Interview with an angel #1

Bright light fills room

Me: Oh my gosh, what’s happening?

Angel: I am your angel, and what is gosh?

Me:… nevermind…wow, I  have an angel…I don’t know what to say.

Angel: I’ve come for an interview; this will be an ongoing thing.

Me: For everyone?

Angel:  No, Just you. I’m appointed to you, but I can’t protect what I don’t understand.  Long story short, I got permission from the man in charge.

Me: Did I do something bad? I really want to be good, I work so hard to be charitable.

Angel: That’s part of the issue, you automatically assume you did something wrong; you probably saw my angelic light and thought condemnation came here to strike you. It didn't. I’m here to understand, not to judge.

Me: Well, you could read my blog, I over share plenty on that. People know way too much about me, it gives me a complex. For instance…anything fishy going on, a weird look, people whispering, a church leader calling to see if I still want to teach the women, I assume it’s the blog on their brain and I’m being judged for my strange little mind.

Angel: But you still do it, even though it causes distress?

Me: Funny right? I’m an anxious impulsive. The anxious tells me no and the impulsive tells me yes. Impulsive is quite vigorous, she’s a sneaky cheeky little devil. To sum it up, I’d rather jump off a cliff then stand there being worried. But I am afraid of heights, so I hope not to encounter one.

Me: Actually, scratch that, I changed my mind.  It would be awesome fun if I somehow had an assurance that my parachute would work properly, you said you were a guardian angel?

Angel: We’re talking about you here and why you’re so hard on yourself. You’re a good person, a mother of three, a giver, a tender wife. You married one of the best people I know of.

Me: I can’t argue you there, but angel, am I really good? Let’s take something small for example- like swearing. Depending on swear usage, I find bad words extremely funny, especially from the wrinkly mouths of old people.

Me: On top of that, I have such a hard time with people who compare their strengths to my weaknesses. We all have them, weaknesses and strengths. I find sharing my weaknesses very refreshing, like I’m doing the world a favor saying “it’s ok, we’re all in this together.” Vulnerability is straight up beautiful honesty. Too many people show only their perfect side, and I know there’s a human in there; I intend to find it.

Me:  If those weaknesses are addressed, they can become strong right?

Angel: It’s one thing to admit fault, it’s another thing to embrace it. You’re not going to start cursing in church now are you?

Me: Heavens no, I’m always trying to be better. Let’s make a compromise. I promise to only say words that are written in the Holy Scriptures.

Angel: I’m good with that, but there’s a difference between the way ass is used in the scripture, and the way you intend to use it.

Me: snicker ,chuckle chuckle

Angel: Oh great, it’s happening again, you did this when you read aloud in Sunday school last week; way to be real mature. 

Angel: Ass is a donkey for crying out loud.

Me: chuckle snicker snicker

Angel: You done?...

Me: It’s not just swearing, you see. It’s my husband. He’s always there, getting his way, riding my ass.

Angel:  GASP, ( look of shock)

We both glance over to my pet donkey trotting by.

Awkward silence…

Me: So about that cliff again…

weakness to strength

I’m inspired by mental retardation.  Differently abled people; they’re amazing.  I have unimaginable stories-all because I’ve worked with these angels. They really are God sent.  They’re here to teach, humble, and give us the dead honest beautiful truth. It’s gotten my "special" sister fired from her job, and put me in numerous uncomfortable situations, but I understand her well. We all want to ask polygamous people why they dress so strange and take random bites of other people’s food.

I admire the fearless. I admire the adorable Down syndrome boy at the gym, wearing headphones, and singing his bicycling heart out. I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve wanted to burst out in song while running. It would be exhilarating. Two of the most empowering phenomena’s are music and exercise. It’s like combining peanut butter and chocolate while watching the climax of a firework show. Breathtaking moments are the red diamonds of life, but don’t forget to breath; I’m told that exercise without breathing does all sorts of effed up things to your body.

It’s our damning fear and lack of motivation that holds us back. We could become anything with fearless motivation.  Every serious rock climber will hit a moment where he/she is physically stuck. It’s a frantic moment where there’s no place to grab and your body is physically rendered useless. The average person lets go and drops, but the driven will push with everything lacking, and even scream out an unattractive grunt while somehow making their body miraculously leap. It’s that same adrenaline God-given power that runs marathons and labors natural birth; it’s pure empowerment.

