My Thoughts (email)

I completed my rather long stint at LFF a few years ago. I would have left sooner but we all know what kind of shame falls on the remaining family when their child forsakes the church; not to mention I myself was afraid to leave. There truly were not any choices. I was more like a juvenile fish in a fish farm in the middle of Kansas, no hope of ever reaching any real body of water. I am so ashamed to be associated with Living Faith Fellowship, whenever it comes up in conversation I try to leave, but its not always a choice, you eventually get corned and people ask were you went to school. "You went to the cult school, how was that?" From that point on I am (we are) labeled as one of those crazy Living Faithers. I want so badly to shake off this past of mine but I can not, I grew up there. There are times I ask my self: Who can I fault? Is it my parents? They thought there were doing right, doing just as they were told. It saddens me that they still subscribe to that LFF way of life. I was never able to talk to them about life growing up. Now every shred of even speaking to them about the little things is destroyed. When I try to talk to them about the church they just refuse to even evaluate their situation, they put up the defensive walls with an, "I don't want to hear it!". I don't think I'll ever be able to talk to my parents about life, its just gone...

I do think the blame for this rests on many, and I do know that at the root the blame rests on one man.

I am so tired of all the games, all the masks, all the smoke and mirrors. Don't try to charm me. Don't smile at me and make small talk like we're good friends. My life is torn to pieces because of a few people's egos. They never do truly care about any thing but their own little world. I still have not forgiven; it's hard to when the wrong doings are still going on. Why should I forgive when they continue to deepen and salt my wounds? They need to "get their heads out of the sand."
I have come to the realization that these wounds will never heal. They leave ugly scars and continue to re-open and bleed all over the place. Like the life lasting effects of injuries, each one a direct tie to my early days. One of the ways I have found to relive my pain is to laugh at my past, some of the things I remember are just a big joke now. I write them down some times just for kicks and giggles. I have entitled my collection of short stories "Lets compare scars" here are a few of the shorts for your enjoyment.

Today is brought to you by the word....

As a hush falls over the crowed, as a man slowly shuffles its way up to an over sized blue podium. He slaps his outstretched, ring clad hands on its sides. Much licking and smacking of his lips later, he utters forth a new word, which has never before fallen on human nor animals ears. "Gloryifickjtasticah." (To be heard, glory-if-ick-tastic-ah) The people loudly cheer and clap their hands. The man stands, slowly looking side to side licking and smacking his lips. A pleased look crosses his faced as he thinks "Yesss, once again I have pulled the wool over the entire congregation's eyes" The cheering subsides to a dull roar as the man says,"Say to your neighbor Gloryifickjtasticah, as you are seated" The people blindly follow his direction, every one of them uttering nonsense.

Pappa knows, Pappa knows....

Sitting amongst my Christian school peers, all dressed in polyester, hushed in silence as if there were a dead body on display. Sweating, waiting for the "great privilege" of Pappa's wisdom, that we may be enlightened by the wisest man in the world. Shifting in our chairs, wondering what the opening topic would be, glancing around looking for missing friends. Would it be another room spinning 1 hour and 1\2 hell? Has one of our friends fallen to the world, "turning their backs on us?" Was today's topic, "Council on how to avoid all contact with this fallen friend," followed up by seeming hours of teared and fiery prayers, that they would turn away from the path to fire and brim stone. Would the boys and girls be separated this time, so they could confront one of us with a sick and heinous sin while the other gender prayed for the detained, that we would spiritually ignite and become men or women of god. We were required to conjure up questions that our parents couldn't answer, so pappa could flex his superior, enlightened mind. If we couldn't think of any would we be reamed for throwing away this opportunity to bask in the light of gods representative.

The school staff trolled about, reminding us only of impending doom. "I hope you all have good questions" they would say.

"Lets all give him a warm round of applause." they shouted, as his immense person entered the room, rings flashing rays of light, his cufflinked sleeves swaying slightly, under one arm a large leather day planer was perched. He would walk to the front of the room, eyes squinting behind his gold rimmed glasses. Setting his planner down with a thud, he smacked then slowly licked his lips.

He usually opened his meeting with. "whose got the first question?" or the dreaded "I bet your all wondering why I'm here today." I even remember a, "How many of you know what sex is...... (a hushed silents) ..... Every hand in the room should be raised"



I don't know about you but I feel better when I laugh about things, and there are plenty of things to laugh at in retrospect. I have seen the comments about people trying to heal, try just laughing.
I know I'm going to get the comments "you should forgive them" and "there were positives, talk about those" but you know what? this is me, the real me, this is were I'm at, these are just a few of my hurts, this is one of the ways I deal with things, and I will try my damest to never allow any body or church to have as much control of my life as my family did. I really appreciate this blog, now I am not just another out of sight out of mind.