ethically self aware. Recent events in my life have brought me to a similar place, I felt spirituality mature enough to stand with those I felt had been wronged and although it happened to be my job to protect them, it was much more than that. Not only was it my ethical responsibility as Christian, even more so as a fellow human being.
My position doesn’t mean I am right, but simply striving to be true to where l feel an ethical line should be drawn. Peace and may God have mercy on us all.
I met Stephen Joseph Gilkey in the barracks of Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni, Japan in 1983. I was 19 and Steve about 3 years my Senior. We were both US Marines attached to the H&MS 15 Aviation Ordnance Shop. With his besheffled hair, ever 5 o’clock shadow and and somewhat thick semi-translucent brown framed glasses, there he was. He would look over the 6 ft high partition that separated our semi-open cubicles as his was next door. “Hey Roy” he would say, pop his head over the wall, wearing that shit-eating grin,”hey Roy, can I borrow that Rush tape”?
We slowly became friends, would go to chow, work out at the gym and spar in the barracks. We particularly became close when during one of our sparing sessions Steve’s foot caught to better part of a hand block that broke his foot. It was July, hot and muggy with no A/C in the barracks, living on the 2nd floor, and tough on Steve G to get around on crutches. I would help him with his tray at chow and walk along with him as he hopped around. Steve G was easy to talk and I think it was because he was a great listener. I have a number of stories and adventures i’d like to share, but for now, a simple introduction of how I met this good hearted man I loved as a brother. May he Rest In Peace. Amen