The End Could Be Here Tomorrow! Are You Saved?

“Are you saved? Are you born again?” These are questions asked by mostly well-meaning people worried about the status of your soul.  I understand the concern, but…

What is it exactly we are being “saved” from? Is it the big sin the bible says Adam and Eve started mankind with? So is God a masochist? I mean think about it, he gave them free will, and not only created the tree of knowledge of good and evil but had it growing in the middle of the garden with them.  He then peaked their human curiosity (curiosity he gave them) by forbidding them from eating from it, and apparently added a talking snake into the mix for shit and giggles.

Wasn’t it also God that said they would surly die from even touching the tree of good and evil?  Which to me seems a bit of a fib considering there are over 7 billion people on earth that would not be here had that been true. Although I suppose semantically it could be said that he meant they would be kicked out of Eden and dead to him, but then why did he not just say that?  It was actually the snake who told the truth, they did not actually die and apparently gained knowledge of good and evil just like he said they would.

Jesus is the savor sent by God and nailed on a cross in unbearable pain for three days to pay for some crap two people apparently started 100’s of generations prior to his birth.  Again, it is a bit masochistic, especially considering he did nothing wrong in the eyes of God.  Regardless, this selfless act by Jesus opened the door for salvation.  By asking him into your heart and adding a little water (or a lot, depending on which of the 1000 or so denominations one follows) you are “born again” with “Christian” attached to your name and a guaranteed ticket into heaven.

I am not saying that is not true, but then what is the point of God’s judgement?  Is this how the conversation for “Christians” go when they get to the pearly gate??

Angel: Name please.

Soul: Joe Blow-Christian.

Angel:  Okay Joe Blow, I see you have lied your way up the corporate ladder and cheated on your wife with your neighbor’s 17-year-old daughter.  You also called the police on a homeless pregnant prostitute to have her removed from the sidewalk in front of your building, though you did give her 20 bucks for her services the week prior. Wow, I could go on and on, thank God you are a Christian. 

Joe Blow-Christian: No shit.

Angel: Well, as you know you still have God’s judgment coming, let me check something…Yep, just like the Christian before you, you’re grounded for your first two weeks in Heaven, no TV or video games during that time.

Joe Blow-Christian:  Are you freaking serious? Awe come on man, can’t you do something I’m gonna miss the Big Brother season finale.

Angel: Well, I see you did spend an hour in church each week, so we can release the restrictions on the TV, but still no video games for two weeks.  (:

Why do people add “Christian” to someone they are recommending I use for some kind of service.  It’s always like… “Oh, use my mechanic Joe Blow, he’s a Christian you know.” Sometimes I want to say, “First, nope I did not know that.  Second, I so do not care and I have no clue what gave you the idea I would, especially considering I worship Satan.”  (;

Just once I would love to do that, the look would be priceless.  However, even though I don’t care if someone is a Christian or not I don’t really worship Satan and I am not that big of an asshole so I will never say it out loud.  It will have to remain an inside joke between The Big Guy upstairs and me.

I am sure what I said could be considered blasphemy in some religious circles concerned about saving souls from the big sin, and I mean no disrespect.  Ultimately I respect everyone’s right to believe in anything they want, I am just saying sometimes people need to open their minds. If you follow anything blindly you might walk off a cliff, follow what Jesus actually did and walk this earth in truth and love and you might be amazed at what is out there. 

Coffee Talk Between God and Jesus

Sitting down with a white chocolate mocha (extra shot) he could hear the whispers and feel the eyes following him….

“Jesus, son, what is it with all the looks?  You would think no one has ever seen me, even though I am everywhere, including in all of them.”

“I don’t know Dad, maybe it’s the coffee you are drinking.  I am pretty sure that is against one or two of the man made rules in 10 or 20 of the religions that have been created in the past 2000 years.”

“I guess it is a good thing I thought it better to meet you for coffee at Starbucks instead of the Golden Eagle Bar for happy hour, although it would be fun to turn all the water into Jägermeister.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re funny Dad. I am not sure why so many think you are always so serious and that you don’t have a sense of humor.  I mean they were all created from you, by you, so it goes to follow that they are you and they can be pretty comical at times.”

“So tell me son, how did mankind take your simple message of love and truth and turn it into this shit show?  The hypocrisy in the religions that have been created in my name could not be more evident, and yet they follow it like drones who are not capable of having an individual thought.  Why would I care if the Sabbath is on Saturday, Sunday, or Wednesday? When or how a member of the human race dunks an other’s head in water is really of no importance, other than maybe the fact the one being dunked ends up with clean hair.  Ha ha, I could go on and on with that, but you know what I mean”

“And I do understand that your brother is running around creating chaos that is causing frustration and pain for mankind but he hasn’t broken the law of free will.  Actually,  he seems to have taken the idea of  “the devil is in the details” and used it to his advantage as no one seems to pay attention to what they are agreeing to anymore, and I can’t fault him for that.  So many are mindlessly searching for validation and recognition on social media, while being bombarded with ads that ultimately make them feel a lack for what they think they need and don’t have. What I don’t understand is that it is just as easy to go outside and spend some mindless time with me.  The stars above their heads, the earth at their feet, the animals by their sides are my ‘details’, and nothing is lacking or hidden for those who walk in love and seek the truth.”

