BLOOD FROM A TURNIP: SEE IT HERE.

Life is an endeavor. Determination is a trait most all people want but not all people have. with any task or difficulty that is thrown in your way in life determination to overcome it is a must. That kind of determination is the same determination that i must have if i am to be successful in going to Europe. Unfortunately, at this moment, i do not have that determination. I wish that i did. But when life sets in front of you continuous let downs and setbacks, it's hard to have determination when you face a strenuous task. it has been hard for me to muster up the will to even want to go in the last few weeks. I just do not see it coming forth. With that said I have to find the will somewhere within me, wherever it may be.

Because I Said So.

Malachi is GOING to Europe next summer.  He's discouraged, but I'm not.  He may not like me very much for the next few months, but he'll thank me later in life, Lord willing.

If you want things, you have to work for them.  You have to sacrifice.  You have to take chances.  There are risks; risk of failure, risk of disappointment, risk of distraction.  Risk can paralyze you with fear or galvanize you into action.  It's up to you.  I've been known to start things with a big fanfare, and then get discouraged, distracted, disoriented.  Not this time.  Today is January 31.  This is the last day Malachi gets to lollygag.  He doesn't get to fail.  He doesn't get to quit.  He doesn't have to like me.  I am not Malachi's friend.  I'm his mother, and I am not letting him flake off on his commitment.  I haven't flaked off on mine.  You see fewer posts because it's not about me anymore.  I've done what I needed to do to prove I'm in it for the long haul.  90 days of blogging once a week or more without fail.  For the first 30 days I blogged every day.  It was easy, because I had plenty of angst to be shed.  I stuck my toe into the SEO pool and found it to my liking. I'm going back, so get out your sunblock.  A sizzling-hot day is about to dawn on you all.
But Malachi.

This blog has plenty of readers and no followers, but I'm not giving up on it.  I'm going to keep building it up.  I know it's going to help me get my son to Europe.  I haven't got much time, but I've got plenty of faith.  I've got to teach my son to keep the faith.  He needs to put in the work, so he can understand how to reach a goal that seems beyond his capability.  He's ready to let himself down, and ready to be angry with me for not permitting him to do it, but again, I am not this boy's friend. If I were his friend, I might tease him about wanting to go abroad.  If I were his friend, I might undermine his confidence every chance I got.  If I were his friend, I might tell him that he shouldn't be expecting his mom to raise that kind of money for a trip when so much other stuff is called for.  It's a good thing I am not his friend.  He would never accomplish anything with me reassuring him that mediocrity and the status quo are all he should hope for.

Malachi is a fine son and a strong person.  Our Lily got into a bad scrap and was bleeding profusely from the healed wound you see there.  Malachi is the one who kept her from bleeding to death at 10 pm on a Thursday night, and she hasn't forgotten it.  Nor have I.  He kept calm and packed the wound with cobwebs to stop the bleeding.  It worked.  He then bound her up with black electrical tape, which Miss Lillers removed herself three days later.  Nice work.  Now why doesn't this kid have more faith in himself?  I ran around and collected spiderwebs from behind the washer in the laundry room, but he calmly washed the puncture, packed and bound it.  Blood was everywhere.  His brother was caterwauling. I wasn't so good, either.  Malachi took charge and saved his friend's life.  Now, like Erica Jong, I've got to teach him how to save his own.

Something is going to break.  Opportunity will come.  Faith is not just for church.  It's for standing firm.  Not just against ideological bullies, but for standing up to your circumstances and changing them from sheer force of will.  Will begins with a transformation of mind and heart.  It is a refusal to accept defeat, rejection, and ridicule and continue to go hard for you goals.  Will looks beyond circumstances; past situations, through intrigues, and  across shifting tides of favor and locks on to its desire.  My desire is to show my kid that his dreams are worth having, and I will not be denied.

