Contempt – intrusive, ever-present, almost impossible to pin down. But that’s exactly why I need to talk about it.
After several false starts, Read the rest of this entry »
in bleak midwinter
red lights flash chaos men shout
dead on arrival
* * *
winter 1965
icy stormy
dangerous Read the rest of this entry »
I’ve never thought of Mother as my primary role model for relationships with men or with women. Yet she was precisely that, in ways my father never was.
About gatekeepers and me
Gatekeepers: The bosses. The men in charge. In my lifetime they’ve all been men.
Their words and attitudes could make or break a woman’s reputation. Read the rest of this entry »
rounding the bend
tiny gold leaves lie scattered
on dark damp asphalt
* * *
It’s Monday, Labor Day, two years ago. I’m out for an early morning walk. It rained overnight and it’s still dripping and overcast. But I’m restless for a walk. Like the weather, my mood is unsettled. Read the rest of this entry »
Years ago I fell in love. Not with a man, but with his writings. George MacDonald and I share at least this: He too was deeply connected to the church and struggled with depression. In addition, he was a Scottish pastor, sometimes at odds with his church. He died believing himself to be a failure. Read the rest of this entry »
I can’t hide from that all-seeing eye of God watching me day and night to make sure I’m being a good little girl. It follows me through life. Not an eye of Goodness and Mercy, but of Judgment and Contempt.
I’m lost
It’s the 1980s. I’m 40-something. I claim I’m a follower of Jesus Christ. Yet I’m lost in fear, self-contempt, confusion, a judgmental spirit, and the vain belief that I can fix other people’s lives. If only they would just listen to me! Read the rest of this entry »
When I read through my list of survival rules, my heart sinks. By age 7 or 8 I’ve found a way to do what Daddy wants me to do by explaining it to myself my way. For all my supposed independent thinking and determination to be my own person with my own will and my own voice, I failed. Or did I? Read the rest of this entry »
By the time I’m 7 or 8 years old, I have a daunting list of survival rules. Later they backfire in every part of my life. In the meantime, they have the virtue of seeming to get me through. Here they are, Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 