What WOULD Jesus do?

 Pardon me.... your crazy is showing. Yeah, I know. My crazy. The crazy I come from. They're not so different, are they? 

So we were talking about how generous my dad was. And how that is how I imagine Jesus to be. Generous. Giving. Sharing. What's mine is yours. But in the midst of this conversation it took a very ungenerous turn. The story was.... some people were begging in a parking lot (like the Walmart parking lot) and the other characters in this story went to explore the situation. Before giving generously of their hard earned money the couple ask the ones in need what they thought of Jesus Christ. But not liking the answer given, the couple decided they would definitely not give of their money to these people. Okay... it's their money, they can do as they please with it. But on the heels of the conversation of Jesus and generosity, it seemed.... wanting. Less than. Not enough. My argument goes something along these lines.... Jesus would just give. No strings attached. He might attach His truth to it. For example, the woman at the well, Jesus says "go and sin no more." But He DIDN'T say, "I'll love you if you go and sin no more...." or "I'll forgive you if...." It wasn't conditional. Of course I think of the parable of the good samaritan who took care of someone who was not like him! Different nationalities and different religions too. He didn't say he'd pay for the poor beaten man's room and care IF.... he just took care of it. It wasn't conditional. I just think Jesus is like that. And I think I'll want to change and be more like Jesus because He's generous with me. He's not conditional. What if we were all more like Jesus and just gave because we could? Would the world be changed? I'm betting so.

The eternal optimist... Dad

 Last night I had a vivid dream about my Dad. We were establishing our own farm on the Suderman ground he loved so much. My Dad. I woke feeling encouraged. Because Gib never got down and stayed down. Not even in the hospital. Maybe at the end, when he knew he was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. But even in the daily fight to beat those little leeches in his brain, he never stayed down.  I didn't understand his plans to fish with Duke and why he was so obsessed. But then I realized it was hope. It gave him a goal. And there was no goal he couldn't reach. Pure positivity and love for life and sheer determination. That was all it took. These are no small things. The more I reflect on all he overcame in his life, the more in awe I am of him. If the only obstacle he'd ever faced was that of his Mom leaving this earth when he was eight years old, that would be enough. But this tragedy set a whole lot of other adverse situations into place for him, from being separated from his siblings when they were farmed out to different relatives that first year or so, living with different aunts and uncles, to then getting a "new Mom" who didn't understand him, to a dad who didn't know how to temper his own sorrow and frustrations. These events being the tip of an iceberg that was his life. 

Why? Why am I obsessed with my Dad's life and trying to figure it out? I guess I believe I'll miraculously find answers to the mixed up mess I call my life too. And I want to know where I come from. You know, in relationships they say that you keep repeating the same thing over and over until you change first. I want to know why I pick the ones I pick and do the things that I do. 

And if we're going down that road... I think I have a good one right now. But it doesn't come natural to me to choose things that are good for me. It's a head decision, not a hormone/heart decision (are these two things really all that different? When we fall "head over heels in love" is it not really a hormone thing? I think so, because it is often something that makes no sense, it's just this overwhelming rush). Which I suppose is also part of adulthood. I know plenty of friends who've gotten a good one by sheer luck and powers beyond their own control. Maybe that has finally happened for me since I've surely prayed for that long enough.

Here I Go Again....

 I have decided I need to be blogging again. But I'm super unenthusiastic about the whole thing. I don't feel like I'm interesting. To myself or anyone else. But I also feel the need to purge a growing surge of emotion. It feels as though I'm slowly coming back to life. I've just been really apathetic and dead inside. and exhausted. all. the. time. But memes on Facebook make me aware that being perpetually exhausted is part of adulthood. zero stars. not a fan. want a refund and to not be an adult anymore. 

It's been three years since my dad died. This floors me. because I miss him and grieve for him every single day of my life. I've decided it's okay to just be sad still. I guess I thought it was time not to be sad all the time? idk. But I realized that a large piece of my depression stems from this deep sadness and that there's no logical ending place to it. I can't make it make sense. I can't will myself to be better. 

Every day I have these giant epiphanies about life growing up and being Gib Suderman's flesh and blood. There may not be any way to express/explain this as it is both huge and trivial at the same time and has to do with my need to be loved, my crazy adolescence, the giant hole in my soul, and so much more. Dad had a hole in his soul too and knowing this explains so much about him to me. The gaping hole he tried to fill with fun (he was a fun guy), with women, with adrenaline rushes (coyote hunting, 4-wheel riding, racing, etc.), with work, with church. My dad was such a compassionate guy. He always told me about this hole in his heart that only I could fill. He also told my kids this. He was big on talking about this. I catch myself saying this to my own kids. 

I completely needed to pound this out and cry as I typed. I feel like there should be more. This is unfinished. But I'm about done. Put a fork in me.

Oh, we surrendered our big dog, Princess, today to the humane society in Newton. So I probably needed to cry that out too. I've been deeply saddened by this today. She needed to go. She has killed two guineas now. One she killed twice. I know that isn't really possible, but just go with it. I snatched that guinea from her and Alice (the little black terrier) and put it in the barn even though I was pretty sure it wouldn't live through the night. It lived. and healed and then that damn dog killed it. again. And more recently she killed our guinea who harassed the chickens tirelessly, and we called him Lucy, short for Lucifer. The thing is, Princess was supposed to be our farm dog that I could take with me everywhere, that didn't have an electronic shock collar, that didn't need to be in the fence. The guard dog. But she mostly lived her life tethered to a cable in the yard because she tried to kill the chickens and guineas. So she didn't get to live the life of privilege. But her and I were pretty bonded. I'm pretty heart-broken that we had to get rid of her. If I wanted to get rid of birds and just keep dogs, she could stay. But the way it stands, she can't stay. We want to have ducks and chickens and guineas. When we got Princess she was severely underweight. And she didn't really know what it was to just be loved. She is still scared of being beaten... we have never beaten her. But when she does something she knows is wrong, she will not come to me (or anyone else) out of fear. She trusted me. I feel rotten for abandoning her at the shelter. And the tears wouldn't come. Until I started talking about my depression and the constant missing of my Dad. I miss him so ridiculously much.