Thanks for taking the time to read this blog.
#FriendsofMalachiMaxwellGlass

ChurchChasing

I don't go to church like I used to.
Photo Credit: SNL/NBC Networks

It is difficult to maintain spiritual equanimity on the internet.  When I see that guy who posted a black woman in a ball gag lauded for something else by an unsuspecting admirer, I want to place my religion in a back pocket--again.  Dude caused me to come out of my bag with a hashtag.

I do not like religion.  It does not address my soul.  It is superficial, and most likely will abandon you when you most need it.  I know a man who left work on Friday, drove all night, rested Saturday, took his aging father to the church 800 miles up the East Coast where he can "feel the spirit," and spent all day Sunday driving back home.  As an HVAC guy, he does not have the day off today.  We had a relationship-terminating row when I suggested that Dad might be "church-chasing." Some of you know what I'm talking about. If you've spent any time amidst the "So-Called Saints," you know that there are those who are addicted to the feeling they only get in church.  They may do "Christian works" with people in their own social circle, but don't you dare come to them with a problem!  They'll give you the bum's rush quicker than you can say, "Holy Ghost power!" or "Saved, sanctified, and fire baptized!"

Ran into so .jpg much devilment, I felt a need.

The Body of Christ is intact, as always, but the church is broken.  This same man's mother ignored my outstretched hand the first time I met her.  In church.  I did what I always do when someone snubs my handshake:  I raised a limp wrist to eye level and examined my right hand as if I had never seen it before either.  These people count themselves as staunch Christians, and I guess they are.  Unfortunately, a lifetime in church has turned their favorite child into a prevaricating, masquerading, weak-willed liar.  He discovered that the easiest way to maintain his place in the hierarchy of acceptance was simply to lie.  About everything.  Assuredly, God in His infinite wisdom permitted those lies to produce problems no one but He can solve.

My kids know all about this.  I do my best to keep things real with them on a spiritual level, so that they can know and understand the Holy Spirit as He works within their own lives. Sometimes things look a wreck when He is "working it out for you."  Many times (especially on the internet), a person who puts their trust in Christ will be jeered: as a believer in fairy tales; as a deluded member of a crumbling, non-tech proletariat; as a witless participant in meaningless ritual--and on, and on.  Consequently, I address my faith as "follower of Christ," because Christians are some of the meanest people I know. Quite a few hide small, shriveled hearts behind "shut-ins" and "Rainbow Teas."  Others go home to homes more debauched and dysfunctional than the life of Miley.  That girl used to go everywhere with a Bible.  Now look.  I have her on my PRAYDAR, bigtime.  When she comes back to reality, Christ will be there.  He has not left her.  He never will.  She has definitely checked out on Him for awhile, though.  I shudder to think what might bring her back, poor prodigal chile.

It is faith that makes me believe I can get my son to Europe next year.  I believe that GOD will provide the increase that will make this trip possible.  Does that mean I just piously sit somewhere while God-elves do my work for me?  Nope.  It means I dig deep to grow beyond my limitations.  It means that I come out of my comfort zone and onto the internet, where satan has a major head start.  It is surprising how many people who refuse to worship good will go all out to bow down to the evil one.  It means that I am learning anew what it means to "not be ashamed of the Gospel."  I don't attempt to downplay my faith on the internet.  Not at all.  I am here to tell gay folk that they have a right to the love of Christ, same as me. Sex is temporal, temporary, and something the Almighty designed to keep humans producing offspring in this vale of tears!  You did not need it when you came from God, and you will not need it when you go back.  Any person, straight or gay, can have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. If you can walk with Christ as a gay person, by all means, do so!  I know what the Bible says about it.  I'm not God, so I am not in a position to either pardon or condemn you.  If I have to be wrong, I will err on the side of acceptance and love.  As a dear friend once told me, "Gay people do far more damage in the closet than out of it."  My mother gave me the best formula for acceptance when she told a ten-year-old me, "If a person is gay, so what? You ain't gotta wake up next to 'em!"

