Lately I’ve been feeling like moving along myself. Not just moving along from broken relationships, but moving along from this entire place. I’ve got the curse of an Army Brat – the one where you feel compelled to move every year or three. I’ve done pretty well with it lately, usually you can just rearrange furniture to sate your desire for relocation, but sometimes it’s a call that I actually choose to follow.

Now that I’m a mummy with two kids, I have to be careful not to pack up and run off when the whim hits me: it’s important for these kids to have roots and a community.

Recent months have got me itching to pack up and move somewhere else though. I’m craving a small town similar to those seen on TV or movies – the little town where everyone knows everyone else, the fire department still puts up a Nativity scene at Christmas time and nobody has a problem with it, the whole town goes to the Homecoming parade and game in the fall when the leaves are turning gold and red and orange and the smell of fall is in the air, the town where kids play outside and are invited into the neighbor’s house for cookies and you’re sitting on your porch waving at those who drive by. You know, the town from Dennis the Menace, or Steel Magnolias, or Baby Boom… heck it’s even the town Mystic Falls on the Vampire Diaries.

Tell me those places still exist, please. (Sans vampires of course).

That’s what I want so badly right now.

But how does one pack up an entire 3-bedroom townhouse and hit the road into the unknown? How do you get a job that you know you’ll like when you’ve never been to the town you want to move to? What about moving THEN finding a job? Where do you stay? How do you rent a house when the city you want to move to is hundreds of miles away?

I’m not sure, but if you know, please let me know. This girl is ready for a do-over. I’m ready to leave behind more than my fair share of demons here.

Until then… well, I’ll try to move along as best as I can, but I really don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere.

Well, we broke it off, again. I guess I did more of the breaking off.

It hurt like hell. He didn’t see it as me trying to save both of us from heartache, he just thought I’m being selfish because I want too much.

I don’t think I’m being selfish. I’m giving him the chance to find the right one, too.

If I had a nickel for every time I wished this would work out, I would have a nice savings account. But I’m not too silly not to know when it’s time to walk away.

I’m doing it because I love him and want the best for him.

And I love myself too.

And so I put on my big girl pants, and I walk away.

It makes my chest tight. It makes me feel nauseated in my heart (is that even possible!?!? Yes.) I walk away knowing that he’ll find someone else and it will be perfect and it hurts because it wasn’t me.

But that seems to be the trend lately. Ugh.

I try to keep my hopes up that maybe, maybe somewhere out there is a man whose heart is set the same way mine is, who sees a relationship as a stepping stone to something more, who knows he wants to share his life with someone else, and will choose me to be that person. He’s not afraid of it, for whatever reason.

But you know I won’t get my hopes up too high. And I definitely won’t get excited about it. That’s just my way of doing things.

PS a note to all you women – appreciate your man if you have one, k?

PPS a note to all you wannabe Bridezillas, stop being bitches. You’re ruining it for the rest of us.

I did get caught up in the prospect, I did allow myself to think it through and share my feelings and thoughts by a respectful and open boyfriend.

But after realizing that the two of us are on different planets when it comes to the WHEN of it all, I know when it’s time to walk away. And I’m doing it for the good of TWO not just one.

So it distresses me, hurts me, makes me feel pretty damn sad, when I hear things (and by hear things I mean read facebook posts) that refer to women as only wanting long-term commitments, or all women want is everything you’ve got (a man).

Seriously?

Since when did wanting a family become a bad thing in today’s society? What is with all these men who run as fast as they can when a woman acts like a woman? (Hey don’t you get me wrong, many women don’t want to ever be married and/or have a family. That’s cool. I get it.) I’m talking about the women who grew up wanting a family, a woman who sees a husband as a wonderful lovely thing to have in her life.

Why are so many men bashing marriage and commitment? “Don’t do it” they say. “She’s after your soul” “She’s after your money” “She’s trying to trap you”. Are you FECKING KIDDING ME!?!?

