JacqueFromTexas

I'm the godmother. How lucky am I?

2009-07-04T20:42:00.007-05:00

Those of you who know me know that I am the godmother of 3, but this is a montage of just my godson. It chronicles Quinton's first few months outside the womb. The beautiful lady is my bestest friend Rochelle- and the tall, handsome lad is her husband of 9 years, Quinton, and the beautiful young lady is her baby sister, Justice. There are also aunties and grandparents (and grandpa Quinton, too- It's a family name :) and all sorts of other admirers.

The pictures include birth, dedication, and a lot from the best Christmas ever at my parent's house. I had all of my godchildren in the same place. It was perfect. There is one picture of me and all my godchildren around 3:37 in the video.

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Remind you of anyone...

2009-03-30T07:47:00.000-06:00

In 536 BC Daniel prophesied about Antiochus IV, a Syrian tyrant who ruled between 175-164 BC. But demonstrating Solomon's adage that there is nothing new under the sun, Antiochus sounds strangely like a modern-day ruler...

The next to come to power will be a despicable man who is not directly in line for royal succession. But he will slip in when least expected and take over the kingdom by flattery and intrigue....

By making deceitful promises, he will make various alliances. With a mere handful of followers, he will become strong.

Without warning he will enter the richest areas of the land and do something that none of his predecessors ever did – distribute among his followers the plunder and wealth of the rich....

But he will vent his anger against the people of the holy covenant and reward those who forsake the covenant....

He will flatter those who have violated the covenant and win them over to his side. But the people who know their God will be strong and will resist him....

And some of the wise will fall victim to persecution. In this way, they will be refined and cleansed and made pure until the time of the end, for the appointed time is still to come.

~ Daniel 11:21,23,24,29b,32,33,35, New Living Translation

From Jill Stanek.

De-Baptism. A New Way Atheists Admit There Is a God.

2009-03-30T05:09:00.003-06:00

I just stumbled across an article declaring that Britons are "de-baptizing" themselves with a piece of parchment.

To point out the obvious, the act of having oneself de-baptized (as if it's possible) is the ultimate acknowledgement of the power of baptism! Intofor, it's an acknowledgement of God- since any power inherent in baptism only exists because of God. In fact, it's the connection to God they are protesting. If baptism symbolically conferred simple well-wishes for a happy life, then the supposed need to renounce it via parchment wouldn't exist.

Do atheists renounce every shower? How is baptism different, if you truly beleive there is no God? I know if I beleived that there was no God, my baptism would be the equivilent of being splashed with water by a passing car. No God=No Baptism, No need for the effort to renounce it.

If I had been a part of a ceremony at birth that rubbed money on my feet believing that it would bring me prosperity- I wouldn't take any effort to renounce it now because it is powerless superstition. However, if I had been in some voodoo rite as an infant, I'd seek out every spiritual weapon I could find to cleanse me of that, since I acknowledge the power of the devil (since I recognize the power of God, from whence the enemy's power came). Bottom line: you act in accordance with your beleifs, and the debaptism is another way of acknowledging these individuals' belief in the power of God.

I am sure there are those that truly do not beleive in God, and the logical conclusion would be that they carry on with their lives rather than making the absence of a belief the core of their being. Those who emphasize their atheism as a defining characteristic are almost assuredly just running from God. I do recognize that it takes continual effort to deny the obvious: birds, trees, the uniqueness of one's fingerprint. I'm sure this constantly challenges the athiest, as well it should.

But buying a piece of paper that says that they are no longer baptized? On what authority? They recognize the power behind the baptism under the authority of God (in deed, not in word), so under what power are they de-baptized? I can write a sticky note for them that says this. Would that count? Hey, while I'm at it, I can write a declaration that they are actually hybrid alien/humans who breathe fire! Would that count? Oh, wait...it has to be on parchment. That's what it is.

It's the principle of the thang...

2009-03-27T05:48:00.004-06:00

I hate it when men tell me how I can get in touch with them! Hate it, hate it. Used to be it was, "Here's my card." and now it's "Add me on Facebook." Ummm, no. You add ME on Facebook. And if you wanted to talk to me, you'd ask for my card.

I'm not offended that these men don't want me enough to put the minimal effort in- I'm offended that they should expect any effort from me at all. How presumptuous!

Even those that are really, really into me pull this role reversal crap. I dated a guy six months that would say, when we'd part, "Give me a call sometime." I would growl each time at the beginning and say- "Or you could call me?" And he did. Because he really liked me. But even after 6 months, 6 months of relationship that got so practical as calling 3-4 times a day for stuff like, "Hey, could you bring from paper towels with you tonight?" and "What time is the movie?" where it is not implied that I will call him for something, but part of our daily lives and still, AND STILL, "Give me a call sometime." I wanted to stab him everytime he said that. It just reminded me of my Egyptian ex-boyfriend of 3 years who didn't like to commit to anything, even dinner plans. He'd say, "In Sha Allah" meaning, "God willing," a cultural way of saying, "Maybe."

So I'd say, "You'll be over at 3:00" and he'd say, "In Sha Allah, 3:00" which meant, "3:30." Or "We going hiking this weekend?"

"In Sha Allah." Grrrrr...

Wow, that devolved. This was originally about guys insulting me by assuming that I will do their job and turned into an impertinent anecdote about the ex.

Back to my point: I am not gonna call you. I won't find you on the interwebs. Any implication that I should will result in me thinking twice about responding to you when you call or find ME.

My Girl Crush...

2009-03-26T08:10:00.001-06:00

I was going to blog about something of great social and political import but decided to take a break instead.

So I give you Anjelah Johnson, my girl crush. She's hilarious.

The Injustices of Pre-Marital Sex, Part II

2009-03-11T09:58:00.002-06:00

As I prepare a presentation on my abstinence education program theories, I anticipate the backlash that comes with expressing something counter-cultural. I am reminded of one person that claimed, in the age of countless birth control chemicals and devices, that someone like me who abstains for the sake of their children must be extremely "risk-averse."

My response is this: Who am I to take risks with other people's lives?

The man that accused me of being risk-averse also aborted 2 out of 4 of his children. I'm sure many people would take more risks if they new the consequences could be passed on to someone else. For example, if I could rob a bank knowing that someone else would serve my prison sentence, I might be more apt to take the money and run. Unless, of course, I'm a decent human being.

That's essentially what women do when they say that the small chance of pregnancy they risk when using birth control somehow justifies taking a risk with the lives of their children. Yes, the odds are smaller that you will conceive a child when you are loaded with hormones and chemicals (some actually abort the child pre-implantation), but that 3-6% chance is still the life of a child. Yet, somehow, people will take risks with their children that they wouldn't take with themselves. It's much like in-vitro fertilization for those who desperately want to bear a child: If the odds of you dying were the same as the children you create in a petri-dish, would you still take that chance? I'd venture to say that many people weeping over their infertility, willing to create and watch die dozens of children in hopes of giving birth to one, if they risked the 80% chance of dying they impose on their children- I'd bet they'd change their minds.

So, yes, even a 1% chance is too large to take with my children's entire lives and futures.

I gamble 100% with my own life and future on a daily basis: because I don't have children. Throwing everything I have behind my self-employment venture is a risk I can take. At any given moment, everything I've worked for is on the line- and the returns are astouding. Case in point: I now make 3 times the money I ever did before- and I only work 15 hours a week. This was an excellent gamble, but one I might not have taken unless I could isolate my children from the consequences. Risk-averse? Me? Only when those who can't advocate or care for themselves are the ones at risk.

Besides, all the chemicals and devices in the world can't shield a woman from the diseases she exposes herself to when she chooses to have sex outside of marriage. Some cause infertility, others lead to cervical cancer, and even others lead to death. I can guarentee that no woman thinks, when popping her once-daily Valtrex, "Man, that sex was worth it!" Anyone crying in her nursery because she just realized that her capacity to bear a child was stolen from a disease she gave herself- also doubt such women would stand behind their lifestyle choice.

It's basic cost-benefit analysis here: why expose yourself and your future spouse (the one you truly love enough to commit to a lifetime together) to a host of completely avoidable afflictions- especially since you can have a lifetime of blissful sexual intimacy without any of these consequences? When marriage affords all the benefits of sex, only without the deadly viruses and painful blisters, why is that not worth waiting for? The cost of sex before marriage, to everyone, outweigh the benefits.

Beyond the protection of children from the injustices of pre-marital sex, there is also the bottom-line realization that this practice is simply dangerous and foolish. Even if there were not the potential for children to be harmed, their is an overwhelming chance for YOU to be harmed- for your future spouse to be harmed as well. It's simply not worth it. While my friends who exercised wisdom before they were married and brought into the marriage bed nothing but themselves- these people are ridiculed, can not anyone see how infinitely better off they are? Even those who narrowly escaped broken hearts and broken skin from their pre-marital escapades have baggage from it nonetheless- not them. Not me.

This is another entry altogether, but pre-marital sex makes my top 3 lists of dumbest crap women do for some of the aforementioned reasons. But we'll stop here, and I'll ask people who have this lifestyle and have been forced to justify it, to grant me one reason why sex is ever worth the risk, especially when it can be had without any of these maladies. One reason, any reason- throw it out there! I'm listening.

A to the D to the other D.

2009-03-05T19:48:00.003-06:00

Night before last I was at my best friend's house playing with my godson. Her husband is completing his training to teach at an online university, to supplement the teaching he currently does in the traditional classroom. We all cramped around the computer screen editting his latest set of responses to his homework, when we all laughed at the fact that we were scrambling to accomplish this right before the midnight deadline.

Present in that huddle was a doctor, and two women with master's degrees, one of which is nearly ABD on her doctorate. In that 3 foot radius of three people, were nearly 8 degrees, 5 of which were advanced degrees. And we represent 3 cases of certified Attention Deficit Disorder.

And then it hit me: If it ain't broke...

Apparently, we're okay. Maybe we muddled through our educations and need sticky-notes all over the place in order to continue succeeding in our careers, but the bottom line is this simple: We got the education. We succeed in our careers. Maybe there is an easier, prettier way, but our way is working for us.

See, I rally against my nature, trying to make myself focus for hours on end, all the while knowing that what needs to happen will only happen right before it absolutely has to happen. Miraculously, when I need 12 hours to complete a project, I start 12 hours before it's due. When I need 8 hours, I can finally focus 8 hours before its due. This doesn't mean that I didn't spend 48 hours beforehand trying to focus, it just means that whatever I need only kicks in at just the right time.

I want, I really WANT to get things done by can't focus unless I have a deadline that compels me to, something on the line that supersedes my desire to focus and switches on my survival mechanism. I watched and bemoan the clock ticking away while I try to focus, but rest in the fact that it will get done. It always has.

I'm not going to act like this doesn't suck. It totally does. I'm trying to retrain myself not to become anxious at the clock or waste time trying to focus when 28 years of experience has suggested to me that this is just not gonna happen. I have started shopping rather than blankly staring at a screen, lying in my hammock, taking a nap...but the guilt that says that I should be fighting the futile fight steals my free time. If I can just get rid of the guilt, I would have a pretty good thing going...

I shudder and squeeze my Daisy close...

2009-02-01T22:15:00.005-06:00

"Our service is to provide a peaceful and painless death to animals who no one wants." -PETA President Ingrid Newkirk

Recently banned from the Superbowl for a virtually pornographic ad, much like its previous exploitation of women, I googled PETA and found this quote on Wikipedia. PETA doesn't hide the fact that it kills virtually all of the animals placed in its custody, but as the mother of two animals that PETA would have euthanized on the spot, I shudder to think of the evil they do in the name of mercy.

Here are some pictures of my old, disabled, used and beaten puppy mill dog- who by all standards would have been killed instantly. Her own salvation was the fact that she was dumped rather than taken to the pound (the cruel owners didn't want to be discovered by taking her somewhere to be euthanized once she got to old to breed). If PETA got there hands on Daisy Lou, she'd be dead. And what a huge disservice and injustice to humanity! I shudder to imagine a Daisy-free world.

Why I posted this is because I love with all I am one of those "animals who no one wants." How the %^&$ does Ingrid know what animals are wanted and those who are unwanted when she doesn't give them a chance? I wanted Daisy for 7 years before I found and adopted her, but Ingrid would have killed her. My sister is also in love with a golden retriever that Ingrid would have personally given a lethal injection.

Like people advocate abortion for supposably "unwanted children," never giving them a chance to be in the arms of people who likewise want them beyond comprehension, PETA advocates a pre-emptive strike against these animals.

Here are some pictures of my "unwanted" furry angel. Look at this face and tell me if she would have prefered a "peaceful and painless death" to being adored and doted over by me and everyone she meets. I can confidently say that Daisy would tell Ingrid to kiss her multi-colored waggedy ass.

I am a nobody favored by somebodies that aspires to somebody someday.

2008-12-02T16:12:00.004-06:00

There are 2 types of SOMEBODIES:

1. The Seated Somebody
2. The Standing Somebody

There are 2 types of NOBODIES:

1. The Mobile Nobody
2. The Wandering Nobody

There is a flow chart that demonstrates the relationship between these bodies, but it exists solely in my head, so I will paint it for you with words.

The Wandering Nobody is all over the chart in squiggles, floating between ideas and roles and maybe one day picking a role that feeds some sublime purpose like paying the bills, but never actually manifesting in a upward direction. Wandering Nobodies can easily become Mobile Nobodies if favored by a Somebody.

The Mobile Nobody is the heading upwards, has a discernable path that will eventually metamorph into the Standing Somebody.

The Standing Somebody has been a Mobile Nobody, and it was only after years of work towards their goal that they have become who they are. Standing Somebodies are the ones that are the doers, the movers, the shakers. They didn't become Standing Somebodies on their own, but were favored by a Standing Somebody when they were yet a Nobody. It is because they remember their Nobodiness that they give so generously to the Nobodies. Standing Somebodies and the ones that eventually become Seated Somebodies.

The Seated Somebody is the doer that has done so much, that their value now becomes imparted their skills into a host of Standing Somebodies. The Seated Somebody is the thinker, the visionary, the vehicle and powerhouse that gives the Standing Sombodies the fuel to keep doing, the keep moving and shaking. Their respect and position, earned over the years, is best spent advising the doers, as they can get more accomplished by supervising the skilled than performing the tasks themselves.

In your mind, do you now see the heirarchy?

Now, I'm a Nobody. I actually enjoy being a nobody while I have the chance, because my mobility should translate into somebodihood someday soon. Right now I try new things, I make hella mistakes and fall on the grace and favor of the somebodies that made those mistakes themselves.

People sometimes mistake me for a somebody, which is flattering beyond belief. The reason is that things happen for me, big things, whenever I need them. I also rub elbows with many a somebody. When people have a problem, they contact me because they know that I know the people to call who have the authority, the seat, to fix whatever ails them. This is only partially true. What I have is favor with those who have favor with the ones with the authority. When I have a need, I call those people and they call the seated one and plead my case. I do have limited options for direct audience by my relationship with their favored ones, but I find that more happens when I implore the help of those closest to ultimate decision-maker. This is much like we Catholics having Mary pray for us. We are close to Jesus, she is the closest-and surprise, surprise, things get done.

I was a Wandering Nobody, favored by a technical Mobile Nobody who helped promote me to Mobile Nobody to a much lesser degree. Now, that being said, being a Mobile Nobody doesn't mean you aren't amazing in your own right- if simply means that you have yet to acheive Somebody status in your respective area. A lot of this has to do with your legitimacy, which is why my amazing Mobile Nobody has kicked me for years to continue to accrue college degrees. Nonetheless, while she is a technical nobody in a worldly sense, she is the Superior Somebody in the ultimate sense, which I will explain later.

Since being favored by the technical Mobile Nobody/Superior Somebody, I have been favored by additional Standing Somebodies of various statures and domains. They are in turn favored by the Seated Somebodies and should one day become a Seated Somebody themselves. I hope one day to succeed them into Standing Somebody status.
My name actually means "successor," so while some sombody is the Moses, I can aspire to be the Joshua. I am not postulating by virtue of my name; this is simply something I know to be true. I never see myself as a Seated Somebody- I do see myself as a Superior Somebody, however.

What is a Superior Somebody? Apart from worldly acknowledgement, power, influence and authority esteemed by the world as awe-inspiring that the Seated Somebody holds, the Superious Somebody actually has the power, influence and authority- but without any esteem from the world. Superior Somebodies are mothers.

How does that fit in our heirarchy? It's its own little bubble, hovering above all the rest of the classifications which are bound to the world. Superior Somebodies transcend these boundaries. When done right, Superior Somebodies often relinquish their lesser Somebody titles, since it takes so much effort and energy to be Superior. When people become Superior prior to acheiving the other ranks, often times quests for those ranks become seemingly insurmountable tasks.

I hope to do, move and shake. I am content to be proteged right now by such women. Although the heirarchy prescribes that I move to Standing, to Seated, I would much rather move from Mobile (Going and Getting), to Standing (Moving and Shaking), to Sitting (Rocking and Burping). Does this give me any clout in this world? No- rather I will likely be ridiculed. But I will have invested in something much deeper and eternal than the adulations of strangers, influenced people whose entire lives are shaped by the foundation I laid for them, people who will hopefully inherit eternal life. Motherhood is a career you take to Heaven with you.

I am not ready to be somebody, but I will be someday. Right now I'll settle for the love of those who are.

Seriously, what the hell, man!

2008-11-30T21:21:00.002-06:00

I am bummed for no reason at all. None. And it ain't hormones, neither, It's the DEBBIL!

Yep, a spiritual attack out of nowhere. All of these thoughts, unreconciled values begging to be analyzed and I refuse. RE-FUSE!

One of my favorite and simultaneously annoying qualities about myself is that I know what I think and how I feel about anything and everything to

The Injustice of Premarital Sex

2008-11-11T09:15:00.004-06:00

We are born.

Some of us are born to mothers who chose the father wisely. They met, fell in love, married and later welcomed us into the domestic arrangement God intended and designed for our optimum success in life.

Some of us are born to mothers who chose the father poorly. They met, maybe fell in love, maybe not, had sex outside of marriage- and he, having no commitment to our mother, took off and left her to do a two-person job completely alone.

Now, does this have anything to do with us? NO. The circumstances of our conception and birth are chosen for us, and for those who had a mother choose poorly, we suffer those consequences. We are the ones that do not have a father to tuck us in at night like other children do- a father to instill self-esteem and self-worth. To the little boy, a father provides a role model and inspires him to confidence. For the little girl, a father provides protection and self-esteem, assuring the little girl that she is loveable and precious. Children without daddies find these things elsewhere- men in premature fatherhood, gangs and violence, women in promiscuity and unhealthy relationships with men.

We that have married parents are less likely to live in poverty and forced to eat government cheese. We have more opportunities, our parents are more involved with us, and we are free to chase our hopes and dreams for our lives. We have two parents to go to, one to comfort us when the other dies. We have the right model on which to make our own choices.

Once again, does this have anything to do with us? NO. Are the children of two-parent households somehow smarter, or better? Absolutely not.

And these are the lucky ones: 25% of babies will be murdered prior to birth. Since the vast majority of these children, 88% were conceived out of wedlock, it stands to reason that had these babies been conceived in a marriage, they'd meet a bassinette, not a garbage disposal.

All the single parents with their complaints about single parenting- the "baby mama drama" and the father that doesn't pay his child support on time (if it all)- You chose that. You're children, however, DID NOT. They are forced to accept the consequences of your poor choices, and are systematically expected to repeat these choices themselves. Inheriting injustice does not grant you license to perpetuate it. It must end somewhere.

I'm reminded of my best friend, the mother of my Godson. She is the oldest of 9 children and she never knew her father. Her siblings have 7 different fathers, only one of which have 2 of the children ever met, simply because this one stuck around long enough to impregnate her mother AGAIN. My best friend was the one that cared for her siblings, missing school every time her mother had another baby. We use the phrase "government cheese" as slang, but this is actually what she ate, recounting how the knife would get stuck in the middle of the block when she's try to cut it.

She quickly realized that the only way out of this lifestyle was not to have children alone- and the only way not to have children alone was to abstain from sex until she was married. She endured a lot of persecution for her choice, focused on school, graduated and attended college. There she met her husband- they married, and they asked her mother if she could raise her little sister, who cried all through the wedding. They've been a family since then, 8 years now, and my Godson now makes 4. By the way, my friend is the only member of her family to graduate high school and she now has a master's degree.

What's my point? You have the fortune you're born into, but the fate that you choose. Becoming a single parent or the parent of a child you've killed through abortion is a completely avoidable choice. Choosing to have sex with either the intention dismembering the baby or knowing that you'll birth him/her into the life you had is not only foolish for you, but an injustice to your baby.

I wish I could say that my choice to abstain from sex was due to a higher level of self-respect or some greater moral force, but that's not altogether true. It simply came down to the fact that I could not take chances with my children. My children deserve better than that. With a world already so messed up, the least I can do is give my children the best start at life rather than condemn them to a mother that works to much to see a dance recital and a father they'll only see on weekends.

