anorgasmia

My life with church has always been

a fruitless, frustrating, wearying carousel

of weekly sex with no orgasm.

It's so exhausting and unfulfilling.

I don't wanna go!!!

The technicians stand around the bed making suggestions,

the number of participants,

the verbal content,

the soundtrack,

tweaking these things will increase arousal,

and on our system,

guaranteed,

you'll be screaming with joy

on a rostered basis.

Well it never happens,

and the appointments,

and the discussions,

and the arguments

just make it worse and worse and worse.

Heightening the expectation that is already disappointed,

calling for a something that is never going to

come.

Why torture me so?

It blinds me to the other values of this bride of Christ,

the other reasons to pursue her.

If satisfying sex is on offer,

but never delivered,

just like any horny teenager,

I'll dump her and move on,

seeking nourishment for my deep

social

psychological

physical

emotional

spiritual need

somewhere else.

But we're engaged,

not married yet.

The consummation awaits,

the glorious union with you.

The truly orgasmic, exciting climax

when all creation will find it's fulfillment.

So stop dangling this dangerous fruit.

Like all long engagements,

this situation has its pitfalls,

not least the seeming stretching

of every second into an hour,

every hour into a year,

enduring the not-so-great while waiting for the best thing ever.

So when we launch into the same routine again,

next time,

turn the lights down low,

turn the music up,

but never get to the point where the heaving and sighing gets anywhere,

help me to remember that it's a lie to expect anything more.

There are other reasons to love her anyway,

and to continue to hold at arms length

those doctors who promise easy solutions,

but no real answers.  

being kathy bates

So apparently I think I'm Kathy Bates in Misery...

That anyone trapped in conversation with me is just wondering,
"when is she gonna break my legs so she can keep me here?"
"how can I escape?!!"
Hoping that I'm not going to further display my mental disturbance
by drugging them,
tricking them into something resembling friendship.

Cheerful isn't it,
the assumption I'm blackmailing, manipulating everyone.
That they're being polite at first, because they have to,
but soon would rather be anywhere but in the room with me.

I think like that about you sometimes too.
That you're just loving me out of obligation,
and soon you're gonna leave me too.

In this room,
alone,
forever,
where I rightfully belong,
with only the emptiness and waste to talk to,
a fitting punishment for whatever it is my mind thinks I've done.

Why do I think I'm Kathy?

Why?!

sub-texts

Real text (to my sister):

A bit more of my broken tooth just broke off...! I feel this is the sort of thing one needs to share with someone. Guess what?! This is YOUR lucky day!! :-) It didn't hurt... Nor does it look rotten. Also, it means there's less of a hole to get food in/dig food out of with tongue. Mmm. So anyway... Yeah. There u go :-)

Subtext:

I am all alone, at night, with a broken tooth.

Real text (from NRMA):

Don't forget to renew your Roadside Assistance before 29/11/2012. If you haven't already paid, call 1300 300 381 or visit mynrma.com.au/renewal.

Subtext:

When you next drive out to the country, y'know, to visit the family or whatevs, YOU COULD DIE!! So pay us now.

Real text (to my friend):

Honest, today's the day I'll write down ur apartment number so I know which bell to ring!!

Subtext:

I am incompetent at life. LIFE!! How did that end up being a pass/fail?! You've lived here for ages, I've visited you multiple times, yet, I stand on your step, wondering if I can somehow cheat my way into the right apartment and save my shreds of dignity. Dammit. I cannot!!

Real prayer (to God):

Please be with &$#€¥. Help her to get through this awful day, and comfort her, and help her to keep trusting in you despite the ickiness of it all. Please hold her tight!!

Subtext:

Gaaaaaaaahhhh!!! If you don't sort this, I have no idea what I'm going to do. And yes, this is one of those days where I feel like a total idiot for even talking to you. Please help?

a better Christian than me

I suppose if I was super holy, I'd be praying to thank you for salvation...
I'd be quoting the Psalms, and rejoicing that you're my rock and my horn forever...

