Sunday, July 22, 2012

Pink Guns and Phony Religion

I sat there, tears dripping on my shirt as I watched the news about the massacre in Aurora, Colorado. My fingernails dug into my palms as I balled my fists tightly, wishing I could hit something or someone. I didn't trust my voice to speak for this burning lump in my throat. What was there to say anyway? Turning the TV off, I sighed. I glanced over my right shoulder and saw my husband's reaction to the news perching in the corners of his sad green eyes. He was hurt and pissed too, he just shook his head.

The next day he comes home, riding a big orange Harley with something wrapped in white rags and slung over his shoulder like the Terminator. Carefully, he unwrapped his parcel and studied my face as he gingerly presented me with something he said he thought I needed. I smiled at the pink camouflage Smith and Wesson .22  model M&P15-22 rifle with the collapsible stock. I rubbed my thumb across the engraving that said, "Made in the U.S.A." and pride surged through me, I felt my shoulders square as I stood taller to raise the rifle and look through the sights.

Do I wish purchasing a gun were harder for law-abiding Americans to do? Hell, no!
Do I wish bad things didn't happen to innocent people? Absolutely!
Do I wish we could shoot people in the head right on the spot instead of letting them surrender after they go on shooting sprees? You better believe it!

We can not limit or eliminate freedoms based on the evil puppets of Satan and his angels. I don't have the answers to all the world's problems, but I know who does. The Bible says that we must all humble ourselves, fall on our knees and beg God for His forgiveness, we must seek God's face; turn from our wickedness, then He will hear us and He will heal our land, (II Chronicles 7:14.)

Aside from that, folks, we have no hope. Our world will continue on its death spiral as we cling to our pink guns and our phony religion.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

The Next Hell...

I know I'm not the only person in the world who's suffering, but on days like today - I feel completely alone, detached from the living, disassociated from the planet...all because of a migraine.

Maybe you've had a bad headache before, you remember the dull ache like an unwelcome dinner guest. You take a few aspirin or acetaminophen and in a little while all is well in your world again. That's not the kind of headache I'm talking about. Excuse me as I wallow in self pity a moment, but the need to express my profound pain and absolute weariness of it has driven me to this cliff of despair. I feel defeated.

For 25 years I have experienced something akin to a stroke several times a month. For the last 18 of those years I have taken prescription pills, nasal sprays, oral disintegrating tablets and finally, painful shots to relieve the massive pain that whispers its desire to take my life. This excruciating pain that lies deep in my head, often behind one eye ball or the other, mocks me. Tsunami-like waves of nausea accompany violent episodes of retching with painful attempts at speaking, breathing or seeing. Hearing, smelling, seeing; all torturous senses to a person with a migraine. The slightest touch or sound has me cursing life and begging for a quick end that never comes.

Even after administering the searing shot in my thigh, the pain intensifies the stroke-like episode for another 15 horrifying minutes or so. I can feel the burning sensation that is the cerebral vascular constrictor medication coursing through every vein, artery and blood vessel in my body. Only then can my clinched fists relax, only then can sweet sleep finally take me.

Several hours later, I'll stir, but I'm never the same. For somewhere in the misery that is a migraine, part of me has been stolen. Little pieces of my soul are sliced away with each episode and with it, my peace, my happiness and my hope. What's left of me is an empty, hollow shell that can't make a complete sentence and feels fragile, used-up and weary.

With no strength to cry, I sit. Already dreading the next hell within.