Choosing to have sex outside of marriage risks so much of your well-being, your emotional, spiritual and physical health. If it were simply that, there is reason enough to abstain. But the truth is that it will be your children that suffer the worse fate, although you made the poor choices, not them.

If you can't abstain for yourself, do it for your children.

Out of the mouths of prophets.

2008-11-05T23:02:00.003-06:00

Lately I've been praying for a prophet to share some truth. I was thinking of one in particular. Today, I got the email.

It said, precisely, almost verbatim, EVERYTHING I have said regarding the state of America. This isn't what I wanted- I wanted some encouraging news, but I knew better.

Here is Dutch Sheets, confirming what the Lord has told me:

A MESSAGE FROM DUTCH SHEETS:
November 6, 2008
I feel certain that many in my stream of the Church want a statement from me concerning Tuesday’s presidential election. I will be frank in my remarks but I do not, however, intend to vent anger or attack anyone. I have read several statements from friends and colleagues I respect very much. Their thoughts are well stated and, for the most part, insightful. None of them, however, seem to want to say some things that I believe need to be said. I do not claim infallibility or to have the final word, but my convictions run deep and I believe I bear a God-given responsibility to share them.

Was This God’s Will?
Was what happened Tuesday God’s will? I am quite confident it was not. America was offered a very clear choice between moving further toward protecting the unborn or further away; between a Supreme Court that would move toward honoring God, life and morality or away from it. The stakes couldn’t have been higher nor the cost greater. As a nation we put on blinders concerning Barak Obama’s background, associations, beliefs and practices, and set these causes back years, possibly decades.
And in doing so we took another step away from God and His plans for America, and another step toward judgment.

Judgment Will Increase
This is not a fire and brimstone warning from an angry, legalistic preacher. In fact, I feel more sadness and grief than anything else. Perhaps I feel what Jesus felt as He wept for Jerusalem while announcing its judgment. I am not hoping for judgment; I am saying it is inevitable. I don’t know where the unbiblical belief comes from that says a nation can live any way it pleases, can reject God and His ways—even mock Him—and not receive His judgments. Nor do I know when the belief came that it is always mean-spirited or judgmental to warn of these things. To the contrary, I believe it is our responsibility.

In warning of judgment, I am not suggesting that God is going to intentially and directly hurt people. Much judgment is simply the absence of God’s protection and provision, caused by a rejection of His laws and ways. We have been experiencing some forms of judgment in America for years, but God in His incredible patience and mercy has kept us from the level we’ve deserved. I believe this will change to a degree and judgment will now increase:

• For those in the Church who aligned themselves with pro-abortion forces, I believe judgment will result.
• For leaders in the Body of Christ who refused to take a stand for fear of losing people, money, and tax-exempt status—I believe there will be a degree of judgment.
• For those, both within the Church and without, who voted money over morality—a potential raise or better health insurance over the life of a baby—there will be judgment. (The irony is that this decision to base one’s vote on the hopes of a better economy won’t produce the hoped for result anyway. The scriptures teach that it is righteousness which exalts a nation and that the nation is blessed whose God is the Lord.)
I have heard the argument that God cares as much about social justice issues (such as poverty and racism) as He does abortion, making a vote for Obama OK. I certainly believe God puts a very high priority on caring for the poor and I, too, have wanted to see equality demonstrated through a “minority” president. But to equate having a better income or the desire for a first black president, regardless of his positions on abortion and morality, to the issue of killing 50 million babies is not justice—it is a gross distortion of justice and great deception. I fear that we have been desensitized to this issue of abortion. I believe it kills babies and takes innocent life. I also believe it is blood sacrifice that empowers demons. Let’s not forget this in our noble attempts to be kind and conciliatory.
For African Americans I can easily see how it could bring healing to have a first black president, just as it would be for Native Americans to achieve this or for women if a woman were elected president. Again, I have wanted to see justice in this way. I am only saddened that the price for this healing ended up being Barak Obama, a man that will set the cause of life and, most-likely, our God-given destiny as a nation back so drastically. (I also realize there are some who interpret any criticism of Obama as racism. Racism is so NOT what I am about nor what I live, that I will not even dignify any such accusations with a response.)

What Can We Expect?
What are some of the judgments we can expect on our nation from this election?

• More economic woes
• More violence in an already violent nation
• Disease and death (satan, who is responsible for these things will have greater inroads to our nation.)
• Natural disasters (weather—tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, drought; fires; earthquakes; etc.)
• Terrorism (they will fear us much less now)
• War, perhaps on our own soil
• Judgments relating to the Court. The stacking of the Supreme Court against the sanctity of life and God’s influence on America will occur, which will in turn cause the shedding of more innocent blood, more rejection of God’s laws and the stealing from us of our godly heritage—all of which will perpetuate a cycle of even more judgment.

How Did This Happen?
I’ve been asked if this could have been averted had there been more prayer. I’m not sure. I believe there was a remnant of Christians fervently praying over these elections—I don’t think there was anything more they could have done. Others, obviously, should have done more. The complacency and lack of discernment concerning our real condition in America—especially by the Church—is both appalling and horrifying. America is in serious trouble and it seems no one wants to say it. Fewer still are willing to do anything to change it.

Though I understand our reasons, we must be careful in our attempts to placate our feelings and calm our fears through religious phrases like “God is still on the throne” or “God has a plan”. He was on His throne 35 years and 50 million babies ago. And He had a plan back then. The problem is, it was us. I understand our reasons for waving high the banner of God’s sovereignty at times like these—it gives us hope. I will wave it, as well. But please be careful with this. Too much emphasis on God’s sovereignty and we’re worthless; too little and we’re hopeless. Maybe we should say, “we lost a critical battle but God will give us strategy to win the war.” Then find the strategy.

But still yet, since God is usually willing to work through a remnant, I thought we had enough prayer. Obviously, God decided otherwise. There comes a time when He will not forgive or bless the majority based on the prayers or actions of only a few. America rejected God and asked for a king; I believe we now have our Saul (see 1 Samuel 8:5-7)—a man who does not have God’s heart for America but his own. Like Israel in scripture, our nation believes it can turn from God and still be blessed. In His mercy and justice He will show us otherwise.

Like many, believing I had many promises and confirmations that God would “grace” us with a pro-life president in this election, I failed to consider strongly enough that all promises—even scripture—are conditional 99.9% of the time. Though I never prophesied or made guarantees that McCain-Palin would win, failing to factor this principle in strongly enough no doubt caused me to share my optimism with others inappropriately. If this caused any harm or confusion, I apologize.

Has the fact that my prayers weren’t answered shaken my faith? No. I’m a little confused and discouraged. I’m also somewhat angry at the nation in general and much of the Church. Mostly I’m grieving over the nation and what this will cost us. I am not, however, angry with God and do not question His justice. And it is not true that we wasted our time, energy and money in our efforts anymore than it is a waste when we share the gospel with people who don’t get saved. We must keep in the forefront of our thinking the fact that ultimately we are doing this for Him and that He will reward us for our faithfulness. And who knows, perhaps He will store up all those prayers for the next battle (Revelation 5:8, 8:3-5).

A friend and fellow warrior said it well,

“We did ‘give it our all.’ I know the Lord was pleased with that. A coach wants to know one thing at the end of a heartbreaking sports loss: ‘Did you leave it all on the field?’ (your passion, your commitment, your strength, your courage, etc.) I know that we ‘left it all on the field.’ We didn’t hold anything back until the game ended. Tragically, it ended in defeat. We will rise for another day because Jesus is worthy.”

Where Do We Go from Here?
Does this election outcome shake my faith that we can see a great awakening and ultimately reformation in America? Absolutely not (and it strengthens my resolve). We will simply get there through greater pain and loss. Even my passion to see the Supreme Court shift is not from a presupposition that there can be no spiritual awakening without it. It is simply due to my deep conviction that their decisions bring so much death, destruction, curses and judgment to America; and because our full destiny as a nation is unquestionably linked to their decisions. So, yes, we will get an awakening and reformation; but the reality is that this reformation of the nation will reform the Supreme Court (and government, in general), not vice-versa. My faith has never been in people or a political party; my faith is in the God who works through them.

I’ve been asked if my feelings about Sarah Palin have changed. They have not. I believe she is an Esther, a Deborah, with a huge mantle from God for reformation. God has a great destiny for her related to this nation if she chooses to continue down this path.

So, in conclusion, we must re-group as an apostolic, praying church and advance. We must maintain an immovable faith in God, His plans for America and His mercy. And we must move beyond simply asking God for a spiritual awakening and ask Him for strategy to produce reformation, as well. I, for one, am just getting started!

For God and this great nation,
Dutch Sheets

So sad, that so many Christians worked against God and themselves.

Everything sucks but Daisy.

2008-11-05T23:02:00.002-06:00

I am depressed over the state of America, but I have to be strong for my dog.

Seriously, I have a co-dependent pooch. When I'm sad, she gets sad. Her sadness just makes me sadder. She cuddles up with me and tries to make it better, but when I don't come around, she feels like a failure and we both descend further into bumnation.

So, as far as Daisy is concerned, we have a pro-life president and Mommy is happy. Don't tell her otherwise.

And now for something completely beautiful...

2008-11-03T09:26:00.004-06:00

I'll get back to my wanting to kill myself over the spiritual state of the American populace after these short messages.

My Goddaughters were a Fairy and a Princess for Halloween. I had the fun of getting the costumes and doing their hair and make-up. I took some pictures of them beside my house, which are too precious not to share. I've also thrown in the Jack-O-Latern we made with LiteBrites.

The Parallel Between McCain/Palin's Phone Bank and Sidewalk Counseling

2008-11-02T11:03:00.003-06:00

One of the things that disturbs me so much about sidewalk counseling is the helplessness I feel to stop something that should never, ever happen. Worse than that, I hate that I have to convince and cajole a women out of doing something she has no right to do. I have to beg women not to kill their babies, when any rational, moral person would find it justifiable to restrain a woman attempting to kill her baby. A woman weilding a knife over her infant would likely be tackled and handcuffed to protect the baby, yet all I have are words. Begging for the life of a child is the worst feeling in the world.

And then there is McCain and Sarah's phone bank- with numbers and a script to call to encourage people to vote. The motto, "A Victory One Voter at a Time." Like I feel outraged and nausiated at having to beg a women not to do something she shouldn't be able to do in the first place, I feel likewise sick at asked people NOT to vote for a man who kills unborn, partially-born and fully born human beings- when they should not have the right to do so either.

I call and I read a script comprised of incidentals: the economy, oil, Wall Street, blah blah blah and ask if they are voting McCain. Whatever they respond, I ask them to tell me their support level for their candidate. I don't even get a chance to ask them how they intend to sleep at night when they voted for their tax money to dismember children in utero.

Same feeling. While women have no right to decide their baby's death at will, I don't believe voters should have that right either.

Democracy is a flawed concept and Obama is proof.

2008-11-02T10:14:00.003-06:00

I don't believe in democracy. I think a majority of the citizenry of this or any other nation is too damn stupid to govern themselves.

The reason why our democracy has worked marginally well for us thus far is because it's not direct. We have a Republic. Much like you hold out before your 3-year-old two appropriate outfits for school and give them the choice (lest they choose to wear a pair of shorts and a tank top in the dead of winter) the primary system of whittling down candidates to a select few typically nets 2 appropriate choices. Two people, most often with years of executive experience running states and passing laws- with good faith disagreements on how to address social issues and their own proposals for change they think beneficial. As a statistician, I also notice a regression to the mean, that while each candidate is decidely left or right, neither is radically left nor right, so whomever ends up elected is not so out of the mainstream that people fear for their lives and livelihoods. So, we have whittled down the pool of hopefuls to two, and these two are then placed before the electorate and a preference is expressed. The most favored is then elected.

Then came the election of 2008 which defied all logic and history. A charismatic celebrity, a man with no experience and little more than a catch phrase was thrust into the nomination despite the fact that he is clearly incapable of running a country. He's never run anything more than a campaign, never governed a municipality, never introduced a bill, never enacted any kind of change nor could boast any type of civil service accomplishment. What he proposes in order to buy voters is not economically feasible. And like a class presidency in junior high school, this popularity contest snagged him the nomination for leader of the free world.

We've established that I think a majority of people are idiots. If Obama elected, this is undeniable proof thereof, and the downright failure of democracy.

Evidence that Obama Owns the Media.

2008-11-01T05:50:00.001-06:00

They obey him.

CHICAGO (AP) - Democrat Barack Obama got annoyed with the media Friday as he tried to walk down a Chicago street with his 7-year-old daughter, Sasha, who was dressed up in a shiny costume for Halloween.
A pool of national photographers, reporters and a video crew traveling with Obama quickly covered the spontaneous moment.

"All right guys, that's enough," said Obama, wearing a casual outfit and sunglasses in the early evening.

He and his daughter were walking right toward the media on a public street.

"You got a shot," he told the photographers. "Leave us alone. Come on, guys."

He told the media to get back on the bus, referring to the vehicle where the traveling press pool often waits for him.

Obama then crossed the street with Sasha. At least one video cameraman who was not part of Obama's traveling press corps followed him for a while. Obama grew visibly irritated.

He and his daughter then began jogging, and even running, to get away from the media.

They ended up out of sight at a friend's house, where they were headed all along.

In a final dash for the presidency, Obama stopped into Chicago specifically to spend some time on Halloween with his family, including his other daughter, Malia, who is 10.

Actual Headline: Study: Media Coverage Has Favored the Obama Campaign

2008-10-31T19:46:00.001-06:00

Well no shit!

Here's the story.

Fedoras are hot.

2008-10-30T11:02:00.000-06:00

Daisy's Biography.

2008-10-25T22:08:00.004-05:00

I love my dog. I love her personality. It took a long time for me to win her over, but when I finally got her, I redeemed humanity.

My friends and I joke about Daisy and her transformation from giving the world the finger to a tail-wagging ninja. Here's how we explain it: first, the events in her life that we know of, and then her commentary.

Daisy is abused, head crushed in, never given affection and likely used as a breeder in a puppy mill: Everyone sucks!

Daisy is picked up by the pound: Everyone sucks!

Daisy is rescued: Everyone sucks.

Daisy lives with her foster mom: Everyone sucks but this lady that lets me in her recliner with her.

Daisy is adopted by me: Everyone sucks again!

Daisy first week at home: Everyone sucks, but the food is good.

Daisy's second week: Everyone sucks, but I peed on the floor today and cowered in the corner. This lady just cleaned it up and didn't hit me!

Daisy's third week: Everyone sucks, but I peed on the floor again and the same deal: no hitting. I can pee anywhere now!

Daisy's fourth week: Everyone sucks- I can't pee anywhere I want. When she sees me she says no and we go outside. I like outside though. Still, everyone sucks.

Daisy's second month: Everyone sucks- but this lady sings to me. I really love that. Apparently, her name is Mom.

Daisy's third month: Everyone sucks but my Mom, and I don't even like her that much. But she doesn't suck. I'll give her that.

Daisy's fourth month: Everyone sucks but my Mom. I'm starting to like this affection thing.

Daisy's fifth month: Everyone sucks but my Mom and that guy that lives across the courtyard who sits in his lawn chair and feeds squirrels. I like to hang out under his lawn chair.

Daisy's sixth month: Everyone sucks but my Mom, that guy that lives across the courtyard and that lady next door. Anyone else gets near me, and I hide behind Mom.

Daisy's seventh month: Everyone sucks but my Mom, that guy that lives across the courtyard and that lady next door. But I'm promoting my singing mom from not sucking to pretty cool.

Daisy's eighth month: Everyone sucks again! My mom took me to the vet for a teeth cleaning and it was cold and there was no food and I'm sore.

Daisy's eighth month and 1 day: Everyone sucks but my Mom. She gave me ice cream and I forgave her.

Daisy's 9th month: Mom has been re-promoted from not sucking to awesome by taking me to Sonic for tater tots.

Enter Daisy's 2nd year: I love my Mom. Only my mom, but I'm promoting the people I like from not sucking to pretty cool.

Daisy's 2nd year, one month: I love my Mom and I take lovins from those approved by her.

Daisy's 2nd year, 4th month: I love my Mom and recruit lovins from these aforementioned people.

Daisy's 2nd year and a half: I love my Mom and I'm not afraid of people anymore, yet I'm still quite selective of who gets my attention, and if Mom's around, they get blown off.

Daisy's 2nd year and a half+: I'm the queen of everything.

That pretty much sums it up. I think she's even forgotten her past. Her seizures stopped a few months in, too. Praise God!

I love this little girl, although now that she's a priss I frequently get told who's in charge. She's decided that the LoveSac, built for 3+ people, is all hers, although I'm allowed in it. But so far it's only me. Hopefully we'll move from "Nobody's gets on my giant bed but my Mom!" to "Nobody gets on my giant bed but my Mom and a few other select people."

We like each other- We're not like each other.

2008-10-23T22:14:00.004-05:00

I don't have a clique. I did more so in college, but no more, partly because we've all scattered to the four winds. Now, most of my friends know of each other, but rarely do we assemble as a group although some times my friends converge and hilarity ensues at the awkwardness they feel in each other's presence.

I remember one such situation a few years ago when I was back in our college town applying for my doctoral program. I called a friend to ask him if he'd like to have dinner with me following my interview. He said he doubted he could make it, but I told him the time and place if circumstances changed. I then called another friend who likewise replied that he wasn't sure, but he'd try. I finally called another friend who confirmed. When I arrived at restaurant, there were 3 tables with 3 different men. Two of them new of each other and the third knew neither. I spent most of my time attempting to ease the tension by facilitating discussion with the skill of a cable-access talk show host. I joked about how it was like my own version of Elimidate, to which one replied- "Let's all go to the hot tub!" It was then that I decided that this was far too much work and my fun of visiting with my friends was replaced with my other friends getting to know one another. And I don't like to share. Now, my outings are with a single friend and rarely, with my friends that are actually friends with eachother. I do love it when we have a group of old friends together and yet I still marvel at how diverse we are.

We really are so very different. To celebrate a graduation many years ago, four of us went out and played Lasertag. We had the Pacifist/Quaker/Socialist Powerlifter, my ex-roomate,Daddy's Little Princess, The Air Force Officer, and me, the Social Worker/Pro-Life/Pre-School Teacher. The results were a riot. The winner was the "Violence isn't the Answer, Give the Poor All Your Money" pacifist, followed by the "All Life is Precious, Help the Poor Back On Their Feet, Don't Put that in Your Mouth, Sweetheart" me, then the "I Paid for my 3 Grand Handbag with Daddy's Credit Card" princess, and last place was the "I Keep The Country Safe, Trained in Defense" leutinent. Although we laughed at how the results didn't fit the players, I also marvel now at how the players didn't fit eachother. We had one girl who never wanted for anything beside the son of a single mother who raised her little boy on government cheese. The second generation Mexican immigrant and the 7th generation scotch-irish Texan. And we all loved each other.

One time my father commented about this after meeting my beauty queen and professional dancer friend who is American Indian, my red-headed ultra-white schoolteacher who learned English as a second language, a friend of mine who is a black balladeer, and a host of other characters. He asked, "Exactly what do you have in common?"

I answered, "Jesus."

And that's really what it is. We were all beleivers. We didn't assemble because we "match." We don't look alike. We don't enjoy the same things. We make fun of each other's music selections, we compromise on activities, many of us enduring some thing we'd rather not do just to be with the people we love. We'd tease each other about our differences, how they'd make fun of my acoustic-Jesus music and I'm make fun of their death metal, but at the end of the day, we kept the company of our brothers and sisters.

I shudder to think about what I might have missed if I'd sought the exclusive company of my contemporaries. I am grateful for how different my life is because of the people who are in it.

I think this is what heaven will look like.

Bullshit, Barack!

2008-10-21T23:57:00.007-05:00

Pro-life, Pro-Obama?

From a man who supports killing babies, before during and after birth?

Are you #$%^#$* kidding me?

Be honest, ladies. Sex isn't just about sex.

2008-10-21T23:57:00.006-05:00

I watched Sex and the City tonight on TV, the sanitized version which ain't all that sanitary. Everytime I catch even a minute of it, I regret it. It comes on after Friends, though, so sometimes I get sucked in if I leave the TV on a minute too long. Before tonight, the last episode I watched the intro of had the protagonist asking of herself, "Are we sluts?" To which I wanted to scream at the TV. "If you have to ask, the answer is YES!" I stopped watching before I could see her rationalize it away somehow to a false idea of "feminine empowerment" as they inevitably must, much like magazine articles about the prevalence of STD's find ways to tell women that it's perfectly normal to have pus-filled blisters or other illnesses in their nether-regions, leading to cancer, infertility and sometimes death. I hang my head for these women that don't know there is a better way, a sweeter life, free of the hells they choose to swim in. And yet, I'm regarded as the freak.

