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Sometimes people call me from jail. Actually, it’s surprising how often I get calls from jail. It’s painful. It’s also irrational, but so, so human to call someone you hardly know and say, I just wanted you to know I was safe. That breaks my heart, over and over again. You really need a lawyer, a bail bondsman, perhaps an actual relationship with Jesus Christ, but the soul just cries out, All I want is somebody to know where I am and to care.

Jesus Christ knows where you are and He cares, but without you really knowing Him, I am rendered powerless to give you anything at all to hang onto, just impotent little words. I’m sorry. I care. Thanks for letting me know you’re okay.

I get angry sometimes. Talk about being unequally yoked. Those words are almost funny in my life, a bit of a Divine joke, really.  I need people to get their crap together and show me the way, me. You light the path, you show me how it’s done. My life is not easy street and every dead soldier who drops leaves me behind to clean up their collateral damage, alone. It isn’t fair.

So meat and potatoes, my mother has always had issues, big issues, narcissism, an eating disorder. I can’t fix her, I can hardly help her at all. These are things way too big for me to heal. They aren’t too big for Jesus Christ, but He’s been written off as the enemy. So have I in a way, because I am unwilling to be someone’s narcissistic supply, to play the rescue triangle game, to carry her weight for her.

So my mother won’t sit down  and eat with us, she disapproves of a million different things, the family really, my faith. Her issues around food are so rooted in rebellion, in defiance, so to punish people for imaginary slights she just refuses to eat. When she drops below 95 pounds she often winds up in the hospital. I have to give my mother credit, most people with eating orders like this don’t make it into old age.

She has kidnapped our dog, made him her emotional receptacle, a position I once held. It’s a bit funny, I’ve been replaced by a dog, and yet it’s ugly too, because her emotional needs are actually killing the dog. He is the poor, pitiful manifestation of herself. She must protect him, love him, suffocate him with her maternal instincts gone all wrong. So my mother is dropping weight again while our dog is now morbidly obese. I make her things to eat and bring them to her, but behind closed doors she just feeds most of it to the dog. You’re killing our dog mother, and you can’t even see it. You’re killing yourself too, I suppose, but I have grown so used to watching you, I can no longer indulge in any anxiety over it.

Did you know anxiety is an indulgence? It is, it is a privilege and a blessing, it indicates a willingness to actually feel. When it is forced out of you too much you will  just go numb, no longer even able to feel anything at all. I always have to fight the numbness, to force myself to care about things, to soften my heart, with what often seems like a blasted meat tenderizer sometimes. I will not allow the world to make me go numb.

So my little jailbait buddy says, “I am safe.” Yes, yes you are, but not as safe as you would be if you were in the arms of the Father. Every one, every single one who gives me grief, does not know Jesus Christ. That is the meat and potatoes of life, without Him we are all truly lost. And blind and unable to even see the nature of our own selves or the burden we place on others.

God can make unbearable things bearable. Sometimes He takes them away completely and sometimes He gives the strength to walk through them. A relationship with Jesus Christ can have you chained to a wall singing His praises. That is my life right now, chained to a wall and singing His praises. It sounds crazy, it sounds nutty, but it is the best place to be, right where you belong, right where He has placed you.

disturbed

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