31 AugMISCARRIAGE

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MISCARRIAGE

January 5, 2001

My midwife talked to me about my situation here and suggested all the reason’s women bleed and complications with the pregnancy.  We were so hoping that it was a broken blood vessel on the cervix, may-be placenta previa, may-be a twin being expelled, may-be the baby is dead and my body is still fueling a placenta (polar mole) which really has to be watched. My strange bleeding could be a tubal pregnancy.  Been there, done that….have that tee-shirt. Do not want to go there again.

I was going to have blood work done today to see what my HTC levels are to see what we’re dealing with.  Things turned into a full scale miscarriage this morning and I rested all day.  I’ve never done this before and I don’t like it a bit.

I wish Michael could have come home from work and I cried off and on all day.  When Jacob (19) left for school tonight, he came in and kissed me and told me that he was so sorry for my loss.  I told him that I was sorry for his loss and he started to cry.  He whispered “I love you Mama” through tears and left for college.

Adam, (17) not really knowing how to handle it, grabbed his head, scratched and walked away.  Later tonight he came in and kissed me and told me that he loved me and walked away.  I don’t know if someone told him to do that or if he figured it out for himself.  Either way…I appreciate it.

Cayah (9) came in with her toy stethoscope to hear the baby again (a bedtime ritual).  She came in tonight and listened and said that she didn’t hear the baby anymore.

Miriam (3) pulled her shirt up and said she could listen to her baby because her baby didn’t die.

Nina (6) the hard nosed, hard headed tom-boy snuggled up under my covers tonight and laid her head on my stomach and whispered good-bye to the baby and cried quietly.  She kissed me and went to bed.

I didn’t want to have any more dead babies.  It’s all so exhausting and just I don’t know how to do it.  It’s been a horrible month;  Our sweet dog scruffy got hit by a car and died.  My 10 year old cat, Molly, died all by himself out in the barn.  Our entire herd of goats died horrible deaths by dogs and grief.  My best friend in Seattle, Dolores, died of colon cancer and my mom who doesn’t speak to me sent me the obituary, no words of comfort, just the newspaper write-up.   Now the new baby is gone and I never even got to feel her flutter.

I asked Michael if he knew what this baby’s name is and he called her Bethany Jewel.  It means our treasure that ascended to heaven.

The grief I feel is so pure.  It’s not angry or guilt ridden or frustrated or desperate.  It’s just pure sadness.  I’ve never known sadness like this before. It’s uncomplicated. Search me Adonia and know that I will serve You, even if you slay me.

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): MOTHERHOOD

13 JunELOHIM IS GOOD

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My girls were up in their bedroom and smelled something and saw smoke. A pillow had fallen on a night light and burned all the way through it in two places. The bulb was melted into the pillow stuffing. Miriam (7) saw it smoldering and slung the pillow off, spewing glass and sparks. She actually grabbed the nightlight with her hand and pulled it out of the wall and gave it a sling. When the girls brought the pillow and nightlight downstairs to show me, the nightlight was still hot. She wasn’t burned. Elohim is good.
A month ago, Cayah (13) fell out of the mulberry tree among ladders and logs and even a four foot rod sticking out of the ground. She didn’t break anything and didn’t land on anything. Elohim is good.
Last week my house was hit by lightning while I was on the phone. A bright, white ball of fire flew out of the jack and the phone popped and died. The phone was too hot to hold and the jack, wires, and the whole phone…including the receiver that I had to my ear were melted and fused together. It stunk like melting plastic. I didn’t get shocked. Lightening could have fried my brain and ruined my whole afternoon. Elohim is good.
Last night we heard a huge crash and Nina (10) screamed that Miriam had been electrocuted. Michael trompled me to get to her. She was sobbing on the couch. Seems she plugged in a nightlight (her job every evening) and got shocked. In her mad dash through the house, she tipped over a box of plates that are going to the Goodwill. She skinned her shin in her flight. She isn’t dead. Elohim is good.
I noticed that the receptacle that Miriam was shocked at didn’t have a forty two cent outlet cover on it. My husband was a licensed electrician. I asked him if he knew that receptacle didn’t have a plate. He said yes. I actually let him live. Elohim is good.

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to anyone to make copies either in part or in its entirety, as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): MOTHERHOOD

07 JunTED KENNEDY

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So, Edward Moore Kennedy outlived his eight brothers and sisters and has finally gone to receive his reward.  I wouldn’t want to be him for anything in the world.  What a man does with his life, and the character he develops in that life, is what even the pagans count as valuable. Character….ol’ Teddy didn’t have very much of it.

He was a man that was kicked out of Harvard University for cheating….even WITH the Kennedy wealth.  Can you imagine? With the amount of money that the family gave Harvard, what atrocities he actually got away with BEFORE he finally got kicked out and not just disciplined?  The la-cross rapists from Duke University come to mind.  Money does buy forgiveness.  Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University, where he helped establish the Institute of Politics, later gave him an honorary degree.

Then look at the lack of character he showed at Chappaquiddick Island.  It’s one thing to be driving drunk with his brothers political aid, leaving his own wife home with the children. But what kind of man wouldn’t even try to save his own lover from a submerged car?  He saved his own sorry self and contacted his lawyers before emergency workers to get her out. Now THERE’S a conversation I’d like to see….. “Drat!!  How are we going to explain her drowning in the passenger seat of the Kennedy Caddy?”  Back then, the Press didn’t bend to celebrity politics, which trumped qualifications and didn’t look so casually from the scandalous activities of the anointed.  If they had, Mary Jo Kopechne, would be a name like Vince Foster. Vince who?