“I am not sure how many of them can handle the truth Dad.  Maybe we should just thin out the veil a little bit at time as most are are so sound asleep dropping it all at once would cause a mass freak out, that is unless we actually did turn all the water into Jägermeister . Ha ha, see Dad, the apple does not fall far from the tree”

“Nope Jesus, it sure doesn’t, see you tonight at the Eagle, first round’s on me. :)”

 

Demons Drinking In His Head

He was slumped over, the brass buckle coming to rest on the silver hair that covered his head.  The cracked wooden bar hung above a pile of shirts, stained with his blood from the failed attempt to cut deep enough.  The leather strap tied in a knot had broken in two from the strain, his dead weight pulling on it for days.  A black tee-shirt and grey gym shorts were all that covered him, as his body started to decompose, in the tiny closet of his small run down studio apartment.

He had been sober for over a year, a fact no one knew about until it was too late to tell him, “congratulations”.  The struggle with alcohol had been seen as a character defect in his ironically addicted filled family, with most of them cutting contact with him years ago.  He knew he was an alcoholic, and during that year of sobriety knew that one drink would be the start of the end.

His last year had been filled with  hope and a happy optimism for the chance to once again have the accomplishments he craved.  His ability to make something from nothing had been acquired from the success and many failures he had experienced in his 63 years.  Four years of struggling with homelessness and  a year of not drinking had changed his definition of what he considered success and what it meant to have it all.

No longer was a Porsche wanted, just anything that would get him to his destination. The dream of buying a condo with cash no longer mattered, just the peace of mind knowing his weekly rent was paid. Having enough quarters to wash the few clothes he owned had replaced the desire to pick from a sea of garments covered in plastic from the local dry cleaner.  The ability to pick up dinner from a hole in the wall Mexican food place once a week, would have been the icing on his chocolate cake.

Sadly, a summer that had started with such promise had turned into a fall with too many disappointments.  The many hurts, and too much suffering, had crushed his fight to “keep punching the bag “‘, as he liked to say.  The pain unbearable, he walked across the street, knowing the purchase he was about to make would be the beginning of his end.

Days following his first drink, had been filled with unsuccessful attempts to reach out to the family that had turn their backs.  E-mails written, never to be sent.  Phone calls made, never to be answered.  Misunderstandings clouded with stubbornness and greed would continue to linger, the guilt never to be lifted.  He would remain alone with the demons screaming in his head.

His heart had been kind and generous, always giving what he was able…money, time, advice, friendship, encouragement, laughter…He was loved greatly, and forever remembered by the ones he left behind.

Mom, I Am All Adventured Out..

Growing up I was blessed with being able to travel with my maternal grandparents several times a year.  Ranging anywhere from Disneyland and Sea World to camping and boating.  I was with my grandparents at  Lake Powell the day it was considered officially full in June of 1980. Lake Powell is my favorite place in the world and the resting place of my grandparents.

Except for the times my grandfather flew us in his Cessna, vacations were usually started with a Bronco pulling a trailer or a boat name The Beverly Anne II.  The drive was usually long enough for something to leak, break, fail, catch fire, or blow out along way.  Adding  adventure long before we were screaming at the darkness in Space Mountain

It was my grandmother who gave me the term “adventure” during those times that I still use to this day.  Living in a 30 year old pink single wide trailer with only a swamp cooler to get through the Vegas summer heat, was quiet an adventure.  My grandmother took one look at the trailer and told me to just pretend I was on a camping adventure.  There was even a big pine tree growing by the back door, reminding me of many Colorado camping trips.  After spending two summers “camping” and being pregnant with my second child we thought it better to end that trip and bought a house.

When the market went to shit in Las Vegas and we made the mistake of re-financing beyond our means we lost our home we had for eleven years.  So we started a new adventure in Arizona.  While most of my family lives there I was not really close to them.  I had spent 17 years in Vegas, I did not know them and they certainly did not know me.  They thought they did after reading all our private letters and journals, something I think they are proud of.  I do not think they would like me to do that to them. Actually, the thought to do that would not cross my mind.

A week before Christmas they kicked us out with our twelve year old son.  They have lied, stolen, and have turned into people I do not know.  I had an awesome childhood which makes what they did even more hard to deal with.  Something changed when my maternal grandparents passed away.  I know in my heart there is not a chance this would be happening if my grandfather were alive.

