As humans, we have collectively fought the odds of survival. Whether from climate, disease, or abandonment. Surviving is something we do! Going beyond survival; thriving after is vexing; trusting our unseen Creator’s voice and guidance, after defeat or mistreatment, becomes the real test of valor.
We rely on our thoughts to be self-generated and a reliable guide. It seems as natural as breathing to believe our thoughts are safely generated by us and intended for our own good. We act off of our thoughts or when feeling inadequate, will lean towards co-dependency, attempting to draw strength from another person. believing without them survival may not be possible.
Are you doubtful that true inner peace can be found?
Abuse, incest, neglect, trafficking, rape all invades us. Our minds are flooded with fear, terror, isolation, pain, and threats of death. But more than this! We ingest messages that no one cares, no one can be trusted, God has let us down. Perhaps you believe you are ugly, useless, unteachable, destined for poverty, disgrace and loneliness because you are of no value or unlovable. Our very soul, our very essence hides or feels as if it has been ripped loose from us.
An account in Exodus finds Moses’ people grumbling at their accommodations in the wilderness. They are in the wilderness due to rebellion and yet Moses cries out to God, asking to supply them with food and water. He is instructed by God to strike his staff on the rock and water would flow. Did they need another intervention, another miracle? Well, the folks who drank from this streaming rock had already been rescued from slavery, through a parted sea! They continued to worship other gods-idols, and so remained dissatisfied, demanding, and disloyal to the Creator of all. Boy-oh-boy, if we saw such a miracle would we not believe in that God?
Spiritual Bondage and dissatisfaction go hand in hand. The shadow of death entices us to desire things that will lead us to dissatisfaction and death. The very things we desire; turn against us if not from God. Allow me to take you back to when I was wandering in the wilderness.
I am a particular flavor of bold personality, the type that is not well-liked in some environments. Take, for example, a well-established hierarchical-based company that relies on its employees not seeing, the whole picture in order to remain in their jobs. Indeed, I am not very well-liked there because I am a Disruptor. I speak the truth no one else there dares to speak due to its disruptive nature. I can’t help it. That’s what I do. Even my mom tells me this frequently, although when she does it comes with negative connotations.
I am a bonafide boomer. yet my mind draws on nostalgic thinking of the good old days. Coming from the rural south, my experiences reflected more of the late forties lifestyle, kerosene lamps, space heaters. Any convenience was manufactured out of wood, tin, or iron. Stainless steel and chrome were the new darlings in industry and clockwork.
As if a Jack-in-a-Box opened its lid, the fragments of a young girl’s life were now being exposed refusing to stay dormant and silent. Therapists far and wide have seen enough to identify the Lady Jayne, part of me as the “Child Within”. A young girl, so damaged she had forgotten to grow up was trying to be heard. When I started the AA program and was offered literature from a friend on the subject, I must admit I foo-fooed the idea. Child within? Nonsense! Well before you foo-foo it, allow Lady Jayne to tell her tale.
Living on a Missouri farm in a township that should be named ’Middle of Nowhere’, days go on endlessly for a child. There are daily chores and school activities with each day running into the next. Some days are more memorable if a windstorm comes through and we must scramble to bed all the animals. Even the long snow day that begins near Thanksgiving and ends in February, if we are lucky, becomes mundane. How many days of sledding and cocoa can a child actually enjoy?
1966 I was 9, the year before, my Mom had found a way to convince my Dad to bring us up north to live and then she separated from him. The year would consist of him showing up drunk and unannounced, shattering glass with a bloody hand and head peering in. Mom is beaten, furniture and dishes were broken, until we moved to a house where the Dad did not tolerate violence or destruction, then mother and I settled into a brief period of calm.
A mile south of town center in a sleepy town in southern Ohio, the road passes the county fairgrounds then dips forty feet or so into a valley of rich farmland. Face on, the house resembled a child’s face, two large second-story windows with metal awnings for eyelids and the front door centered for a surprised look. The porch is simple wood planks a nearly flat roof with four unturned wooden posts.
In the postwar ’50s, modern appliances came into being with a promise to ease the backbreaking chores of homemaking. A vacuum , dishwasher, microwave, and a telephone all came with the promise of more leisure time; to rest, go out of the house, to drive, or look for more fulfilling work.
Fast-forward, I sit at my kitchen table-dishwasher emptied and loaded by 7 am- coffee dripped- Eggo popped-I consume calories while connecting my Bluetooth to my ear. First phone call by 8 am, then shower, dress and place luggage on the porch to wait for the cab.