It’s the kind of fight I want in my life. It’s lack of fear and motivation in its finest glory.

Why am I writing this Tony Robbins blog post? Because I’m running low on spunk.  I’m a slowly deflating balloon in an all too familiar routine.

That is…until I saw the overzealous peddling Down syndrome boy I’ve named inspiration.

I now have aim and focus; I plan to arise early in the morning and make my children pink heart shaped pancakes before they’re off to school. It will be the perfect way to start my soap opera watching/ coke zero drinking days.

I don’t really watch soaps, but I could swim in the amount of coke I drink. I might as well be labeled mentally challenged with the abundant soda I consume. In my experience with differently abled people, they are unique, but one thing remains accurately constant…a love obsession for pop.

I do love soda.  I’ve also driven away with the gas tank hose mid penetration, and bought an impulsive, no good Florida vacation from a “telemarketer”.  Nobody’s perfect. We have to look optimistically at our strengths, and we all have them.

I’m amazing at peddling a bicycle.

 My hubby and Kurt. This picture makes me smile

for so many reasons.

Force fields

In the battle of good versus evil, our living coordinates just obtained an extraordinary advantage. It all started with a bedtime prayer of a six year old. Kid’s prayers are so honest and funny, especially when they ask for a “force field around our house that keeps out bad stuff”.

Why would God say no to that? It’s not like he’s asking for a star wars cloud car.

 With our newly, God given, secured headquarter, we’ve already won half the battle.  A stable base gives us the upper hand, allowing ambush to any lurking enemies. I’m a full time homemaking mother bird. I’ll protect the nest until my eagles take flight, and then hope I’ve taught them well.  It’s quite foolish to leave a barrier of safety, and purposely walk in harm’s way, but… so are the ways and flaws of man.  We curiously play with fire/mischievously walk into danger/intentionally explode stuff… and so it goes.  For being the planet’s highest intelligence, we can be pretty stoopid(that’s stupid in its lowest level).  I’m not necessarily complaining; it’s fun to blow stuff up…then call it a holiday. But, nothing harmful enters my home. That is my mission; that is my non- paying/ all rewarding job.  A new “force field” means less room for failure. Thank you force field.

Now I need a new doormat.  It will candidly read “welcome past the force field.” That's if you make it past. It’s a multifunctional courtesy giver/evil eliminator; cut and dry, just like that.  I’ve been sleeping alone and waking up scared ever since Dean’s been traveling.  Being raped is horrendous, but being stabbed is what tends to circle my mind the most.  I sleep closest to the door, meaning:  even if he is home, I’ll be stabbed regardless. But, if he’s present, my stratagem is to take the first blow, enabling him to get to the gun and ammo (hidden in the other room), load the gun(bullet whereabouts unsure), then finally shoot the bastard( all while in the dark). Oh, and he’s a sound sleeper/possible liar whose never even heard one of our three babies cry in the night.

It was an extremely flawed plan…until the force field. My no longer concern of a homicidal bedroom intruder allowed for a peaceful night sleep with a smile. Thank you force field.

So what’s good, and what’s evil? It’s an entertaining philosophy to dwell on, especially when you live in a morally black and white community.

Let's consider monkey's, our closest human relatives.

In India it’s illegal to kill monkeys. They are considered sacred. Consequently, they roam in packs causing madness and mayhem. Attacks happen daily.  Entrepreneurs will hang around high monkey areas, bandaging up the wounded for money. They appear cute and playful, which makes anyone smile, but a smile shows teeth, which challenges the monkey. Before you know it, a wailing hairball devil with fangs is atop of you, clawing your eyes out with his soon joining pack of ruffians. 

Monkey business means breaking in houses, stealing stuff, ransacking your garden, hanging your underwear in trees, and any other sort of molestation.

Am I saying monkeys are evil? No, that would make me insane. They are God’s creatures like you and I. Do I want to live amongst them as neighbors- no, that’s also insane. To allow them prosperity while they inflict damage and pain? Again, it’s insane. To regard these animals as sacred? Who are we to say? It’s insane to force belief on anyone.   A law being broken, and people blasting them at first sight?…

Super crazy insane.

I’ll tell you one thing that's not insane…

Force fields.