rambling rosemarie

One of my favorite lines from the movie Titanic is delivered by a baffled man in steerage. Jack and Fabrizio, overjoyed with their good fortune at winning a poker hand and receiving two tickets for passage on Titanic's maiden voyage for their gamble, come tumbling into their prize berth and introduce themselves to their unsuspecting roommates. Surprised at the arrival of strangers one of the men looks at his friend and says, "Where's Sven?" Sven, having been cold cocked by his companion for betting their tickets and losing their voyage to the land of opportunity is nursing a black eye and what I am certain was bitter disappointment. He must have been in absolute disbelief. Titanic has been making the rounds on HBO and I confess, depending on where they are with the story when I bump into it channel surfing, I am likely to watch. The story line itself isn't interesting to me. In fact it is pretty despicable. Of course if it's early in the movie and I get...

I miss the flying dreams of my youth. When I was young I had great flying dreams. If I could climb on something a few feet off the ground, I could push off it, stretch my arms out and be soaring. If I saw something interesting, I had to evaluate if there was something I could use to take off from again before setting down to have a look. It was exhilarating! When I went to bed I always hoped I would have a flying dream. As I got older the flying dreams became more difficult. I had to be able to jump up high enough to pull myself into a cannonball shape, arms tucked tightly around my knees. If I could do that before I began to fall, I would be encased in a clear bubble and I could stay aloft. I would be able to hover in that protection until it dissolved and then gravity would take over. I would fall to the ground softly most of the time. Sometimes I would crash land, falling into places that were scary and always far from home. I don't have flying dreams any more. Why is th...

The wind has kicked up. Whatever storm is coming will not just pass over and die down. No, it seems intent on blowing my house down and leaving me completely naked and exposed. Whatever this is that I am sensing, it's not my definition of good. God doesn't really give a rip how I define things though. God is on His throne and does as He pleases. Is it a coincidence that this morning my attention has been drawn to two specific items available on the Internet? Since God's sovereignty eradicates things like probability, chance, luck and thereby obliterates coincidence I would have to say "no" but then my question was rhetorical. What are the items? The first one is here and it focuses on "taking your soul to task" which, I don't mind telling you I need to do. That said I am compelled to be honest enough to tell you I have no real intention of actually doing so. The other is found here and features Nancy Leigh DeMoss discussing Psalm 46 . I may ac...

There is a strange wind stirring in my soul. I wish I could find the appropriate words to describe what I mean. There's not a pending catastrophe or anything I am especially concerned about. There's nothing scheduled of any significance for me until next month and those are things I am looking forward to such as visits from old friends. It's not often I am rendered incapable of communicating. What I feel is akin to looking over the side and discovering you're much higher up than you realized but in this case, I didn't know I was climbing anything at all. You know the strange dream you have that is all too real and familiar feeling when you wake up? The sort that leaves you wondering what is real and what is not? That is close to how I feel. I don't know how I got here and don't know if I should be alarmed or excited. Am I standing at the edge of change? On the precipice of some major self-discovery? Am I headed for a fall? It's sort of like somethin...

This is a movie everyone should watch. It's not easy but it is worth it.

What do you do when you know something is wrong with your body and yet all the tests provide no definitive answer? I can open my mouth and show you the sores in it. I can show you where my tongue has turned color. It's not cancer, it's not a stain. It's a mystery. I can show you the rash on my face. It is not lupus. It is not rosacea. What is it? Why does it accompany extreme fatigue and joint pain? You can see my eyelids are red and angry looking but antibiotics, ointments and eye drops don't make it go away. My guts aren't working properly but it's not colitis, Crohn's, not a h-pylori, but they are inflamed. Why? What do you do when you don't know what you're fighting? You rejoice. I am a saved woman. It's all good after that. You pray. Pray for patience. Lord, help me cope with these annoying and often debilitating symptoms as befitting a woman of God. And please, let the doctor changing my medications be a step in the right direct...

God saved my life yesterday afternoon, which isn't really surprising because He has and will do that all day every day that He's ordained me to be here. In my sinful presumptiveness I take that for granted. Occasionally He makes it obvious that He is keeping me safe. That's what happened yesterday. My sister and I drove to Lexington and did some shopping. She goes up every week to visit her father and I go up once every couple of months. Occasionally things work out so we go together. It usually means we'll laugh, end up in tears at least once and ask each other exploratory questions. She and I were separated when she was born and reunited about 19 years ago. I moved to Kentucky as a result of her instigations . We are in many ways alike and yet very different. It's fun to find those things out. My sister, Karen, has a fear of traveling by car. She's come by it honestly and it seems without fail, each and every time we drive somewhere Karen's very ...

