I WANT MY OWN MOTORCYCLE


Yes we do

Yes we do

It’s true. Finally, at this late stage in my life, I want one. My hubs and I went for a long bike ride on his Harley after we left all the Easter celebrations with family and friends. It was so beautiful and quiet (except for the roar of the souped up tail pipes he accessorized his bike with. Hey, they all do it.). We enjoyed awesome scenery, fabulous smells of spring flowers, new wheat in the fields, even the murky smells of the occasional swamp. It was all lovely.

Ok, I have tried to make it known that I am no stranger to riding motorcycles but the hubs doesn’t take me seriously. My family rode bikes when I was a kid. My parents did, my brother did, all the G.I.s my dad brought home from work did. We would meet in a pasture behind our house in Austin, Texas (now it’s a housing development) and ride through all the dips and pits and cow manure. Mom was a short, red, plump woman and looked a bit like a tomato, but she loved to ride too. Bless her heart, I can still see her zooming across the wild terrain with her boobs about to explode out of her bras, yes bras, as she tried to keep them corralled by wearing more than one, poor thing. I’m sure she was embarrassed. I wasn’t. I wanted to be just like her. That gal could ride. Anyway, my point is that I grew up riding. To be honest, most of my riding was on the back of the motorcycle. But there was a time when I could handle a dirt bike. That was fun, but unfortunately I was a bit timid. I remember hearing someone remark “she had that thing going and then just gave up!” I don’t know why, but by the time I got that dirt bike going good, I always backed off. What on earth was I afraid of – falling, breaking my face, getting dirty? Who knows.

Back to the motorcycle ride with the hubs yesterday. I believe that the love of that ride triggered something in me that makes me want my own bike. He has been trying to convince me that I need one for a long time. I have been telling him that I like sitting behind him with my arms around him when we ride. And that’s true, but I woke up this morning remembering the good times I had as a kid trying to impress everyone that I could do it but not being sure I really could.

Well, now I am sure. I know I can do it. I’m older, wiser, free-er, happier, smarter. I know riding the back roads are safer than riding the highways, and a lot more fun. I have no problem with wearing more than one bra if the going gets rough, and the bits and pieces of gray hair blowing in the wind from under my full-face helmet do not bother me. Support hose will help keep my ankles from swelling. I can equip myself with a light-weight back brace if I need to. I have prescription sun glasses and body lotion with sun screen. I can do this. I want my own motorcycle.

the older I get

Don’t forget to pray for peace, people. Oh – and if you don’t mind – pray for me too!

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Spiritually Overcoming Abuse


jesus and child

I intended to post the following yesterday but I had to sleep on it and pray about it to be sure I wanted to share it with the world. Plus, I don’t want to hurt anyone who has hurt me in the past. With healing comes forgiveness. Or maybe the other way around.

I don’t even know how to put into words the experience I had, or I should say, the truth revealed to me last night. I was at my weekly prayer meeting, a group of Catholic Charismatic ladies who get together to praise God and offer prayer intentions. And sometimes share a bottle of wine. Hey, we’re Catholic, what can I say?

ANYWAY, during the course of the evening we shared and prayed and meditated. I think we all had the same thing on our hearts because it seems the conversation drifted into the realm of our pasts and the pain of our childhoods. Isn’t it something how God brings people together who have so much in common? Not a coincidence, a God-incidence. There were only three of us last night but we still made a joyful noise unto the Lord, as the saying goes. When we got down to brass tacks, it was all about surviving abusive relationships and childhoods. One by one we shared things in our lives that were devastating. We cried for each other and prayed for each other. And we thanked God that He is a God of mercy and compassion. The more I thought about that, the more I began to recognize a truth that had evaded me for as long as I could remember. And with that truth came healing.

In terms of what we all have to suffer in life, I can’t say I know the reasons why we do. The world wide web is not the place to discuss some things so I’m not going there. But I will say this: God’s timing is not our timing but his timing is perfect. Recently, I saw a post on fb that said our bad memories need to be removed from our lives because they are toxic to ourselves physically and mentally. Personally, the suffering I have had to endure was bad in my eyes but compared to some, maybe not so much. Nevertheless, it was so complicated it had to be healed by layers. I can’t say I was always fully aware of each step into healing. All I knew was I had pain that was tattooed on my heart and soul and I wanted to be free of it. I wanted to be ‘normal’, whatever that was. As the healing progressed, I began to understand the reasoning behind why I felt ‘less than’, as well as defining and understanding my own behaviors that were destructive and self-deprecating, at the same time, inevitable; symptoms manifested by my pain.

A little at a time, the eyes of my heart have been opened to see the reasoning, if there is such a thing, behind why I suffered what I did. With each revelation came healing. Like an onion (I’m sure you’ve heard this before but it still rings true) peeling away layer by layer, so were the obstacles that kept me from the area in my life that most needed healing. And it was a s l o w process. Finally, just last night, I came to understand that I needn’t search for healing and the ability to rise above. It would come to me. God would see to it. Suddenly last night, as clear as a bell, I realized that God knows what He is doing. I had to wait until His time was right to complete the work He began in me. I discovered that the reason I wasn’t healed the first time I asked was because God knew I couldn’t deal with the reasons why what happened happened. I simply wasn’t ready. God knew when I would be and he tilled the soil and fertilized the field, and pulled the weeds until I was in the exact spot I needed to be, a place where I could accept hearing what happened, what made me the way I am.

I would have not been able to handle it otherwise. Premature enlightenment of the truth might have destroyed me. There could have been weak areas in me that couldn’t go there without more damage occurring.

God’s timing is perfect. I’m pretty sure I am a much stronger person with perhaps more insight and rebounding abilities. All thanks to God.

I don’t blame Him for the bad, bad experiences I have had. His gift to the human race is free will and it isn’t His fault that the choices of others have had a negative impact on my life. For that matter, some of my own choices have had negative impact on other’s lives. But God, in His mercy, has all the tools we need to become whole. His understanding and compassion are perfect, therefore He knows the exact time in which we will be able to accept our healing so that it will become totally complete.

Amen.

Please pray for peace.