But that's neither here nor there: Tonight's episode was about the women having sex buddies- men they turn to for casual sex and only sex following a break-up or other emotional need. They insist that all women have such a man. I wish I could disagree, but I have such a man- well, sans the sex part.

When I've been disregarded, devalued or heartbroken- or when I am between boyfriends and in need of someone to make me feel valued, attractive, loved and adored, I have certain men I call. We might go out or stay home, but there is always flirting, edification, and genuine affection. With me, cuddling with me is all you're going to get. Luckily, with these men I choose, cuddling is all they want.

What the Sex and the City women fail to recognize is that sex with women is rarely just about sex. It's about emotions, and needs, and the desire to be desired. Not just sexually desired, but desired as a whole human being. Many women admit to having sex simply in hopes of being held afterward- not for any physical gratification, but for the emotional gratification of knowing that you are not only attractive, but that a man wants to be with you because you are worthy of being held. I simply skip the sex part and head straight for what I know I want.

Perhaps the saddest part is not that these women sell their self-respect, mental and physical health with these exploits, but that they do not truly get what they need and instead rightfully feel bad about themselves afterwards. They feel dirty and used. If there is any using in my situation, I am the user rather than the used. Not that I advocate using, but in a less than ideal world, using a man that gets the privilege to hold and adore you is much better than wondering if you are respectable.

In an ideal world, I wouldn't feel the need to call a man to validate my desirability. I would simply know that I am desirable, wanted, adored and that while I'm not currently the object of some man's exclusive affection, I know that I will be at some point. Yeah- that's the ideal. My reality is that a hearty dose of being told I'm beautiful and wonderful while laying my head on the cologne-scented chest of someone I equally think wonderful lasts me through spells of no boyfriendness.

I am sure that for some women, sex really is about sex. That doesn't change our inate biopsychosocial reactions to it, though. I feel sorry for women who can only assume they are wanted for their bodies and nothing else. Even we chaste girls want to be wanted for our bodies, but in proportion to the rest of the package which includes a mind and a soul. These women will never find that, looking where they are.

So sad.

If you ever get annoyed, look at me, I'm SELF-EMPLOYED.

2008-10-21T10:02:00.002-05:00

I'm deducting my ass off. Seriously, I sit on my ass to do my job, I need it for work, so I am going to find some way to write it off.

I meet with my bookkeeper and tax accountant at 2:00 to set up all of the everything I need for the next 5 years. I could wing it, but since I have 5 years in this contract, I greatly prefer to do things correctly.

I just hate how complicated adulthood is.

She thanks her Jesus for the socks.

2008-10-18T22:37:00.005-05:00

And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
Phillipians 4:19

I got a few dozen pairs of free socks today.

"Why is this blogworthy?" you ask...Because I am overwhelmed at the extravagance with which God meets even my simplest needs, let alone my wildest dreams.

Money is tight right now, so much so that anything that isn't solely necessary to feed me or shelter me from the elements is something I can't justify spending money on- and I was down to one pair of socks. I was thinking yesterday about how great it could be to buy a package of socks, but I simply couldn't justify it. Yes, I would have to alternate what outfits I could wear with shoes and wait until a load of dirty laundry materialized to get the socks and be able to wear sneakers or boots again, but this is not a need. After all, I do have other shoes which don't require socks and a few outfits to wear with those shoes. Having more socks, even one more pair certainly would make my life easier, but money to make my life easier have I none- only money to make my life continue.

Then today, a girlfriend and I were driving from the park where we were having my goddaughter's 4th birthday party and followed a garage sale sign. Even with no money, garage sales are fun. And then I saw a box marked "Free", full of washed and paired socks.

As petty as this may seem, especially given the extravagance with which I am cared for by God, let alone always sustained, it's these little, practical things that He provides that really hit home. I somehow expect Him to come through in the big ways, much like He just blessed my former employer with a $2.2 million abstinence education grant, which will provide me with all the work I need to finish my degree doing all of the work I put my heart and soul into for years. I'm not ungrateful and underestimating of the significance of something big like this, but He's God. He's really, really BIG and He does big things. So I expect to see the clouds parting and a huge hand from Heaven manipulating the world around His children to accomplish those gargantuan feats He wills---but then I am given a box full of socks. Socks. And it reminds me that while He is still BIG and still almighty, He's also still my Father, making sure my feet stay warm.

There is dying in my place, saving me from an eternity in Hell, adopting me into His family and offering me eternal life-all of these amazing things I lack the capacity to comprehend, and it's when I get a box full of socks that I feel the love in my toes.

I have lots of socks now if anyone else needs them.

PIPE WRENCH FIGHT!

2008-10-15T11:14:00.004-05:00

This has been my favorite video since I was a little girl, although obscure. Someone finally explains it!

Here's Take on Me, the literal version.

Widespread Deception, Apathy, and Ignorance.

2008-10-13T22:37:00.005-05:00

I'm depressed at the number of Christians that have written off millions of babies to dismemberment. People who really do know Jesus are either associate any white man with George W. Bush, associate all white men with evil, or are otherwise entranced with Obama's marshmellowy, yet empty words that they are finding ways to justify his support for killing children in order to vote for him.

I have heard some disturbing rationalizations this election. Most are wise enough to just skirt the issue altogether and try to bring up the war, economy, etc. but others have actually said that Obama's agenda to kill more children is acceptable because he's never personally dismembered a baby with forceps.

People's values are coming out and those values are not good. This election is truly a litmus test of people's characters and I am discovering that people I had respect for are not altogether respectable. I am heartbroken at people who follow Christ deciding to vote in favor of child sacrifice. Obama might very well win and if he does, it will be because of the Christians.

On that day, I'm through with America. All that praying for mercy, we don't deserve it. We can't blame the pagans- It will have been our doing. I will gratefully welcome any wrath on us as we fully deserve to be annihilated Sodom and Gomorrah style.

While I dread election day and the evil that will ensue, I will be grateful for the dialogue to stop and my heart to stop being assaulted with every turn I take. The alternative, though, are more innocent people being slaughtered, so I should cling to this as long as I can.

The world sucks. I want to go home.

Mr. Jesus.

2008-10-13T22:37:00.004-05:00

Last night at Mass, one of my girlfriends from college was introduced to give an appeal from the bishop. She is the campus minister now for both universities in our city.

It struck me then just how cool it is when the nobodies we once were as college kids turn into to somebodies. Like Justin's commissioning as an Air Force officer, it's awesome when we go from just our first name to "Doctor" this and "Lieutenant" that. Just a few weeks ago, one such friend and I had a long goodbye all night in my hammock before he had to move to Austin to be a big shot political correspondent. I guess this is growing up...

But I digress.

A few years ago in 2004, Campus Minister Janet was a Catholic Aid worker in Philly where my parents were living, and so we rendezvoused in DC for the March for Life. She took me to this huge youth mass of 10,000 at the MCI Center where a worship leader taught us the chorus of "Trading My Sorrows" (Yes, Lord, Yes, Lord, Yes, Yes, Lord) in several languages. In Spanish, this translates into "Si, Senor. Si, Senor. Si, Si, Senor." I thought this meant, "Yes, Mr., Yes, Mr. Yes, Yes, Mr." And references to "Senor Jesus," I thought those crazy Spanish-speaking Catholics were calling our Savior, "Mr. Jesus."

I forgot about that until last night but sitting next to Janet at the Spanish Mass triggered my memory. I also remembered my Catholic envy that I no longer have now, although I remain in perpetual jealousy of myself at times. Sometimes I have to ask myself if I truly understand how blessed I am- and the answer is No. I can't even comprehend it.

Thanks, Mr. Jesus!

Thank you, Martin Sheen!

2008-10-10T00:10:00.003-05:00

With all of the celebrities out there using their star power for evil, it delights me exponentially to see a celebrity with actual moral convictions.

Poor, poor Goddess...

2008-10-07T19:39:00.004-05:00

A news story caught my attention: Nepal appoints 3-year-old as new living goddess.

I thought, "Wow, some Nepalese girl is plucked from obscurity and thrust into a life of luxury!" Good news, right? But read what I've bolded.

KATMANDU, Nepal - Hindu and Buddhist priests chanted sacred hymns and cascaded flowers and grains of rice over a 3-year-old girl who was appointed a living goddess in Nepal on Tuesday.

She will be worshipped by Hindus and Buddhists as an incarnation of the powerful Hindu deity Taleju.

A panel of judges conducted a series of ancient ceremonies to select the goddess from several 2- to 4-year-old girls who are all members of the impoverished Shakya goldsmith caste.

The judges read the candidates' horoscopes and check each one for physical imperfections. The living goddess must have perfect hair, eyes, teeth and skin with no scars, and should not be afraid of the dark.

As a final test, the living goddess must spend a night alone in a room among the heads of ritually slaughtered goats and buffaloes without showing fear.

Having passed all the tests, the child will stay in almost complete isolation at the temple, and will be allowed to return to her family only at the onset of menstruation when a new goddess will be named to replace her.

Nepalese folklore holds that men who marry a former kumari will die young, and so many girls remain unmarried and face a life of hardship.

I recognize that these are girls that would otherwise struggle to eat, and living this lifestyle at least guarentees her sustenance, but still. Damn. I think I'll stay a mortal.

I am concerned about her welfare, but I am also curious what it says that becoming a sexually mature women negates her divinity? It implies that there is something wrong with the female body, does it not?

Whoops- Grad school tip I forgot!

2008-10-06T00:25:00.003-05:00

Old Edition Texts!

All classes call for the latest edition of a textbook. Do you know what they change with each edition- the cover, and not much else. Yet it costs upwards of 100 more for the new book vs. the book a whole 2 years older.

Now the page numbers may be slightly different and you might have to check the quizzes/questions to make sure those haven't been changed, but most of the time you can cut your book budget by getting old editions from Half.com.

You're welcome! :)

Both down and trodden...

2008-10-05T16:02:00.004-05:00

Merlin: You know, lad, that love business is powerful stuff.
Arthur: Greater than gravity?
Merlin: Well, yes, in its own way... yes, I'd say it's the most powerful force on Earth.

I am bummed- supernaturally down. Like I'm being attacked. It could be my period- yeah, it probably is, but certain thoughts today have bummed me out. Others have been downright scary.

In case you're wondering, I'll get to the top quote eventually.

Now, let me tell you that I should be on top of the world. The grant I helped write for the pregnancy center- we won that, and $500,000. That's a lot of money with which we can save a lot of babies. It's also Federal tax money, which helps re-align the universe in light of Planned Parenthood being given millions to kill babies.

Anywho, bumming thoughts:

1. My blog is gone. 3 years of my life chronicled has disappeared without warning. It's a great loss to me. It chronicled some of my greatest heartaches and victories and now it's gone.

2. I looked at the presidential poll projections and it looks like we have an excellent chance of electing Hitler. I am afraid for so many- the disabled, the unborn. I am nausiated at what this man will do if elected. I will likely not be starved/dehydrated or torn apart with forceps, but thousands of others will, and he will overturn every law we've passed to protect these people. I'm furthermore disgusted about the combination of both "stupid" and "buyable" that the American people are, to both believe the bullshit he says and buy what he's selling
(healthcare for example) in exchange for a bunch of very dead children. Have some intelligence or some integrity. Any of both and you simply can not vote for this man.

3. North Texas hasn't won a football game yet. My best friend and I have a bet that if NT wins 5 games, he'll show up at the last home game dressed as a giant eagle. I intend to make his costume with feathers from a pillow and styrofoam. I have 7 chances left to win 5 games and if I lose, I have to do something equally, if not more degrading: I have to wear a Baylor shirt (although I intend to modify it by writing "I did not go to" across the top). I don't want to humilate myself, so the Mean Green needs to step up!

4. When I was putting away the Sword in the Stone video, I was just thinking about the scene with the squirrels. I can't find it on youtube. The scene is essentially a boy turned into a squirrel meets a real girl squirrel. She falls in love with him and even saves his life. She's devastated when he's turned back into a boy and her heart breaks in twain.

My 5-year-old Goddaughter Alissa was watching it the other day. When I got teary-eyed, I said outloud that that scene made me cry as a little girl, and she got up, ran over and had me hold her in my office chair. She was facing the tv and I couldn't see that she'd been crying. I guess once she heard that I would cry, she decided it was okay.

When my heart was broken for the first time not too long ago, my sister comforted me on the phone with the words, "Yeah, love is powerful. More powerful than gravity" in reference to that scene. I recanted that line to a girlfriend and she said, "Awww, you thought [insert bastard's name] was a squirrel..." Since I at that time I was so hurt that I would cry at inopportune times, at work meetings for example, I went and bought the movie thinking that maybe that scene would inspire some major cathartic waterworks and maybe I could cry it all out and return to my normal giddy awesomeness. I also invited over my rebound guy and made chocolate chip pancakes. He held me, we watched it, I cried.

I did think he was a squirrel and instead he was a boy. And when I said 'squirrel' before, I meant, "grown man who doesn't live with his mother." He was definitely a boy.

This thought, mixed with my hormones and all the stuff I've sacrificed for 40 Days for Life, really brought me down. As pathetic as this is especially in light of all the things I've accomplished in my life, I am sure that my greatest day will be when I can think on my ex and feel NOTHING. No sorrow, no anger- just nothing. Because he is nothing. I am embarassed that I still remember his name.

That will be my greatest accomplishment because it's the only thing I haven't been able to earn. Anything in life that I've wanted, I've made happen for myself. I went out and worked and got it. Unfortunately, in spite of all of my efforts, my feelings of love and loss are things I've yet to pound into submission. On the day when I have either discovered a way to beat my emotional pain, or it simply fades with time, that's the day I'll truly be free.

That love stuff is more powerful than gravity.

Now for the Weird Thoughts:

1. I'd like to find some drug that gives lots of energy and makes you skinny. Double-bonus. So I actually spent some time googling drugs to see which one is going to fuel my full plate. I don't want my teeth to rot out of my head or to stab myself or others. I'm leaning against becoming cracked out, but it's sooooo tempting. I remember my sweet naivete when I'd wonder, "Why would anyone ever get involved with drugs?" and then I became an adult and discovered what an unsurmountable bitch that life is. Now I marvel at those of us that manage to survive without psychoactive substances.

2. I am having weird lesbian dreams. Not kinky sex stuff, but actual romantic feelings for women in my dreams. I say dreams, but it was only one dream, but it nonetheless creeped me out. I live next to a lesbian couple, so maybe they sent their gay vibes across my backyard, through my back door and into my sleeping subconscious. Ugh...

That's it. Returning to laundry now.

Real Advice for Grad Students...This will save time and sanity.

2008-10-02T00:50:00.007-05:00

I don't condascend to give advice to doctoral students, as I am still one clamoring for advice myself. But I discovered in class today that few Master's students realize the tricks that allow you to escape graduate school with both the degree and your sanity. I feel it my duty to impart this to you all.

1. You Really Don't Have To Read That Stuff- You will be assigned hours upon hours of reading for each class. It's also particularly boring reading. I tried reading it all once. I failed and by the end of the first month in grad school, I quit completely. Why, you ask:

Because I realized the truth that set me free: It's all in the notes.

Masters courses are lecture courses, and the lectures contain all the points your prof deems important, all that need be cited in your final project or that will creep up in an exam. It's all in the PowerPoint. Why read it, when it's perfectly Cliff's Noted and outlined for you? If called upon by the prof for an opinion, give your opinion of the lecture. I have a Master's degree and read nothing more than the syllabi of my classes. I also graduated with a great GPA that got me into a competitive doctoral program years later.

I'm sure you're asking yourself, "Well, maybe that was just her program." Au contrare. I have taken Master's classes for my Ph.D. in a wide variety of departments and specializations: Education, Political Science, Health Management and Policy as well as Social Work and I didn't read a thing in those either- and I still kicked butt.

I don't read for Master's classes nor do I purchase overpriced books I'll never crack unless they contain homework assignments. If you're a Master's student, nor should you.

Note: Doctoral programs couldn't be more different. There are no lectures, but discussions. You can not discuss without having read your assignments. You can not pass your classes or comprehensive exams without knowing your authors and their theses. That being said, enjoy not reading in grad school while you still can.

2. Sleep: You Don't Need As Much As You Think You Do- This is more a doctoral student thing, as I didn't pull a single allnighter in my Master's program. I worked my ass off and lost sleep, but never had to endure solid 48 hour blocks of constant work.

However, here's what I've learned when having to use night hours to finish a semester, which has been common for me in my Ph.D. program:

-Choose stimulants wisely. I recommend 5 Hour Energy, no crash. Take only the recommended amount and snack on fruit. Do not mix energy drinks or supplements. Always keep food around so you're not distracted by hunger.

-Between noon and 3, as your class schedule permits, take a nap. You might think that you will crash and sleep a full 8 hours. Not so. Your body knows that it's daytime and takes no more than one REM cycle. Set your alarm just in case, but you will wake-up refreshed in no more than an hour and a half and ready to start another all-nighter.

-Eat a good dinner, watch a half-hour of mindless TV and start your work again. Repeat the previous steps, take your mid-day nap and start the cycle all over again.

You may go up to 4 days on this system before your immune system is compromised and you need a full 12 hours to completely rejuvenate. Before you begin your all-nighters, plan to give yourself the 12-hour reprieve. It's also good to start your cycle with a 12-hour night if possible.

3. Fear Not, Psycho Hose Beast: You Will Turn Back Into Yourself After Graduation- Grad school comes with a marked change in demeanor. You won't like it. Before, when you had a relatively clear mind, you were a nice person, loved by animals and children.

In grad school, you'll soon discover the physical and emotional energy it takes to be nice. It's exhausting. Whereas before, you could word things sweetly almost by instinct. For example, "You would mind turning the TV down a little, please?" becomes, "Turn that DOWN!!" And expletives will likely escape your lips that you've never used before, and weren't even aware you knew.

Likewise, you begin to abhor chit-chat. People saying, "Hi, how are you?" used to be returned with a chipper, "I'm great. And you?" But now, you have to take in the "Hi, how are you?" and process it in your already overburdened mind and form a response, only to have to muster the energy to give that response. And sometimes you don't even have the energy to respond, or you fear further chit-chat might give you made or deplete your reserves. I know this sounds ridiculous, but you don't know how much energy the little things take til you have spent all your energy and them some pursuing an advanced degree.

4. Take as Many Hours as You Can Handle- You're going to be miserable. This is inevitable. So like you rip off a bandaid in one swift motion, so should you capitalize on the number of hours you can get in a semester to the extent that you can handle it. You will be markedly more miserable, but you'll graduate to utter bliss that much quicker. You can only get a fixed number of hours in any given time period (semester, maymester, minimester, etc.) so not getting all you can is essentially wasted time. You also have to feed, house and clothe yourself in that time frame on a limited budget, so all the time you save is money you've saved by not prolonging the agony.

Like me, for instance. I'm taking 12 hours. For an undergrad, that's a breeze, for a doctoral student with papers due weekly and reading you actually have to do, it's murder. But I have only get 6 hours in a summer, and my dissertation insists on 3 hours only per semester. So taking 12 hours this semester and next allows me to do my 6 hours of directed research (required prior to dissertation) in the summer when I can only get 6 hours anyway. Had I taken the usual 9 hours, I would be forced to take my six hours in the Fall, spending 5 months to get 6 hours vs. 12 possible hours. See the waste? Taking just one more class this semester and next, while painful, by virtue of logistics shaved an entire year off of my degree. That's worth the pain.

Your goal is to get the degree, not to make things easier on yourself. It's going to be hard, but some hard is worth the effort.

That being said...

5. It's Going to Be Hard, Don't Make it Harder Than It Has to Be- You know the stories your grandparents have about rising at 4 am to walk 5 miles, barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways to get to school? Well, here's mine:

In grad school, I had no computer. Even if I had a computer, I doubted that I couldn have afforded internet for the research I needed to do. So I would rise at 4 am, get dressed, grab breakfast and head out the door. I'd enter a deserted QuikTrip for a cup of coffee (it was 49 cents back then) and get to school by 5:00 am.

Why 5 am? Because if I wanted to get a parking spot and find a free computer in the library or lab, that's when I'd have to arrive. So I'm unpack all of my books at my computer and get crackin'. When I needed to use the bathroom, I'd wait till a savory-looking character sat beside me and ask them watch my books, knowing full well they could still be stolen and sold back to the bookstore and I'd be hosed.

That's a bathroom break- now about eating: to leave I would either have to pack up 50pounds of books, save everything, write the citations and note the page numbers, close all windows, log out, pack up and walk to my car (average time was 20 minutes to leave the lab), only to run get some food and return- and not find a single parking spot. Even if there was a parking spot, there would not be a free computer, and I'd have to stand around and wait till one was vacated and then unpack. This was the lab.