I went to bed at a decent hour and found myself unhappily awake at 0145hrs. That's right, 1:45 am. That doesn't even qualify for 0'dark thirty. I have been known to go to bed at that time more often than get up. I tried but couldn't return to sleep. I also could'n't think of anything productive to do in my zombie-like state so I stayed in bed and found my mind wandering. Sometimes the craziest things come to me when I am least expecting it. I found myself thinking about something I said to my pastors during a meeting we had regarding biblical counseling. I was rambling on about the importance of words and the differences between men and women in their communication styles. I called women word ninjas. "We're all sweetness and light until you don't do what we want and then we'll take you out with our tongues. I don't know why men put up with us, we're evil. We woman are word ninjas." That's the general gist. Why I was th...

....and dirty water came out. I was pretty heavily medicated yesterday and that made it more difficult for me to practice self-control. I have difficulty doing that on a good day, but with inhibitions removed I have found my calling; I am mean. One of my professors once said, "When you squeeze a sponge and dirty water comes out, it's not the pressure that made the water dirty, the dirt was there to begin with." It's really true. It isn't the (prescribed) controlled substances that make me cranky. I am pretty much cranky to begin with. As I sit here today I think I am experiencing a prescription drug hang-over. It's hard to tell, my brain is so fuzzy these days no matter what I am taking. I wish you could see my office. It truly looks like a madman decorated it using a fragmentation grenade and a dust buffalo scatter gun. I believe I took my life in my hands trying to get to the desk. Ever seen "Hoarders?" Consider my office looking like some...

Today I feel particularly lazy. It's not difficult for me to feel lazy. I can go the the litany of medical reasons that sap my energy and come up with plausible excuses. Not just plausible excuses, genuine reasons. I am exhausted today, not just lazy. I have had two cups of caffeinated coffee and am working on the energy to go make a third which may do the trick or complicate my day by making my guts fight back. My life has a lot of pauses in it. Pausing for energy. Pausing to reconsider choices. Pausing to breathe. Pauses are wonderful things. In acting we learned that pauses are uncomfortable for the actor but give the audience a chance to feel and consider what they have heard and seen. They convey discomfort, regret, sorrow, arrogance, disgust any number of situations can be related to in a pause. Think of the power of a pause in music. Just when you think it is over, right when your soul is begging for relief the pause nearly kills you and then the note you are looking for ...

Yesterday I was sound asleep in my recliner. I lost the battle to maintain consciousness while watching a documentary about Kindertransport. A lover of history, I was fascinated. I was also heavily medicated and the medication won. It was a gorgeous day. The young neighbor boy had come over to mow my lawn. The windows and doors were wide open. The birds were chirping. It was pure bliss. We knew we were going to have a weather change. Anytime you have weather in the 70s and a prediction of a drop to the 30s you can bet a severe thunderstorm will pop up. That's why I have a weather alert application on my too-smart-for-me-to-operate cell phone and a NOAA weather radio. There I was, sedated to the point of snoring and drooling, fully kicked back in my recliner and sleeping through not one but two blasts of the tornado siren. Forget the cell phone and NOAA radio. The tornado siren is about a quarter mile from my house and is the sort of alarm they used to warn people of air raids...

Been a while since I have been up to blogging. It's not that I am on death's door or have a lack of things to work out through my fingertips hitting the keyboard. It's that I keep wanting to find the topic that will make a difference in the way I go about life. The trouble with that is it takes effort and discipline and I have already confessed all I care to about being a lazy sloth. There is part of me that wants you to commiserate with me about joys and detriments of being lazy, but thanks to God's nagging Holy Spirit, the part of me that wants you to rejoice in my repenting of these besetting sins is gaining ground. Is it OK to call the Holy Spirit a nag? I think I am supposed to use the standard Christianese and say He's wooing me. Seems like a whole lot of wooing is going on in the world and most of it ain't good. Charlie Sheen wants to woo us into believing he's doing just fine. He's winning. Winning what? The honor of having his manic melt do...

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...

Yesterday was my mother's birthday. She's been gone for over 25 years and I still have difficulty with her birthdays. Normally I try to do something nice for myself on her birthday. I bought my first new car on birthday. I have purchased myself some spectacular jewelry and even bought my first home on her birthday. In keeping with tradition I tried to think of something nice to do for myself yesterday. I don't have the money I used to have so buying myself something extravagant wasn't really a possibility. Even if I'd had some money that wasn't working, I would have had difficulty purchasing something that would have helped me feel better about missing her. I don't need anything, that's for certain. Even more than that, I have come to see that I can't fill the hole that not having a mom has left in my soul. I will never have anyone who loved me like my mom loved me and in my 50s I am wrestling with the pain that truth has brought me. I am c...