After that, I assume he used all subsequent bimbo’s cars, rather than his own. Should anything like that happen again…he could get away with it. He later claimed that he was stressed and behaved poorly under pressure.  Just what America needs in leadership; men who behave badly under pressure.

A common thread from radio and television commentators this week has been that he was the Lion of the Left….he’s been consistently liberal…..no wishy-washy thinking in his voting record.  Oh….he was wrong ALL of the time…..THAT’S something to memorialize.

I remember hearing Senator Jesse Helms say, at a luncheon I attended, that he had the best and the worst job in the world.  He said that the best job was that he represented the people of the great state of North Carolina.  The worst was that he had to do it every day across from Ted Kennedy.

Bill O’Reilly, said that terrible things have been written on the internet and it’s inappropriate.  Ok…I’ll give him that.  There is something to be said about speaking ill of the dead and giving the mourners a chance to grieve.  Out of respect for them, we can be polite and not dance around singing ‘ding dong the bastard’s dead’.  Not this week, anyway.

The fact is, it was plenty appropriate to dance a bit when Saddam Hussein was executed for the crimes he committed against humanity.  That does give me pause, though.  I don’t see a difference between that and the fifty-five million pre-born people that have been systematically murdered that Ted Kennedy endorsed.  The only difference is someone heard the screams and someone saw the bodies….or not.

Most people believe there’s something in the Bible that says we’re not supposed to rejoice when someone stumbles or dies and goes to hell. I thought I’d genuinely try to let Elohim change my heart and feel bad for Ted’s demise. But Revelation 18:20 (The Message) says: “O Heaven, celebrate! And join in, saints, apostles, and prophets! Elohim has judged her; every wrong you suffered from her has been judged.”

Yeshua loved Ted Kennedy enough to die for him.  Sadly, Teddy wasted his life and unless something happened at the last minute, the Catholic Last Rights did not save him any more than Saddam actually got his twenty seven virgins.

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): POLITICS

07 JunCOLOR

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I’ve always been amazed about color. The first time I saw a color TV, I was at a neighbors as a kid. They were watching I Dream Of Jeannie and she was in her bottle. It was purple and gold….the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I may have been afraid I would never see such a sight again and I wanted to take it all in so I would never forget.

As I grew up, color even became more important to me because my world increasingly became black and white. An occasional act of kindness or moment of peace, in an otherwise unhappy existence, would bring a glimpse of color again and I would stop and take it all in….afraid I would never see color again.
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Alone in Europe with a baby no one wanted, planning my own demise, my sister sent me a box of apples with cheese from Harry and David. I remember sitting there for a very long time, holding the only color object in my world. The box was grey, the cheese was grey, my hands were grey. The apple was the most beautiful deep burgundy I had ever seen. I rolled it gently over and over from one hand to the other, watching the shape of it reflect darker burgundy in places. It was too beautiful to eat. I don’t remember eating it and I don’t remember any of the other apples being in color.
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Alone in Canada, every relationship of importance dying around me, my world was shades of dark and darker. A neighbor brought me a gladiola from her garden. It was the most beautiful apricot color. I didn’t put it in water, afraid that I would somehow change the magic and be back in a world with no color. I held that flower for a long time, soaking in the beauty of it….afraid I would never see that color again.
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My world became darker and darker and the shades of grey became nearly indistinguishable for me. When I surrendered to Yeshua in the battle for my eternity, He took me quietly from the throne room of the Most High God and entered into a world of color. I was like Dorothy in Oz…the door opened and she tells Toe-Toe that she didn’t think she was in Kansas anymore.
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The first week after my salvation into eternity, I drove down a long country road in the deep south. It was the first time I’d seen Spring in a place where trees bloom. I couldn’t take enough in. Pinks and purples and spring greens, yellows and reds. My new journey through Oz was fascinating and wonderful.
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We don’t see sunsets from my house because our home is nestled in the foothills of the mountains. When I am driving, I often see sunsets and I have been known to pull over to take it all in. I don’t dread or fear never seeing the colors again because I am confident that color will be a part of my life forever….because He lives.
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There have been many times over the years that I’ve opted to sit in the back of the pickup truck so I can see the sky…all of it…on days that the clouds are interesting or the storms are forming. I laugh at myself because southern men are stereotyped that their dogs sit up front in the cabs and their wives sit in the truck bed. I find myself needing the solitude of it and what I call color therapy…enjoying the wind and the big sky.
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I am fascinated with His color pallet and stand amazed and in awe with it. Just this week I had a piece of dehydrated fruit in my hand…the color so deep and perfect. I asked Michael what kind of fruit it was and mentioned that “Elohim made this color.” My family hears me say that all of the time. Fruits and vegetables, flowers, trees, fields of grains and grasses. The world around me and its colors intrigue me. A red bird, a ripe persimmon, the underbelly of a saddle worm…. “Elohim made this color.”
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I’m like a man that got his sight as an adult…never tired of the beauty of it all. I often wish I had the equipment and the knowledge to capture what I see on film. I have a library full of picture books….where I can appreciate other people’s treasures from the comfort of my own couch. I am so grateful for their sharing.

