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mynewplaceI AM SO SAD!!
I had this beautiful post written up, with SO much about Barry Withrow, his funeral, his life, the way he touched my own life. I had the lyrics to the song that was played at the beginning of the service - which I LOVE! (Heck, I'm going to get it.)Lyrics to My Jesus :
Which Jesus do you follow,
Which Jesus do you serve
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ,
Why do you look so much like the world
Cause My Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars,
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
or do we pray to blessed with with the wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sands
My Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars,
He loved the poor and accosted the rich,
So which one do you want to be
Who is this that You follow,
This picture of the American dream,
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side,
Or fall down and worship at His holy feet
holy
Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion,
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins,
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part,
Sometimes I doubt we'd recognize Him
My Jesus bled and died He spent His time with thieves and the least of these,
He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable,
So which one do you want to be,
(My favorite verse)
Cause My Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet might stain the carpet,
But He reaches for the hurting and despises the proud
And, I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud
I want to be like my Jesus
I want to be like my Jesus
I want to be like my Jesus
I want to be like my Jesus
Not a posterchild for American prosperity,
but like my Jesus
You see I'm tired of living for success and popularity
I want to be like my Jesus
but I'm not sure what that means to be like
You Jesus
Cause You said to live like You,
love like You but then
You died for me
Can I be like You Jesus?
I wanna be like you Jesus
I wanna be Like my Jesus
I'd only met Barry maybe 10-12 times in all the years that my parents had attended church with him. I always found myself drawn to him because his smile was genuine, especially in his eyes, his manner was friendly and amusing, his love for my child and all the others was obvious, and his enthusiasm for what he was teaching them was clear. My child performed more community and church service with that man than in any other way. I admire him, and his funeral made me examine my own life.
And here's where I wrote a great big line of paragraphs that are gone, and SO hard to reproduce. Thus I'm going to have to try and write the shorter version. (30 minutes of writing! AAARGH!)
My mother gave me a tearful lecture Saturday morning over the phone while I sat on a downtown street waiting for a parade to start. She is upset by the lack of Christian education I am providing Scarlett, by my seemingly nonexistent relationship with "The Lord", my choice to attend church very infrequently, and the lack of visible "fruit" in my life. While I'm upset by her judgement and failure to understand me, I know it's because my beliefs are very closely guarded because they would have her convinced I was on the short-bus to Hell. This would have her constantly sobbing and wailing over me, trying her damnedest to guilt me into some show of conversion before her, and make herself sick in the process. (I'm not exaggerating people.)
Alright, the core of what I believe could be explained to her. I am certain in my own heart that I have been put on this earth to learn to love. To love unconditionally, without reservation, without judgement, freely heartily and all encompassingly. I'm pretty convinced we are all put here for this lesson but I try not to be a know-it-all or self-satisfied with this information. I feel comfortable distributing it when the question is raised, either here or elsewhere (What is the meaning of life? Why are we here?) But I don't force it on anybody. And I respect and admire all other people's beliefs, their journeys and searches for the meaning of their own lives, and their disagreement with me. I'm not here to drag the world to Heaven. I'm here to share what I learn, learn to speak what I believe without fear, and love people. This is showing Christ's love, in my opinion.
What my mother fails to see in my life is that every morning I choose my child over myself. I choose to act on behalf of her well-being, my own physical and mental well-being in order to be a good parent, and I am regularly learning to lay aside my own selfish ways in order to better provide for Scarlett. I am doing this because I believe it's God's primary will for me, the reason he gave me Scarlett, and because I want to do the very best by my child that I possibly can. Part of my choice of religious upbringing for my child is that she attend church with my mother whenever possible. I want Scarlett to have that base of belief that I have, on which to base her own thoughts and lessons. I simply choose not to attend church much these days because I love Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, a chance to snooze and reflect on the past week and the coming one, and relax. It seems that the other mission God has put into my life is providing unconditional love to Brent. I guess that might sound odd, but I've been convinced time and time again that it is something he desperately needs, that he is learning to recognize, and that will possibly save his life. I have that for him, and I must give it to him as much as is humanly possible. It's sad that it's not always possible, because my human feelings get in the way, but I'm doing my damnedest.
From as far back as I know, my mother has tried to be obedient and submissive to all of her authority figures. She has never had much self-confidence or expressed much self-worth. I've known that all my life and it has colored my feelings for my mother, which makes me sad. I came to realize this morning that she has spent all my life trying to make me into what she wanted to be, and an appropriate trophy for her years of Godly service. I was supposed to be her crowning achievement and reflect all her good works to the world. And from the time I could talk I have fought against her in this regard. I didn't know exactly what was wrong between us until I'd had a lot of years of therapy. But I knew from the beginning that I was not ever going to be what she wanted, I was often going to make her ashamed of me and disappointed if I lived my life like I saw fit, and that I was going to have to break away as much as possible. I don't know if I will ever be able to explain all this to her. I'd like to, but she'd only be disappointed in me yet again, and she already tries hard to respect me and my choices in raising my daughter. She tries, but I'm sorry. She's failed many times. I can't let her stand in the way of my choices in raising my child and living my life, for which I will answer to God one day.