I don't shun anyone who believes in a faith other than mine, either.  I want respect, so I give respect.  I am not here to convert anyone to anything.  I just want to let my little light shine.  Thank you for taking the time to read this blog.

#FriendsofMalachiMaxwellGlass

I Need a Do-Over

Ever wish events had a reset button?  I do.

If I could turn back time, like Cher, I would do my homework before starting this blog.  I would have a clear direction in mind.  I would make it the travel/fundraising blog it is supposed to be.  Fortunately, I do get a do-over.  It's called sunrise, and I was here for it this morning.  Relationships can be clarified.  That is a do-over.  Apologies can be offered and accepted.  That is a do-over.  I can avail myself to the sum of human knowledge as it resides on the internet, and subsequently do a better job with this here blog.  That too, is a do-over.  I can believe in myself and my abilities.  That is a reset and a do-over  I can give and be given another chance at relationship with another.  That is a do-over everyone needs.
Every interaction has value.  The ones that upset us are more valuable than most, if we would choose to see that.  The seeds of our disaffection are in them.  They are the basis of a worthwhile "do-over," rather than the definition of insanity.  I don't want to do the same thing in the same way all the time, no matter what the result!  One of the most profound life-lessons I have learned came from the life and death of Princess Diana:  One cannot stand out and fit in at the same time!  A choice has to be made.  The choice to stand out forces us out of our comfort zones.  The choice to examine every interaction for personal culpability does the same.  If I know that I am out of my comfort zone and am subject to the instability that inheres to that, I can know when and where a do-over is required.  I know I need to fix this blog.  There's a do-over ahead.  I know I need to ask for help. That's a do-over, and over and over!  I know that I need to address each day and the goals I have for it in a more methodical, analytic fashion.  That is a timely and necessary reset, to be done-over daily.
I need a do-over.  When I sat down to make this entry with my hands poised over the keys like Rachmaninoff, the phone rang. My baby son has a sore throat, and doesn't want to be in school anymore today.  I should have started this post earlier, maybe.  Some things don't get a do-over.  I am going to finish this entry and then go retrieve the boy.

Lastly, if anyone at all is wondering why I think Miss Edythe Wright may be a descendant of the Wright Brothers, it is mostly because her ancestral family home is next to a lumber mill that has been in operation since the early part of the twentieth century--literally right over the fence.  The lumber mill is a brisk walk from the former Cochrane Brothers furniture manufacturing plant, all on the same tract of land. The house is on the edge of town, closer to Warren Plains than Warrenton proper.  A coincidence? There are a lot of them. I asked her about the racket the mill was making.  "Oh, honey, it doesn't bother me.  I've lived next to a sawmill all my life.  I lived near to Bugg's Mill that was right up the road before this one!"

What would Orville and Wilbur have needed a steady supply of to replace those experimental planes they were crashing?  Who would have built them? How did they do preliminary tests in secret before they tried at Kill Devil Hills?  How they would have gotten those airplanes to the beach is another issue.

I love visual puns and pictures, and Miss Edythe has photographic portraits of four of her six brothers lined up in a corner of her exquisite parlor.  My higher self prodded me gently as I stared at them: "They're the Wright Brothers, by God!"

I grew up on Long Island, near the old Westhampton Beach Air Force Base.  I can tell whether the bay doors on a C-130 are open or closed just by the sound overhead.  I know that subsequent to events, only one Strike Eagle now flies screaming over my house each week.  I know a lot about testing airplanes too, because the Grumman Plant made Tomcats all through my childhood ("Anytime, Baby!").  You didn't need a lot of land, just a broad, flat strip.

I also asked Miss Edythe how she felt about living long enough to see a black President in office.  A sweet sigh and a little jig was her heartfelt response.

Thanks for taking the time to read this blog.  #FriendsofMalachiMaxwellGlass