This morning, I was up way early…or still up from late….praying and fasting and fretting and grieving over my friend Kimberly. She is laying to rest the body of her five year old daughter, Victory Rose.

The state has removed her other six children from the home after the death and scattered them. She, like we do, believes in homeopathic remedies and prayer. They question her love and care for her own children. I cannot even fathom her pain. I wish I could go for a long ride and get centered in the middle of the heartache of it all. It’s been too cold and I’ve been too busy for the wind and big sky and color therapy…to enjoy Him and His world. My heart is broken and it takes my breath away.
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We see sunrises from my home. I’m not a morning person, so I don’t see many. The winter affords more of them than the summer because the leaves have fallen from the trees and gives us a clear view of the mountain range. The sun takes quite a while to peep up over those mountains sometimes and it puts on quite a show on clear days. I have a large picture window that I sit in front of with my morning coffee or I sit on the deck and wait for it on clear days.
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This morning my children called for me and asked me if I’d seen the sunrise and mentioned that it was beautiful. I walked to the living room to look out and was moved to tears over the beauty of it. I’d never seen a sky so magnificent. We were all quiet for a time and then I mentioned that I don’t think I’d ever seen that color before. What could it be? I took it in, trying to make it a part of me so I could duplicate it someplace in my house. I wanted that color surrounding me someplace and I wanted to see it again.

“Is it Morning Pink?” one of my Littles asked. “May-be”, says I…or “Morning Dawn”….we didn’t talk again…gazing in a dreamy state at the sky.

“Elohim made that color” I whispered. The children agree and we all got quiet again. I was afraid I’d never see it again…that perfect color…it was so peaceful and pure. Then I knew I’d never see it again and I began to weep…and tried to enjoy it and appreciate it.

“Elohim made this color”, I whispered again. The sun moved closer and the color got brighter, more vibrant…I felt my breathing become shallow and my heart began to ache and I was unable to speak.

Tears warmed on my face and my six year old slipped her hand in mine, aware that we were seeing something Divine.

“I know what color that is, Mama,” she said quietly. “Elohim made that color. It’s called Victory Rose.”>

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): SPIRITUAL STUFF

05 JunROSCOE

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Usually our dogs come from the pound. We wait for the dog pound guy to go away from the kill shelter and we go in and steal dogs or cats. One time we saved 16 dogs before he came back. We worm, wash, doctor, sterilize, train and love them and find them homes. Chester stayed. I liked her face. She was, like all the other dogs that stay at our house, a working dog. She was the watcher of the children and keeper of the goats. She instinctively knew her boundaries and took her job on the farm seriously.

All of the children were playing in the yard one day and Chester walked directly in front of an on coming car. She didn’t know what hit her. She didn’t even have any blood on her. She just looked like she was asleep, but she was gone. We cried and begged her to come back, but she stayed where ever it was that she went. Her body stayed warm for a long time while the children travailed with wailing and gnashing of teeth. The elderly man that hit her stood on the side of the road, ringing his hands and repeated that he was so sorry and that he didn’t even see her and that she ran right in front of him. Hitting a domestic animal is hard, but seeing the owners’ face when they endure that tragedy is even more horrible. When the owner is seven children, it must have been sheer torment for that guy. His wife later told me that he lost sleep over it.

After a full Protestant funeral, we were dogless. I watched as my children reacted. Some of them wanted to get another dog right a way. Some of them decided that they would never love again. After a few days, I felt as if we were dog-free rather than dog-less. My husband kept insisting that we needed a dog to keep an eye on the goats and the children when they were in the woods. I was torn. I personally oppose having an intelligent animal on a chain or in a pen, but I didn’t want another dog to face the same fate that poor old Chester did.

Three weeks after Chester’s death, the elderly gentleman brought us a puppy. He was a breeder of Australian Blue Heelers. He dropped off the dog and his papers and left. I didn’t know what to do with this dog. We’d never had a puppy before that didn’t have an older dog to train it, and to train it outside. In all honesty, I didn’t want another dog, and especially a dog in the house.

As all the children petted and babied the new puppy, I watched him interact with the them. The black raccoon type ‘bandit-mask’ around his eyes was so endearing. The more the children laughed, the more he played the clown. His soft black fur was ticked with light gray or blue fur. His ears were dark black, almost blue black and his legs were tan. He looked like a committee had designed him. His black eyes were rimmed in light blue and they moved in their sockets without having his head move, so I could see the whites of them as he gazed at the faces of my children. His docked tail wagged constantly. I fell in love with him in minutes.

I went to the library to get a book on how to train him before he had an accident in the house. I went to the store and got bowls, a leash, a collar, shot medications, toys, a crate /home, a bed, and puppy food. My free dog cost me over a hundred dollars. The only way I was going to take in this dog is if the ground rules were well established BEFORE he got too comfortable. There would be no barking, no public scratching, no recreational licking, no mouth breathing, no crotch sniffing, all four feet would remain on the floor and he would endure a weekly bath. He would not smell like a dog or act like a dog in the sense that most people’s dogs are obnoxious and rude.

I always tell the children that an animal will tell you what their name is if you give it a chance. Many times, I know animals that the owner calls something very different than its name. Animals are gracious to humans and will tolerate our ignorance in these matters. This puppy told me what his name was on the second day, but he was named something all together different. He didn’t seem to mind, so I didn’t mention it. Late at night when he sits with me while I study or read, I sing his real name to him and he knows that I know who he really is.

