Who Rescued Who: Prose Self-Analysis

People will see a good situation and either praise and glorify it or, like Iago in Othello, find fault and try to tear it down by small and manipulative ways.

So it is with my wife and my relationship. People tell me that they’ve never seen my wife so happy. They tell me she deserves me, that it’s about time a man came into her life who is worthy of her. They think I’ve inspired her to create her patriotic blog, and to grow her book publishing and consulting business. Yet others find reason to cast doubt on our relationship. They claim that we manipulate each other, that we’re just dishonest in our reasons that we got together.

Often when this happens, I question her, asking why they would say such things. I ask her again (and again and again) if she loves me for me, or if she just loved me and married me for the idea of me, to get someone to work with her, to get the house and the property back.

When I doubt like that, I cast my mind back on what Heavenly Father told me to do, and I immediately feel bad because I know Who led me to her. I know who inspired me to come to Chattanooga, to date her, to make the offer on her former house, to court her, and to marry her. I know who drives me daily to clean up the property, to write, to create, to build the kind of Inspired Life we are growing together.

But still sometimes the doubting words come out and I can tell I hurt her. Yesterday was one of those self-doubting conversations. Early this morning she responded. And I think her words are inspired and insightful. She said:

“People who think you rescued me have no clue who I am. I am the woman who, for over two decades, made up the difference with a husband who racked up debt and couldn’t hold a job that made half of what we needed financially to survive and raise six children. I’m the innovator who created the first online mall, the first article directory, who with God’s help built a six-figure business and still managed to keep a roof over my kids heads when Google killed it. I’m the woman who can monetize a dozen ways from Sunday.

I’m the woman who made it through another divorce and her mother’s death and never lost her faith in God, who was able to forgive and come out with a pure faith that my life was about to get amazing. I’m the woman who is satisfied with simplicity … I was happy with a little apartment I could keep clean and a supervisor to fix things. I’m the woman who lost all the monetary niceties and realizes that they don’t amount to a hill of beans. It’s all just stuff.

Some people think you rescued me. Others might think I rescued you. They think I rescued you from your loneliness, from scouring the Western states for a woman who had depth and strength and wisdom and spirituality and a passion for life that matched your own. They might say I’m the one who introduced you and brought you to a piece of property you love so much you can’t resist working on it every day. They might feel that I brought you to something better than you ever hoped or dreamed of — something to channel all your energy and passion and your love of nature into.

Many might also say that I’m the one who rescued you from lonely nights and days and who loves you like you’ve never been loved before. That I’m the one who builds you up and helps you see the beauty in your uniqueness and who helps you find your tribe. That I’m the one who helps you see that you’re a sexy Greek god and a super model.

In my community of personal growth and self help, many who know both of us may think I’m the one who rescued you from your limited view of yourself, and many of your self doubts and insecurities. They might see that I’m the one who believes in you and believes in us and the miracle that God did in bringing us together.

Who Rescued Us?

The truth is that I’m the one who doubts not, fears not, worries not, questions not, because I know that it really was not you that rescued me. It was not me that rescued you. I see the Finger of the Lord in it all.

Let others say what they will. I know God, and I know what He did. And He is the one who rescued us both and gave us each other. And when you pause, when you stop listening to others, when you dive deep into your heart and soul the way you do, you know it is He who is creating this amazing life for both of us.

It’s time we stop doubting, rehashing and second guessing the past. It’s time we get busy with faith. It’s time we focus on being what God brought us together to be.

She’s right. I know the truth. I know who drives this relationship, why we often get simultaneous inspiration. I know who rescued both of us, even after we’d done all the self work (alone) to get ourselves into good places. When we were ready, He brought us together. I know Who is guiding us, Who is helping us discover, create and deliver our God-given purpose (which, ironically, is to help others discover, create and deliver their inspired messages). I know Who rescued us from being ordinary, Who reveals His Will to us individually and collectively on the daily, and Who is helping us do His will to help His children.

And now I have written a piece that, when people doubt, when people question, when people criticize who we are and why we are together, I can simply say:

I’ve written a blog post on that very topic.

Looking Back Lamentation

Today
I dusted off my writings,
walked through decades
of thought,
broken hearts,
emotions plus and minus.

Today
I gathered observations,
some of my best wonderings
from wanderings.

Bemused,
I smiled and grimaced
at both the genius
and the foolish silliness
that my fingers
had pounded or caressed
out of a dozen keyboards.

Mostly,
I question
not what I wrote,
nor that I wrote,
but what happened?
Why have I —
my fingers,
my mind,
my soul,
my heart —
gone
cold and silent?

