Grizzly Man

 

That scream

That crying

That whining and handshaking

That lying 

That intemperance

That tantrum

At that age

It poured out like a tipped over glass of wine

Then the sensitivity bled through the tablecloth

Of coddling

Of constancy

Of hubris

Of emotion

Of worry

At that age

Momma bear suddenly postured at perceived predators

Pretending her cub needed protection from pestering

Papa bear suddenly became ready, too

Ready to protect and defend and pounce if need be

So I pressed the power button and shut it all down

Taking in all the blame

I bulshitted my way quickly over to the end-table with the remote

I pushed the red button at the top of the plastic thingamabob with batteries inside

I pressed firmly and quickly to make the drama go away

These people are used to constant commercials anyway

See all this nonsensical reaction and worry?

See mama bear all fuckin mad and don't know why?

Did you hear that grizzly’s potty-mouth, too?

Did you see that cub on the spectrum turn around and freak the fuck out like a god damned lying banshee? 

I did, and so did the grizzly man’s cubs

But now that was all my fault

And it needed to become that way

No one else was mentally stable enough to feel the truth in their bones

They all needed distracting ads and entertainments instead 

So I pointed their attention away from the HDTV and directly toward the grizzly man invading their theme park

I volunteered to be the victim

Then they could feel whatever needed feeling and calm the fuck down

Needless to say, I don’t camp out in Bear Country anymore

bich

 

                        how do you

                tell someone

                     you want to respect 

                                                that you cannot

                                read their minds

                                           what an awkward place to be

                                                          when the other thinks

                                                                    you have been able

                                                to this whole while

Benji games

He did the hand waving tempo thing again

With muted voice and projection through nostrils

Pretending to know what he’s doing

With that pious man bun and beard on display

So I waved back with my left hand and finger

Waiting for him to notice what I was doing

I would have shouted, 

‘Hey! Dick with ears! 

Stop pretending you know what you’re doing!’

But we all were mid-prayer

And it’s not like I’m hiding my feelings anymore

So a prolonged hand wave back sufficed for now

I even wrote in the book of petitions

'Stop pretending there is no problem’

I don’t expect any confrontation

But even then I'd ask what the problem is

And if one points a finger

I’ll simulate his retarded hand waving tempo gesture

with my right hand

Dust ye shall return

I wonder why it matters

if we don’t get our buttholes

and bellybuttons back

Does one really need a particle 

of the shell that once was food for the worms?

Will we need barbers, doctors, and cobblers too? 

What if people imagined

a world with only one return

and one promise

transpiring long ago?

Supposedly this tenet is serious

Sheepherders are looking 

for moving targets

It’s not just concerning

It’s very concerning

They will hunt you down

and dismember you 

It will be horrific

Even God won't be able to reassemble you on the last day.

Imagine bodies absorbed 

by tree roots 

and fire

Another chopped 

into pieces 

by car crash or grenade

Others chewed 

and digested 

by bears

sharks

and politicians

Wandering organs

reassembled into earth

Centuries of worms 

Shitting out the flesh of saints

Then the Scriptures 

will finally 

be fulfilled

The last Adam returns 

as promised 

to the adamah

Lord have mercy

 

In this year of one next to another

We all chose together

But before we filled our bellies with lobster and banana tempura

I said ‘done’ in sudden silence and darkness

I was finished before the image of God, too.

I threw it all away below peels not quite good enough

Not even for worms

Again, I should have seen this coming

What the hell

I saw this coming from the beginning

But now it’s done

Done

I quit

I can’t breathe

It’s just foolish

I’ve been here before

Just not with mist and breath

My heart tightens in my chest

I could have hid longer

She deserves better

The three do too

May I sing

Again

Love

In this eleventh year,

On this night we all shared?

4015

Eleven years today

You would have loved her

It’s too bad you only met her mom

I’m not surprised by that though

She only ever seems to care about others

She only ever seems to open arms wide

She only ever seems to lavish God’s praise

To craft another position paper in her mind

Like your ex with his fantasy family

Please tell Jesus I love him

Eleven years today

Anaversery

 

You are

the reason I write

the inspiration I snuggle

the poem of poems

the treasure of this story

words can't describe

Living the Dream

 

A glimmer of hope

A sliver of salvation

A blip of baptisms

Eighty six in one day

Some random dude I don't know

Is excited

Please pray

Your little cult made this possible

Your free labor made this possible

Tomorrow, more will be saved

Eighty six more, all because of you

Some random dad I don't know

Look at you

Living the dream

The Real Jesus

 

Christmas Wish

 

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?

Sincerely, 

with love of Jesus in my heart,

Mom

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.