He was named Roscoe. It’s a strong southern name, with the redneck charm from the Dukes of Hazard. No pretense. He liked it too.

I found myself thinking about Roscoe when I was away from home. I purchased him things when I went shopping. I looked forward to bringing a new toy home and watch him appreciate it. I took him with me everywhere I could. He loved me best and he loved me unconditionally. He’s obedient and smart and reasonable. I couldn’t believe that I’d become one of THOSE people!!! I looked forward to getting up in the morning and taking him out. He’d stretch and take his time. He was never in a hurry. I didn’t mind. He was like an unruly little boy for several months and I enjoyed his trying to push the boundaries with me. He tried to be top dog and had to be reminded occasionally that he didn’t even out rank the baby. Our big orange tomcat, inappropriately named Molly, won’t back away from him. Roscoe has had several occasions where he’s ended up with a scratched nose or a bleeding eye from a run-in with Molly. He would never approach Molly while the cat was awake. His mishaps have happened when Roscoe has taken the risk to sniff Molly while he’s sleeping. He doesn’t misjudge the cat’s deep slumber anymore. There is only one thing on the whole farm that he’s top dog over and that’s the timid female kitty named Stormy. She runs and hides and hisses. Roscoe adores her. She hates him and he doesn’t know it.

The more I worked with Roscoe, the more I admired him. I knew at some point he’d be older than the rest of us and it wouldn’t be appropriate to discipline him harshly. We needed to work out our differences the sooner the better.

He didn’t mind waiting for the rest of us to get through a door first. He didn’t seem to see it as a subservient position. He took it upon himself to make sure we were all inside, safe and sound before he came through the door. If one of the children opens the door, he jumps up to follow them. It’s his job.

He is an incredibly reasonable creature. At nine o’clock PM, he makes sure the girls are tucked into bed and then asks to go out. Occasionally he’ll hang around the older boys in the evening for another hour or so. If he stays up, he yawns loud and long and looks at us like he’s bored to death and wants to know why we’re still awake. Every evening, sometime before eleven o’clock PM, he puts himself to bed. He simply walks into his crate and plops down in his bed. He snores and groans long luxurious moans when he shifts in his sleep. He’s tremendously comfortable in his own skin and seems to know that he’s a dog and we are his family. I’m honored to belong to a dog like Roscoe.

One night I was sitting on the couch, reading. Roscoe was lying next to me with his head in my lap. I was rubbing his wonderful soft ears. I was telling my husband how much I loved Roscoe and how for the first time in my adult life, I don’t have a longing for another baby. I felt like, for the first time in twenty years, and eleven children that I could be finished having babies and feel perfectly okay with it. My husband’s mouth dropped open and he bellowed, “YOU MEAN ALL I HAD TO DO IS GET YOU A DOG!!!!?”

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author

Category(s): PETS

24 MayTHANKSGIVING MEMORIES

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I wanted to pass along a tradition we have always done for thanksgiving and a new one that I’ve adopted since the older children have moved away.

First….I start the project with “Are you REALLY thank-ful?” The night before thanksgiving, I put an old dog eared picture of a starving child that I cut out of a National Geographic magazine thirty years ago, up on the refrigerator. I’ve put clear contact paper on it. The night before, the adults in the house and the older children eat one or two cups of prepared brown rice and tap water. No salt, no butter, no gravy. We go to bed hungry. I explain to the children how many people go to bed hungry every night, in the world and how blessed we are to have food. The next morning as we’re rushing around fixing a feast, we eat another cup or two of brown rice and drink tap water for breakfast. The smells of the cooking are torture. No nibbling. We do eat early rather than in the evening but that little starving face is our companion in the kitchen and when we sit down at what has always been an abundance of food, we are grateful.

Since most of the older children have grown and left home and only come home for thanksgiving or a feast meal-holy day that is equivalent, one of the complaints I’ve heard is that they don’t have left-overs to raid the fridge over in the middle of the night. Leftovers are the best part.

So….as a blessing to my older kids…I make a full thanksgiving dinner a few days before they come and I distribute it among them in disposable dishes when they leave. At first I collected whipped cream bowls and butter dishes over the year but the price of nice plastic Glad bowls has come down to where I can afford them.

The younger children decorate the large paper bags for the occasion. Many stores like Lowes foods have nice paper bags with handles. I don’t have an extra refrigerator anymore so as I fill up the fridge with the ingredients of the next feast, I put the stacking dishes in several coolers with non-wet ice. It’s easy to load up the food in the stacking containers and everyone of the families go home with turkey, two kinds of dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes, yummy green stuff, pumpkin pudding, banana pudding, apple salad, green bean casserole, olives, pickles, bread and cranberry sauce. It’s my gift to them….left overs! Now they can have Mama’s cooking on a midnight raid at their own house. I can help make memories for them even after they move away.

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to anyone to make copies either in part or in its entirety, as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): MOTHERHOOD

11 AprPOLITICALLY CORRECT

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I’m so tired of political correctness. In this country, it’s politically incorrect to say anything negative about anyone except white men, fat people, blonds, southerners and Christians. I’m a spirit filled, over-weight, bottle blond from the deep-south! I have a target on my chest!