This question perplexes me,
yet does not need to be answered.
The why
is not as important
as the turning from it,
the change,
the regeneration
of the creative flame.
The moving on.

The how?
I’m doing it now.

Earth + Us: Eco-Lessons from the Land

Lessons from the land, and what I’m learning

Six acres
of hardwoods,
cedars,
meadows,
wildflowers
thorns, thistles, briars and noxious weeds,
fields,
and a creek.
Ours,
yet not.

We are the stewards
of this land,
long ago nurtured by
and nurturing
indigenous peoples.

It is now our turn
to learn
and grow
with,
on,
and from;
to listen,
hear,
and respond,
so nature gets what she needs
as we give,
and receive in return.

[My wife wrote this piece about my efforts on the land, lessons from the land, and how we should treat nature: ]

Earth+Us: Lessons from Braiding Sweetgrass & Pulling Privet

https://naturesguy.com/2021/01/03/braiding-sweetgrass/

A Patriot’s Independence Day Thoughts: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Prose

On being a patriot: #Patriot #IndependenceDay #Covid19 #BLM #Protests #4thofJuly #GodBlessAmerica #Patriotism #USA #IStand — July 4th, 2020 felt different than any I remember in over 60 years. I wrote this to my children:

‘As you know, the Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. It’s been a time of joy, reflection, gratitude for the great land we live in and the #freedoms we’ve been given. July 4th has been a day of happiness and fun.

This year is a little different. Make no mistake, I am eternally and extremely grateful for the freedoms which we have. But this year those freedoms seem a little bit more tenuous. It seems that there is a specter, a cloud of darkness hanging over our land. And I don’t know what to do about it. Should I protest? Should I protest against the protesters?
But I do know this: That patriotism which filled my heart in previous years still burns just as bright. The difference is there is a resolve, a commitment to defend the land I love, the Country I love the freedoms we enjoy.
I always thought the attack on our country and our way of life would come from outside our borders. Now, I’m not so sure. But I will stand up for the #Constitution, for our freedoms, for our rights as humans and as citizens of this great country. I am filled with that resolve and that commitment.
 God, Bless America. Please. And I hope you are all praying the same prayer. Love, Dad”
——–
After I sent that message, my youngest son reminded me that, what I need to stand up for most of all is #Freedom. Since then, I’ve thought much more about my responsibility as a Patriot. Part of me wants to disenage from social media, from the anger, from the arguements, from the criticism from others who don’t know me, from the verbal hate and violence. But part of me says that I need to stand up and be a voice. I need to express what I believe. I can no longer be silent. 
So I will. It will be a fine line. I will try to be kind. That is what is in my heart. But I will stand my ground. I won’t back down. I will discuss, debate, and — hopefully — I will compromise on attitudes and functionality. I will learn. I will be taught. Hopefully I will teach, too. But I won’t be silent. And I won’t back down from the ultimate moral truths that God has endowed us with.
I feel a little bit like the great American patriot Patrick Henry, who said:

“Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason toward my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.”

― Patrick Henry

If I’m Exposed, Then What?

Why
don’t I
write
more often?

I was writing
daily,
often hourly.
At times,
my fingers flew
across the keyboard,
as I had much to say
and never enough time
to say what was needed.

What happened?
Why did I stop?
Was it fear?
Was it concern?
Was it worry
about exposing myself
and what that looked like?

If I don’t say anything,
then nobody can accuse me
of being
or sounding like
a fool.

It’s safe here
in my hidden hideaway,
my harbor,
nestled
next to
giant oceanliners.

But being
in the harbor
is not
what ships
are designed
to do.

Neither am I
destined to be still
or silent
or quiet.
I have words to write,
right?
Right words
to proclaim.

If I don’t
speak up,
then I will be
left out,
and will
have wasted
my talents
and abilities.

Those
who could have been helped
by me,
must instead
find their own path,
listened to other voices.

I hope they are as kind as I would have been

Taking Baby Giant Steps: I Write

We all take steps.

Take Steps: A baby taking her first steps reminds us to take steps
Some make powerful,
strong,
baby steps.
 
As my granddaughter
took her first shaky steps,
my son voiced for her,
(shaky home video,)
her force and determination.
“I’m a walker now.
I walk.”
 
I watched those steps.
Suddenly,
through his voice,
I heard
and realized
my own truth.
 
“I’m a writer now.
 I write.”
 
Some make powerful,
strong,
life-changing steps.
 
We all take steps.

What He Told Me: IMproVerse Haiku

If He hath told me/
who I am; what to do, who/
am I to argue?

OR
who I am and what to do,/
why should I argue?

OR
why do I argue?