Come Back Home . Lauv

How I still love you. I still love you.
Sometimes you have to go trade your heart for bones to know …
You need to come back home. Come back home.

Getaway. I always thought I needed a getaway.

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Jordan Peterson VS Cathy Newman

wow. absolutely blown away by this woman’s audacity to make this man feel as uncomfortable as possible by rephrasing everything he says to fit her idea of him. continues to confirm my beliefs for awhile that extreme liberals have specific agendas to either mute or distort people’s freedom of speech. that extreme liberals seem to be some of the most intolerant people. glad he had that one ‘gotcha’ moment where she couldn’t fight him back.

02.18.18 Entry

“What if? Semy, what if you die and there is nothing? That’s the end of the story? What if?”

Doubt. Coming full force. Haunting me with its frequent visitations. Denial is preferable. But for how long? Brush it off like you usually do. Would be easier no? Would be easier than to go through the process of unbelieving everything you’ve come to believe. As I’ve dived into reading texts of all colors and backgrounds, I’ve been opened up to the possibility that all I’ve come to believe could simply be a result of what I’ve fed myself. What I’ve surrounded myself with. What if in fact, I’ve simply been consumed by what I’ve delved into. This way of christian living. “You become what you eat,” people say. Is it true? And to what extent?

Surrounded by christians. The church. The bible. The sermons. The songs. Oh the songs. Submerged myself to its ways until it became a part of me. Until I found myself. Or was it until I lost myself? To a point I believed there would be no return. Yet, here I find myself with questions. Questions I should’ve asked more often before I took the leap. But I didn’t. Instead, trust was given maybe a bit too readily resulting in the investment of a well-known commodity known as Jesus. Yesterday, I found myself in despair thinking that all of this could not be real. That this was all we humans got. One chance. One opportunity. One life. Nothing after. A terrifying thought. A hopeless thought. A liberating thought?

Conflicted. As I recounted the story of how God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son. Premeditated kill. Murder, no? Did I miss something in the story? We could agree to disagree. Sure the the ten commandments came after he asked Abraham to sacrifice his son. Yet, if god was the same yesterday, today and forever, how could he put in his commandments not to kill? These thoughts led me to the bible. This book of words supposedly from god. God’s word. Why? Because the book says so. The only truth. A claim this book makes. More doubt. More questions. “How valid is it? Didn’t imperfect people write the words of this book? Moses wasn’t there in the beginning. How am I supposed to believe word for word the words of a book that claims to be the truth written by imperfect people?” It doesn’t make sense for me to be fully convinced. And quite possibly it’s for that very reasons I could be finding myself struggling with the ‘what if’. Maybe I’m trying too hard to make sense of it all.

Despite the war waging in my thoughts, I find myself defending the bible and god to others opposed. All the while, thinking to myself … “Have I gone so far, so deep into this way of life that now I feel there would be no way out?” It took incredible faith for me to believe in your wonders, but I realized that it would take an even more outstanding faith to ‘unbelieve’ them too. What can I do? What must I do?

The first thought. I must go back to my past. Rediscover the points in my life where God seemed real and tangible. Not just some story that I could’ve assembled, but something real. Sometimes, I think about a lot of my testimonies. I think about the time where I thought I had a sickness I could not cure on my own and was “healed.” Was I healed or did the sickness simply run its course through my body? My father who quit smoking after “prayer.” What if it simply coincided with the fact that his wife didn’t like it and told him to stop? The tears and feels from retreats. What if they were simply emotional highs triggered by a high spiritually stimulating and emotion-inducing environment like a football game?

The only story I would be able to recount that could have no man-made explanation is dreamlyn. The girl in the philippines. The girl I believe god healed through me. Could I have made that up too? The tears in her eyes? The tears in mine after I felt her swollen ankle become ‘unswollen’? Did her ibuprofen kick in? Could I have imagined her running back to her class with her healed ankle to create a better story? Could I have fathomed it or fabricated it to say that “God used me to heal too”? Doubt, where have you taken me?

What do I do? Maybe I need you to talk to me through a burning bush. Send me a pillar of fire! A little too much? Okay something more my generation. Send me a text message or an email. Not through some person but you. You can, can’t you? Heal my brother. Take away his diabetes. Do something impossible. Right now, I know that I might be acting like the Israelite in the desert when they complained. Even after they saw your glory in Egypt, they stopped believing in your goodness. They needed more. Needed water to flow out of a rock. Needed manna to fall from the sky. You gave them things that could not be explained by human rules and standards. Call me fickle, cause maybe that’s just what I am, but I think I need more. Please God. Say something … do something cause I don’t think I can give up on you.

First Grade Convos

We were talking about something I had recently watched on Planet Earth II. As usual, we somehow got onto the topic of pregnancy where the conversation revealed a lot about what my kids know about babies:

I: I don’t want to have a baby.
J: Me too.
B: My mommy told me that when I came out, I came out of her down here (as he points)
I: It’s gonna hurt.
J: (cringes and shudders)
E: Do daddies have to be in the room when the mommy gives birth?
Me: Well, it depends on each dad. Some dads stay in the room to watch. Some dads just stay in the room to hold mommy’s hand.
S: Oh, I won’t stay in the room with her.
Me: But what if she really wanted you there? Needed your help?
E: (sigh) I guess I would have to if she really wants me there.

Makes me smile. These kinds of convos with my first graders.

First Grade Convos

During our science lesson on life cycle of a chick.

I: When birds get married, they make egg.
Me: Oh no, boys and girls, birds don’t get married.
I: (gasp) They no marry and come and have baby? (gasp)
E: Wait, so they just meet and have a baby? Really?

I can’t stop smiling as genuine shock is on every face in the classroom πŸ˜€