The political and social climate in this country is exhausting and I just don’t know why someone won’t stand up and say ‘enough’. Some minority is always getting offended and trying to make an example of someone’s poor judgment…demanding apologies and insisting on ‘their job!!’

Al Sharpton gets his black panties in a wad and everyone scurries to save their careers. Jumping through the hoops that the black community puts out there are ridiculous and exhausting and I’m just tired of it all. I’m not in any way saying that anyone should be rude and crude and degrading to any other human being but come on! What’s wrong with personal opinion and freedom of speech? If you think it’s un-acceptable for some guy to call a women’s basketball team that is predominately black: “Nappy ho’s” then don’t listen to his program or boycott the advertisers and let them know that you aren’t purchasing their product! The Al Sharpton politically correct Gestapo squad is getting tiresome and a bit scary that he and his cohorts are getting away with it. He and Jesse Jackson DO NOT represent the whole black community and history will see them as the “McCarthers” of our time.

Let’s take this ridiculous standard to the furthest logical conclusion: Rosey O’Donnell…a hetero-phobic cow, (Read Amos 4:1) looking for every opportunity to jump on any words or actions that would imply a negative response to homosexual behavior or their perceived “rights”…attacked Kelly Rippa for rebuking a guest on her show for putting his hand over her mouth while she was talking. It was clearly rude and disrespectful and Kelly was obviously offended. She attempted to lighten the situation by saying: “I don’t know where that hand has been” in an attempt to help all of them ’save face’ and make fun of a tense situation. Since Rosey’s mind went directly to the toilet and assumed that hand of her gay friend had been on his or someone else’s penis…she publicly rebuked Kelly. It was hetero-phobic and she got away with it. Do you know why? Because straight, heterosexual people are open game in this country.

Since on I’m on a roll and Rosie is up front…then let me mention her public and primetime comment about Christians…blaming Christianity for the ills of the world! She actually said Christianity was more dangerous than Al Qaeda. What was more disturbing is that her audience clapped. Why? Because Christians are open game…it’s completely acceptable to bash a Christian or conservative standards or opinion and no one balked.

Howard Stern can look at a centerfold and say the most filthy things on television that I wouldn’t dare repeat here and I can turn the channel or not purchase the items advertising on his show but no one complains that it’s degrading to women in general?

A black man can harass a professional comic during his routine and provoke him to rage but the white man grovels and begs Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton for his career when he uses the unholy “N” word during his angry response? Hey…party of five on the upper level….how about shutting up and letting the comedian do his job and if you don’t think he’s funny…drink your drink and be respectful of the white guy who is working down on the stage! I’m sure a grown up can be still for five minutes….no matter how bored or spoiled. Of course this doesn’t even begin to mention that a black comedian could be spewing the “N” word with wild abandon and the audience is allowed to laugh.

Forgive me if I’m using the “black” word in my writing here. We white people were told to use ‘black’ back in the sixties…remember the ‘black is beautiful’ campaign? Negro was out…black was in. Well…I’m told it’s “African American” now. What’s wrong with just being American or People? Should I insist that I’m called ‘Caucasian’ or Anglo-American? Or should I be offended that I’m not labeled as German-Irish American? Since America is the ‘great melting pot’ it’s hard to make a real distinction after we’re melted together. Separate but equal didn’t work when the white racists enforced it and it doesn’t work when the African American racists enforce it.

I just don’t understand it. Could we have Anglo Colleges for just white people? We have black colleges….that get federal funding. And what’s up with the Negro College Fund? Why haven’t they changed that name if it’s so offensive?

I’m in no way implying that African Americans shouldn’t be proud of their history and their accomplishments and they should teach their children perseverance and dignity of all races and religions, just as Jewish Americans and Italian Americans and Chinese Americans…..

I’m also not saying there hasn’t been injustices and hardship along the way….but for gosh sakes….they aren’t the only people that have had it rough! The Jews were in slavery for hundreds of years and there isn’t a lobby to get restitution from the Egyptian government! They aren’t teaching their children that someone owes them something because they are Jews!

The Al Sharptons and Jesse Jacksons are crippling another generation of black children by instilling a ‘you owe me’ attitude in them. The righteous indignation that fueled the movement for equality forty years ago has been tweaked into a political machine that has become increasingly destructive to the black community.

The Irish immigrants, the Native Americans, the boat people from Cambodia….the Mexicans looking for a better life today!! Let’s get real! Life is too short to keep your political sensibilities so fragile. The opportunities of this great country are still available to those that work hard and light a candle instead of demanding that someone else light it for you while you curse the darkness.

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): POLITICS

11 AprTHE LEGACY GROUP

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My friend, Jill, called last week and asked me to attend a graduation from a class she’d been taking in Raleigh. I was honored and told her I’d love to go. She suggested, since it was so far away, that we meet for a late lunch and later I stay the night at her house and we’d spend the next day together.

I had a friend come get my girls to spend the night and my adventure began. I asked Jill what kind of class it was and she said that ‘she’d had her heart ripped out, twisted and stomped only to have the Lord put it back in a nice white box’…..

Wow! Says I….I want some of that!

We arrived at a large, professional looking building with The Legacy Institute on the front. The parking lot was full and people mingled and talked and hugged each other and introduced their old friends to their new friends. Jill’s daughter, Michaela was there and we met up with her friend Pat.