I’m sorry that loving you enough to commit my life to you is going after your soul. I’m sorry that I want to have what a lot of other normal and healthy people have – but to you that means I want to trap you. Or that I’m after your money.

It makes me sad.

I have to say it’s no wonder. With divorce rates out of control and single parents everywhere, generations are losing the GOOD part of what it means to be married. And those who are stuck in bad marriages – because they really did let themselves be trapped by a manipulative man or woman – are bitter about it and think they’re doing a service to single folks. I have news for you. Shutthehellup because you are the one who let it happen. If you didn’t want it or weren’t ready for it, you should have walked away dumbass. Don’t act all macho now because you are embarrassed that you let yourself get into this mess.

Kids don’t know what it means to have two parents in the same house anymore, so what was norm for the past few generations is now foreign to new generations.

What was taboo not quite 40 years ago (living together) is okay now. I support living together before getting married. Heck, I support living together even if you aren’t thinking of getting married. It works better logistically and it saves everyone money.

But the point is, you are still TOGETHER. You are still building a bond between the two of you. Ever have a new friend that after a sleepover was your new bestie? Imagine what it’s like in a love relationship between two people. I really do believe God intended for us to be with someone. Whether it’s one someone or ten in a lifetime, we certainly weren’t meant to be alone.

So here’s my final point.

If you don’t want to get married – not now or not ever – I respect that. It’s cool. I’m glad you know what you want when you want it.

But don’t, DO NOT date someone (and by date I mean an intimate relationship with someone for many months) who does want to get married – now or in the near future (or in the later future). It’s not fair to them.

If you do want to get married – now or in the future – I respect that.

But don’t, DO NOT date someone who does not want to get married. It’s not fair to them.

Perhaps you should both be adults about it and move on. And neither of you should make rude comments about the other because of their own personal desires. It’s not necessary. It hurts the other person. It makes you look foolish and shallow.

Ah yes, back to the drama that is my life.

So there I was, trying to be calm and cool that this man was talking some serious stuff, and while we couldn’t yet say the “M” word, we’d pretty much come to the conclusion that we’d like to work in that direction, first off by working on the relationship with the kids.

But at some point I realized that there was more to this than I figured – it wasn’t so much a statement that he wanted to be with me really. Here’s what we figured out, and there’s a very big difference here: I wanted this to happen, in my heart I really did. And all it took to get to that point was to work on a few issues and voila, bliss. All I wanted was for him to actually SAY it to me – that this was what he wanted – me in his life forever – and then I’d get on the ball and work like crazy-mad to get the ball rolling, get the kids situation worked out and anything else that posed a hindrance to our relationship.

The problem? The fly in our chardonnay? His feelings were different – semantics if you please – but it struck a blow to my ever-fragile feelings. IF we could work out the kids situation and anything else that posed a hindrance to our relationship, then MAYBE he’d be willing to think the “M” word. Maybe.

No guarantees for either of us. Mostly for me. Why do you say? Because I’d be putting my heart and soul into a relationship – into a potential MARRIAGE (there, I said it) without knowing if that’s really where we’d end up. Sure, something could happen along the way and it wouldn’t work out, but at least we’d known we’d tried.

But this was different. He still wasn’t sure. And he was still quick to say that this wasn’t something he wanted to see happen any time soon, and I’m not talking 6 months or a year boys and girls. I’m talking 5 years. 8 years. 10 years.

I love you, but by then, well, it just won’t be feasible for me anymore. While I’m not old, not anywhere close to be old, I am staring time down the barrel and if I ever want to have another child, it’s gotta be sooner rather than later.

All the old stuff comes back up. My timeline is in the next few years, his? The next decade.

So who wins here? Who loses? Does he give up his freedom to take on this huge responsibility? Do I give up my last years of opportunity to have a baby?

Yet again I told myself that this can’t possibly work.

I told myself that I’m putting time and effort into something that he really doesn’t want.