For the library, I was often surrounded by books I was citing. To leave then, I'd either have to finish the work and write the citation or check out the books and haul them to my car, only to lose precious time in the scenarios I listed above. Many times, I just did without food and powered through my homework. What I'd anticipate taking 4 hours would take 12, and I'd let my stomach pang all the way through that. And also, sometimes labs would have differing hours and they'd kick us out into a lab across campus: same scenario about packing up books and fighting for a computer.

Then I saw how the other half live. I had a good friend who drove 3 hours in from Abilene for class and would take both her classes on consecutive days and she crash the night with me. After she graduated, she had me visit her there. I saw her apartment. She had a computer and internet. When she needed to go to the bathroom, she could get up and go. When hungry, she could make a sandwich. She could even take breaks to nap or watch TV. I so envied that.

In retrospect, I should have financed or otherwise procured a computer. I should have found a way to pay for internet. Grad school is hard, but I made it that much harder. A mixture of my poverty and frugality (why pay for this when I have it at school?) made my program infinitely more painful than it could have been.

Do not do this! There's no point in it. Resource yourself properly. Justify that 3 dollar quad-shot latte if it helps you through your program. Yes, money is tight, but if your goal is to get the degree, support yourself in acheiving that goal. Find a way to get what you need!

That is all my wisdom. I pray that it goes forth and blesses my fellow poor, pitiful grad students. We are simply greatness in the making, as long as we resourcefully pesevere in our pursuits.

And now, Deep Thoughts....

2008-10-02T00:00:00.005-05:00

I have a hammock in my backyard which I named "Sweetness" (after Stephen Colbert's handgun). It's a magical place, where the sun and moon peek through the canopy of leaves on trees, the trees dwarf 4 story buildings, and breeze through the foilage sounds like God's windchime. Squirrels play right above you, flower petals gently descend upon you and the weather is always temperate.

Out there, there is nothing to do but think.

I often marvel at my own shallowness. I long for the type of emotion that muses good poetry, yet thank God with all my being that I have been spared so much pain and sorrow that plagues the world. I enjoy life to a degree that most people try to catch a mere glimpse of through the use of psychoactive substances, but will never attain. Oddly, this bliss comes from an abiding simplicity and shallow enjoyment of little things. Case in point, last night, holding my Godson, he yawned. I told him baby yawns were one of my favorite things, next to floaty pens, crazy straws, footie pajamas and Braum's custard-style frozen yogurt.

Here is a cross-section of the thoughts that drift into my mind as I swing to and fro. This is the stuff I ponder when I get my philosophizing on:

*Why can't my dog pee where no dog has peed before? After several hours in her crate unable to relieve herself, why must she hold her bladder whilst sniffing around for evidence of previous dog pee? Better question, who was the brave, pioneering first dog to ever pee? A trailblazer, that dog.

*It's scientifically proven that women excrete a chemical during childbirth, breastfeeding and sex that increases bonding. Men don't. This explains why women are damaged with each affair and men go around like freaking monkeys at a zoo, but I don't know why God doesn't make men bond with us through sex. Do men have some bonding equivilent that science has yet to discover? I bet it has to do with fried foods.

*If Chuck Norris and McGuyver squared off against eachother, could McGuyver build a nuclear bomb out of an old alarm clock, his tooth fillings and a money clip faster than Chuck Norris could roundhouse kick his head right off McGuyver's body?

*If I had said yes any of the times in my life that I said no, how profoundly different would the sum of those choices be? What if I had said no any of the times I said yes? Are our "yes"es and "no"s controlled for by God in spite of us to acheive the purposes He has for us (bearing in mind God's sovereignty and human free will)...?

*Since pretty faces and big boobs are enough to snag a millionaire, why are pretty faces and big boobs totally negated when supplemented with intellegence, character, education and success? You'd think that would add to the package, but it doesn't.

*Why do car dealerships and other businesses invest in inflatables? Not cool inflatables like bounce houses, but giant Uncle Sams and wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube men? Do people say, "Hey look, that dealership has a huge purple gorilla on top of the building. Let's go spend 30 grand there!"?

*What if I were me, only a dude? How big would my penis be? Either way, I know it'd be bigger than...well, I won't name names, but I think you know.

*Women who whine are inadequate. And that whole "glass ceiling" thing: Total bullshit. It was just created by women who are bitter that they can't compete and so they invented a concept to blame for their own failures. Note also that these are also the women who claim that they can't succeed without the ability to kill their own kids if they get in the way. Real women bust through any obstacle, dust the broken glass off their shoulders with a baby in a sling around their chests and a row of children like ducks behind them.

*I've heard about concentrations of poverty, but I'm starting to think there are concentrations of stupidity. These are called "blue states" and should be physically destroyed so that their inhabitants can be diffused into actual culture and maybe gain some knowledge by osmosis.

*Why do people feel like they can violate your privacy after you die? I get the whole cleaning out of personal effects stuff, but not the reading of old letters, poetry, etc. Like that shit they pulled on Emily Dickinson- publishing her soul on paper after she distinctly asked for her work to be destroyed. My best friend has trusted me to guard his memoir if he dies, I think I need to pick someone who will promise to empty my hard drive and burn my journals upon death.

*Why are tampon inserter called "applicators?" That's a misnomer. You don't apply something IN something else, you apply TO, FOR, not in. You insert something IN. So since the applicator inserts the tampon into the hoo-ha, it shouldn't it be called an inserter?

Okay, so that last thought came to me in the ladies' room at school and not on the hammock, but I thought it worth sharing.

I am frustrated because I can't explain it with words...

2008-10-01T23:02:00.002-05:00

But an understandment would be that I really love this boy.

I understand that parents since the beginning of creation have loved and adored their children. I get that. But it's amazing how someone so little could mean so much to me. I loved him long before he was born or even conceived, but being able to see his face and kiss his cheeks has infinitely multiplied all the love I had to where I just can't love him enough. Kisses and squeezes can't get it all out.

I love this boy. I don't think I've ever loved any boy the way I love this boy. And I don't want to share him. Poor Quinton. No woman will ever be good enough for you. :)

Voter Registration Drives: Please STOP.

2008-10-01T12:37:00.001-05:00

As we approach the election, I see so many people who have made voter registration their pet project. Adam Duritz, lead of Counting Crows gave a nice little speech on it at his last show including "Trust me when I say that I don't give a flying f*ck who you vote for." Well, I do!

People who don't care enough to register to vote probably won't vote, which is one redeeming aspect of voter registration drives; They're minimally effective. But answer me this, if someone does not care enough to exercise a say in how they are governed, or at least vote in favor or against certain ideals or atrocities, why should that person be allowed to cancel out a vote of one who does care?

Furthermore- those people that don't care are typically dumbasses. Although Obama can stir up some dumbasses with his teleprompted rhetoric about change and hope and hopeful change and changeable hope (nothing ever substantive), most dumbasses are too far dumb to actual have an opinion. And we want these people voting?

I guess I'm an elitist. I'm not pro-democracy. I think a great majority of this country lacks the intelligence or moral capacity to choose a leader that is not going to kill the vulnerable or destroy the economy. Half of this country are below average intelligence and even the intelligent are uneducated on matters of great social and political import. Even those with formal education often fail to piece together the calling cards of stupid policy. Case in point: Universal Healthcare. Frankly, I'd rather have someone evil and educated vote against me than someone ignorant vote in my favor.

So all of you thinking yourself patriots by registering those that lack two brain cells to rub together, what the hell are you doing? If they don't know how to register themselves or lack the wherewithall to put in the minimal effort (i.e. say "yes" when the DMV clerk asks you if you'd like to register to vote) then they shouldn't be voting. Men have died for this, women imprisoned and tortured and it should be reserved for those that care enough to seek it on their own. I'm not suggesting denying the ability to vote, only not pursing those who should be pursuing voting on their own. Luckily, those are the people that will stay home anyway.

Have I mentioned that...

2008-09-30T22:40:00.002-05:00

Damn.

2008-09-30T22:33:00.002-05:00

Man paints and hangs nude Palin portrait in his bar.

2008-09-30T09:57:00.004-05:00

There's been no shortage of takeoffs on Sarah Palin lately, from television skits to action figures, but Bruce Elliott has gone one step further than most. He's taken off her clothes.

Elliott, whose wife, Tobin Mitchen, owns the Old Town Ale House on Chicago's North Side, painted a nude portrait of the Republican vice presidential nominee and hung it above the bar, where it's now a prime attraction among his display of more than 200 celebrity portraits and other racy art.

Palin became Elliott's muse after he saw her on TV.

"I've been following her religiously," he said Monday at the bar. "I had never heard of her before, like everyone else. I find her bizarrely fascinating, even though I pretty much despise everything she stands for."

Despite their political differences, Elliott admits to a bit of a crush on the Alaska governor. He began painting her smile and trademark glasses, he said, before filling in the details: a gun, red high heels, polar bear rug, rugged Alaska landscape and a scared moose. His daughter, who looks a little like Palin and does a great impression of her, served as model for the governor's body.

Since Elliott, 68, hung the portrait Thursday, it's been a steady draw at the dive bar, which is a popular spot for Second City comedians to grab beers and play pinball after shows. But after the image hit the Internet on Monday, interest exploded.

"We got a bunch of people in tonight," Elliott said. "They're coming to take pictures with their camera phones. The photo is all over the place."

I'm not so offended that he painted a nude portrait of a stranger although he "despises everything she stands for," but that he used his own daughter as a nude model. To paint someone nude implies a certain sexual attraction. Should one really be using their daughter's to fulfill that? Sick Sick Sick.

This concludes JacqueFromTexas: Sick Bastard Edition.

Criminals can volunteer at this CPC, but Catholics can't.

2008-09-29T09:25:00.005-05:00

In this city with two universities, there is one Crisis Pregnancy Center. It was 2002, my junior year of college, and I distinctly remember having to go through a screening process to get serve in child care (I watched the children so the mothers could attend classes and earn coupons to redeem for baby items). This process included sharing your testimony on your conversion to Christianity and signing very specific statement of faith, which including declaring yourself a literal 7-day creationist. While I found that unnecessarily exclusionary (after all, a Christian believing God created the universe, just not in 7 literal days could change diapers and play peekaboo as well as I could, right?), nonetheless I wasn't excluded at the time and wanted to serve, so I signed the statement and began volunteering.

I understand why the CPC wants such qualifications. Each client, while awaiting pregnancy test results, is offered the sola fide, "faith alone" message and invited to become a Christian. It's kind of hard to give a sola fide message if you don't ascribe to it. Also, what I know now to be the path to salvation, that you have to have faith first, but respond by turning from sin and self, taking up the cross and following Christ for the rest of your life isn't so easily presented in the five minutes between the peeing and the thin blue line. But, I still thought, couldn't those that wish to serve and aren't protestants still be put to good use cleaning the center or stocking the supplies? After all, many of us think those Catholics are headed straight to hell, so don't they want evangelize them? Shouldn't we include everyone that shares our convictions to save babies and help women, as long as it doesn't interfere with the mission?

Fast-forward 6 years: One of my doctoral program colleagues recently shared with the class a program she is designing to recruit and maintain volunteers at the CPC's thrift store, which funds the operations of the center. She explains that they are in dire need of volunteers, especially for men to process large donations. She said that the warehouses are stacked floor to ceiling with donations that could be on the floor to be sold, but there is no one to process and price those items.

Immediately, I thought of the Knights of Columbus, a group of pro-life men more than willing to help with these projects. I thought of the LifeTeen groups at the 2 Catholic parishes. Then, I remembered: The statement of faith excludes them. So I asked my colleague if the CPC would suspend the statement of faith for those tasks that don't have direct client contact, for people isolated in the warehouse, processing and sorting merchandise. I was thinking about how I would love to help.

But the answer was no. The reason? Many criminals do their court-ordered community service there, and they want volunteers to be able to give them the faith-alone Gospel message. So criminals can serve, Catholics can not. As much as I want to help, I am not allowed, at least until I commit a crime.

I must say that I am all for standards and exclusion where necessary. The Catholic Churchs' Project Gabriel will accept mentors from other faiths, but will not accept those who don't espouse the Churchs' teaching on the sexual morality and birth control. This wasn't to be exclusive, but because we want these young mothers mentored correctly. Likewise, an evangelical would not beleive that we Catholics could lead a soul to salvation correctly. For these reasons, I completely understand such policies.

But here's where the total and unnecessary exclusion of other Christians, who aren't allowed to lift a box in a warehouse for the CPC unless we agree and sign the statement of faith- here's where this has led us: The Catholic community has started a pro-life ministry of their own and are now accepting donations for their thrift store. They are starting from nothing, finding a location, raising funds and spending enormous energy and resources in the process. Why are we paying to rent a facility to house a thrift store when a thrift store exists to fund pro-life work? Because we want to serve Jesus in this capacity, and we're not welcome there unless mandated by the criminal justice system. If I want to help women and children in this town, I have to do it this way.

Where we should combine our resources and learn to work together where possible toward our common goals, we're simply not allowed. So much money and effort is duplicated because we're excluded while so much good remains undone, as Catholics like me desire to process donations, but are not welcome to as the goods continue to gather dust in the warehouse. We should strive for unity whenever possible, for the benefit of the women and children we both desire to serve.

I am bothered. Not because I'm persona non grata at the CPC, but because of the good that is wasted due to foolish, exclusionary policies. I wish the existing CPC would suspend those rules which matter none and we could serve in those areas where the CPC does not, like the relieving caregivers of the elderly or ill and the other ministries in protection of human life.

Resources are limited in the pro-life movement as it is, so we need no cutting offs of noses to spite faces.

I love this baby!!!

2008-09-20T00:45:00.002-05:00

This is my Godson. He's my favorite of all things.

I've loved him for a long time, all those years we prayed for his mother to conceive, the 9 months we waited for his birth. Now that he's all born I get to squeeze and kiss him, though. :)

I love him so much. You just don't even know. Words fail me.

These aren't cases. They're my friends.

2008-09-19T13:21:00.000-05:00

I'm writing my prospectus for my dissertation, and I read articles about people I know, whose deaths I tried to stop, whose funerals I've attended, whose grieving mothers I've hugged. And the authors write so matter-of-factly about the "cases" and write-off the lives of people who I saw fight with everything they had to live. These authors know these stories as cases, and these stories might as well be hypothetical to them, but I know them as people, and people who I still grieve for and miss myself.

My dissertation won't refer to the Schiavo "case" or the Gonzales "case," but to Emilio and Terri and their mothers, Catarina and Mary. I have certain logistics to follow that I can't deviate from, but if nothing else, I want people who might read or cite my work to see their dignity. I will make this happen somehow.

Will Election Will Condemn Or Redeem America- Will it Condemn You?

2008-09-06T13:23:00.001-05:00

On January 23, 1973, the highest court of the judicial branch successfully overruled the representative decisions of 50 states. Laws put in place to protect human life, written over many years by legislators chosen by the people, every one was instantly overturned. The common voter, the legislator, the president, and all the other supposed "checks and balances" were left powerless in this unprecedented abuse of raw judicial power. The people did not elect for legal abortion, but it was forced upon them. After that, it was a choice to either accept or oppose the death sentence our country was given, but on that day, very few could claim actual responsibility for our nation's holocaust. Very few could be justly blamed.

This election will change everything.

If a majority of voters or states choose a man, Barack Obama, so unapologetically pro-abortion that he will slaughter born children in order to protect the ability to slaughter unborn children, this country has indeed chosen its fate. This country will be held accountable.

If people vote for Obama because they are angry at the Bush administration, in spite of the fact that Obama promises to support an amendment which would guarentee a constitutional right to abortion even after Roe is overturned, they made their choice over the lives of innocent children. If they vote Obama because they are burdened with heathcare costs and see socialized medicine as the answer, even though that health plan will include dismembering innocent children, they have chosen there own wants over lives and limbs of unborn babies. If they support Obama to bring more money to welfare programs in spite of striking down state laws protecting children, they've made your choice, althought those welfare programs mean nothing to a dead child. If they vote Obama because they believe the Iraq war have unjustly killed over 4000 armed American troops, I remind them that abortion had killed 4000 defenseless children since yesterday. Whatever this man offers that voters desire, it can't be purchased with the blood of innocent children. This is precisely what Obama supporters will say with their votes: I support killing children with my vote, if it results in the giving me something that I want.

If this happens, if a majority of people choose to elect a man that is so unabashedly pro-death that he supports even infanticide, then America is collectively responsible for this holocaust. Each person that votes in favor of Obama will bear the personal responsibility for each child killed through his universal health care plan or any law he wrote or struck down making abortion more easily obtained. Not just the women and men that choose abortions for themselves, but each and every person who voted for Obama is an accomplice in that murder. They choose themselves, their ideals, their angst, their political bents or any lesser factor over the entire life of an innocent child. Those claiming to be personally prolife, who would never have an abortion themselves, purchased abortions with their votes. They share that responsibility with the woman lying in the stirrups, no matter how they rationalize their decision. No number of lives saved or improved from social service programs or early withdrawl from war can justify the senseless murder of babies. Indeed, if your vote gave you the same chance of being killed as unborn children (25%), you'd think twice about how you vote. For minorities, that percentage is much higher.

If Obama is elected, America and those that voted for Obama will share the collective blame for the holocaust. And we will be held responsible.

Late-Term Abortion Mill in Dallas is Closing- And the Party Don't Stop!

2008-06-23T10:10:00.003-05:00

This is my abortion clinic. There are 5 other clinics in Dallas, a few where I have prayed or sidewalk counseled, but this one was the focus of my ministry. We were determined to shut this place down. One reason is that this clinic attracts women from Arkansas, Oklahoma, Louisiana and Texas who can't abort babies that large or old in their respective states. While if one mill shuts down, there are alternatives, not so in this case. Many babies that would have been killed would surely now live at the loss of this clinic!

My friend, Amy, a young sonographer, was led by God to set up a pregnancy resource center beside the clinic. Diane, a sidewalk counselor for many years who helped lead and organize a 24 hour prayer vigil for 40 Days at this clinic just 3 years ago shared this vision, as did Katherine, an English professor. We launched an effort to cover it in prayer and to develop an onsite presence. We waffled between renting a building and living in it, so our rent could subsidize the ministry or purchasing an RV and strapping our ultrasound machine in it. While we looked at approaches, we kept a prayerful presence at the clinic.

While we had setbacks, including that the building next door to the clinic had rented to someone else, our ministry was fruitful. We were determined to serve whether we had a building or not. Three of us sidewalk counseled, enduring glue poured on the sidewalk, people swerving in our direction to scare us into thinking we were going to be run over, frozen toes, no bathrooms- some other sidewalk counselors were shot at one day. Amy continued performing free sonograms, and we met weekly (at the least) to keep up our efforts in establishing our center.

One tremendous victory was when I met a precious clinic worker that wanted out of the industry but was afraid to leave. I got the joy of helping her pack her apartment as she moved off to graduate school when she finally decided to quit on faith. Another victory is that I've held a baby that we helped pray into existence. Circumstances, like the relocation of our director, slowed our efforts and while we never got our intended bricks and mortar, we resigned with joy nonetheless of what we had accomplished and resolved to keep trying as individuals and friends.

Well, this fight is over.

I spoke with Amy in Michigan over our victory and how anti-climactic it seemed given all we'd witnessed, to just one day hear that they were closing. We expected an earthquake to swallow the building or lightning to strike and burn it to the ground, instead they simply went belly-up.

Friday, the day I heard the news, I went out salsa dancing with my best friend till the wee hours of the morn. I poured myself into bed at 4:00 am on Saturday night and there are still scheduled parties to be had. I know I will be celebrating this for a very long time.

Praise be to God!

Everyone else is responsible for my bad choices....WAAAAAAH!

2008-06-05T21:30:00.003-05:00

If you'd like to see the worst of humanity, go on over to I'm Not Sorry.net, a website full of women that killed the babies they concieved for sport bragging about how glad they are to have dismembered their own flesh and blood. These women boast in their unrepentence and blame everyone for their own bad choices. This story, however, is a brand new low. [Any emphasis is mine]

my story is different but i think it needs to be shared. it's a story of what can happen when choice is taken away which is what happened to me. when i was 16 i got pregnant. my mother likes to play religious when it's convenient for her which is what she did in this situation. she had no objections to my sister and i having boyfriends who spent the night when we were only 13. i asked her about that once and her excuse was she had been a hippie who believed in free love. when i got pregnant though she became religious and sanctimonious for about two seconds. she forbid me from having an abortion or even considering adoption. she forced me to drop out of high school, live with her and my abusive alcoholic father and have a baby i didn't want and couldn't love. she told me i would just have to get a GED and that it was the same thing as a high school diploma, which it is not as i found out later on when i tried to join the air force. so i had my son. he has developmental problems which an evaluation says is because i didn't bond with him. i tried to force myself to love him but i could not. before having him i had plans to go to syracuse university and those dreams were gone. i always hear this anti choice propaganda about women being depressed after having an abortion and i find that ironic because i have suffered severe depression for just the opposite, not having an abortion and being forced to have a child i didn't want. since having him my life has pretty much sucked. i've tried killing myself twice. i've latched onto physically and emotionally abusive relationships as a means of survival because let's face it, i can't take care of myself with my education level. i cry everytime i even hear about a high school prom or graduation because those had been things i had looked so forward to and they were taken from me. i want my story out there to show why choice is so important. no woman should have to suffer this kind of existance over a mistake.