But the truth... The awful truth is...

The thing I'm most excited about right now is...

MY SEWING TABLE!!!

What a great joy, to have a friend take me in, give me a room, let me share her space, but more than that, let me have MY VERY OWN SEWING TABLE!!

My new machine sits proudly under its dust cover. It can stay exactly where it is! It doesn't need to be moved! My fabric stash is accommodated happily in the ample room underneath, all my jewellery fixings and beads have space on top. There's even room for my small store of craft books! What rapture!

And the DRAWERS! The drawers! They're so incredibly awesome! So many little dividers, perfectly shaped boxes for bobbins, elastic, scissors, pins, bias binding, fabric pencils, measuring tapes, iron ons and all to live in separate, organised glory.

This sewing table is so much more than I could have ever deserved or dreamed. IT'S INCREDIBLE!

And yes, at the moment, I'm a little more excited about it than most other things...

But I guess that's kind of what salvation was all about anyways...

I mean, obviously, there's your eternal glory, 'cause, you are such a gracious, generous, faithful, creative, powerful, loving Master of the Universe, and all of that is displayed perfectly and supremely in your gift of salvation.

But, it's the bit that comes after. The reason you embarked on that crazy, make-or-break plan in the first place.

Life.

You wanted us to go on living, with you, with each other, with your beautiful world, forever.

And I'm sure there'll be sewing tables! And gardens, buildings, engineers, cooks, musicians and all. We'll continue working for you and for one another, to clothe, feed, edify and sustain. So, thank you for the sewing table, and its reminder of the joys yet to come.

toothache

I shouldn't be surprised that toothache reveals the barely-hidden evil in me.

How many of us, your 'greatest' creation, fall at the slightest twinge in the gums?

But we do. 

We fall and fall and fall, 

for soft flesh, 

greener grass, 

nicer houses,

and the removal of any discomfort.

My impotent rage at my pain rises and crashes against the facade of my civility.

I begin to wonder about Hitler's dental care. Did Mussolini have stomach ulcers? Did Pol Pot have a problem with his knee?

My energy is spread too thinly between the pain and the polite. I can't be a Christian and have toothache!

How would I cope with martyrdom?!

Fortunately I haven't reached the nuclear-brinkmanship/trade-off part of this prayer yet, where I start promising good behaviour in exchange for pain relief. I hope I'm never mad enough or scared enough to do that. I'm relieved when I do occasionally grasp the truth that you are not the Trunchbull or a disgruntled Grandmother who bribes children with sweets (especially unhelpful in my state!). I'm glad that you're not just some giant mathematician in the sky, weighing good against bad and compensating accordingly. You're much more lavish than that, and I thank you for it!

Having said that, I've also not reached the nuclear brink of visiting the dentist! Unfortunately, dental is not on Medicare...

Instead, I shall summon every remaining shred of self-control to say, 'thy kingdom come, thy will be done' and hope as strongly as possible that your kingdom includes free national healthcare and your will is for everyone's wisdom teeth to grow peacefully!

Amen!

(Alright, I'm willing to grant your divine will might include a few other things, but seriously, I'm putting in a vote for pain free teething in the new creation!!)

To The Cyclist Who Swore At Me

I'm really sorry I bummed you out,
so badly you had to call me a f&%#ing idiot.

Hot sun,
crowded cars,
morning traffic.

I thought there'd be more gap
between me and the next car,
and less gap
between you and me,
one human being and another.

That space instead
would be filled,
with understanding,
patience,
and a shared grimace at the traffic.

But you exaggerated the space between
and filled it with hate.
Presumably on the assumption
that you were simply retaliating
to the same attitude from me,
with equal and therefore naturally justified force.

You lived like it's an eye for an eye world.
And I'm trying not to.
But I fail all the time.

So I cried.
Hot tears,
running down and filling my sunglasses.

I hadn't cried like that for a while.
Humiliation.
Regret.

The melting sunscreen stung my eyes,
perhaps the natural justice you looked for.

Sorry.

church

OH MY GOD!!!