And now, more than ever, I’m getting more and more annoyed that he wants me to act like his wife, but he doesn’t want me to be his wife.

And now, more than ever, I want to say to him PISS OR GET OFF THE POT!!!!

So, because HE brought up the whole “M” thing – meaning he is the one who went there and brought it up, he opened up that part of me that always put that away. I didn’t hope for it, wish for it, I pretty much was sure it wouldn’t happen, and here he goes throwing the possibility my way…

…and now I realize that is what I want. More than anything.

And this time in my life, I don’t think I’m willing to give Me up again. I don’t think I’m willing to sacrifice for someone else again. I lost myself to Hitler my ex-husband, I lost every bit of my SELF to him. It took me a long time to find Me again. I can’t do it again. No matter how much I love you, I can’t do it again.

I remember my mom aaalllwwwaaayyysss saying to me “To thine own self be true” (it’s Shakespeare).

That means a lot to me now, coming out of a place of co-dependence, doing everything for everyone else to keep them happy. I don’t want to be that woman anymore.

I have to be true to myself.

ME.

And in being true to myself, I’m giving him an out too. Which brings me to my next post which has left me feeling very angry this morning.

I get it. I really get it. Everyone is different, not everyone likes kids (you don’t see me rushing to help out at church in the nursery/Sunday school do you!?). I’d never want to push anything on anyone, I already told you that.

Anyhoo. Months and months ago I was feeling bad about our relationship, wishing things were different. I decided to put in an application for such an Act of God so I prayed “Hey God, if this is meant to happen, it’s going to take ManDude being okay with kids. And right now I think that is pretty much impossible. But, if we’re supposed to be together, if you really did bring him into my life to be mine, and for me to be his, well, things have gotta change. TYVM The End.”

That was months ago.

So now I get a call, or maybe an email. I think it was a phone call. It was my man… and he’d been doing a lot of thinking. I prepared myself to stick to our break-up since there was no way this was going to work out. I didn’t want to fall back into our very own personalized cycle of get together and break up… so I wasn’t sure this was going to be a conversation I really wanted to have. Again.

To my surprise, he wanted to take steps to being more serious with me. Of course neither of us could spit out the “M” word, but he felt he wanted more out of our relationship, and was taking great strides (and I really do mean that) to make steps to improve his relationship with the kids. He’d gotten books to read and wanted to spend time with them. He even manned up and admitted having a negative attitude that prevented him from ever enjoying the time with all of us.

I was impressed, but doubtful. I hoped this wasn’t just a dangling carrot to get us back together. Some women (and men too I’m sure) have been put on indefinite relationship hold with promises of “trying this out” and “thinking about this” and I didn’t want that. I also didn’t want to expose my kids to something that wasn’t going to last either.

But he sounded so sincere. I thought maybe he really did want to see what life with us would be like. We talked about it as much as our comfort zones would allow. We even sat down with my pastor to get some good advice – and did we ever.

Getting married was an obvious next-step in a relationship like ours, but we all approached the subject with caution. Me because I didn’t want to get excited AT ALL because I knew this could not work out, Me because I didn’t want to feel like my actions were pressuring HIM into something. I kept my thoughts to myself as best as I could. He needed some space and some time to think this through.

But one day I was thinking about the wonderful and beautiful possibility that maybe this man had chosen ME – and maybe someone wanted me to be around in his life for forever. It was a beautiful feeling, I felt alive and good and happy. After all we’ve been through, it seemed like there were better times ahead, and I’d never have to be alone again and I could heave a big sigh and know that all was well in the world.

And about 5 minutes later I chided myself for being silly and set about to shut down my thoughts and feelings and emotions and get back to being practical and not expecting, not assuming.

It was like a lovely little flower had blossomed in too-early spring, peeking it’s lovely head above the snow, only to be snatched up by some lovely little flower eating bird all too soon.

