Friday Night Rambles
The incandescent bulbs above me are casting a faint glow over the laptop. My freezing cold hands reach out and delicately touch the keystrokes as my rambling thoughts attempt to rush forth. Perhaps some coherent thoughts will be found within the jumble of words on the screen in front of me.
January is well underway. The faint strains of Auld Lang Syne are barely an audible memory as I reflect on the events of recent weeks. I'm back to feeling as tired (though accomplished) as what I had felt before Christmas break. Year forty-three has been off to a memorable start, to say the least. I've cried, I've laughed, I've felt as strong as a lion, as meek as a lamb, and prayed.
Just a few weeks ago, I learned that I offended a number of people based on a post I made here. I am certain my readership is aware of the one I am referring to. After all, it's not every day when one of my blog posts reaches 860 views in a mere number of hours. (My previous record was 492 views on a post composed last year regarding the ignorance shown towards rainbow sidewalks.) Though taken down, the message of "Letter from a Mama Bear" still resonates deeply with me. I guess I logged in this evening to share some perspectives on some truths I know and to reaffirm my resolve.
I am not a rebel without a clue nor am I an individual who likes to stir the proverbial pot. That said, I do, I have, and I will continue to take pride in the fact that I am confident enough to speak my mind. If I witness a wrong - whether perceived or otherwise - I will speak up. I more than likely will go on to shed many ugly tears. Does silence speak a thousand words? How in the hell did I go on to quote Debbie Gibson of her 1989 "Electric Youth" era? Taking a pause to mull over my words, I do believe the old saying is how silence speaks louder than words. Either way, there are times when the absence of words and voices can be regarded as indifference. That can be as damaging as any word typed or uttered.
Some good Christians have called my character into question on the basis of a post penned from a place of passion, respect, and love. That's their prerogative, I suppose. I believe that people will like you, hate you, say things about you, and it will ultimately have NOTHING to do with you. While my heart has been heavy, I take solace in the notion that "a person's character is shown through their actions in life, not where they sit on a Sunday." I have no ulterior motive and I will continue to speak my truth. If anybody feels as though they are in a good position to judge this tea drinking bibliophile and self-admitted nerd, I applaud them. Bravo! I am perfectly imperfect and loved for who I am. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Remember, labels are for soup cans and closets are for antiquated perspectives. Above all, people who live in glass houses should not throw stones.
January is well underway. The faint strains of Auld Lang Syne are barely an audible memory as I reflect on the events of recent weeks. I'm back to feeling as tired (though accomplished) as what I had felt before Christmas break. Year forty-three has been off to a memorable start, to say the least. I've cried, I've laughed, I've felt as strong as a lion, as meek as a lamb, and prayed.
Just a few weeks ago, I learned that I offended a number of people based on a post I made here. I am certain my readership is aware of the one I am referring to. After all, it's not every day when one of my blog posts reaches 860 views in a mere number of hours. (My previous record was 492 views on a post composed last year regarding the ignorance shown towards rainbow sidewalks.) Though taken down, the message of "Letter from a Mama Bear" still resonates deeply with me. I guess I logged in this evening to share some perspectives on some truths I know and to reaffirm my resolve.
I am not a rebel without a clue nor am I an individual who likes to stir the proverbial pot. That said, I do, I have, and I will continue to take pride in the fact that I am confident enough to speak my mind. If I witness a wrong - whether perceived or otherwise - I will speak up. I more than likely will go on to shed many ugly tears. Does silence speak a thousand words? How in the hell did I go on to quote Debbie Gibson of her 1989 "Electric Youth" era? Taking a pause to mull over my words, I do believe the old saying is how silence speaks louder than words. Either way, there are times when the absence of words and voices can be regarded as indifference. That can be as damaging as any word typed or uttered.
Some good Christians have called my character into question on the basis of a post penned from a place of passion, respect, and love. That's their prerogative, I suppose. I believe that people will like you, hate you, say things about you, and it will ultimately have NOTHING to do with you. While my heart has been heavy, I take solace in the notion that "a person's character is shown through their actions in life, not where they sit on a Sunday." I have no ulterior motive and I will continue to speak my truth. If anybody feels as though they are in a good position to judge this tea drinking bibliophile and self-admitted nerd, I applaud them. Bravo! I am perfectly imperfect and loved for who I am. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Remember, labels are for soup cans and closets are for antiquated perspectives. Above all, people who live in glass houses should not throw stones.
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