I have decided that blogging is a combination of letter writing, journaling and home movies - only without the movie part. That's better than what I used to think about it. I used to think that it was like open mic night on the net and everyone thought they were funny or had a message of national import.... but most of are wrong. That's why I have always felt a little sheepish about blogging. Do I think I am funny or that I have a public service announcement to make? Neither really. Sometimes both. Mostly I think I am looking for that elusive Vulcan mind-meld with one other person. The object of a writer's desire is the chance to touch with words; the right combination of syllables and symbols to lock into someone's psyche like one Lego fits onto another. I blog because I need to write. Writing is like hair conditioner for my soul. It helps me work my tangles. Sometimes when I am pensive I fancy myself an old gold miner optimistically sifting through mud and sil...

Ever notice how painfully time moves when you're waiting to hear how someone is doing? Each second feels like coarse-grained sandpaper moving slowly on sunburned skin. It is agonizing. Yesterday my sister had bilateral lumpectomies. Her four hour surgery turned into seven hours. Her outpatient surgery turned into admission and being on a ventilator. I am approximately 2400 miles away from her as the crow flies. As the heart loves I am right there beside her. (Post Script: She is off the ventilator, alert and talking. Thanks be to God!). I should be grateful to God that she is receiving good care. I should be thanking Him that her cancer was found early. Our mother's wasn't. I should be doing a lot of things that good Christians do, instead I am doing what I do best. Worrying. Worrying because I am not there. Worrying because if I was there, those doctors and nurses would really have to act right, that's my sister they are treating. But I am not. I am worried f...

Suffering. We all have some of it in our lives. Some of us get by with a sprinkling and others get dumped on. Most of try to avoid it at all costs by avoiding, denying or medicating it. A few of us are compelled to try to alleviate the suffering of others. Some twisted souls enjoy either receiving or causing it. Old, young, white, black, saved, reprobate, rich, poor, man, woman none of us are exempt. I can't help but think of Ophelia's mad scene and her distribution of flowers. "There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference..." Shakespeare was using rue as it symbolized sorrow or regret. Each of us has particular sorrows and regrets. Ophelia's sorrows drove her mad. She allowed her suffering to overwhelm her. Poor thing, love gone awry, torn between family and the prince who toyed with her. I do understand it, but t...

Here's the thing.... I am sick of the Caner scandal and absolutely done with reading the likes of Peter Lumpkins and his band of inimical associates. I will continue to pray for Dr. Caner's repentance and leave it at that. I am no longer the slightest bit interested in anything but their repentance. (I include Lumpkins and his band of inimical associates and anyone else enjoying this sad state of affairs within God's church.) I am praying for the 'Dearborn Four' though in my opinion of that situation I am conflicted. I am OK with having conflicting thoughts and opinions, God knows every minute detail and the outcome is in His hands. It's His justice I pray for, if that matches the US Constitution, that's incidental. So, what else can I possible write about? About a million other things come to mind, but the chances of anyone reading this unless I tag the post with something scintillating like, Liberty University, Dr. Ergun Caner or Lumpkins I don't...

For those of you praying for my long awaited check to arrive, it has. For those of you praying for my spiritual health, sense of humor and general well being, please continue. As I said in an earlier post my distress is so not about the mail... it was just the vehicle God used to show me how desperately I need His grace and mercy and to remind me that sanctification isn't painless.... lest I forget when counseling others.

I am overflowing with resentment and bitterness. If it were not for that little piece of me that is compliant and listens to His Holy Spirit there is no telling what I might write here today. My face is as red as fire and twice as hot. I am angry. I am hurt. I am disappointed. This is so much more than a fruitless trip to the mailbox. It always is. The situations in life are the context wherein the content of our hearts are revealed. Overdrawn, overwrought, overtired. Overtly defiant. Covertly collapsed. Pay no attention to that woman behind the wall.... I am teaching about the biblical concept of peace in a couple of days. Ain't that a hoot? How long can I throw a pity party while studying God's idea of peace? About .001 seconds. Months ago when planning this I had no idea what series of events were being put in place... things over which I had absolutely no control. But He did. He knew that I would need His peace, His shalom now. His timing is always perfect and ...