I was willing to give him as much time as he needed, especially since he was working hard on his own stuff. But soon I’d realize something that was far hurtful than anything else I’d experienced in our relationship up to this point.

Here I am in my adult life and I’m pretty much the same. I’ve learned to shut down my emotions for the most part because of dealing with so much negativity for a very long time. I don’t get excited about much nowadays because I know there’s always a chance for something to fall through or not work out or people to bail on you. It happens, it’s life. I’m not a Debby Downer, I just don’t like to be disappointed.

When I started dating this great guy a little more than a year ago, I realized that while he and I fit into all the cutesy relationship molds of fitting together: he was the yin to my yang, we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, we’re two birds of a feather etc etc, there was one big problem. I want a traditional family. I’d like to be married and enjoy the wonderment that is two souls coming together to love each other forever and grow old together. I’d like to have a baby with said mate, joining the two of us together in a new little person.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with feelings like that. It’s how men and women were created, to want someone else, to be with someone else. Regardless of your views of marriage, there are still a lot of people in the world who want to have that other someone in their life in a commitment of experiencing life together.

Well, that’s not what he wants, at least not right now. And, being the sensible person that I am, I didn’t get all bent out of shape about it. I did have my own little time of turmoil of wondering if I should stick to the relationship just because we were so damn good together. But after a while, thoughts that I was second guessing myself crept in. I started to feel like while this guy was probably the closest thing to my Mr. Right that I would ever get, maybe I was missing someone else at the same time, someone who shared the same desires that I had.

I let him know what I wanted in life, and he let me know what he wanted. After quite some time of considering and talk of ending our relationship, and actually doing so for a whopping 24 hours, I decided that I loved this man more than I had ever loved anyone, and I’d rather spend some time with him – as much as possible – than to walk off without him and have nothing.

I decided that I’d give up or put on hold the things I wanted: a family unit.  After all, I could never push him into something he didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. I knew I was taking a big risk by giving up my own desires: doing that in the past got me stuck in an unhealthy and unsafe relationship, and it caused a lot of damage. But this was different – this guy, while selfish in many ways (and I mean putting self first, not Scrooge-like or uncaring for others) was not going to intentionally inflict harm or pain on me. He just wasn’t giving up on what he wanted.

I could wait for him to change his mind and maybe in a few years if we were still together then he and I would be on the same page for our lives, but the risks here are obvious. What if he changes his mind about ME? What if I’M not on the same page anymore? What if I can’t have any more children? So many what if’s were scary for me, but after spending a good almost 10 years alone, I didn’t want to lose the happiness that he brought to my life NOW.

We got back together again, but part of my heart was hurt and broken. Subconsciously I felt rejected and uncared for because I was willing to sacrifice for our relationship but he wasn’t, nor did he seem to notice or care that I would give up so much for him.

This became a huge burden for me to keep to myself, but as I always do, I shoved my emotions deep down inside and ignored them, and I forced myself to only look at the good times of the relationship.

Throughout our whole dating experience, I never was the girl who would drop hints (or make outright demands) that we get married. 3, 6, 9 and 12-month anniversaries came and went and I never expected that he’d surprise me with a confession of his undying love for me. I never expected that he’d choose me to be his one and only, I never expected that he’d love me the way I loved him and saw me as the rest of who he was.

I was never that girlfriend, and I tried to love and accept him for what he was, and where he was in life, too.

But something has to give when all you do is give to everyone else in life, and one day you realize that you’ve neglected yourself for so long that you don’t know who you are. And when that time comes in the midst of losing a job and dealing with other not-so-normal stresses, you realize that you don’t have the energy to keep all these people happy all the time, feeling like you’re getting not much in return.

I felt like he was getting his cake and eating it too. I felt like I was keeping nothing for myself, but giving all away. I felt like I was cheating myself out of the life I truly wanted and I also felt like I was doing a disservice to my children, who were a constant source of strain on our relationship since he was not used to kids and saw them as an an interruption and nuisance to our relationship.

