The True House of God

I was having a conversation with my grandmother the other day and she got on a rant about the abuse of church property, at various functions at her church. She went on and on about how disrespectful to God it is for people to leave cigarette butts on the church grounds. She raged that “…it’s the house of God and they ‘ought to be ashamed of themselves leaving those things on the ground!” I love my grandma, but as I listened to her I had two thoughts: the first being that I can think of an entire list of defilements that have happened there that have been much worse than cigaret butts…the second being, that a church is just a building; WE are the true house of God.

Now don't get me wrong….I'm not saying that it's okay to litter and treat a church like a trashcan…but I am just saying that I am more concerned about how we treat ourselves and the other inhabitants of this planet, than I am about a building. I think that's one thing the older generations got wrong. You guys seemed more concerned with how things looked from the outside than worrying about the root of the problem. Maybe I'm wrong, but perhaps there should have been less worry about the kids resistance to Sunday school and how bad it looked and more concern about why the kid was so resistant to it to begin with.

And I'm not going to leave the newer generations out on this either. I think sometimes we get a little caught up in making our churches look pretty from the outside. I understand wanting to make things look nice and appealing in order to draw people in, but let's not forget to be concerned with what's going on inside those walls alongside of what's going on them.

 I went through a stage where I didn’t want to be in church…but I don't remember ever being asked why I didn't want to go anymore. I had my reasons, and honestly I think they were damn good…but no one asked, so I didn't tell. Instead, I focused on being a good little girl and keeping everyone else happy. I can't help but wonder if things would have been different if someone had asked.

With all of that said church should be an enjoyable experience. If you constantly leave church in a bad mood, then something isn't right. But just because something isn't right doesn't mean that, that something wrong is the church…the problem could be you. Perhaps the problem could be inside the true house of God and not in the building you attend every Sunday. What I'm getting at here is that we need to be more worried about the house of God inside us before we start trying to decorate the literal walls we worship in.

Love, Randi

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Shattered

I hate lying. I hate it to the point where I will sometimes say awkward truths to people. Those that know me know that unless they want a completely honest answer, they should not ask me anything. And it is for my passionate hatred of lying that I DESPISE the question, “How are you?” I hate it! And I live in the freaking south, so the standard greeting here is, “Hey. How are you?” or some form of this question. Nine times out of ten, the person doesn’t give a flying pig with golden wings how you are feeling and most of the time they are already doing something else by the time you say assumed, “fine.” But what should you say when you’re not fine? I usually just nod my head, or actually smile and say, “Hey,” instead of actually answering them. And the funny thing is most of the time they don’t even realize I haven’t actually answered their question.

So with that said, this week was one of those weeks that I wanted to punch the next person that asked me how I was doing in the face. Because when they asked me how I was doing an entire list of words ran through my mind and none of them were, “fine.” Exhausted was a frequent option in my mind. Nothing like trouble sleeping, panic attacks during the day and working alongside of some of the most irritating people in the entire population to make you feel like you’re going to fall asleep sitting in your chair. Frustrated was an option too. I was handed a nearly impossible task that should have been easy, but because of my limited mobility it took me an hour to complete it when it shouldn’t have taken more than five minutes. Angry was most certainly in the list. I was informed that I was rude because I told someone that was trying to provoke me that they needed to get the hell away from me…and nothing was said to the individual. I was told after a panic attack that I was going to have to “…just move past these things." (Which if you didn't know, this is possibly one of the worst things you can say to someone who struggles with panic attacks.)

Devastated was on the list today especially. I was informed that because of all my mental health problems that I do not need to be in the workforce…that I would have to try and get disability benefits. Let me tell you…that is not something a 26 year old wants to hear. It’s like having your heart ripped out of your chest, stomped on and then shoved back down your throat. It’s like there is a new hollowness inside that I can’t do anything about. It’s It seems like I continuously stand by and watch all my friends move forward in their lives while my life continuously falls apart. And I fight so hard to make my life better. But it’s like the harder I fight, the worse things get.

I wish I had some way of turning this post around and putting a happy inspirational spin on the end of this…but it’s not in me tonight. Tonight, I feel broken inside. So, tonight I will lay my head on my pillow and try for that peaceful sleep that has been denied to me all week long and then tomorrow I will get up and find a lawyer to help me officially declare myself disabled. I am truly shattered tonight.

Love, Randi

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Perfectly Imperfect

My pajamas. I drive my mom crazy because sometimes I just leave the house in them. Don’t get me wrong though; I like to look cute, but sometimes I just don't give a shit. I do this a lot with when going to the doctor. I mean think about…you’re not going to the doctor because you are at your best. Whether it be for a cold or for depression…you aren’t at the top of your game when you walk into those offices.

I feel like this especially about my therapist and psychiatrist’s office. These people…even the office people have seen me at my worst. One time I was waiting to go to the hospital and I was sobbing uncontrollably. I’m a messy crier too. I mean snot and tears everywhere. And loud. Really loud sobbing. In hindsight I feel a little embarrassed because I’m sure everyone in that office could hear me crying…I mean one of the doctors moved me to a vacant room out of the conference room because she didn’t want her patients to hear me crying next door to her office. I was seriously that loud. There was also an instance where one of the office girls was upset about me being upset and made the statement “Can’t I just take her home with me?” I love that girl. Another time I slide to the floor off the sofa in front of my psychiatrist and said “I’m not okay,” to which she responded “I know. And you’re going to the hospital.” Another time I was laying on the floor crying in an empty exam room and one of the office lady’s knelt on the floor beside me and was very encouraging to me in one of my many moments of weakness. My therapist has seen me dissolve into an unresponsive mess. Just beyond functioning at all…a blank slate of pain. So yeah, after a while…you just really don’t care.

So I show up in my pajamas most of the time, unless I have somewhere important to go before or after my appointment, I’m going to be in pajamas. A few times I actually went without my shoes. I don’t like shoes…especially when it’s raining. I hate wet shoes. They soak up water and then your feet are cold the rest of the day. Unless it’s really cold outside I’d rather walk through the rain barefoot. I’ve been fussed at multiple times for going in the office without shoes on. Comments about catching toe fungus and/or pneumonia are often times said. To which I respond, “When I get it I’ll let ya know so you can tell me ‘I told you so.’”

So, my point is…sometimes it’s ok to not care. We don’t have to be perfect. Trying to be perfect is exhausting. I’ve never been one to reach for perfection, but I’ve watched those who do. I’ve seen individuals be consumed by their desire to appear to be something they’re not. The perfect Christian. The perfect leader. The perfect son/daughter. The perfect employee…on and on the list goes. Now don’t get me wrong…I believe we should try our hardest. I believe we should be the best we can be…but don’t drive yourself insane trying to be the perfect person for whatever situation you may be in.

So make mistakes. Learn from them. Talk about your mistakes. Let people know you are human. Because if they know that you aren’t perfect…that you too are just as imperfect as they are, you just may make a new friend. You may open the door to make a difference in someone’s life. So, enjoy life. Everything is beautiful…even our imperfections are beautiful. We are truly perfectly imperfect.

Love, Randi

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