Michaela seemed to know what was going on and had that shiny animated look that many of the others had. Pat and I became increasingly uncomfortable and our eyes flitted toward each other, wondering what was going on. The graduates got name tags in yellow and their guests got name tags in purple. I’d never been to a graduation where I filled out a card with my personal information and had to wear a name tag before.

I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked Jill to speak to us privately and pulled her to a quiet corner. I asked her again what kind of class she’d graduated from and what was going on. She said she’d never graduated before from these classes and had no idea. I told her that she had to answer four questions before I’d agree to stay.

‘One’, says I….’am I going to have to eat the head off of a chicken?’

‘Ohhhhhhhh Emma’ she assured…..’nooooooo!! Don’t be silly. Not on your first visit!’

‘Two….is anyone going to have snakes?’

‘Ohhhhhhh Emmmmmmmma…….you make me laugh……of course not!!’

‘Three…..is there going to be hugging? Because I hate hugging and no one is going to touch me…right?’

‘Ohhhhhhhh Emma…..no one is going to touch you unless you want them tooooo!!’

‘Four and final question: Is this an Amway meeting?’
‘Oh Emma…I know you’re kidding……..’

I stopped her and made her look me square in the face and tell me honest to God that this is not an Amway meeting.

‘No! Of course not’, says she….

Pat and I were satisfied and we entered the large room full of chairs. We sat in the back and of course they jammed the people in and took out all the empty chairs and made us move to fill in the space. I’ve been in sales a long time and I knew exactly what they were doing and I didn’t like it a bit. Peer pressure is an effective selling technique and people will participate in things they wouldn’t do with space around them. Look at any worship service in a church. The group up front and in close contact is more likely to raise to their arms and close their eyes and cry than those isolated in the back.

A speaker spoke for a few minutes about our futures and what would we do if we didn’t have obstacles and what would those obstacles be? People yelled out “Money!!” “Kids!” “Job” etc while she wrote a list on a dry erase board. Then she said that those obstacles would still be in our lives five years from now and the goals we thought five years ago that we’d have now would simply be ten years further away….BUT!! The answer was right here folks…right here in River City…and it starts with T that rhymes with P that stands for POOL…POOL…POOL!!

Oh, I digress. The speaker was good….been there…done that.

Then the speaker announced that the graduates were going to leave the guests and have their final session and we schmucks were going to stick around and have a taste of the freedom-making program that has made our friends all shiny and sparkly. All those with yellow name tags were to leave and we were assured that they would return in twenty minutes. I grabbed Jill’s wrist in a death grip and told her I wanted the car keys. She tried to pull away and I didn’t loosen my grip. I was serious.

Jill left to go to wherever they took the graduating class and I didn’t see her again for two and a half hours.

The staff came away from the wall and began hauling away all of the unused chairs and shifted people further and tighter toward the front of the room. I whispered to Pat…”.we’re touching strangers…I don’t like this!”

The speaker shared her testimony of how lost and lonely she was back when she got her doctorate at Harvard and day in and day out she’d do research on chicken embryos’. I whispered with a note of panic to Pat: “Oh geez….there ARE chickens involved!” She giggled and told me to hush. I whispered….”aren’t chicken embryo’s called eggs?” She bit her lip and looked away.

It was like a church service with testimonials of change and happiness and fullness of joy…..of the staleness without the Lord and finding truth and light and the American way and never being the same….but she didn’t find it with Jesus…she found it at the Legacy Institute.

Now, for many folks that would be crazy enough, but I’ve been around the bend a few times and if I can sit in a room full of midwives that breath back into mother earth the energy we took from her that day and moan ‘and mode it be’ or some such weirdness…than I can sit and listen to someone spout the freedoms of the Legacy Program. I mean…God’s principals work. Positive attitudes and positive thinking and not dwelling on the negative works….with or without Christ. Treating people the way you want to be treated works. Living simply and loving deeply and laughing loudly works. God’s Word won’t come back void…no matter what headline it falls under. Christians certainly don’t have a monopoly on love. The Word says that a heathen wouldn’t give their child a scorpion when they ask for a fish…or give them a stone when they ask for bread.

Let’s just say I’ve learned to chew and spit. I can take things and sift them through Scripture and apply it to my life…..you know…as long as they don’t invade my space and get personal….and hug me or something.

About that time the speaker said that we were going to break up into triads and dyads. Now for those of you, like me, that didn’t know what that was…that means we were going to break up in groups of two and three. We couldn’t be with anyone that we knew before and each group had to have one graduate of the course and was now a trainer. Those people rose to their feet and they were peppered throughout the room…wearing purple name tags.

So…they looked like guests and they acted like guests and they smelled like guests and they wore purple name tags like guests and they were among us and we thought they were guests…..BUT THEY WERE TRAINERS!! They weren’t purple name tagged people at all!!

I saw the horror and fear in Pats eyes and I could give her no comfort because I was horrified and fearful too. I ended up sitting with a small framed man in his sixties. He wore a suit and tie and was well groomed. He reminded me of Barney Fife. We were told to touch knees. Pat looked at me and started laughing. “HE’S TOUCHING ME!!” was written all over my face.

The first instructions were to look deeply into the other person’s eyes…the window to the soul…. and tell that person with my eyes who I am and where I’ve been and where I’m going. Then I was to see in his eyes where he’s been and where he’s going. The speaker asked if we’d made an opinion about that person by the way they looked or their clothes or their gender. I thought, “Well…he’s a waffle…I wonder if he can see in
my eyes that I think he’s like breakfast food?”

