Saturday, January 1, 2022
Monday, December 27, 2021
Good morning, Noble-One.
It was so nice to have your whole family over to our home last night, for many hours of unmasked and socially-close feasting and fellowship, in preparation for our entire family's Christmas celebrations tomorrow. Hearts flutter in the heavenly abode of Jesus as I type these words to you.
I am also happy you met Memoria, our new refugee family member for the next eight months. After you left, I pursued the magnanimous task of clarifying some confusion in the mind of Memoria, who inquired about our vaccination status. I forgot to inform her before your arrival yesterday that your entire family is not vaccinated. As I have interpreted her feelings on this matter, I now know that she is not comfortable being indoors with people who are not vaccinated.
I failed. I’m such a failure. Failure is my saint name.
I did not sleep well last night. Pity me, my beloved Noble-One.
My heart is heavy, like a millstone dragging my earnest desires into the depths of the sea.
So you must know: I want our entire family—yours included—to be together. I really do. But this millstone God chained to me is His will, and all part of His marvelous plan of Redemption. And grace. And mercy. And love.
Last year was painful for everyone. The masks. The ideology-based segregation. Treating your family alone as being ceremonially unclean and defiled. The badgering of your oldest son about his mask drooping ever-so-slightly below his nose, while all of us shivered indoors in temperatures well below zero. But all that was necessary, because of CDC guidelines.
Sadly, I think it caused distance between you and your siblings. I cry crocodile tears over it now.
Months later, the bridal shower you and I attended unmasked and undistanced brought me tremendous joy! Then, sadly, you and I injured each other afterward. It was not just me injuring you. You injured me too.
Beloved Noble-One, I love you. I don’t love your husband, and I never have; nor might I ever. But that’s a separate issue I’m unwilling to get counseling over. It helps that your father is a domestic doormat, too. So don't expect much change in regard to things we both are unwilling to change.
I have remained immensely burdened by missing out on many things in your life over the past ten years of your marriage to him. And I know you have missed out on many things in our lives over that period, too. Let’s not point fingers as to who is to blame for both. Instead, let’s mourn together. But let’s also rejoice because I know our Redeemer lives!
I know that God cares for each and every one of us—even the unvaccinated! He cares about our sorrows, our heartbreaks, and I trust He will use opportunities like bridal showers to create healing, joy, and new experiences we can all rally around and celebrate together!
This. Is. My. Prayer.
My. Christmas. Wish.
I truly love you all equally, and my goal is to honor and respect everyone in our family, regardless of vaccination status.
Oh, how I wish we all could have what we wish for!
Oh, how I wish we all could have what we need!
But our comfort zones around the unvaccinated differ. And it is, sadly, with thick crocodile tears, clear to me that this is not possible for Christmas this year (tomorrow).
God has invited us to welcome Memoria into our hearts and into our home. We have accepted God’s invitation. It is now our privilege and responsibility to honor her, love her, and respect her too.
I went to bed praying, tossing and turning, in chains of despair wound tight all around me. I asked God to show me what to do, to set me free. And He answered me with gracious words of affirmation about how Memoria feels. So this decision is no longer about me and my desires. This decision is God’s and Memoria’s.
When Memoria woke up this morning, I told her what God invited me to enforce, starting today: “I will not have unvaccinated people in our home without masks while she is here.”
She hugged me and said, “Thank you.” Then she said, “This will surely make the Noble-One feel sad.” I told her this makes me sad, too; but God revealed to me His will, and I will not deviate from it, because I am my Beloved’s and He is mine.
That turned into an opportunity for brief comments about God, who was willing to bear heartache with His own Son on the cross, for the sake of others (even the unvaccinated).
I am praying God will use this for his glory. But what I have to say next is going to be very hard for you to hear:
Ko-Vid cases are rising. I will need to be very careful about having unvaccinated people here indoors. So then, I’m wondering if I can drop off your family’s gifts today, so that they could be opened tomorrow over FaceTime?
with love of Jesus in my heart,
XXOO XO XOO OOX OX OO XX
P.S. Two of my grandchildren (who are not in your household) are still too young to be allowed the sacramental gift of vaccination, because the FDA has not yet approved an experimental gene therapy injection for their age group. But I will make an exception for them both for all of Christmas day (tomorrow) because I’m a complete fucking hypocrite.