So we had yet another one of our talks, or maybe it was an email. I’m not sure what happened, but I decided that this just wasn’t working out because after 13 months of dating, we couldn’t progress.

He wanted to be with me as often as possible, he wanted every benefit that a woman would give a husband – but yet we can’t get a place together, we can’t do things with the kids because it makes him uncomfortable, we can’t talk about what getting married would look like because – in his tongue in cheek manner – he’d say that I was after his soul (and his money ha ha isn’t that funny).

It just didn’t make sense to play house with someone who wanted to play house but didn’t want to play house. Yeah you read that right.

So we ended it. He went out of town for a few days and we didn’t see each other or talk much.

Then, he surprised me.

I know I’m being awful sarcastic here, but I just don’t get what happened.

If you really do not like or care for children that much, then do not place yourself in a situation with kids. Ever. At all.

I’ve had single non-parent friends who – while on a phone call some minor emergency comes up that includes bleeding or puking – respond to my profuse embarrassed apologies by saying “I know you have kids. This is more important right now and you need to take care of them. When you can, call me back.”

Wow. What a relief THAT is to hear. How respectful of me as a parent to have grace and honesty and understanding. To be selfless in their own needs and kind to my kids.

Like I NEED someone’s permission to talk to my kid in my own home.

My children are part of me, part of my life, part of my every waking (and sleeping) moment. If you cannot grasp that, well, I don’t know what to say.

I’ve never asked much of anyone with regard to my kids. I don’t walk around telling everyone how perfect my two are, that they’re the cutest in the world, the smartest, the funniest. I’m quick to recognize my kids’ faults and try to help them through it. I’ve never dated anyone and expected them to act like a potential future dad, (although I’ve been blessed to have some amazing dudes play with and care about my kids just because). I’ve never expected anything really, and quite honestly, I feel like being a single parent is a scarlet letter and every.single.guy will see kids/divorce as baggage and warning signs.

Quite unfair really.

I don’t expect or demand anyone change. I just expect respect and understanding for this situation. I expect my kids to be recognized as half-baked humans who aren’t done yet, and to be treated with respect as to who they are and what they are. And if my kids act up, it’s MY job to come down on them and fix it.

Yes? No?

I wanted to get to a specific point in this post, but I had to sort of set you up with where I’m coming from first. So just bear with me here.

I have to admit it – while I’m the mom of two kids, I’m really not a kid person. Surprised? It seems that a lot of women have that built-in mommy-ability to be sweet, soft-spoken, patient and nurturing with children, their own or someone else’s. It’s a trait I see often at the kids’ school: teachers who have that gift to work with and handle children like magic. But for some of us, kids are like untrained dogs who push when you pull and run off leaving you feeling helpless, powerless, and ready to pull out your hair.

The thought of babysitting someone else’s kids usually makes me cringe, especially if they aren’t well-behaved kids. I had an experience once of having a gal come over to play with us and she decided to squeeze glue all over someone’s bedsheets and pillow, and to hack to pieces a $200 Lego Star Wars spaceship. I called her mom to pick her up asap.

Having just that one experience (oh, I’ve seen more, trust me) it’s really no surprise to me when I hear people (USUALLY younger, single boys males) say how kids are little *expletives* and that they’d never want to have kids or be around kids or date someone with kids.  You see the screeching, snotty two-year old pulling on his parents or hitting a sibling at a restaurant, you see a 13-year old girl flip off her grandmother, well you get the point. It’s no secret that there are some spoiled, poorly raised kids in the world.

But if they are GOOD kids, kids who do well and try hard with the occasional hiccup because they have yet to refine their own social graces and manners, or they forget, or they run out of patience after 15 minutes of waiting for something and ask again “are we there yet” or “is it done yet” – well, is that really enough to make you hate a child? To cringe to be around them?

