I want people to know that

I called my Dad yesterday.  He likes the occasional phone call, on a schedule.  I try to accommodate him.  He is always available if I have an emergency, but I try not to involve him in my issues.  He dealt with enough, growing up. 

He rode with me, in the ambulance, when I was hospitalized for depression. 

At any rate, I was thinking of telling him about an incident that happened during my last Bible Handout, I was strapping my stuff onto the cart, after I finished (I always have trouble loading things, after), and I managed to smack myself in the chin, hard, with the metal handle of the cart.  It was bad enough I felt it to make sure it wasn't bleeding.  It hurts when I touch it, still, but it didn't leave a bruise. 

And I thought about telling Dad how funny it is that I never bruise, when I'm smacked in the face.  I thought where his mind would go: "Who's been smacking you in the face?"  Then I thought, Ron, twice, and he was really drunk both times. 

Not an excuse, Ron. 

And I decided not to tell Dad that story at all.  But it reminded me of an incident that happened about 4 years ago.  A church member came to me and said he thought I was being "too personal" in my blog, especially as regarded Ron's drinking, and that it would ruin my witness with the recipients.  He thought I should keep it all to myself. 

Clearly, I didn't listen.  But his big question was "What if a recipient reads your blog?"  Well, I have my answer now: they will know I have real world problems, far beyond the norm.  They will see that my faith in God is helping me cope with them (boy, I'm going to get comments on this one), and that my faith in God "carries" me.  That I have a hope of something better one day, and God is just to exact vengeance as needed. 

And that, to me, is worth it.  I am OK with a recipient reading my blog.  I love them dearly, pray for them daily, and I try to let them know that during "my" handouts. 

I don't have to have a perfect, fairytale life, to talk about Jesus.  I think promoting that viewpoint, that all believers have these fantastic, perfect lives, filled with devoted people who love them, harms more than it helps.  I am "loved" by an abusive man, an alcoholic.  I have chosen to spend my life with him; it comes with a lot of trials.  I have good things in my life, like the cats, but I also have mental illness, depression, and hallucinations.  I don't have an easy life but somehow it's a good one. 

And I want people to know that.