Uh-huh, yeah. Your kid made you attempt suicide- twice. Your child makes you date men that beat you and emotionally abuse you- sure. You cry about missing the prom and graduation and of course, that's your kid's fault. He concieved himself! Just spontaneously appeared in your womb! It's not like you had sex or anything. Your son is a villian for ruining your life, a "mistake" you call him, and your parents are wicked because they wouldn't let you dismember him so you could go to prom. You're such a VICTIM!

I admit I'm appalled that this woman "couldn't love" her child and admits that he has problems because she refuses to give him the proper attention or affection. Social services takes such neglected children, and he'd likely be better off with loving foster parents than a mother that tries to kill herself, gets beaten up and yelled at in front of him, has developmental issues for lack of affection and publicly refers to him as a mistake who should have been put down a garbage disposal rather than born.

Beyond that, she doesn't have to make the self-destructive choices she's making. Single moms go to college all of the time. I know several who have gone on financial aid which is larger for a woman with dependents and have gotten out for considerably less debt (read: none) than I have. Dropping back in to high school is a possibility if she wants a military career. She has options, but would rather attempt suicide and be abused and blame her children and parents than repair her life. Not having an abortion hasn't forced her into the choices she now makes- it's her cop-out.

Seriously, y'all, is a willingly abused, self-destructive, suicidal, neglectful woman such as this the poster child you want for the pro-choice movement?

Immature Pro-Life Arguments- This is the first I've seen...

2008-06-02T09:41:00.005-05:00

I saw this shirt advertised on Lifenews.com

Now, nothing infuriates me more than pro-"choice" environmentalists, who care more about trees than human beings, but how does that justify being bad stewardship of our environment? How immature and absurd to say that "When you start doing right I'll stop doing wrong?"

Didn't your mama tell you that two wrongs don't make a right? Killing babies=wrong. Bad stewardship of the environment=wrong, a lesser wrong, but still wrong. People do go overboard if a sick, sad way when it comes to saving the environment, but we all have a duty not to litter, not to pollute, and to conserve and recycle whenever possible.

Grrrrr....

Contentment sighs and yet...

2008-06-01T13:59:00.002-05:00

I am so content. I want for nothing. I love my life and am overjoyed that I get to live it. I find immeasurable joy in every aspect of my life, even then bad parts.

Yeah- I'm in a disillusioned funk right now. So is Justin. I blame Greg Berendt and his damn book. We downloaded it and listened to it on our roadtrip to Shreveport (well, the last half. The first half didn't burn correctly). We drove out that way to see Justin's friend BJ for an airshow. Justin used to set them up when he was an Air Force officer and he goes sometimes to support his colleagues and in this case, just to see his friend. BJ is an Anglican on the edge of reconciliation to Catholicism, Justin is an evangelical close to that edge as well and I'm one hardcore Papist, so over crab dip and Hurricanes we had ourselves a little ecumenical council....

But I digress.

Justin and I listened to the rest last night between games of Egyptian Rat Screw, some awesome Greek food, a roadtrip to SMU (where he goes to grad school) and some Tiramisu in yuppiness. Our entire conversation for those hours was how he doesn't envy and kind of pities his married friends. I was once there, and I credited God for moving me past that, when I pitied my married friends and vowed that never would I ever get myself in that trap. Hells no. I stopped fighting God on this and yet I'm still apprehensive and lack trust. Justin is more cynical than I am even.

I don't envy anyone, but I don't pity them anymore either. I just f*&^ing hate that they think I should envy them and imply that I must be miserable or defective since I am not yet "married off." Now that I am Catholic, this ain't so bad anymore, yet I'm still surrounded by people that view marriage as the only sacrement and the goal for everyone's life. You are half a person and half a Christian until you are married, and excluded some certain areas of ministry due to your singleness. I remember faithfully attending my special needs Sunday school class that was run by, you guessed it, a couple. Another couple showed up for the first class and never returned. A year or so of Sundays later, the couple running the class was away for the weekend. Rather than asking me to take over for that one class, they hunted down that other couple who the children were apprehensive of since they didn't remember them. One girl hid behind me when the man approached her with a boisterous, "Hi, Kelly." She had dealt with seizures and other problems since she was four and wasn't fond of strangers. And yet, they were a couple and so they were qualified to run the class whereas I was not. It appears that evangelicals don't get a rats ass who one marries as long as they marry.

I fall for losers. I don't know why but it must be something about me that needs changing. This baffles Justin more than anything else about me, since I attempt and acheive the impossible on a regular basis. If I want to do something, I will just do it without regard to the difficulty. I will fail as many times as it takes me to succeed. I ain't scared of nothing. And yet I end up with men that a a hybrid combo of too lazy and lacking the balls to attempt anything.

Case(s) in point: My ex has a family full of physicians, specialists even. He talked my ear off for the 3 years we dated and beyond about going to medical school. It was infuriating. He had all of these concerns about his ability to do it, blah friggity blah blah. I kept saying, sweetly at first, that none of his concerns matter. Being afraid of the difficulty or longevity involved won't make the process any shorter or easier. He just had to ask himself 2 questions: 1. Do you want to be a doctor? 2. If yes, do you want to be a doctor bad enough to do whatever it takes to succeed? Everything else is immaterial. JUST DO IT, DAMMIT. Safe to say, this man will never be a doctor.

My loser lovers have exuses for their loserdom, which sadly, I buy. Loser Mc Will-Never-Be-A-Doctor didn't finish his bachelors until he was 28 at least. He had immigration laws to fulfill and got an associates at a trade school to pay his way through his bachelors which slowed things down. But I also remember him taking only 9 hours a semester to my 18. I bought the immigration hoops through which he jumped but also witnessed his laziness and cowardice.

Then there's another man I loved that gets his joe jobs around when he prefers to lift weights, go swimming, cycling and jogging. He graduated in December 04 and has done jack and sh!t with his degree since then. He got a little resistence in what he claimed to want to do (teach) and rolled over and died. And finally, there is Deluded VonNarcissist that took 10 years to get his bachelors all while living with Mom and Dad and not having his own bills. He's convinced he'll get a Masters degree because he's foolish about the workload (He thinks it'll be easier because he loves the topic- Shaaaa!) and also refuses to attempt the degree unless he can do it ultra-comfortably, without having to work. He admitted to me that if he had to work and study, he just didn't want the degree that much. He'll also only go if he an go to the school in Denver, and yet, he's too afraid to leave home for an apartment up the street. I speak from experience that you must take classes and WORK to get a Master's degree and not taking classes won't acheive that goal, and so I said that he needed to suck it up and just do what it takes to go to school. He disagrees, as if he has any authority to. From a man that had it as easiest as possible to get his undergrad and still took a friggin' decade do to dropping out and back in and dropping the ball, needless to say, he will never get a master's degree. When I told him that with his attitude, he'll never even get to grad school let alone graduate, he yelled at me and said something like, "Missy, yes I will!!!" Yeah, uh-huh, sure. We'll see...

THIS IS THE TYPE I COULD HAVE MARRIED! The type the married people actually did marry, hence my former pity.

Disillusionment.

2008-05-28T15:25:00.003-05:00

My little brother's best friend, Jon, got married this weekend. He and his new wife Monika had the ceremony in Waco and we all roadtripped to see him tie the knot and to desecrate his car with clingwrap, vasoline, shaving cream and shoepolish declarations on the windows which read "It's JONIKA!" "Boom Chicka Wah-Wah." and "Baby Due in 9 Months!"

Waiting for the ceremony I texted all of my friends:

I hate weddings. It just means that two more people will now be having legitimate sex while I must stay all celebate and crap. Damn. Damn, damn.

But the ceremony was beautiful, presided over my Jon's uncle and his pastor. Monika and Jon met in ministry at college, and he shared stories of their meeting and courtship. I then watched the exchange of vows for two people for whom "forever" means "FOREVER" rather than forever meaning, "Unless I want out at some point."

The ministers explained what a Christian home looks like and Jon's obligation to care for Monika and how she can trust in his leadership. That Jon will love her as Christ loved the Church, willing to die for her, and that like Christ would never hurt the Church, Jon would never hurt her.

When he said to Monika, "You know Jon would never hurt you," she nodded with the confidence that such an obvious statement to her would allow. Essentially a polite, "Well, DUH!" Of course Jon wouldn't hurt her. He's a good man, and he loves her. She knows that through and through: He would never hurt her.

That stuck in my mind throughout the rest of the evening and haunts me even now. Right afterwards, I felt a twinge of sorrow and despair. I have never had a man to whom I could confidently agree would never hurt me.

My mind drifted to the last fling I had, which I ended last October. He was crazy about me. Although I was not serious about him, in the wake a broken heart, I took comfort in his affection. We spent a lot of time together, in which I got flowers regularly and text messages several times a day which read simply, "You are precious." We'd have picnics behind our church where we met and he always seemed the utmost concerned about me. Between this man and my best friend, who I know would step in front of a bus for me rather than allow me to stub my toe, I had a twinge of hope that maybe I'd finally love and be loved by someone whom I could confidently agree would never hurt me.

And then I got a returned text. I forgot that my past fling, with whom I'm still friends, is offended by the word "damn" otherwise I'd have never used it. But over the past year and a half, he's learned the extremely profane words that deeply offend me, and in response to my text, he wrote "You know I hate the word damn, so here are some words you hate [expletives with modifers]"

He hurt me on purpose.

I texted back that I was sorry that I sent him that message without thinking about the words I used, but that I wouldn't have ever done that purposefully to hurt him. I finished with a promise never to text again, which I will keep. He replied, saying that he was harsh and apologized, and how he knows that sometimes things can slip out. Oh yeah, and that he missed me. Grrrr...

The original twinge of sorrow and despair has since grown. To take the effort to text words for the sake of stabbing me, from someone who claims to care for me, just reinforced my disillusionment that I will ever have a love that wouldn't hurt me. I know certain pains are inevitable- people say things that are thoughtless or benign that are misinterpretted, but I wish that was the extent of the hurt I've been caused. Instead, I've been hurt either

a.) on purpose
or
b.) because the person just didn't care enough about me to put in what little effort it would have taken to NOT hurt me.

I have been loved, but only so much as the person wanted to, but never sacrificially. I had one sacrificial love affair and I hurt him badly, to which I still pain over. I didn't intend to, but he was maimed nonetheless and tried to maim me back. We wounded eachother, came together, made our peace and never really spoke again. He forgives me and I him, but we're both too terrified to have anything that resembles a friendship. I try to keep it cordial, but he's always curt. I was terrified of running into him when I first moved back to Denton, and so far I have not, which is statistically impossible given the small size of this city. So, I know what it's like to be loved, really loved in the active verb sense, not just the object of someone's infatuation, who fall in love with me in the same swift movement that they fall out, like a pendalum. Even the one that I knew beyond knowing that he loved me still hurt me on purpose in the end, and so I'm back to my fear that I'll never find someone that wants to protect my heart.

Indeed, my substantiated fear of men has caused my abiding phobia of marriage. I am a "forever" means "forever" person, terrified of being connected to someone that would hurt me either in our day-to-day life together or through ultimate abandonment. Knowing what I once had though, and what people like Jon and Monika have currently, does not lend itself to long-term contentment. I want it, too.

Really, how hard is it not to hurt me?

Vindication! Texas Court B!tch-Slaps CPS.

2008-05-23T09:45:00.009-05:00

I'm pleasantly surprised that CPS got the public spanking they rightly deserved. It's the first time in a long time that I've seen the courts act as a check and balance as intended rather than the "yes men" of government agencies or activists who do what they please, the Constitution-be-damned.

One quote I found particularly interesting [emphasis mine]:

The ruling was another setback for Texas officials, who in recent days have conceded that at least 15 of the mothers the state had initially detained as child brides are, in fact, adults. One turned out to be 27 years old.

I am 27-years old and young-looking, but never in my adult life have I been mistaken for a child.

Now, I believe polygamy is an exploitation of and crime against women, and these religious groups coerce women into these situations by threats of Mormon hell. I pity them and the yoke they've taken and pray for deliverance for them. Yet, they are free adults and can live their lives as they please, free from government persecution. How much it disturbs me or others is irrelevant.

From day one, I declared that protocol was being subverted and that this was a witchhunt. Everything I was taught as a social work student and intern in child welfare was clearly being violated. You don't use "raids" or "seiges" to pull cleaving children from their parents' arms. You don't show up in tanks or men with guns blazing. A social worker asks to investigate inside the home, finds evidence of imminent danger and as a last resort, removes children. You don't remove children, ship them all over the state and ask questions later. How much trauma have they done to these kids?

I'm shocked that the courts didn't cover for CPS but delighted that they didn't. Frankly, I'm surprised that this religious persecution didn't yeild more horror than it already has.

My heart is so broken...

2008-05-22T14:48:00.002-05:00

What a horrible loss and terrible tragedy. I can't imagine the pain the Chapman's are enduring and the guilt their son must feel. May extra dollops of mercy and peace be upon them and they find joy in thinking of the reunion they anticipate in Heaven.

Monica Lewinsky: Memoirs of a Whore

2008-05-12T17:28:00.004-05:00

Prolifers are often falsely accused of throwing that word around, as well as other epithets like "slut" and "ho." I don't use them, but in this one case, let's call a spade a spade.

I was thrift shopping and saw the Lewinsky biography. Out of a morbid curiousity, like an inability to look away from a twisted car wreck, I read the blurb on the back cover by the book's writer, Andrew Morton, spewing this drivel:

This book exists because the Monica I came to know has no relation to the image projected by the Starr Report and the mass media. The Monica I discovered is a bright, lively, and witty young woman who bears the scars of her continuing public shaming, but remains undefeated. This moving human story compelled me to look again at the woman whose name is known around the world but whose life is still a mystery.

To be honest, I didn't think much of Monica Lewinsky. Yes, she was an attempted homewrecker and shameless for trying to capitalize on her well-earned notoriety rather than appropriately apologizing and retreating with a shred of dignity. But- she was a college student (not yet truly an adult in my opinion, although able to consent), she was young, he was a married man twice her age and with considerable power. There's a potential for hero worship and exploitation there, thus the onus is on him more than her to maintain an appropriate relationship. Any superior having an affair with an intern in a lesser capacity would have surely and rightly been fired. I blamed Clinton for not being the superior and the adult and abusing his role, not that I gave Lewinsky a pass, but I really hadn't thought much of it. I'd have probably thought of it less, but when the scandal broke, I was an undergraduate intern.

But I saw the book and thought, "Hmmm....how could she even try to justify herself?" Seriously- she couldn't claim that she didn't know he was married. I hang my head in shame to say that for a bargain thrift store price, I bought the book. I wanted to see what sympathies she could elicit, and how I might have been right about her being a starry-eyed college girl exploited by the most powerful man in the world.

What I found was a declaration of her unapologetic whoredom, obsessions about her weight, affairs with married men, sex with co-workers, an abortion (of course) and what all irresponsible adults do: blaming her childhood and parents for all her bad choices. She also blames Linda Tripp for protecting herself by reporting the illegal actions of the president- as if it's Tripp's fault that she had repeated oral and phone sex with the the married leader of the free world over a nearly 2-year period.

The book begins with her driving to the gym to lose weight, and the statement, "As far as she was concerned, if she [Monica] was having an affair with a married man, it was no one's business but her own."

Ummm...NO. It's the business of the wife, to whom her lover legitimately belongs, the poor children that will suffer the fall out from the split. Monica blames her broken home for her affairs with married men, yet she's perfectly willing to break other homes. This was the first page of the book- it only got worse.

Monica lost her virginity to a married man, her teacher, and later was a nanny to his children. This is obviously a woman looking for validation from male authority figures. In the middle of her affair with the president, she got pregnant by a co-worker at the Pentagon, bragging that "being a west coast girl, certainly she'd sail through the abortion." She didn't take the dismemberment of her child so easily, though (because she said it was "noisy") and her mother insisted on counseling.

In none of this whoring, homewrecking and baby-killing does Monica show any repentance. It was Linda Tripp's fault for tattling on her, her parents' fault for divorcing- this from a woman that waited by the phone on nights she knew Hillary would be out of town. The book is also unflattering beyond her moral choices, in that it continually mentions that she is a total slob.

The book entitled to win sympathy for Monica could do nothing but backfire. She could have said, "Yes, I had an affair with him. It was stupid and I'm sorry. I'm going to try to fade into obsurity." Instead she took money for Jenny Craig to endores them (like anyone wants to be like Monica Lewinsky), wrote a book detailing her jacked-upness, toured with it, appeared on Tom Green (which was actually pretty funny), attended the Oscars and acted like she was some legitimate celebrity. NO SHAME!

I am dumber and morally-poisoned for having read this book. I also see a very scary consequence of moral liberalism. *shudder*

What have I been up to?

2008-05-08T22:09:00.005-05:00

An old friend just queried that, and here's my response:

FACEBOOK STATUSESESES!

Jacqueline is going on a roadtrip with Justin. Yes, she said a ROAD TRIP. Yeah, that's what she said!!!

Jacqueline 's love doesn't fail.

Jacqueline is singing the FreeCreditReport.com song.

Jacqueline is pretty. :)

Jacqueline is full of cheesy bean and rice burrito goodness.

Jacqueline is playing several instruments at once- notably the mandolin, the bagpipes and the harmonica.

Jacqueline shooting lasers out of her eyes. (Come on, ya'll, it's awesome Facebook status day!).

Jacqueline would like to give a reverent shout out to St. Joseph of Cupertino for praying for her exams and helping her obtain victory!

Jacqueline is praying for the victims of the Burma tragedy. Lord, have mercy!

Jacqueline asks St. Joseph of Cupertino, patron of weak students and examinations, to obtain graces for me and my test-taking brethren.

Jacqueline is not ready for finals and is praying for grace to fill the gap between what I actually know and what my professors expect me to know.

Jacqueline is not ready for finals...not by a long shot!

Jacqueline is in a glass case of emotion.

Jacqueline all mixed up on the inside.

Jacqueline is expressing her inner anguish through the majesty of song!!!

Jacqueline knows that even her bad days now while she's still young and free will be looked upon fondly when she's old and tied down.

Jacqueline just doesn't know but has some pretty self-aggrandizing theories.

Jacqueline just doesn't know.

Jacqueline slept in this morning. :)

Jacqueline doesn't know if it's just because she hasn't slept in going on 33 hours, but she re-read that paper and DAMN! Not bad, Jacque. Not bad.

Jacqueline is praying that she finishes this paper, the crappiest-@ss paper she's ever written in her life. She's ashamed of it.

Jacqueline wants to sleep so bad.

Jacqueline never gives up- almost to an embarassing degree.

Jacqueline is wondering if the projects will get done. Only 15 hours left.

Jacqueline wants to camp out in a tent in her backyard.

Jacqueline can't complain. :).

Jacqueline isn't a closet Papist- but a fully-full-on fish-eating, genuflecting, sacremental, Blessed Mother-lovin' loud & proud Papist. Take that, Reformed Theology Quiz!

Jacqueline needs to get married and have a baby so she can stop envying everyone else's.

Jacqueline wonders if there is a gentle way to tell loved ones, "Don't be so easy! Self-respect, please!"

Jacqueline doesn't understand the one and only person that she felt has ever understood her, which is a strange feeling.

Jacqueline needs to get her butt in gear and gets some papers written!

Jacqueline wants this semester to end...

Jacqueline is grateful for the woman with fabulous taste in shoes for donating to the thrift store. She's also thankful to God for making her the same shoe size!

Jacqueline is not bangin' but only thought she was, which is embarassing. She'll wait on her grades from now on before bragging about her mad academic skills.

Jacqueline is bangin'!

Jacqueline is starting from scratch on her 20-25 page paper due at 9 am. Prayers would be appreciated.

Jacqueline doesn't understand this whole concept of true love.

Jacqueline is reminded to pray for all of her friends who are expecting babies.

Jacqueline is tired of romantic disillusionment and conceding to becoming an old maid with great friends.

Jacqueline is having a pizza delivered to Wooten Hall (this is one looooong paper she's writing).

Jacqueline prefers for her nemeses not to know they are her nemeses until her plot of destruction has been unfurled. Bwahahahahaha!

Jacqueline could use your prayers for focus on this paper!

Jacqueline loves Justin.

Jacqueline is tired and lacks the discipline to work.

Jacqueline is happy to have the Holy Father here in America!