My grandfather’s favorite holiday was Christmas, and I think he sat in Heaven watching what was being done to his great grandchild, and if you can get pissed in the afterlife, I am certain he was.  My son was in a hotel room with his mom and dad who were on the verge of breakdown, while my parents got drunk with my daughter on a little holiday vacation at a bar in Laughlin.  Something is very wrong with that.

Two weeks after we were kicked out and we had been living in hotels, I told my son to think of this as an adventure.  I even said we could just live in hotels for a year while I wrote about our adventures.  Nothing is as easy as it sounds and hotels got expensive.  A twelve year old needs to be in school, not sitting in a McDonald’s on my laptop while his father and I figured out a way to get 60 dollars for a night at hotel in the ghetto.

A few weeks ago I was talking to my son about our adventures and he said something I will never forget.  He said “Mom, I am all adventured out.”  It broke my heart to hear him say that because I knew this adventure was not the kind my grandmother was talking about.  However, this adventure taught him to have compassion for others I have never seen, especially in a twelve-year-old.  Everyone we have come across has told me what a helpful and kind kid he is.  Teachers are telling me he is intelligent and articulate.  That being said, our adventure has done damage to his trust in people and given him a fear and an uncertainty a child should not have to deal with.

I know there are families and children who have horrible lives compared to ours.  I thank God every day for what we do have and I know it will only get better.  We will have the adventures my grandmother talked about, and our son will learn to trust again.

 

Our Valley Verde Sundays

I remember Sunday afternoons running through the trees. The sound of fall leaves being crushed under my tennis shoes as I reached the big flat rock I knew so well.  It was part of the mountain, but so barren and grand it looked out of place.   I felt the sting of the brisk air as I ran up the side, slowing only to drop to my hands and knees as the slant of the rock reached towards the heavens.  With the grand rock behind me, and my goal reached, I stood on the edge looking down. Not knowing how blessed I was to see the beauty of that untouched valley below me.  The sun setting and my stomach growling, I turned back to look towards the house. Closing my eyes I could see the chili simmering as the game of trivial pursuit was being put away. I raced the sun running back down the mountain,  Again, slowing on the huge rock as I looked like a crab climbing down. Reaching the house, I opened the mud-room door, the smell coming from the kitchen making my mouth water as I kicked off my shoes.  The chili warm and spicy, mellowed by the honey dripping corn bread filled my rumbling stomach.. As I half listened to the stories being told, I let the voices turn into a calming white noise.. I was content, I was safe. Years have passed. The calm voices are long gone and the beauty has been touched by greed. But, I will always be blessed to have known, and now be able to, cherish the memories of our Valley Verde Sundays.

Rest In Peace, My Beautiful Friend…

When you hear about the loss of someone’s beloved animal, you call or send a card.  Being at what can only be called a war with that person, and  anyone associated with him, makes sending a card a non-option.  As does an order of protection.  While your war will continue, you make a choice that for today,  you will remember his friend.  The one he sat with late at night sharing his thoughts.  The one that gave him comfort when no one else understood.  The one who was unconditional love.

My Friend

For today… you will give your anger and pain to God…

For today… you will say a prayer for peace and comfort in your enemies loss…

For today… you will remember his friend…

May you be running free, across sunny fields of green…

With the warmth of heaven taking away your pain…

Know that you were loved, and will be missed by many…

Until we met again…rest in peace, my beautiful friend…

Follow Your Coyote

Their path you are to follow looks clear…It looks easy…It is like walking on air…For miles you can see the open space in front…Nothing clouds the view…you can see everything ahead long before you have to adjust your step..You turn to look over your shoulder…You can see a reflection of the path in front of you…Everything is the same… You start to wonder if this is all there is on this well-worn road…

The Monarch touches your hand for a split second, pulling your eyes to follow..He dances around the bright blooming flower that grows on the side…The humming bird drinks her nectar…You wonder…Can no one else see that beauty…Why do you stay on this path…

Spun360

Spun360

You continue on, every step becoming like last….The Coyote plays hide in go seek, watching as you walk…The flicker of his ears allowing the sun to reflect the morning dew as it flies through crisp air…His dark eyes searching your soul, wondering if you have the fearless craving to seek out more than you understand…

A small break appears in the cactus and trees that surround you…Sitting on a rock…the Coyote stares…waiting with his knowledge for you to follow…You stumble and you fall…You cry out as the cactus are sharp and rocks do not bend…

You stand proud with bloody knees and scraped elbows pulling the quills out…Next to you are those who laughed when you followed the Coyote to your own path…You will heal…Your mind is quick…Your heart softens into kindness…Your eyes able to see beauty they cannot….

And you will follow…What is Yours…

Leaving them to continue on What is Theirs…Only following their own refection…

English: Coyote at Ridgefield National Wildlif...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Related articles