Kids in general don’t bother me. As a matter of fact, I find quite a bit of humor while just hanging around kids. They really do say the darndest things. They’re little people, not yet full of all the information they need to be adults like the rest of us. The only time a kid really bothers me is: if they’re incredibly rude; they won’t listen to ANYONE; they pick their nose and eat it in front of me; they are mean to or hurt my kid (or someone else’s). Even then, I’m not mad at the child. I’m annoyed at their parents for not teaching them and enforcing rules of acceptable behavior. The mother who says quietly “Now Johnny, don’t hit mommy. Now Johnny, stop biting the baby. Johnny we don’t throw knives at kittens” without giving discipline for repeated offenses, well, she deserves to be knocked upside the head. “Now Johnny” doesn’t cut it for some kids.

You probably want me to get to the point already. Ok ok, I’m getting there… read on to my next post.

PET PEEVE: I really hate it when I’m talking on the phone with another parent and their child starts talking to the parent. It’s not the child’s talking to the parent that bothers me at all. It’s the parent stopping in mid-sentence when talking to me, chatting with the child for 30-60 seconds and then saying to them “I can’t talk right now, I’m on the phone.” Wait, what? You just talked to your kid – which told them you can talk while on the phone. So telling them that now you can’t probably doesn’t make much sense to them and they will continue to talk to you when you are on the phone on other occasions.  On the other hand, it would not bother me if the parent said to me “excuse me for just a moment”, told the child that they were on the phone to come back later, and got back to me.

That’s sort of the day I’m having today. Yes, I know,  it’s all because of emotional responses triggered by my overloaded brain and none of things I’m thinking are true in reality. But we all know that emotions are powerful things and our brains sometimes can’t help but be ruled by them. Emotions that is.

Today I feel like I really just can’t do this one more minute. I can’t pretend that I’m so strong, that I’m willfully determined to make it through this hard time – this hard  life. I don’t want to be the one to conquer yet another hardship or difficulty. Haven’t I had enough of those? I can sit down and write up a list of hardships – not just a hard day but gut-wrenching, heart-breaking hardships – that have occurred in my life since I was a little girl.  We all experience traumas but Jesus, enough is enough.

The kids’ dad just said he should buy a one-way ticket for them to come live with him since I’ve lost my job.

Is that what this is coming down to? I can’t care for my own children? It’s true – I’m really not sure how I’m going to pay rent for June, how I’m going to pay for gas or electricity. Forget school supplies and new clothes for July. And little man’s birthday? Should I really buck up and just get the job at McDonald’s?

You know, usually I’d say Hell yes, do whatever it takes.

But I’m so.tired. of being that person. I don’t WANT to live a life struggling, doing whatever it takes. Not anymore. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of hardships sucking out my soul and energy and passions. Oh, Atlas I know how you feel.

I’m 36 for God’s sake. I’m not supposed to be unemployed and a single mom and wondering what the hell is my life going to look like in a week, a month, a year.

Yes, I know there are others out there who are suffering. There are dying, starving, hurting people all over the world.

Usually I’d be thankful my situation isn’t *that* bad. But you know what? I’m going to be completely selfish here for once and stop thinking about everyone else and everything else. I’M the one who is hurting right now. And it’s so strong and overwhelming that I’m starting to think crazy thoughts like maybe the kids would be better off with Hitler and Eva their dad and his wife. I mean, they’d have someone around all the time, they can go on vacation. They can have new clothes that (gasp) weren’t bought at Goodwill or even WalMart or Target. They can have an endless supply of food to eat, munch on, graze on. They can go on field trips and get yearbooks or Scholastic book orders or school photos. They can go to birthday parties because they’ll be able to buy a gift to take with them. They can go camping in the summer and skiing in the winter.

It’s getting harder to get out of bed in the morning. My determination and drive and enthusiasm and gives-a-damn have all dwindled and faded and I don’t know where they’ve gone. I do know apathy is slowly taking their place. And anxiety. And headaches and stomach pains and wanting to cry all the time but not even having enough energy to cry about anything. The voices in my head chide me for being silly, dramatic, giving in so easy.

