Skip to main content

Survivor's Guilt



It's been a very long while since I have written anything at all here. It's been longer still since I have written anything of value or substance. I have been working long hours for little pay but in this economy I am very glad to have a job.
Gratitude is something I have been thinking about a lot. Gratitude for me is a double edged sword. Often when I am grateful for some malady I have been spared, it means someone else has suffered. Take the ice-storms that have recently crippled Kentucky. I was slightly inconvenienced and happy that I didn't lose power or water. Sure, I lost my internet and phone connections, but my heat worked just fine. I feel kind of creepy though. I guess it is a form of survivors guilt.
I have discovered that I have survivors guilt in a whole lot of areas and I am not sure what to make of that revelation. I am guilty, perhaps that's why. I don't deserve the many blessings I have had. I don't know why God has spared me from any part of the misery that should be mine, let alone saved my soul.
This is a particularly difficult topic to try and talk about because it can seem that it's a ploy for attention or some sort of super spiritual superiority trip. I assure you, I am just muddling my way through things. I don't have anything to offer that is spiritually superior. I struggle with doubt and lack of discipline. I wonder how in the world I can behave the way I do and profess Christ at the same time.






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th...
8 comments
Read more

It's all part of growing up

Today is my birthday. I am 51. I have officially lived longer than my mother. I have survived several major earthquakes, three fires, five floods, uterine cancer, having my infant body burned by percolating coffee and a childhood from hell. I have been stalked by a madman, been asked to be interviewed for the Australian version of 60 Minutes, received a bronze medal and helped foil a kidnap attempt of a celebrity. In my short 51 years, I have had an incredible life. I was asked by a former student what advice I would give a 30 year old that I have come to value now that I am in my 50s. The list of things that I value now that I didn't value then and vice versa is huge. Since my current topic is discipline, I would have to say that I wish I had cultivated discipline at an earlier age. Much earlier than my 30s. I wish I had learned the difference between need and want sooner. I have tried too hard to fulfill wants as if they were needs. The want vacuum just moves, it doesn...
5 comments
Read more

Review Part Two of Voices of the True Woman Movement A Call to the Counter-Revolution

It is a glorious day in Kentucky. The humidity is gone. Mornings are crisp, evenings cool and it is toasty warm during the day. This morning I sat out on my front porch enjoying the birds, flowers and gentle breeze. I took with me an outstanding cup of Colombian coffee and my Voices of the True Woman Movement book. Before I started reading I took a moment to think about my stereotypical idea of the perfect Christian woman. In my mind she is perfectly dressed, perfectly coiffed, and demure. She speaks in dulcet tones and only when she has something encouraging to say. There is no doubt that her make-up is the perfect shade and she uses just enough to allow her to radiate a pleasing angelic glow. Her nails are manicured. Her feet are Barbie-like. She is Jackie O and June Cleaver combined with an encyclopedic knowledge of Scripture and a repertoire that includes a series of perfectly timed, perfectly targeted encouragement statements. She and I look nothing alike. As I inventor...
6 comments
Read more