Jacqueline doesn't really like talking about her flair.

Jacqueline has the new counting crows album.

Jacqueline has the annoyingly perky tunes from "Enchanted" stuck in her head.

Jacqueline thinks you should all add my precious new friend Amanda. She's new to Denton and needs to meet all you cool people.

Jacqueline still smells like flowers.

Jacqueline smells like flowers.

I'm with Pearl...

2008-05-08T00:20:00.001-05:00

My tenant was late on his rent this month, and this video kept playing in my head...

Befriend the Blondeness

2008-05-06T23:25:00.001-05:00

10,000 presumed dead...Lord, have mercy!

2008-05-05T15:10:00.002-05:00

Please pray that the Lord could find it in His most compassionate heart to have mercy on all those that died in the Myanmar cyclone, and to all those who are left. Pray with me that we blessed nations could rally behind these victims as the both mourn and rebuild their lives, withoutany basic necessities like electricity as of yet.

For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.

Counseled by a Sidewalk Counselor...

2008-05-03T17:44:00.003-05:00

I started thinking of all my friends- and who I know that doesn't know my best friend, and decided to call one of my fellow sidewalk counselors. She is actually a professional counselor by trade, so score one more for me.

We met sidewalk counseling in 2004. I had a sign I'd take to clinics that simply read, "I am a social worker. Let me know how I can help you."

She read the sign and declared that she was a social worker, too. Through the years and through pro-life work, we've remained friends. She's actually having a graduation party tomorrow because she just finished her Masters in Social Work, at the same grad school where I got mine...

Anywho- she gave me a whole lot of Godly wisdom and ways to proceed in processing my feelings. She was also one of very few people who I felt could really understand the complexity of this issue, and she certainly did. I feel better. :)

Desperate Times Call for Pathetic Measures...

2008-05-03T15:09:00.003-05:00

I looked up and called my ex-boyfriend in California, whom I dated for 3 years from 2001-2004 until he moved there. He's been pretty much out of my life since, so he won't really know who I'm talking about, and unlike all of my other friends, he doesn't know enough people to put the pieces together.

I called my mother to get his phone number from my grandma. He still has contact with my family, who were more upset by our break-up than we were. I haven't spoken to him in years, which makes me a little *ughblughug* *wretch* *shiver* about giving him a call, but he's the only one who both knows me completely and even has the capacity to understand.

Ring, Ring, ex-boyfriend.

What do you do...*

2008-05-03T14:40:00.002-05:00

*Note: This post was originally titled, "All women suck but me."

So, what do you do when your best friend breaks your heart and

1. you can't tell them they've broken your heart without making them feel worse which the last thing you ever want to do is hurt them...

2. you can't tell anyone else they've broken your heart without betraying your friend, which is something you could never ever do...

3. even if you could tell someone else, or talk to someone in crypt somehow, no one other than your best friend could possibly understand it...

4. you can't act like nothing has changed, when everything totally has changed...

5. you can't let on to your best friend that anything has changed without hurting them, which brings us back to #1.

This is confusing. Every other hurt I've felt has been straightforward: death of a loved one, loss of a relationship, etc. I have no clue where to start with this...

A Note To My Single Brethren: Take Care of Your Sisters Rather than Hurt Them.*

2008-05-01T13:10:00.009-05:00

*Note that this article was originally titled, "All Men Suck But Justin" but I instead decided to make this more productive. :)

Men: Just because you don't intend to hurt women does not excuse failing to think about the consequences of your behavior.

Just lately, two of my best girlfriends had their hearts engaged purposefully (one man gave the woman sunsets and other romanticies, the other man asked my friend to date him and kissed her several times following their first date). And what happened after these men gave the women enough affection to let their guards down? What happened after these wonderful ladies allowed themselves to become emotionally involved? Well, the first's boyfriend chose to leave her for the priesthood, the other decided that he was moving away soon and he didn't want to start a new relationship.

Now these aren't bad reasons to end a relationship and I don't condemn these men's choices. What I do condemn is that these were all things the men were aware of long before they engaged the hearts of these women. I know these men didn't sit around and plot ways to hurt my friends, but their lack of forethought about my friends' hearts before they chose to act is unacceptable. And yet guys act this way all the time, giving clear signals to women and then changing their minds later. What makes this worse is when these men are our brethren, who we expect to be thinking about our welfare.

It's true that relationship don't work out. People change. Circumstances change. But here are a few things that are unacceptable, men, and for which I judge you:

NEVER engage her heart before considering the follow items:

1. Dealbreakers- Things like religion, sexual past, divorces, children, education level, whether or not she likes Neil Diamond...If there is some item about character or personality which is incompatible with dating you, and you engage her heart before doing the dilgence to determine these things, I judge you.

2. Current Circumstances- Are you moving, emotionally unavailable, or otherwise unable to have a relationship for some reason? Then don't engage her heart. Pretty simple.

3. Doubts- If you have doubts at the beginning about any of the above or just some feeling that it won't work out, and still you think, "Hey, I think I'll give this a shot anyway." I so judge you for that.

and, here's a big one:

4. Unsure of Vocation- If you don't know whether or not you are called to marriage, then don't bring another heart into a discernment which is between you and God. Talk about putting the cart before the horse at someone else's expense!

If you think you might be called to consecrated singleness or religious life, not dating is an excellent way to find out, since you will not be dating in that lifestyle. Besides, what if you are seeing someone amazing and the revelation falls on you that you are called to the religious life? If you don't intend to disobey God from the beginning, then all you've done is break someone's heart. If you did intend to disobey God, that's an even worse offense to bring another party into.

Despite your rationalizations, gentlemen, the priesthood or religious life is not a fall-back if romantic relationships fail. We might joke about that ("if this doesn't work out, I'm becoming a nun!"), but the truth is far too deep and solemn to mock. That truth is that religious vocations are a calling that you either have or you don't. Since all of these preclude dating and romance, then the first logical step is to discern whether or not you have this calling rather than going down a road that could very well be the wrong one.

And the other rationalization of vocationally confused men, backwards as it be, that dating will reveal wether or not you're called to marriage. Not true. I know several priests that would have made excellent husbands, yet they were called to a higher purpose: to feed the sheep. So just because you are good at something doesn't assume that you should be doing it.

One more important item to note: just cause you suck at romantic relationships doesn't imply that you'd make a good priest. In fact, I'd go so far as to say the opposite: that a failure to be self-sacrificing and loving to a potential bride could very well be a sign of a failure to be self-sacrificing and loving to the Bride of Christ.

It all boils down to this: if you aren't absolutely sure that vocation, circumstances and a woman's past and character are conducive to a potential marriage: LEAVE HER ALONE. Life does hurt for reasons that are no one's fault, and we do get emotional bumps and bruises, but I believe hurting your sisters because of a lack of consideration for her is absolutely sinful, and recompense will be made in this world or in the world to come.

Well that didn't work..

2008-04-30T08:18:00.002-05:00

Justin's noble attempt at keeping me on task turned into hours upon hours of theological discussion and social justice discourse, complete with writing our own country song.

First off, as I packed my books, my precious Daisy Lou's tail got all waggedy. I just couldn't leave her, so I called Justin to see if we could meet at my office instead of the coffee shop. Justin agreed, went to the coffee shop and got me a quad-shot latte and a muffin, and we met at my office.

So beyond taking a dog into a place where it's likely frowned upon, I couldn't find her leash! So I was taking an unleashed dog into my office in the middle of the night and inviting a non-employee, neigh, non-STUDENT to join us. How classy is that?

So I got one tiny paper done in exchange for sacrificing sleep- nothing else. But it was fun, like our own little lock-in. Something about being in that huge building by ourselves, the same halls we walked as freshman was surreal.

I am being babysat...

2008-04-29T22:56:00.003-05:00

This is a first in 15 years...

I am swamped with 3 papers, one due in the morning, the other two due by Friday (15 and 20 pages respectively) not to mention 2 final exams and a third final project.

I mentioned that I wouldn't be sleeping tonight, and Justin suggested that he "babysit" me. He's driving 45 minutes up here right now, and we're going to meet at Jupiter House for what he calls a "steady stream of caffeine." His job is to keep me awake and on task. I told him this was counter-productive, because when there's Justin around I want to play with him, not work.

Still, he's on his way, so I'll have no choice but to make some major headway tonight. I'm so tired and tempted to sleep but he'll be here in half an hour, so maybe his plan is working.

So I'm all off up out to bust something on this lit review.

Peace.

Reasons Why My Life Is Friggin' Perfect...

2008-04-25T19:34:00.009-05:00

Man...where do I start? My life overflows with what I love, so here's a brief, far from exhaustive list of that which I love, which makes me so happy, with pictures where available.

Jesus-

In the Flesh, not just in Spirit... This is pretty much all I've ever wanted- everything else is just a bonus.

Justin-

He's doing a doctorate in History now, which blows my mind. Too bad I couldn't seduce him to do it at our alma mater, because our offices would be next to eachother. There are some perks to the school he chose in Dallas, though- it's right up the street from our favorite place to go salsa dancing. Not a bad trade-off!

Daisy-

How I love her! In fact, as I was typing this, she decided to climb up on the couch and snuggle up against me. Of all the gifts God has given me stewardship over, she's my favorite.

My House-

My house was built in the 1940's and you can barely see it for the large, spectacular trees which frame every side. It has original wooden floors (not the laminate kind, but real wood) and brass door knobs complete with the original antique key holes! It sits on a huge corner lot a mile from my office at the university, and you can fit two of the houses in my back yard alone, where I have a hammock and am planting a Mary Garden. I love this house! In fact, I missed a flight for business and had to catch one the next morning, and was overwhelmed with joy to trade that night in a hotel room for a fabulous one-night stay in my gorgeous house! Here's a picture of it from Google Earth:

My Job-

I have no set hours. I come and go as I please, travel to all sorts of cool places, I get to be a badass just enough to fulfill myself, but not so much to divert attention from my studies---and I get paid quite a sizeable chunk. It's a lot of fun, too.

My Little Brothers-

They are my favorite people. The big one is 20 now and works at the Federal Reserve Bank in Missouri. He just came up with this mathematical equation to some economic connundrum that he wrote into an article for peer review. I don't understand a damn word of it, but I'm proud of him!

The little ones are just too much fun. For Thanksgiving, we put the futon box on the stairs and took turns sliding into the bean bag.

I'm Cute-
Call me shallow, but I am so glad that I am not plagued with the same degree of self-loathing and consequent pain that women who don't think they are pretty endure every minute. I may be ugly as hell for all I know, but I don't think so, and for that, I am grateful.

Here's me being cute in Toronto. That's a glass floor I'm squatting down on, 1200 feet above the city. Justin had to hold my hand at first to get me out there. It messes with your mind.

My Friends-

So many come and go, but I never hurt for the company of amazing people. I have girlfriends to watch corny movies with, I have guy friends to help me move furniture, I run into to fellow sidewalk counselors at Mass, I have old friends to reminesce with, awesome neighbors to hang with (seriously- I live between two bands!), and this is Denton, so everyone is awesome. You can't help but make friends everywhere you go.

By the way, this is Andy making fun of Planet of the Apes outside of a tax preparation store...

Denton-

I love this perfect little bubble of awesomeness sitting like a fluffy cloud above the congested prentiousness of Dallas. I love the parks, where I can take Daisy, feed the ducks and watch model airplanes fly. I love the courthouse square, sitting on the steps at night trading shoulder rubs with your date while talking about nothing much. I love that the guy from the video store finished his message to me about my movie being late by saying, "And good luck on finals!" I love the live music scene, the culture, the fact that people descrate stopsigns by writing things like, "Hammertime", "Drop and Roll" and "Collaborate and Listen" underneath them. I love that kids do bike tricks in the cement drainage ditch in from of my house, and how people wave to eachother at stop signs, because, hey, you probably know them!

This is just a short list....

I give you selected quotes from Amanda's Mass date...

2008-04-24T22:11:00.002-05:00

Speaking of Mass dates, my friend Amanda asked me to accompany her on hers last Sunday, since I introduced her to Nick, her date.

Amanda: I have a test in Quantitative Literacy.
Jacque: Say what?
Amanda: Math. But Quantitative Literacy sounds better.
Nick: I like psychological tests- there's no wrong answers. That's my favorite kind of test. Like those Rorschach ink blots...there's no wrong answers on those...
Jacque: I don't know, dude. If someone holds up an ink blot and you see yourself mowing down a crowd in the mall with an machine gun, I think that's a wrong answer...

The Mass Date- It's not sacrilege, it's sweet!

2008-04-24T21:16:00.002-05:00

I don't know if the Mass date is something cradle Catholics do in junior high, a rite of passage akin to a boy/girl party or a school dance, but I was 26 when I had my first Mass date. After consulting with my girlfriends, it doesn't appear to matter whether or not you're 13 or 31, the same set of embarassing things go through your mind, which I'll get to later.

What is the Mass date? I define it as the attending of worship together of two people who are romanticly interested in eachother, to whom the Mass is their first public outing. The 'first public outing' being the key item. When I was with the last man I dated, we attended Mass together all the time, at least every week and often times more than that. I certainly didn't consider any of these a date- only the consequent meal and activities. But our relationship, like those of so many other knee-sock donning plaid-skirted girls, began with a Mass, followed by lunch. Since then, this is the only first date I will accept. You can learn all you need to about a man based on his behavior at the Mass date.

Before you protest about turning worship into a single's bar, I'd like to point out that everyone makes the judgements about a future spouse that I try to discern during the Mass date. Because I take note of things during worship rather than in a stroll through the park doesn't impugn the solemnity of the Mass.

So what does the Mass date tell you about a man?

1. Where He Attends and THAT He Attends- You know that he has a parish and a consecrated time when he fufills his obligation. I have seen men that hop to different Masses at different parishes to accomodate whatever goofing off they do. Having a parish to tithe to and a worship schedule shows spiritual maturity and stability.

2. Attire- Is he dressed appropriately to enter the presence of Jesus? Would he teach your children proper reverence in that regard?

3. Ettiquite- Much like the aforemention reverence- does he genuflect? Does he talk when he's supposed to be respectfully silent?

4. Manners- Does he let you into the pew first? Better yet, when you exit for communion, does he go ahead of you or step aside and allow you to go first? Does he open doors and get the kneeler on your behalf?

See, you can tell a lot about a man based on his bahavior during worship. I've been on Mass dates that didn't pass these items, at least regarding the attire he wore and his Mass-hopping lifestyle. I'm not suggesting a girl read too much into any one thing (my date's mother in this instance was a Eucharistic minister, and she was dressed casually as well). I also Mass-hop myself sometimes to accomodate my demanding workload, although I don't see it as efficacious.

So, what embarassing things go through the mind of women during Mass dates?

1. Is my skirt bunched up into my butt from the transitions from sitting to kneeling to sitting?

2. Is he going to presume a hug during the sign of peace or merely a handshake?

3. Is he judging my singing?

4. Will he continue to hold my hand afterward the Lord's prayer ends?

It doesn't matter how old you are, girls, you're thinking some combination of these things.

Mass dates are sweet, as long as the intention remains to worship God rather than to analyze the other's behavior. Like I said earlier, no impressions are made at Mass together any more than a fancy dinner or dancing. A girl would notice manners and ettiquite in these realms as well. The difference is that the Mass date is safer for all the hearts involved, it doesn't imply future commitment, and it does offer insight that you couldn't get otherwise.

They're both Holy and fun, the way a first date should be! :)

I judge you by your first name.

2008-04-10T16:16:00.008-05:00

I recognize that people don't choose their own names, and our monikers are bestowed by our parents. I also realize that by sometimes cutting the 'line' off of Jacqueline to form Jacque (phonetically incorrect spelling of Jackie) looks pretentious as hell and worthy of judgment. That being said, I still judge you by your first name.

Perhaps it's because the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and if your parents are dumbasses enough to christen you with a dumbass name, you too are likely also a dumhass. I don't mean to be prejudiced, as I know several children of questionable lineage that grew up to be paragons of class, but most people who lack the fortune to be born to parents that can choose a name wisely are rarely the types who have NASA knocking at their door.

Here's a list of criteria by which I judge your name:

1. Certain names just scream white trash. Crystal comes to mind, but the most consistently trashy name is Brandy. I have one friend named Brandi that in the Ph.D. program with me that somehow escaped the trailer park, but in most cases, if you're named Brandy and you're white, you're likely white trash. Odds are slim that you haven't had several run ins with authority, drunken fights, and stories about family members calling the cops. You also likely have several kids with several fathers which you commemorated with tattoos. Doesn't matter if these names end in 'y' or in an 'i'.

Which reminds me...

2. Names ending in 'i' or 'ee' that typically end in 'y' or 'ie' are often held by trashy women. Ami vs. Amy. Kelli vs. Kelly, Sherri vs. Sherry, Casee vs. Casey. If you have this sort of name, marry young.
Which leads to...

3. Normal names spelled ridiculously are often the hallmark of a dipshit mom or dad. Aimee vs. Amy, KaCi vs. Casey (hey- looks that even ends in an 'i'- a double whammy!), Tiphanee vs. Tiffany (not that Tiffany isn't a stupid name to begin with, but I digress...) Stupid people like to prove they know phonics, which is why I think they name their children this way but to the unfortunate recipient of these names: no one can take you seriously. Take a normal nickname and stick to it if you want to be successful and don't want to have to keep pasting this unfortunate moniker name via letter stickers on nametags for fast food joints for the rest of your life.

And of course,

4. Feminizing a man's name (typically dad's) with an 'a' or an 'ette' at the end is a another trademark of idiot parents who probably have to send their daughters to therapy for the guilt and shame of having not been born with a penis. Stevena (daughter of Steven), Ronette (daughter of Ron)are example of this. There are exceptions like Danielle for Daniel, but these are NORMAL names.

Which leads me to

5. Making shit up, don't care how pretty it is, names that must be repeated several times and that I must see in print before I feel comfortable using it- I judge you. Use a normal name. For example, I'm reminded of my junior high school best friend, Texanne (who was almost Dallas Texanne, kid you not.) She was also the little sister of Stevena. Doesn't that make you sad?

6. Connecting autonomous names into one long name is just ignert. Not even ignorant: IGNERT. Like Amberdawn instead of Amber Dawn or CammiJo rather than Cammie Jo, EmmaLee instead of Emma Lee or Emily. I like the Southern tradition of first name and then a one syllable middle name, but don't combine them.

7. Trendy names are typically from yuppie assclown parents, which I met teaching preschool in college. Names like Brecken, Dominic, Kaylin, Konnor, Mikayla, etc. While I admit that these yuppie names are a step above the white trash names, they still present their own judgments- like for example, as an adult, I judge you for not picking a normal nickname already.

In sum, if you are thinking of a name, but can not find that name on the personalized pencil rack at the drug store, just DON'T. You can call your child any cute nickname you wish, and they can receive and keep it if they choose, but what's on the birth certificate ends up in print: Newspapers, diplomas, business cards. Don't do your child an injustice from the beginning. Life is hard enough as it is.

My life is perfect- So I'm moving to Canada.

2008-04-07T10:09:00.001-05:00

I don't understand God and His mysterious ways a vast majority of the time. Around 2 years ago, I got this unexplainable compulsion to visit Canada. I had no clue why, where in the huge country I desired to go, what, if anything I wanted to see. I researched all the tourist areas looking for the source of my longing. I found nothing. It made no sense. If I were going to travel on vacation- I'd visit my friends in Tampa, my ex-boyfriend in L.A. You know- some place sunny with a beach, not the toe-curling tundra. My friends who invited me up north- to Oregon, to Michigan. My first thought would be to map the distance from their homes to the Canadian border. It became so strong that I was tempted to drive all night and simply stick my big toe in the country, like someone tests a swimming pool, because I felt that if I didn't go, this feeling would haunt me forever.

And now for something completely different...

2008-04-03T22:56:00.003-06:00

I always date the same person. He has a different name and DNA from the previous person, I'll give him that, but he's eerily similar to the previous boyfriend, and the one before that, and the one before that.

I always want what I couldn't have, although I no longer want it. Case in point: At 25, I made-out with the high school boyfriend of one of my best girlfriends. I was 15, I wanted him so badly back then, but he was off limits. He was brilliant, gorgeous, talented and altogether perfection. His smell made my inner thighs tingle, the firmness of his arm made me melt inside like butter when I would construct some way to touch it, his laugh and dancing eyes. He was a writer as I aspired to be, our values similar as evidenced in his stories. I would construct ways to see him as he was picking up my friend for their dates-I was truly enamored and tortured. Poor little newly post-pubescent Jacque. I didn't stand a chance.

Fast forward 10 years: I am a grad student who's filled out nicely thank-you-very-much. He's much like he was in high school. His values still underdeveloped, much like my breasts back then. My values are secure, my goals explicit, my future on track: His- not so much. Now, he is still gorgeous, hilarious, creative and delicious smelling- and now I want to do things to him I wasn't even aware existed back then, but my standards had risen and he didn't meet them. Not by a long shot.
Still, to vindicate my rabid infatuation which had passed a decade earlier, we made out...in my car. Yes, in my car. It wasn't high school but it sure felt like it.