But really, after spending 26 years fighting my way through extreme difficulty all.the.time, I think I’ve used up all of my resources for this whole “you’ll make it through” thing.

For now, anyway.

Let me stop there to say I am embarrassed by Robertson’s comments regarding Haiti. You know, if he’d been giving a history lesson and telling the story of this dude who wanted to save Haiti from Napoleon so he sold his soul to the devil and just left it at that, I’d be okay. I thought it was a rather interesting story, one akin to Icharus wanting wings or Zeus sleeping around on Hera. Well, wrong era wrong continent but go with me here. While he didn’t right out say it, it appears he’s intimating that Haiti is cursed (by God I’m guessing) and that this earthquake is a result of said curse.

Having been to Haiti, I can say that it would indeed be easy to say the country is “cursed” (and by that I do not mean on God’s list of countries to smite in 2010). The people are incredibly poor there. Poor isn’t even a good word to use! The country is brown and dusty – animals roam the streets, dirty water puddles on the corners tainted by urine and feces, and children play right.there. There’s no topsoil in Haiti, no system for water (it’s caught in cisterns when (if) it rains) and when we were there, electricity only existed for about two hours a day, IF you were lucky.

And, sure enough, an hour crossing the Haitian border to the Dominican Republic is like stepping through the looking-glass: suddenly there’s lush green foliage, plants, flowers, grass, waterfalls, it’s a veritable land of plenty.

But back to Robertson.

I’m a Christian. Have been my whole life. I remember my mom watching Robertson when I was younger. I never minded him much until my adult life when many Christian leaders had their own failings as humans: affairs, homosexual relationships, embezzelment, etc. Wow, these are people just like me, making mistakes. These same people who represented Christianity to the world because of their far reaching programs and television shows.

Here’s what it comes down to for ME, in my OWN personal opinion.

Pat Robertson should have used his airtime to encourage Christians, Bhuddists, Muslims, Athiests humans to pray for, help, donate, send aid to Haiti.

If Pat Robertson wants this earthquake to truly be a “blessing in disguise” then he needs to not make harsh comments.

Cause hey, I’m just SURE that the people of Haiti will be LINING UP and coming in DROVES to turn Christian and follow this God who smited them, killing men women and little babies. After all, who doesn’t want to follow THAT God?

*hem*

Dear Haitians et. al:

I’m sorry that Pat Robertson made comments that make the rest of us Christians appear to be simple-minded, hateful witch hunters. Apparently he forgot the words “God is loving, gracious, kind, slow to anger, patient, forgiving…” I’ll stop there cause you get the point. Please don’t judge the rest of us based on his personal opinions.  I’m pretty sure this earthquake was caused by this thing called a fault line.

So tired of people using religion to make other people feel bad about themselves, to scare others into believing in God. I get that we Christians beleive if you don’t believe in Jesus then you’re condemned to eternal damnation in hell (insert warm fuzzy feelings here)  but for the love of God – really – knock it the hell off. If we’d spend half the time helping others, showing true love and concern for our fellow humans then maybe people would think “Hey, Christians are pretty cool. They aren’t stuffy at all!”

I’m hoping to go on a mission trip to Haiti this summer, returning to the city I visited back in ’95 or ’96. I’m not going to do dramas in the street or preach to thousands hoping they will turn or burn.

Instead, I’m going to really do what Jesus would likely have done: get in with the people, the outcasts, the downtrodden, the hurting, the homeless, the orphaned, and I’m going to love them. Yep. Love love. Like, ooh here’s a hug. Or, hey, let me make dinner for this displaced family. How ’bout that?

And I’m not going to mention that these souls that they are cursed. I’m instead going to look at them like the people who were wonderfully and fearfully made. By God.

Now, make a comment, but BE NICE! If ya’ll start hatin then I’ma delete your comment. Or put a curse on you.