Friday, December 24, 2021
There seem to be three diplomatic options for holiday gatherings this year:
The first is for families and friends who are fully vacksed to gather together, with the ‘host’ requesting that only the unvacksed wear masks, stay six feet apart, use hand sanitizers, wash hands regularly, and open up windows for ‘proper ventilation’; or that all guests regardless of vacksinashun status wear masks, stay six feet apart, use hand sanitizers, wash hands regularly, and open up windows for ‘proper ventilation.’ And of course, the host should notify all who are invited that they must stay home (and away from gatherings) if there are any indications of sickness whatsoever. Even the slightest indication of sniffles, congestion, sore throat, or higher-than-usual body temperatures must be treated as disease-spreading germ factories.
The second is for families to gather together according to each family’s boundaries. Whoever hosts a gathering should welcome all invited, vacksed and unvacksed, who are not clearly sick with a contagious disease. That way, no individual liberties are denied, no psychic powers purported, no fear-porn distributed, and no medical apartheid subtly encouraged from the outset. Guests may also wear masks, stay six feet apart, use hand sanitizers, wash hands regularly, and go outside for ‘proper ventilation’, if that makes them feel safer; or even it it merely satisfies the quasi-religious contingencies of faithfulness to their triune god, Science, a.k.a. Big Gov, Big Tech, and Big Pharma; or even if it merely satisfies the functionally religious honor due to the cultural saints they venerate (Fauci, Gates, Biden, Pelosi, Cuomo, et. al.).
The third option is for families to gather together, but only after the ‘host’ has properly vetted and identified all those among their invited guests who are uncomfortable being around others who are healthy, not-sick, but still (possibly) unvacksed. Then, after proper vetting, all those who are uncomfortable gathering around the healthy, non-sick, and unvacksed should be segregated from the rest. This will accomodate all unpredictable paranoia and thereby, also, welcome all mentally and emotionally stable guests within an environment that is actually healthy and celebratory.*** That way, all parties win: the paranoid can celebrate in paranoid isolation, and the healthy, non-sick, and unvacksed can enjoy Christmas together as they always did prior to this Great Reset.
*** This statement has not been approved by the FDA, CDC, WHO, Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, or Facebook and Instagram fact-checkers.
Thursday, December 23, 2021
Where are you?
Not, Where were you?
No one really cares about the past
What matters is this time
With the accuser
Held by a seemingly long chain
Perhaps it’s all our fault, though
Imagining ourselves under your curse
Under the reign of death
Hurling through the vacuum
Of meaninglessness toward infinity
Our fathomless distance from life
If it even cares
All we seem to care about is now
This present, this gift
This already but not yet
Along with paying our mortgage
And our taxes
You became man to warm our innards
To show us what love is
Whatever that means
While we lose our jobs
Lose our sleep
Lose our freedoms of self
Pondering this age of madness
The slave cries out
Where are you?
He doesn’t need hope
That some day you’ll both meet
And you’ll wipe away the tears
He needs you now
He needs to you here now
Not some future day
When the sea gives up its dead
For one hour of the thy faithfulness
Is more than all hours and years
Thursday, December 9, 2021
Let’s start over
I offer peace and you offered war
I hear longing for God and you heard excuses for whoring
I see Christians and you saw pagans
I seek to bind up wounds and you reached for a sword
I provide exegesis and you delivered cliches
I view them as personal offenses and you hunted for any public unrepented sin
I bow down before Christ and you venerated stone tablets
I make room for prodigals and you sought to destroy the Son
I hand you an icon of Jesus and you delivered the messenger to Satan
In the end it’s just you and your bucket of apples, picked freshly for Eve
While I wait and watch and wonder if you pay attention to what God really said
Ten magical words define you, but they don’t speak for themselves
reformed in all his ways
defriending all the crazies
hunting down their snitches
preparing for war with non-existent enemies
seated in silence
preparing to offer the 9th mode
barking at guests afterward
resting among the dead
yapping about his studies
offering his gift of hospitality
freeloading off everyone else
wasting everyone’s time
standing at the kliros
puppeteering better than Kermit
jerking off to their own cadence
embarrassing us all
Sunday, October 24, 2021
every now and then
we return to paradise
with eyes wide open
just before dusk
there we both smile
there a little mole is hiding
in a pumpkin patch
among the perfect apple orchard
subtle tones of sunshine are all around
just the right shade on every side
all is wide open for viewing
its landscape even has one peach
and so we feast and nibble
laying and relaxing
you gaze at the heavens
i leer at the glistening horizon
its supple hills
with lofty pillows billowing beyond
are adorned with soft raspberries
i reach for one with an arm stretched out
you grab my hand to stay grounded
we feel the wind hover over us
chilling the skin
climbing higher and higher
there, at the peak we each find rest
then you ask
would you like to come inside now?
it's your turn