I am so sick to death 
of disputes
arguments
false evidences
boring church services
limited ministries
petty people
facebook slurs
marginalisation
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
stupid graspings after power
and crappy songs!


I despise myself
and the part I play
in this 
bloated
selfish
scarred
fatuous 
institution!!!


I hate the church!


And I know that for that 
I deserve to die...


Don't you hate it too
sometimes?


Just sometimes, 
when we're all being nasty to each other?


Just sometimes, 
when a pointless argument
wounds everyone in sight, 
needless collateral damage
to already dented egos?


Just sometimes, 
when we spend all our money, 
all our money, 
all our money,
on new paint and new programs?


I don't think you hate us
when we're just struggling to love each other.


When we've realised we could say hello,
go around and watch the footy,
maybe have a conversation in real life
instead of via email.


When do you hate us?

motorhome Jesus

Oh dear oh dear oh dear. 
It's happened again. 
Another, awful, sinking of the stomach moment
where I realise just how small I've drawn my comfort zone
and how big you are
and how selfish I am... 
Oh dear oh dear...!
At first the idea sounded great! Exciting! 
But I just realised in the car on the way home that going through with it would mean 
living in a motorhome for Jesus
loooooooong term
no real bedroom
very little stuff
no place for all my books
dvds
cds
cooking equipment
clothes
I feel sick now at how hard that feels. 
Sick that it so rarely occurs to me that following you might mean leaving
a lot of stuff behind. 
All of it in the end, obviously. 
I'm so slow and stupid and selfish!
I'm sorry!
Please help me to hold more loosely to these
acquisitions of my discontent. 
Please help me to honour you with all my life,
my stuff. 
Help me to make it all a sacrifice of praise to you. 
Please make me happy to live in a motorhome for you.
Not cos I have to right now, 
but because I want to be able to do that for you. 
Amen. 

underpants confession

Dear God,

I'm sorry I judged that woman so harshly this morning,

the woman with her underpants showing under her skirt

as she rode her bicycle to work.

I don't know where those voices came from,

the ones in my head that yelled,

“disgusting! Whore! Should be ashamed of herself!”

Are they really the voices of a mature Christian perspective

of humanity? Identity? Gender?

Or the horrific voices of human nature twisted,

bent out of loving shape by

centuries of habitual blaming of Eve?

Wherever they came from,

please take them away.

Never let me again scream inwardly in hatred

at a woman not trying to be sexual, sensual or tempting,

but just going about her business,

riding to work, focussed on her task, not her clothing.

Thankyou so much that you don't condemn me

for my iniquities,

or shut me out from your love in screaming hatred.

Thanks that you screamed at Jesus instead.

I don't understand why.

He never allowed voices in His head to judge unjustly.

But you forgive me, love me, because of Him.

Thankyou. 

prayer after Hebrews

Almighty heavenly Father, 

You know where the mountain goats give birth, 

and you watch when the doe bears her fawn. 

You let the wild donkey loose, you untied his ropes

and gave him the desert as his home. 

The hawk takes flight by your wisdom

and spreads his wings toward the south. 

Father, you made creatures we've not even seen

and you know every detail of their lives. 

We cry at destruction we do see 

but you're so much more aware than us of every detail that is wrong in this world. 

So we pray for our brothers and sisters in the horn of Africa, 

those people you've made who we've never even seen. 

We don't know their names, their families, their faces, 

but they're starving to death and being swallowed up in violence. 

Rescue them Father in your compassionate wisdom!

You are holy, powerful and loving! 

You can fix this!!

Search us Lord, and examine our hearts. 

You know already what you'll find there, 

a totally muddled confusion of good and bad motives,

strong desires you've given us, 

and twisted plans for feeding them... 

Sometimes we even deliberately do the wrong thing, 

thinking wrongly, or acting wrongly, 

knowing what you really want from us. 

Why?!

Thank you so much that when you examine our hearts

you wash and clean them also

and love us fully. 

Help us not to shrink back and be destroyed. 

Amen.