Before this encounter, I had dated lookalikes. My big sister even mentioned it. One guy, a gorgeous Yale grad, and a spitting image of him. I then discovered that who I'm into is determined by who I was into. I was drawn to ment that looked like this guy, or my first love. Trying to stave this off, I got myself into foreigners: An Egyptian, a Russian from Portugal, a Mayan. Different backgrounds- same personality.

I finally caught this about a year ago, so what did I do? I dated the exact opposite of my ex-boyfriend synthesis. It was two polar extremes. For everything I adored about my exes, I found in him the opposite. Likewise, for everything I abhorred about my exes, he delivered- and then some. This went on for over 6 months (until last October 13, to be exact), until I finally confronted the fact that I shouldn't be dating at all. He was gracious- once again, NOT like his predecessors.

What's my point? Hell if I know! I guess I just want to know if I attract a certain type or am attracted to a certain type, or if my attraction to that type incites an attraction to me or if their attraction to me inspires reciprocal attraction...I don't know. All I know is: This ain't working.

Right now, I'm not doing anything. I'm not giving or accepting any attention. I'm purposefully avoiding my ex's house so not to fool around with him during Ace Ventura 2 (We really did- just last month. It was on TBS). I've made it a point to avoid the back rubs of others around me who are so eager to give them. My dog is the only one allowed in my bed. No naps after church or "it's kind of late, why don't you just stay" concessions although I miss the warmth of sharing my bed more than anything else. In fact, when I was still together with my last boyfriend, we'd eat dinner, watch one hour-long television show and retire to bed by 7:30, where we'd have our best conversations, finger-puppets, jokes and stories in the dark and still not begin sleeping until 1:00 am. Sometimes, we'd get so comfortable just lying there with my head on his chest that when I'd try to move it was like pulling off a bandaid, the way bare legs stick to pleather car seats in the summetime. We'd also set our alarm to get us up 2 hours before we really needed to wake, so we could lie together and aschew the desire to call in sick. He'd pepper my face with kisses, quote something ridiculous, "Rise, Chicken. Chicken RISE!" and I would face my day. If I didn't have tremendous guilt over my rebound relationship and how inappropriate our affection was, I would have been glowing. Just proof positive that I wasn't ready for a relationship.

Wanna Do #1

2008-04-03T17:08:00.005-06:00

I now shamefully present a new feature here on my blog- "Wanna Do" which simply chronicles guys I wanna do...hence the name.

Before angry comments ensue (assuming I have readers still), I'm a good Catholic girl. So "wanna" does not imply "would." I need a ring and a sacrament for that.

That being said, I offer you Jack Yang.

He's the hot asian in the suit, about 30 seconds into the video. I'd turn the sound off, though. A really annoying song plays where no really annoying song sound be- in fact, it was his voice that adds to his appeal.

That reminds me of a previous life when Hayley, my college roomate, and I would qualify men as "Wunnabenghems." If he were especially hot, that would follow with "in a Winnebago." I demonstrate:

Enter a gorgeous man appears in the dorm hallway:

Hayley [to Jacque]: Wunnabenghem?

Jacque: In a Winnebago!

I know hot men and recreational vehicles weren't previously linked in your mind- until now. Every roadtrip- Every Winnebago...You'll think of this.

You're welcome.

Ouch, my heart.

2008-03-31T16:02:00.003-06:00

It's been 3 years today. I'm starting to think it will never stop hurting.

Jesus, I Trust in You!

2008-03-30T10:09:00.004-06:00

Christ's mercy is my only hope. Join me in celebrating Divine Mercy Sunday!

My Anniversary Gift...

2008-03-23T11:09:00.002-06:00

Isaiah 54:5

The One who has become your husband is your Maker;
his name is the LORD of hosts;
your redeemer is the Holy One of Israel,
called God of all the earth.
The LORD calls you back,
like a wife forsaken and grieved in spirit,
a wife married in youth and then cast off,
says your God.
For a brief moment I abandoned you,
but with great tenderness I will take you back.
In an outburst of wrath, for a moment
I hid my face from you;
but with enduring love I take pity on you,
says the LORD, your redeemer.
This is for me like the days of Noah,
when I swore that the waters of Noah
should never again deluge the earth;
so I have sworn not to be angry with you,
or to rebuke you.
Though the mountains leave their place
and the hills be shaken,
my love shall never leave you
nor my covenant of peace be shaken,
says the LORD, who has mercy on you.
O afflicted one, storm-battered and unconsoled,
I lay your pavements in carnelians,
and your foundations in sapphires;
I will make your battlements of rubies,
your gates of carbuncles,
and all your walls of precious stones.
All your children shall be taught by the LORD,
and great shall be the peace of your children.
In justice shall you be established,
far from the fear of oppression,
where destruction cannot come near you.

Thinking about resurrecting the blog...

2008-03-19T18:35:00.004-06:00

I love blogging- I miss it. I only quit because of the fear that my personal ramblings would interfere with my doctoral research and efforts to help those in Texas threatened with euthanasia.

I guest post at Jill Stanek, and I can't tell you how gratifying it is to have the chance to talk to millions of page hits a month. But most of the things I care to chronicle aren't (sarcastic air quotes) "newsworthy." it's also not my blog, so I'm limited in how honest I can be.

I can't reconcile my fear of being associated with my own words with my desire to blog quite liberally. I also see from the blog stats that I still have loyal visitors, although I haven't posted in a year.

Still thinking... I think for now I'll repost some of the old stuff I like...

Wounded Pig- Please repost.

2007-04-28T12:51:00.001-05:00

I would love to publish your comment, but I lack a function that allows me to clean it up, and it had several cumbersome formatting errors rendering it nigh unreadable.

Could you attempt to repost or email me the comment (it was obviously cut and pasted, anyway) and I will be glad to publish it and respond to it accordingly.

Needless to say, you made a lot of generalizations, many of which are untrue. You claimed that I said things I never said and make assumptions about my position.

Let's clear this up, Doctor. I can be reached at abbywomenscenter@gmail.com.

Good Poetry or Narcissism?

2007-04-27T12:32:00.001-05:00

I don't know if I like these poems I found because they are good poems, or rather just because they are about me. I'm leaning towards the latter.

Why do my thoughts seek you
why do they concentrate
upon you

you visit me in the morning
then twice in the afternoon
the evening is spent with you
only in the mind

and upon your return
I'll look at you
please understand
my gaze

so beautiful

let me closer to you
-[author]
___________________________________________________

She seems to be on my mind alot lately
I do wonder how she feels about me
and what she thinks of me

the more I think about her
the more I look forward to seeing her

come closer beautiful lady
precious soul
when you're near
you seem to touch my heart

I know it's dangerous
to rush in anywhere
and it's tough to let the mind
control what feels a soothing of my soul

one day I wonder
if I reach for her hand
would she let me hold her
and walk beside her
as we walk closer together

very shy
wishing I knew what she wanted
woman come ask for my heart
and we'll gently begin to intwine
gently open to each other
and see how warm our hearts are

I want to look into her eyes
-[author]
______________________________________________

my soul finds peace
when I look into your eyes
my heart finds happiness
when you are near
stay in contact when you brush against me
these are the little things
that stir the air
electricity of emotion
I want to reach for your hand
I want to wrap you in my arms
and lean you back to rest embraced
hold a kiss to your forhead
as I reflect upon just how precious you are
and how blessed Iam to hold you
trace your hair and open to you ever more
beloved together continously choosing you
-[author]

Either way, it's nice to be someone's muse (when the prose is sweet and innocent). If it had any obsessive or sexual undertones I'd be filing a restraining order as we speak. Aw, well. He's a good Catholic boy. I met him at church (confession, actually). He gets my car doors, carries my packages, and is otherwise the consummate gentlemen. He also understands that my heart is completely decimated and that nothing romantic will happen between us (I have made that abundantly clear) but he nonetheless invites me over after church for evenings with his big Catholic family. That's a lot of fun.

For what it's worth, I'm flattered beyond belief.

Another Reprieve for Emilio!

2007-04-18T07:47:00.000-05:00

Judge Herman postponed the hearing on Emilio until May 8th. He will receive treatment at least until then.

Praise Jesus for His Mercy.

Emilio Gonzales granted a reprieve! Praise GOD!

2007-04-10T11:38:00.000-05:00

Wonderful news out of Austin:

A Temporary Restraining Order has been issued - to keep 18-month old Emilio Gonzales on life support
4/10/2007

590 KLBJ-AM

A Travis Judge has ruled on the side of mother trying to keep her son on life support. Catarina Gonzales gets more time with her child. A temporary restraining order has been issued against the seton family of hospitals. This order gives Gonzales more time to look for a transfer facility for her son Emilio. Jerri Ward, Attorney for Gonzales, says as of now Austin's Children's Hospital doesn't think Emilio is a candidate for a tracheotomy, which she disagrees with. She says they have medical evidence and opinions from other doctors indicating that he is a candidate - which will help his chances to move into a long term care facility.

Praise God, Praise God, Praise praise praise praise praise praise praise praise God.
Thank God for the intercession of His saints, His mother, and all those that prayed, (possibly, My Abby).

Thank You, Lord!

Encouragement to quit sinning...

2007-04-05T08:16:00.000-05:00

I was at church for 3 hours last night, approximately 2 and a half of which I spent standing in line for confession (which was 2 hours longer than I intended to be there).

This put me behind on the paper I was writing, which meant I had to get up at 4 this morning. I still have to use my lunch break and an hour after work to finish this paper.

Wronging God and others isn't working well for my schedule. It's not advantageous to my soul or my goals. I think I should quit it.

Parents recovering and a retraction.

2007-04-04T08:47:00.000-05:00

Okay! I'm back.

My parents are recovering from their respective ailments. My mom is still getting over the pneumonia and my dad has stabilized his blood sugar.

Thank you all very much for your prayers!

Secondly, I need to publicly retract a statement I made about no longer being friends with my ex-boyfriend. This was thoughtless and hurtful, not to mention blindsiding and betraying of trust. To him I apologize.

Update: Urgent Prayer Request: Mother had Heart Attack, Pneumonia

2007-03-27T15:40:00.000-06:00

Hi, this is Lauren from mychoice-hislife. Jacque wanted me to post a blog asking people to pray for her mother. Jacque called me about 15 minutes ago telling me that her mother was in the hospital and has suffered a heart attack as well as pneumonia.

She spoke with her mother, who was awake, but asks that you continue to pray for her.

She or I will update this post with further information.

Update: Jacque's mom has been released from the hospital and is resting with family. Thank you for your continued prayers.

Jonah Werner, My Journal and a Bottle of White Zin with a Crazy Straw.

2007-03-23T15:52:00.000-06:00

I'm so looking forward to the show tonight. I'm going home and catching and disco nap, going to get little airplane-sized bottles of White Zinfindel, a crazy straw to drink it with and my paper journal.

Sweet.

I'm over it.

2007-03-21T13:01:00.000-06:00

As ridiculous as it may sound, I set a date to be over my last relationship. I remember crying to my sister in my heartbreak, "When will this be over?" She responded, "Oh, honey- Only time will tell."

I said, "Screw that. Give me a date."

So I set a date: March 18th. I had a statistical rationale for this date, given me by my sister, which helped me to exert some control in an irrational type of situation. I've never done well with abstracts and uncertainties and even though I didn't expect my emotions to submit to my control-freak tendencies, I did nonetheless find solace in the green circle on my calendar which read "OVER IT." You gotta have a goal!

I yielded myself to God on this one, but quickly began to think: Why can't God heal me by this time? He certainly can! It's just a question of His will. If He had lessons to teach me beyond that date, He wouldn't deliver me. If not, why not?

When March 17th came and I was still dealing with some pain, my faith began to shift a little that I would actually be delivered by my self-imposed deadline. There is a reason why this bothered me: Not so much my desire to be rid of the negative feelings, but an intense injustice.

Have you ever been with someone romantically who was hung up on their unfaithful, abusive, neglectful or otherwise unworthy former love? If so, then you recognize the feeling of being cheated out of affection that rightfully should be afforded you. It's not a great feeling: thinking you are unappreciated or your love towards them is not valued, since they are pathetically pining for a lesser love.

How, then, should God feel? This is what disturbed me. While I should have been utterly consumed with my upcoming spiritual marriage, I instead allowed my thoughts and feelings to be hijacked by something so much lesser. I felt like I was denying the lover of my soul that which He deserves, my whole heart, soul, mind and body. I wouldn't marry someone in that state, yet I was walking into a lifelong spiritual commitment while preoccupied by someone who cared nothing of me. All the while, Christ stood by me while I cheated on Him, took me back when I left Him, forgave me when I hurt Him- and still, my mind and heart were with another. I couldn't have this! But yet I couldn't command my emotions to cease, so I clung in faith to the March 18th date. My emotions continued to subside as the days passed, but not quickly enough. I had nearly given up on my hope on that Saturday, March 17th, that I would get my miracle.

But then, one of the youth group members of a dear friend and prophet of mine invited me to their meeting last Sunday, March 18th. The spirit moved, and I was asked to share about sidewalk counseling and other pro-life work for the benefit of some present who'd been wounded by abortion. Although I had awoke that morning still suffering the residual effects of the break-up, in the middle of that gathering- there it was. Total deliverance.

I was over it.

Yes, there are still memories that disturb me. There are offenses toward me that have gone unrepentant for, and questions on what I, myself, might need to amend. But I have stopped thinking about them so much and can honestly say that my whole heart, mind and soul is with Him who deserves it, exclusive of any mortal.

I got my dress and ballet shoes in the mail yesterday. I've been offered a free 5 night bed and breakfast stay in Colorado by some former conference-goers I trained that I might take as a spiritual retreat. I am completely focused and engaged on my confirmation and despite efforts of the enemy to the contrary, I remain focused.

It's great to be back.

I'll take a Venti Quad-Shot Mocha Latte with Hipocrisy and Whip, Please.

2007-03-21T10:24:00.000-06:00

I'm a weak, weak woman. Although Starbucks supports Planned Parenthood, the largest single murderer of human beings on the planet, I'm still sipping an iced caffinated delight.

Why does evil have to taste so good?

Do you know him?

2007-03-17T21:46:00.001-06:00

It's okay, you can kiss the screen.

2007-03-15T09:07:00.000-06:00

Here is my little Josiah Pumpkin Pie-Ah. This is Amy's baby that we prayed so hard for God to give us. He's 6 months old! Can you believe it?

Mike, Amy and Josiah are back in Michigan and doing well. Josiah has an appointment though regarding the development of his head (he might need a helmet for a while) so please keep that in your prayers.

You just want to eat him up, don't you?

Blame it all on my roots!

2007-03-14T21:29:00.000-06:00

We take a break from this regularly scheduled missive about my impending confirmation to bring you a brief message regarding the status of my knitting heart:

I find solace in music when enduring rough emotional trials. I get lost in melodic worship tunes, jump around to Kirk Franklin's power gospel, or, if I'm angry, I scream along with Janis Joplin. Back in college, and before I developed an offense to profanity, I used to wear a tiara Hayley bought me and headbang to Limp Bizkit's Break Stuff (here are the lyrics, for those who dare.)

This time, for this emotional recovery, it's country music from circa 1988-1992. Most of you won't recognize these titles or bands, but I was raised on them. Here's a sample play list of my heart balm:

1. The Weekend- Steve Wariner
2. Fishin' in the Dark- The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
3. Two Dozen Roses- Shenandoah
4. The Last One to Know- Reba McEntire
5. I Wouldn't Have Missed it for the World- Ronnie Milsap
6. Story of Love- The Desert Rose Band
7. Addicted- Dan Seals
8. The Bluest Eyes in Texas- Restless Heart

I must admit- old contemporary country is better salve than Alanis Morrisette's angst-filled "You Oughta Know." This mix in my CD player, a pint of Soy Delicious ice cream (stupid lactose intolerance), and a nice long bath and I'm just fine.

I found my spiritual wedding dress!

2007-03-13T09:00:00.000-06:00

I am so excited. I have been praying and looking for just the perfect white dress for confirmation day, when my romance with Christ will move from just emotional and intellectual to, finally, a physical relationship. In many ways, this is like my wedding. I quote an old friend, "This is the best kind of love story. Two people that are desperately in love with eachother for years and years, finally get to be together. It's absolutely beautiful."

There is much misconception about how I got to this point, how I could be as Protestant as I was to as Catholic as I am now. The assumptions would continue to offend me, if I weren't so oblivious to anything other than my impending spiritual wedding. The two main misconceptions are as follows:

1. I converted to please my (now ex) boyfriend.
2. I converted because Protestants weren't pro-life enough for me.

As for 1, this hurt me much at the beginning. For anyone to imply that I would place a relationship with any mortal above my relationship with Jesus makes it quite clear that they don't know me very well. Furthermore, the fact that I am no longer seeing my ex-boyfriend in any capacity, not even as friends, should speak volumes about the fact that I didn't convert for his sake.

Secondly, no matter how deeply I cared for the man I was dating, I don't think I would sacrifice all my other relationships, my job and all those blessings I greatly adore in order to please him. I accepted that my reconcilation with the Church would likely result in my losing my job, since I hold a position of stature that is the equivilent of a Deaconess. I have fallen out of accord with doctrine of this church and am renouncing my membership, therefore it only made sense that I would be dismissed. I have worked so hard to get where I am and have a divine passion for my work, so this was a significant sacrifice that I was willing to make. I was not fired or asked to resign, though. Instead, they are working out some details so that I may continue to serve in my current position but in a capacity that doesn't set a bad precedent or violate church policy, which is a great testimony to God's provision. In fact, all those things that I thought I would inevitably lose: my job, my friends, and all those things I cried out to God about how painful it would be for me to live without- I have them still. So I lost nothing and gained everything.

More than my job, my heart broke over the loss of relationships. Most of my co-workers and friends have the first name "Reverend." They are seminary-educated, ordained Protestants, seriously hardcore followers of Christ, salt of the Earth, the stuff Heaven is made of. However, they know only as much about Catholicism as they have heard from them that protested it. There is a pervasive bigotry that permeates Protestantism, based mostly on ignorance. I myself was woefully ignorant, despite years of laboring side by side with Catholics in the pro-life movement. I feared that I would endure persecution, ridicule, and belittlement from my Protestant brethren. And boy, have I! But mostly, I feared that those people I love who embraced me in my conversion would feel like they couldn't speak to me in the same way, that they would regard me as different. I didn't want to lose the truth in our fellowship. God has been merciful in this regard also, as the relationships worth keeping have since flourished and those that bore rotten fruit have withered away.

So, we've established that I did not convert for my boyfriend, but I must say that he was instrumental in my reconciliation. I will blog more on that later.

The number 2 misconception, that I was angry with Protestantism for its laxity in life issue is much less off-putting and frankly, much more beleivable- although still dead wrong. Yes, back when I was a Protestant, I was deeply disturbed at the fact that I was one of very, very few of my brethren to leave the baby-powder scented, clean, safe suburban Crisis Pregnancy centers and storm the gates of hell (also known as the sidewalks in front of abortion mills). I was decimated by the fact that I was one of 4, yep, 4 peaceful, loving, and legal sidewalk counselors in Dallas. Yes, there were other protestants to grace the sidewalks with graphic signs and screaming, but I don't associate with such people who use hateful tactics (although signs do have their appropriate place). I recognized that the Catholics are the pro-life movement and felt delighted that they would warmly receive me into their ranks to pray and serve along side them (whereas Catholics are not welcome to council in CPC's). With 75% of those identifying themselves as Christian calling themselves Protestants, I was shaken at the loss of 4,000 or so innocent babies each day. If we have so many Christians, why all the bloodshed? The answer: Silent Protestant Preachers. So, yes, I do have my many beefs with the lack of morality taught in Protestantism, the absence of activism by the Protestant faithful, and the fact that most large Protestant sects (sans Southern Baptists and the free-stylers like I was) actively endorse abortion. Yes, actively. It's in their respective platforms.

Based on the above paragraph I am sure you are thinking, "Okay, so how is this a misconception?" First, I typically change things I disagree with, especially unjust immoralities- I don't simply leave to find something that works better for me. Secondly, this implies that I'm not following Christ, but "religion shopping" for a way to worship that agrees with me, like one would buy a house: "I like the kitchen in this one, but the bedrooms are too small." vs. "I like the lively worship in this one but they don't actively fight injustice." Not so. I am Catholic because Jesus told me to meet Him there. That's all there is to that.