If that wasn’t uncomfortable enough….Then the speaker said that we were suppose to tell the other person in forty five seconds, if we could have a magic wand, where and what we would be doing in five years. I was completely stumped. I had no idea. I didn’t have a clue even where I’d be living next week and I’d been in limbo for several years. I couldn’t see past getting out of that room and I wanted out in a real way!!

My dyad partner was instructed to encourage me for the forty five seconds while I was going to have to tell him my plans…..GO!! The room burst into noise and I leaned way back in my chair and Barnie Fife leaned forward in my face. I casually said that may-be in five years it would be nice to have a few of my books out there so I didn’t have to keep repeating myself and teaching the same things over and over…but I didn’t want anyone to know who I was or where I was. I said it slowly and with conviction. All the while he was leaning in and yelling at the top of his lungs in my face: “I BELIEVE IN YOU!! I BET YOU’RE A GREAT WRITER!! I CAN’T WAIT TO GET ALL OF YOUR BOOKS!! I’LL BUY EVERY ONE AND GET THEM FOR MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY!!! I BELIEVE YOU’RE A KIND AND WONDERFUL PERSON AND IT WILL BE A PLEASURE TO READ YOUR BOOKS!”

Well….I hadn’t been so shocked and uncomfortable since that evangelist decided I was going to dance for the Lord many years ago. I was pinned to the lunacy by my knees and couldn’t even do a little bunny hop out of the room!

Before I could get my bearings and composure, the speaker yelled stop and told us to tell our partner AGAIN our hopes for the future, but his time convince them while they respond in the negative. GO!!! I sputtered a bit and said again in the same casual voice that it would be nice if in five years some of my books were available to people so I didn’t have to repeat myself all of the time. This time he was in my face yelling: YOU CAN’T WRITE A BOOK! NO ONE WILL READ THAT GARBAGE!! WHO CARES WHAT YOU THINK!!!

My heart was pounding and the fight/flight mechanism was in full swing. I was either going to lung for the little weasel’s throat or run out of the room. I looked at the doors and two purple tagged wolves were standing in front of each of them. Then without time to get my heart slowed down, we were told to ‘go over the top’ and convince that person that nothing is going to stand in the way of the goal and tell them again what you’ll be doing in five years but this time your partner is going to ignore you GO!!!

The room exploided again into the din of people yelling. I said again that in five years I’d like to see my books published so I wouldn’t have to repeat everything over and over but I’d have to have complete privacy and do it without anyone knowing who I am. He yawned and looked at his watch and looked around the room.

Then the table was turned. It was his turn to tell me his goals and plans and it was my turn to yell encouragements, forty five seconds GO!! Then to listen to him for forty five seconds and insult and discourage him GO! Then listen to him and ignore him…. Forty-five seconds GO!

He jumped in my face and started yelling that he was going to be helping people in Washington DC with his adult daughters, blah, blah, blah. I didn’t care. I really didn’t care.

I thought I was going to applaud for my friend as she walked across a stage and graduate from something important to her. I came for the food, doggone it!! I didn’t know this man and I didn’t want his knees touching my knees and I really didn’t care what he was going to do in five years.

But, I am a good sport…if nothing else…..so even though I didn’t have a word to say to him, I smiled and nodded at him in a positive manner. I looked like Bob on the Enzyte commercials with that stupid grin. Then it was stop and go again and I was supposed to respond in the negative. All I could do is grin that same stupid grin but frown with my eyebrows furrowed…gritting my teeth trying to hold on for forty five seconds. Then it was ignore time and I fumbled through my purse while he shared his goals and dreams and a sadness washed over me and tears welled up in me. When the speaker yelled stop he asked me if I was alright. I told him no….that I would NEVER ignore someone or discourage someone when they shared their goals and dreams with me, if I cared for them or not and I resented having to do that to anyone…even a stranger.

He assured me that it was ok and that I had a big heart. I asked if I was allowed to leave to go to the bathroom. The two purple wolves moved aside and I went to the ladies room. A woman wolf followed me and asked if I was alright. I told her yes…that I just needed to pee and asked her if that was ok. I had had enough. The staff member was standing outside of the bathroom after I used the facilities and she escorted me back into the room. There would be no escape to the car.

When I returned to the room, the speaker was driving home the importance of the program and if we didn’t do this class we’d be in the same dead end spot we’re in now in five years and our only hope for freedom and light in our future was to sign up now and go through the program. Of course the three levels; basic, advanced and leadership were all available at the low-low price of $26.95. Its basic course is five days and nights…ending at midnight each night. Ahhh…sleep deprivation…that’s what cults do. It’s used as a means of torture and the Geneva Convention forbids it but it’s effective and breaks people down and allows them to do things they usually wouldn’t do.

The speaker continued…how important this is to finish….that we’re all doomed and lost and broken heaps of dog dung and life will keep us down without the skills she can teach us for the low-low price of $26.95! BUT WAIT! Tonight…if we sign up for the whole program in the next ten minutes…we could get all three programs for the ridiculously low price of only $19.95!!

Then I got a clearer picture of the prices. She said, “The person that brought you here tonight has been given a gift certificate for their guest for $695.00 but it can only be used tonight! Then I realized that the program was $2,695!! Not twenty six dollars and ninety five cents! Good grief…I’m in the wrong dern business!!

