rambling rosemarie

Last night I was trying desperately to talk a friend from high school out of going into the dark of night to look for something or someone. I pleaded with her that it wasn't safe. My stomach was in a tight knot and my throat muscles were aching with tension. Tears spilled down my face. I had her hand in a death grip and then she vanished. Deep grief spilled out of my soul and into my dream. I was crying out for her children when I woke up. The friend I was dreaming about died several years ago. We had lost touch as is often the case with people leaving high school and going where their adult lives take them. I remember hearing about her passing and wanting to make contact with her children. They have no idea who I am and I really have nothing to offer them except to tell them that she and I had once been friends. She was kind and funny and we shared some confidences. All that is ancient history. It wasn't an underlying sense of guilt or grief for my high school friend tha

My oldest girl is turning 30 in a few days. I don't know where she is or what she would like to do to celebrate. I thought we would be past that stage by now and we're not. There are some expectations I had when I agreed to raise two of my sister's children that have been met and some that have not. I expected it to be very difficult on them to be separated from their other siblings. I would have raised all 5 kids if it had been up to me, but it was not. I knew how that would make them feel disconnected and disposable, because I wasn't raised with any of my siblings either. I always felt left out and unimportant. I knew that they would be confused by the differences in their former lifestyle and the new one I would impose. I worked for law enforcement and went to church each week. That's not something they were exposed to before coming to live with me. I knew that I had not been given shiny examples of loving parenting and would fall short of their true n

For my 3 regular readers... I am underground and may have to enter the blogger protection program. It has come to light that I know the true identity of Turretin Fan . In fact, we went to different high schools together.

I have a love hate relationship with the internet. I love that so many things are a Google search away. I have had access to some of the best literature, best conversations and best teaching courtesy of the World Wide Web. I learn best by listening to conflicting opinion. I don't mind arguments. I respect people who can argue their position without making personal attacks. There are plenty of places to find opinions that differ from mine and I don't mind folks trying to convince me they are right. What I hate is the way so many people use the internet to be mean and spiteful. Internet bullies- people with opinions who lack the intelligence and/or communication skills to articulate their opinions without resorting to what amounts to brute force intimidation tactics; ad hominems, sarcasm or deception. I hate it when I spend time actually reading what these folks have to say. Why oh why do I subject myself to their tantrums and rantings? As if life here isn't difficult e

If I had to describe my life right now I would say I was a bit like playing Chutes and Ladders or maybe Chutes and Chutes. The higher I climb the farther I slide down. I am being hammered on all sides. I am fragile, but the pounding continues and I am not breaking. I want to. I want to be shattered into a million little pieces instead of receiving the constant taps with the sanctification hammer. The point is not to be shattered but to be bent and molded into a useful shape. That's not how it feels. It feels like I am being destroyed....bit by bit I am disappearing. To be sure, parts of me are disappearing during my sanctification. That's the point of being refined. Getting rid of the dross to purify the gold- leaving more of Him and less of me. As a Christian, why on earth would I have a problem with that? Because at any minute of any given day I value myself more than I value God. I have fleeting moments when I know that God is the best thing ever and that I am one ble

I have lost my identity. I was Rosemarie the Opinionated. Rosemarie the Certain. I have been known as Rosemarie do the Right Thing and told I had an uncanny ability to discern what the right thing was. I have become someone else. My opinions are muddled. My way is unsure. The real question I have to answer is whether my identity has been stolen from me or have I given it away? Is who I am being altered by sanctification and I am feeling the growing pains of the woman I am becoming? Have I been seeing through a glass dimly? Have I been blown off course? Lately, I have that horrible feeling of unrest that comes from unspoken sorrow. I am reaping the sour fruit of unspoken words. Somewhere deep in my soul there's a kettle full of self-pity and disappointment simmering over a fire fueled by the bitterness of missed opportunity and realizing my insignificance. Can someone explain to me, like I am a two year old, how a Christian can be bought with so high a price as Jesus pai