I am pleased, though, to be in a setting where the counsel, the catechism, the teachings on morality are completely trustworthy and do not waiver based on societal trends. Birth control was evil to all Christians before the sexual revolution, but afterwards Protestants began embracing it. Did God change His mind on this subject, or did Protestants decide they wanted to forsake moral teachings that flew in the face of popular culture? Look also at divorce and remarriage and other moral issues. Catholics stood firm while the Protestants began looking more and more of the world rather than simply in it.

I hope that I've cleared up the two majority fallacies regarding my "turning Catholic" as my boss and pastor put it this morning. There will be many forthcoming posts about my reconciliation where I hopefully will explain more fully how I came to this place of bliss.

Isn't the dress lovely? Now I just need the right shoes.

Appeals court overturns D.C. gun ban! Halleluia!

2007-03-09T13:20:00.000-06:00

Do you know how frightening it is to be in Washington, D.C. knowing that the only individuals to have guns are criminals? Of course, there are the wise folks who still carry guns and choose to that conceal them who thus, sadly, make criminals of themselves also.

Anyway, this is excellent news. I remember the first time I visited D.C. on January 21, 2004. I made the mistake of watching the local news. At that point there had been 18 murders so far that year (roughly a murder a day if you take the Lord's day off). Surprise, surprise: The victims had all been shot, because it wasn't like they could legally carry a gun with which to defend themselves.

If this pans out, I guarentee you that D.C. will be a much safer place.

Appeals court overturns D.C. gun ban

WASHINGTON - A federal appeals court overturned the District of Columbia's long-standing handgun ban Friday, rejecting the city's argument that the Second Amendment right to bear arms applied only to militias.

In a 2-1 decision, the judges held that the activities protected by the Second Amendment "are not limited to militia service, nor is an individual's enjoyment of the right contingent upon his or her continued intermittent enrollment in the militia."

A lower-court judge in 2004 had told six residents they did not have a constitutional right to own handguns. The plaintiffs include residents of high-crime neighborhoods who wanted the guns for protection.

The Bush administration has endorsed individual gun-ownership rights, but the Supreme Court has never settled the issue.

If the dispute makes it to the high court, it would be the first case in nearly 70 years to address the Second Amendment's scope.

Oh, yeah, by the way- I'm Catholic now.

2007-03-09T10:59:00.000-06:00

See that picture above? It should be white as snow (if your screen isn't dirty). That's me. I had my first confession on Wednesday night.

Before I get into that, perhaps I owe my readers an explanation. You all know me as the wholehearted evangelical...who works for a Protestant icon...in a megachurch. That's true. Except for the fact that I will soon be confirmed and welcomed into the Catholic church.

There is simply too much that needs to be explained in order to do justice as to why I am reconciling to Catholicism. It is a 7 year faith journey (some might say 26 years). Easily stated: I follow Jesus and He told me that I'm Catholic. That pretty much settles it. But for those interested in how I came to the Catholic viewpoint on the differing issues (Sola fide, Sola Scriptura, Infant Baptism, the Papacy), I heartily recommend picking up a copy of "Born Fundamentalist, Born Again Catholic." This book was instrumental in helping me overcome such issues. It was given to me by a lady I met sidewalk counseling years ago, only to be fully read by me in recent months. That lady is now my sponsor. :)

I intend to blog at greater length about how I went from hardcore evangelical to devout Catholic, how it's been an rough road with losing friends and the possibility of losing my job, but for now, I don't want to lose the vividness of my first confession experience.

As a Protestant, I confessed my sins to God. Sometimes on my knees, sometimes not. Regardless, afterwards I would feel forgiven and cuddle down into the bosom of my relationship with God. Since I will be receiving the Eucharist for the first time on April 7th, confession is a sacrament I must submit to before I can take communion. I desired to do it because I want the good things Christ implemented for my well-being, I wanted to submit myself fully to the Church (that Christ implemented for my well-being) and above all, I wanted to be in full communion with God and give Him the atonement He is due.

But I had some anxiety. This was 100% new to me and I was plagued by legalism. "What if I forget something?" "What if I do it wrong?" "What if I don't say what I need to say?" As I waited in line, I remembered the prayers I had for the faith to believe God when He promised in His word to forgive me. When I was next in line and my anxiety was at its height, I finally asked God for a feeling. While I don't want to place my faith in feelings, I explained that I would be grateful to feel forgiven, if He so willed it.

I went in, sat down and faced my priest. I opened 4 sheets of paper that I had typed and read them verbatim (until he asked for the highlights for the sake of others. I had 26 years worth of sins and it was getting ridiculous). He then gave me a penance and encouragement. Walking me through the process, he told me that he was going to give me absolution. He raised his hand (calling down the Holy Spirit), and I felt something like I've never felt before.

I have always been embracing of the Holy Spirit (moreso than some of my more fundamental friends). I pray in tongues, I submit to the phenomena I don't understand out of a belief that God wouldn't give me a serpent when I ask for a fish. This, however, was exceptional.

There was physical spasming of my insides which translated into a gentle shaking on my outside. I felt the sin detaching from my body and leaving. I've heard the cliches about "a weight being lifted" and had felt that in a much lesser way but I left the confessional feeling lighter. Sin weighs a ton and I'm delighted to no longer carry it with me.

Although I am extraordinarily grateful for the sacrament of confession, I never want to do that again. I'm more cognizant now of my behavior than I ever was before and appreciative of the gift to be absolved. I know I am undeserving.

I will continue more about my faith journey and I hope to answer any questions that my Protestant brethren may have on how I went from being one of them to being one of them.

Stay tuned.

Perhaps your favorite musician emails you all the time, but this is a first for me.

2007-03-01T15:28:00.000-06:00

Those of you who know me are familiar with the fact that I love Jonah Werner. In fact, as pro-life as I am, he changed my views on human cloning (because he's married and I want a Jonah of my own- what are our options, really?)

His music is like being in love. It's like (everything I understand) heroin (to be). However, his lyrics are poetic and beautiful and quite romantic. Some are just silly, all are "Awwwwwww" inspiring. Let me demonstrate:

"you are with me, wrapped in silver, stolen from a cloud of quiet revelry."

"like a thief you stole my whisper as your beauty stopped my tongue."

[on his Blue Pajamas] "and I got the kind with the little white feet and they look oh so sexy on me- it's like cuddling beside a baby sheep with a zipper running head to toe."

I could continue, but the moral is: his music is sweet, but not necessarily a good salve for a broken heart.

So here was my problem- he's coming to Dallas and I don't want to miss his show, but I'm not so sure I could stand to go alone in light of my recent heartbreak. So I sent him this comment on his myspace:

Okay, here's the deal: I got my ticket to the Dallas "Bend" show, but my boyfriend and I just broke up less than 2 weeks ago. With your sweet love songs about spooning and being in love and the like, I don't know if I can bear to go alone. Got any Dallas fan friends that I can sit with so that I won't have to forsake my Jonah goodness???

Any solo-flying Dallas Jonah fans out there?

He responded:

Sorry about the breakup. That sucks. I think that you should come and hang out with my wife or her friend... or you can hang with my friend Katherine... She's a single SMU girl and she's fun [email].

I'll be sure to sing my songs about jerk boys and lay off the sappy stuff! See you there! Blessings,

Jonah

Ain't that sweet? I'm totally emailing his friend so I'll have someone to sit with. His music makes me high, so maybe I'll leave the concert with a renewed faith in love. Hmmm?

My name is Jacque and I'm sick of having my feelings hurt.

2007-03-01T12:34:00.000-06:00

Please stop.

Saint Gianna Beretta Molla, I love her so.

2007-02-27T17:34:00.001-06:00

Even in my hardest-core Protestant days, I had a deep, abiding love for Saint Gianna Beretta Molla. I became familiar with her story through the Catholic Pro-Life Committee of North Texas, the organization with which I work as a sidewalk counselor. Her picture graces the walls of the White Rose Women's Center, the place of help where we send pregnant girls from the sidewalks. I remember standing in the hallway of the White Rose just looking at her, my head slightly cocked, the way one would stare at priceless work of art. I was absolutely captivated.

For those unfamiliar with Saint Gianna, she was a physician, a pediatrician in Italy in the 1950's-1960's. She fell ill with a uterine tumor while 2 months pregnant with her fourth child. Knowing the risks to herself and offered an abortion or a hysterectomy, Dr. Molla instead chose her baby. She is quoted as saying, "If you must choose between me and the baby, no hesitation; choose -and I demand it- the baby, Save him!"

Today I allowed myself to delve deeper into her story and now find myself more in love with her than I can imagine. Words can be vulgar when speaking of the wonderful woman she was. She's the type of woman I desire to be.

Gianna was beautiful. Just look at her. She was absolutely devoted to Jesus, once saying, "If one were to consider how much Jesus has suffered, one would not commit the smallest sin." She was an example of motherhood, ultimately dying for her children. She was one that deeply appreciated children, so much so that she suffered through 4 pregnancies (all 4 were extremely painful) and gave 6 months of wages as a sacrifice of Thanksgiving to God to fund mission work at the births of her children. She was a loving, self-sacrificing wife. She was the epitome of femininity, she was a full of charity, often allowing her patients to pay for her services in eggs or chickens while she, herself would give them money for food or medicine (She is quoted as saying, "If I give care to a patient who has nothing to eat, what good is the medication?"). She was a doctor, a hard-working, successful, educated woman and she maintained her practice as a doctor while caring for her family. She selflessly gave of herself for her children. She was a testimony to the sanctity of life and the proud profession of motherhood in the face of impossible odds.

Although this is a very presumptuous thing to say, I find myself endeared to Saint Gianna because she was all that I hope myself to be and beleive that I can someday become through God's grace. She was a doctor, just like I am also studying for a doctorate. She struggled in school, yet persevered much as I am doing. She was deeply burdened for life. Another quote of hers that I adore is "The doctor should not meddle. The right of the child is equal to the right of the mother’s life. The doctor can’t decide; it is a sin to kill in the womb." Saint Gianna desired and adored children in the light of other options her career could have afforded her, much like I see my desire to have, love and educate children second to my desire to use my education for worldly gain as a flight in the face of societal ideals. By that same token, I see my desire to continue to use my education and career for the advancement of the Kingdom with children in tow to also be a assault on society, as so many women who stay home choose to renounce outside work. St. Gianna was very much a "working mom" and an example of how you can put your family first and still continue to make a direct impact in the world. She was certain of her vocation of marriage and motherhood, much like I am sure of mine. She married late at 32. I am 26.

Personally, I desire a life of love and devotion to family that she had. I desire a similar courtship to that which she had. A passage from her diary during her engagement echoes the desire that I have:

"With God’s help and blessing we will do our best to make our new family a little Cenacle where Jesus reigns over all our affections, desires, and actions…There are only a few days to go and I feel moved at the thought of approaching and receiving the “Sacrament of Love”. We will become collaborators with God in His creation and so we will be able to give him children that love and serve him."

Her husband's lovely response a few weeks after the wedding:

"Her holy virtue, the gentle goodness and affection of Gianna, all her cares, give me the full joy and serenity which I asked of Jesus on my wedding day. With Gianna I am sure of forming a truly Christian family on which she will know how to draw the most beautiful heavenly graces…We have begun and will continue with perseverance the daily recitation of the Rosary. May our heavenly mother always watch over us and give us the grace to be cheered by little angels." (by which he meant the happy and healthy children he and Gianna hoped to have).

I want to be beautiful, selfless and devoted to family. I want to be successful for the glory of God, submitted to His will unto death. I want to be a constant and powerful witness to the sanctity of human life and the need to protect life. I want to always demonstrate manifest love to others. I want to be that kind of woman. Saint Gianna inspires me in that. Perhaps she'll pray for me to attain these ends.

Regarding the slower frequency of blog posts:

2007-02-27T09:30:00.000-06:00

If you have noticed, much as I have, how less prolific I have been in the bloggins, it's not because I am busy. It's because I am jacking around on Facebook and Myspace.

Jacqueline's Facebook

and

Jacqueline's MySpace

I hope you'll add me!

The Break-Up Entourage

2007-02-20T11:33:00.000-06:00

I can just see all my friends in silhouette with 'fros, bell-bottoms and polyester. I think we should have a cool intro with soul music, like SHAFT!, yeah, and it would be sung by Barry White.

Yeah, my latest relationship, short and torrid, is now over. Although it was indeed a short one, that doesn't make the recovery any less painful. When my longest relationship (3 years) ended, I was just fine. I would say it's quality, not quantity and depth of emotion trumps length of romance any day.

I won't get into the sordid details; that's not what this post is about. What I desired to express was how loved I feel. See, I have been rejected, abandoned, tossed-out, and deemed unworthy of love and pursuit- and yet, my friends have swarmed around me and showered me with love. Ironic, no?

Today is lunch with Keisha, Friday is Alexandria, last night Lauren offered to drive all the way into town to have a bubble tea with me- or to bring one to my house- or anything I wanted. My sister called my parents on my behalf to tell them that we wouldn't be visiting this weekend. My honorary little brother called his parents to do the same. In lieu of a weekend with my boyfriend, I have a friend who is taking me out on Friday night, we're renting a movie and I'm staying with him as a mini-getaway. My girlfriends, guy friends, anyone who has crossed my path and knows about my broken heart have been amazing. A few have offered to kick his ass. That always makes me smile.

No ass kicking is needed. I want God's will. I prayed and released to God this relationship and it ended and, as you can plainly see from my last post, I wasn't so happy with it lately anyway. In fact, I was miserable. So, I'm grateful that I can move on and move on with the love and support of my posse.

Yes, I just said posse.

This Valentine's Day, I was thinking about stopping and smelling the flowers...

2007-02-14T09:21:00.000-06:00

But I probably won't get any. :)

Ahhh. She masks the pain with humor...

Ever have moments of spontaneous and extreme gratitude to be you?

2007-02-12T10:44:00.000-06:00

I do. All the time, actually.

To clarify- this is not arrogance. It's nothing about me, per se. It's not like, "I'm so grateful to be me because I'm smart." or "I'm so grateful to be me because I am successful."

Also, my moments of spontaneous and extreme gratitude have nothing to do with my circumstances. It's not "I'm so grateful to be me because I just got a raise at work." or "I'm so grateful to be me because I have wonderful friends."

It's just "I'm grateful to be me." Period.

So it's not my character; it's not my circumstances. I definitely can attribute my "gratitude to be me" to something, however. It's quite clearly my torrid, passionate and exciting and otherwise gratifying relationship with God my Father and Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. There's no greater joy than being loved through and through. There is nothing more freeing, nothing that gives you the capacity to enjoy everything the world has to offer than no longer looking to the world to meet those needs. You walk the Earth completely fufilled and anything you find is simply icing on your cake. Ironically, any other way will leave you hollow and hungry. The world can not fufill you, but only having all your being in Jesus. I'm grateful to be me because I am loved uniquely because I was created uniquely. I am grateful to be me because I get to enjoy the life I was given. I know where my joy comes from. :)

Praise be to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Wrongful Birth Lawsuits: The Ultimate Depravity.

2007-02-12T09:45:00.000-06:00

Certain evils can not be adaquately rebuked with commentary. This is one of them.

It would be almost vulgar for me to attempt to begin to explain just how sick wrongful birth lawsuits are. Coming from a woman that sees the murder of one's own offspring as the lowest of humanity, it further boggles my mind that a mother could look her own child in the eye and admit that she would have had him/her killed. It descends deeper into digust when she hires an attorney and takes to court the fact that she "deserves" compensation for caring for her own child.

I am nausiated.

The miracles that can happen when we don't kill people...

2007-02-08T13:34:00.000-06:00

Haleigh Poutre is recovering well. She can eat, write and communicate.

Keep praying for Miss Haleigh, the little girl who was a victim of severe abuse and was almost a victim of euthanasia at the hands of the state.

HT: Wesley J. Smith

I love her so much.

2007-02-06T15:21:00.000-06:00

No news about Charlotte in foster care, no new pictures, nada. That doesn't mean I still don't have her pictures tacked up in my office and I don't think about her everyday. I'm pleased that I'm handling the not-knowing-how-she-is-doing as well as I am. I just think, "'No news' is good news!" and assume is something were wrong with the her that I would find it in my Google searches. I do wish I had more info on Chunkybutt, though. Now that I've stopped to think about it, I'm getting a little teary-eyed.

Please keep praying for my pretty princess.

You break my heart, Rick Perry.

2007-02-02T17:54:00.001-06:00

My heart breaks.

Bypassing the Legislature altogether, Republican Gov. Rick Perry issued an order Friday making Texas the first state to require that schoolgirls get vaccinated against the sexually transmitted virus that causes cervical cancer.

This makes me deeply sad on so many different levels. First, it is a direct affront to female dignity. To have so little faith in young woman's ability to make the healthy choice to abstain from sex before marriage as to force her to get an ostentatious shot is patently offensive. As a grown women who has abstained, to think that I would have been forced to get a shot regardless of my convictions disturbs me to my core. I wouldn't have. There would have been a lawsuit.

Second- it's unnecessary and thus, unhealthy. There are side effects to vaccinations, but the benefit typically always outweighs the costs. In this case, there is no benefit unless the child chooses to engage in immoral sexual behavior (which by the way, carries with it the risk of countless diseases from which this shot offers no protection). By engaging in the behavior that would imbue the shot with a benefit, they open themselves to a host of other problems-physically, spiritually and emotionally, and this shot does nothing for those consequences. The shot certainly can't mend a destroyed self-esteem or the pain caused by another STD. It can't compensate for the couple that is infertile due to an STD or the woman that has been used and abandoned by predatory men and thus has problems engaging in a healthy sexual relationship in her marriage.

Third, this flies in the face of parent's rights. To mandate an unhealthy, demeaning, and unnecessary shot for our daughters is going too far. My job as a mother is to protect my daughters from things that will harm them. This shot, even if there was nothing unpleasant or unhealthy about it other that the injection- that's still too much.

Fourth, it propagates the myth that sex outside of marriage is "safe." Young girls that have been vaccinated against diseases promiscuity might very well accept that as a license to become sexually active. They are already pressured by society. Why now a vaccine legitimizing promiscuity? What values does that suggest?

Fifth, it gives little girls the impression that we doubt their decision-making abilities, their virtue and self-control. This angers me as a women that has exercised all of the above and can testify, along with many of my girlfriends that this is both possible and preferable. By insisting about vaccinations for STD's, what you're saying is: You don't trust our young ladies to make healthy choices and therefore you must vaccinate them from immorality and stupidity, rather than training them up in the way they should go.

Finally, HPV is not like the other diseases for which we vaccinate. You don't catch HPV by sitting in the desk next to someone who has it. What are they doing in the classrooms these days that would require HPV vaccination for the good of the collective student body? Mandated vaccinations are inherently a violation of personal autonomy but this is trumped by the common good. A schoolchild can become ill simply by exposure to an ill child. HPV requires much more "exposure" and contact than this. Therefore I can choose not to get HPV by choosing not to have such contact. It's that simple.

Governor Perry has deeply offended me and violated my liberties. He will hear from me about this. If you'd like to contact him, you may reach here.

Perfect Teeth = Good Genes = Propagation of the Human Race

2007-02-02T13:01:00.000-06:00

Some might find my preoccupation with perfect teeth in the men I choose to be a triviality, but I'm doing this for humanity.

Let me explain: My parents have always joked about how they chose eachother: "He just smelled right." (In fact, one of her first questions about my current boyfriend was "Does he smell right?" It was one of her first questions to him, also.)

My father, the genius, explained the smell component with scientific research: pheromones, fertility, and how human beings can sense immunities in potential mates and express more of an attraction to those who would give them heartier children. It's Darwin meets Kinsey.

There is much research about olfactory influence in human sexual attraction. I don't deny this. But my thing has and will always be perfect teeth.

I sadly admit that I judge the person by the state of their teeth. Dirty teeth disgust me beyond anything else, even body odor. Rotted teeth repulse me. Missing teeth turn me off. Not simply in regards to human attraction, but with everyone. I try to overcome this because I recognize that every human being has a right to be treated well, but I get physically nausiated sometimes at a dirty mouth. One time, a woman at the drug store with rotted teeth checked out my soda and I was too queasy to drink it. I don't intend to be this way, I simply know that I am. You wouldn't know it by my actions, though. Anyway, I was going somewhere with this...

I find myself magically drawn to men with perfect smiles. I think it might be some subconscious genetic preference. Bad Teeth= trashy (or British..bwahahaha) and Good Teeth=Classy and Genetically Superior. Now, what completely refutes my contention is that I don't give a rip if the perfect smile was genetic or the consequence of orthdonists. I just like me some straight pearly whites. I'm very grateful that I lucked out and didn't require braces. I do however bleach regularly (although I don't floss...Hmmm).

So, it's not some hang-up or crazy fetish. I'm doing this to help create a master race of people with perfect teeth, who would no longer require opposable thumbs because, hell, they have perfect teeth. In fact, my boyfriend and I, between our collective blonde hair and blue eyes, we might very well have the Aryan Superchild- oh wait, Lauren has beat us to that.