Barnie and his friends began the sales push….just what would it take to sign up tonight? What would get in the way? Money, kids, job, etc. Those things have to take a back seat…we’re doing this for them…it’s important that we get our goals and dreams lined up so we can be better people for our boss and our family and for ourselves! I let him finish his caring response to my future and I said that I had four children in Virginia that were homeless…that right now finding a roof to cover them was more important than my well being….but thanks. My kids are part of the trickle down dysfunction in my life and they’ve survived it for years and another year or so won’t hurt. It shut him up.

Three more people stopped me before I escaped the room wanting me to sign up for the course. I found Pat in the lobby and we hugged and I clung to her arm….yep…they’d done a number on me…I was touching!!

We looked for Jill and started to laugh about the weirdness we’d been suckered into. We agreed that we’d find Jill and pounce on her from opposite sides and yell: “INTERVENTION!!!”

We looked in the woman’s bathroom and I told her about being followed by one of the wolves with the purple name tag. I noticed on the back of the toilet that there was a nice basket with a few feminine napkins and tampons and tissue. There was also a Dixie cup with fresh ground coffee in it. I have no idea why it was there….someone may have just left it there. I slam
med open the door and yelled at Pat in the mirror, “DON’T DRINK THE COFFEE!!” We cackled and howled. A staff member came in and asked if we were alright…they could hear us laughing in the lobby. I told Pat that they just wanted to know which one of us was going to lay the egg!! See….there ARE chickens involved!!”

We found Jill and agreed to act nice and share in whatever joy it was that she’d found though we certainly didn’t get it.

On the way home I asked Jill exactly what she learned in those five horrible, heart wrenching days where her heart was ripped out and twisted and stomped and God put it back in with a nice white box?

She paused and tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to speak. She finally said that she’d spent her whole life being late…it was part of the Hispanic culture…that everyone was late! I told her that being Mexican didn’t have a thing to do with it…that home schoolers are all late too! She got a dreamy look over her face like something mystical and wonderful had happened to her and she was an ascended creature now….someone of deeper understanding and thought. She said that she’d learned that it wasn’t ok to be late all of the time. It wasn’t ok to make people wait….

I thought…dern…I could have told you that for twenty bucks and saved you a fortune!!

I whispered to Pat when we dropped her off at her house in the wee hours of the morning, “I’d have rather been to an Amway meeting!”

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): MIDNIGHT MADNESS

11 AprWHAT’S UP WITH BRITTNEY?

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What’s up with Brittney spears? Like who cares? Well I only have one lousy channel on TV….Michael insists I know the news and weather so I’m not caught off guard. Anyway…sleaze TV on NBC is my cross to bear.

So Brittney shaves her head (makes sure the press can see in the salon and gets more painful tattoos. It’s no secrete that she hates herself. We’re all on some level of self loathing and self destruct. It’s the human condition without Christ.

She cried and said she wanted to be left alone. I don’t blame her. So, says I…why doesn’t she stay home and take care of her kids? There’s no news in that and they’ll leave her alone. I saw Liz Taylor interviewed and she was asked…as a child star herself…does she have anything to say to Brittney Spears? Liz said, “Well…she doesn’t have to party every night!”

My kids screamed, “That’s what you said.” Yep…Liz and me…great minds think alike. We’re both shocked that we ended up fat old ladies with bad hair, too.

My kids stood at my door and watched sleaze TV (entertainment tonight) and saw Brittney go berserk at those predators with cameras. She hit the car with an umbrella. I yelled at the TV: “Go for the windshield wiper!!! The windshield wiper!!”

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): EMMA'S THOTS

11 AprWHAT DO I LOOK FOR IN A CHURCH?

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I look for a spirit filled group that isn’t involved in the toxic faith movements’ horse and pony show. (If anyone takes off their coat and starts hitting people with it….I’m outta there!!)

I look for misfits. Churches where everyone has biological family (especially that go to that church) will never actually include an outsider in anything other than church functions. It’s lonely…so I look for other groups that don’t have family….they need a spiritual family….and so do I.

I look at the nursery program. If they are blackmailing folks to keep the nursery and everyone HAS to keep the nursery, or else…then there is something wrong with the very foundation of the fellowship. Remember that what we do with the least of these is how we are treating Christ.

I look for at least a few individuals (preferably in leadership) that see the calling as fishers of men…not aquarium keepers. They both work with fish….but one is hard, nasty work; getting their righteous fingers dirty in other peoples broken lives and the other is caring for fish in a controlled environment.

I look for a music program that doesn’t manipulate the emotions of the people. Anyone can be manipulated through music to believe the Holy Spirit is moving. How a fellowship worships WITHOUT the band is an indication of what’s really going on. The band should be a perk….a means to an end….a training ground for real personal worship. If it’s only an emotional high and the fellowship doesn’t fall into the same kind of praise during the services where the band is absent….then the band has failed the people.

And last but certainly not least….I check out the pot lucks. You can learn a lot about folks at a pot-luck. So far, in my vast experience over nearly 30 years…..the Holiness Pentecostals have it…but the Baptists are a close second.

© Copyright Notice: Permission is hereby granted to make copies as long as Emma Marlow is properly cited/credited as the author.

Category(s): EMMA'S THOTS
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