My ‘Sunday’ Post
I thought it good timing today to talk about something that happened to me recently. Something that had me feeling ashamed and embarrassed, which are two emotions I haven’t felt in a good, long while. I’d grown quite callous while running in the circles that I did and working as manager of a biker bar, and left these emotions far behind. They are just not a good fit for that lifestyle. There’s too much foul language, drugs flowing round, whiskey talk, bare boobs, infidelity, etc. You grow accustomed to it, and to feel otherwise could ostracizes you; which was something I couldn’t afford. That job paid my bills. These people were my friends. I left the job behind and most of my friends several years back. I just didn’t leave the attitude behind. Unfortunately, I took it with me. Old habits die hard.
I’ve had a hard life. This is no secret. I’ve been very upfront about it. I’ve also been pretty upfront about my attitude, my desire to be ‘real’ which means speaking how I choose and about what I choose. I got tired of apologizing for being me long ago. My family, although disappointed I’m sure by my choice in lifestyle, the language I use, and my failure to attend church anymore, says little about it. I am a grown woman; they love me and let me live my life. They know what to expect if they choose to read my blog, so I have no reason to feel guilt where they’re concerned. They can no longer make me feel ashamed. Few people, in fact, have that ability. Day before yesterday I finally came across one that did.
I like to surf blogs when I’m not writing myself to see what’s out there. I sometimes type my interests into the search field, but most often just piggyback off sites I come across. I’ve found most of the posts I like to read and have subscribed to that way. Sometimes I read the bio they have, but more often than not I just read the post, comment, or move on. I don’t put too much thought into who exactly the author is. I definitely don’t give much thought as to whether when I comment on their blog they might want to take a peek at mine.
I read a wonderful post a couple days ago. It had to do with typewriters. The author talked about how outdated they were, but seem to be making a comeback. She spoke of models she had in the past, and how convenient and important these vintage pieces were at one time to any of us that love to write. At the end of the post she asked us to comment what we’d used, and share if we had some antique’s in the closet. This I gladly did. I shared my story of the 1940’s Royal typewriter I got as a teen, and although I only used it for a short time, it’s the only one I’ve kept, have carried with me all these years from residence to residence, and is very dear to me even today. She was very kind to me in her reply, gave me a nice compliment on my writing, which I thanked her for. I thought after that I’d found a blogger that I like, subscribed, and that would be that.
This woman took a peek into my blog after I had been on hers. The particular post she read was by far not the foulest I’ve penned, but nevertheless was not appropriate for everyone’s eyes, I’m sure. I quickly found those eyes to be hers. Not that she said anything of the sort—and was in fact very kind—but I could read between the lines. I could feel who had peered in on me.
To explain this I guess I’d have to use a couple passages from the Bible. The first is Matthew 7:16 and begins with “You will know them by their fruits…” Verse 18 explains it: “A good tree cannot produce bad fruit, nor can a bad tree produce good fruit” I know about fruit trees, good people, bad people, believers, non-believers; I’ve been surrounded by both my whole life. I know fruit. The next passage is 2 Corinthians 2:16 and says “To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life…” which explains how sinners can sense Christians in their presence and how convicted they make them feel, and also how Christians feel unity in the presence of other Christians. I saw the ‘fruit’ in her words; I smelled my own death in the presence of her on my blog.
I went back on her site and read her bio. I found she is an author, a poet, a mother and grandmother. She was previously a teacher of elementary school children, and yes…is a pastor’s wife. A woman who was kind with her words, in spite of finding, I’m sure, such distaste in mine. Yes, for the first time in a very long while I actually felt ashamed and embarrassed by the way I expressed myself, and how offended another might be by it.
I wrestled with this feeling most of yesterday. I tried to shake it off by just promising myself that I would be more careful in the future in where I went and whose house I would hang my hat, lest they would come calling on me after and mine might be a mess. I tried, but it wouldn’t go away. I realized then it was no mistake my going on her blog and she finding her way to mine; no mistake, because God doesn’t make mistakes, and He was using her to convict me. This may sound strange, but I almost had a peace come over me upon arriving at this realization. It occurred to me then if He were still trying to reach me, and I was still able to feel conviction, then there was still hope for me. He hadn’t forgotten about me, and I wasn’t a lost cause after all.
I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I don’t know how my life may or may not change because of this encounter. I can’t say for sure if it’s going to have a drastic impact upon my immediate future, is rather just a seed that’s been planted and needs time to take root, or if I find eventually it’s had no impact at all. Many years have contributed to the hardness of my heart, and as many layers must be stripped clean to reach what’s inside. I doubt that can be done overnight, possibly at all; but then I doubted two days ago that I might ever feel this way again, so who knows.
I wanted to share this with any readers today who may peruse my post, because it’s the Lord’s Day. It’s my way of acknowledging Him, and thanking Him for still considering me important enough after all my shortcomings to send His servants my way. Conviction is painful, but also a sweet reminder that you’re still able to discern between right and wrong, and as long as you’re able to do that there’s still hope. All is not yet lost. “Thank you, Carol.”