I had this beautiful post written up, with SO much about Barry Withrow, his funeral, his life, the way he touched my own life. I had the lyrics to the song that was played at the beginning of the service - which I LOVE! (Heck, I'm going to get it.)Lyrics to My Jesus :
Which Jesus do you follow,
Which Jesus do you serve
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ,
Why do you look so much like the world
Cause My Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars,
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
or do we pray to blessed with with the wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sands
My Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars,
He loved the poor and accosted the rich,
So which one do you want to be
Who is this that You follow,
This picture of the American dream,
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side,
Or fall down and worship at His holy feet
holy
Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion,
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins,
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part,
Sometimes I doubt we'd recognize Him
My Jesus bled and died He spent His time with thieves and the least of these,
He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable,
So which one do you want to be,
(My favorite verse)
Cause My Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet might stain the carpet,
But He reaches for the hurting and despises the proud
And, I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud
I want to be like my Jesus
I want to be like my Jesus
I want to be like my Jesus
I want to be like my Jesus
Not a posterchild for American prosperity,
but like my Jesus
You see I'm tired of living for success and popularity
I want to be like my Jesus
but I'm not sure what that means to be like
You Jesus
Cause You said to live like You,
love like You but then
You died for me
Can I be like You Jesus?
I wanna be like you Jesus
I wanna be Like my Jesus
I'd only met Barry maybe 10-12 times in all the years that my parents had attended church with him. I always found myself drawn to him because his smile was genuine, especially in his eyes, his manner was friendly and amusing, his love for my child and all the others was obvious, and his enthusiasm for what he was teaching them was clear. My child performed more community and church service with that man than in any other way. I admire him, and his funeral made me examine my own life.
And here's where I wrote a great big line of paragraphs that are gone, and SO hard to reproduce. Thus I'm going to have to try and write the shorter version. (30 minutes of writing! AAARGH!)
My mother gave me a tearful lecture Saturday morning over the phone while I sat on a downtown street waiting for a parade to start. She is upset by the lack of Christian education I am providing Scarlett, by my seemingly nonexistent relationship with "The Lord", my choice to attend church very infrequently, and the lack of visible "fruit" in my life. While I'm upset by her judgement and failure to understand me, I know it's because my beliefs are very closely guarded because they would have her convinced I was on the short-bus to Hell. This would have her constantly sobbing and wailing over me, trying her damnedest to guilt me into some show of conversion before her, and make herself sick in the process. (I'm not exaggerating people.)
Alright, the core of what I believe could be explained to her. I am certain in my own heart that I have been put on this earth to learn to love. To love unconditionally, without reservation, without judgement, freely heartily and all encompassingly. I'm pretty convinced we are all put here for this lesson but I try not to be a know-it-all or self-satisfied with this information. I feel comfortable distributing it when the question is raised, either here or elsewhere (What is the meaning of life? Why are we here?) But I don't force it on anybody. And I respect and admire all other people's beliefs, their journeys and searches for the meaning of their own lives, and their disagreement with me. I'm not here to drag the world to Heaven. I'm here to share what I learn, learn to speak what I believe without fear, and love people. This is showing Christ's love, in my opinion.
What my mother fails to see in my life is that every morning I choose my child over myself. I choose to act on behalf of her well-being, my own physical and mental well-being in order to be a good parent, and I am regularly learning to lay aside my own selfish ways in order to better provide for Scarlett. I am doing this because I believe it's God's primary will for me, the reason he gave me Scarlett, and because I want to do the very best by my child that I possibly can. Part of my choice of religious upbringing for my child is that she attend church with my mother whenever possible. I want Scarlett to have that base of belief that I have, on which to base her own thoughts and lessons. I simply choose not to attend church much these days because I love Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, a chance to snooze and reflect on the past week and the coming one, and relax. It seems that the other mission God has put into my life is providing unconditional love to Brent. I guess that might sound odd, but I've been convinced time and time again that it is something he desperately needs, that he is learning to recognize, and that will possibly save his life. I have that for him, and I must give it to him as much as is humanly possible. It's sad that it's not always possible, because my human feelings get in the way, but I'm doing my damnedest.
From as far back as I know, my mother has tried to be obedient and submissive to all of her authority figures. She has never had much self-confidence or expressed much self-worth. I've known that all my life and it has colored my feelings for my mother, which makes me sad. I came to realize this morning that she has spent all my life trying to make me into what she wanted to be, and an appropriate trophy for her years of Godly service. I was supposed to be her crowning achievement and reflect all her good works to the world. And from the time I could talk I have fought against her in this regard. I didn't know exactly what was wrong between us until I'd had a lot of years of therapy. But I knew from the beginning that I was not ever going to be what she wanted, I was often going to make her ashamed of me and disappointed if I lived my life like I saw fit, and that I was going to have to break away as much as possible. I don't know if I will ever be able to explain all this to her. I'd like to, but she'd only be disappointed in me yet again, and she already tries hard to respect me and my choices in raising my daughter. She tries, but I'm sorry. She's failed many times. I can't let her stand in the way of my choices in raising my child and living my life, for which I will answer to God one day.
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Date: 2008-09-02 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-02 02:36 am (UTC)