Kitten Cuddles (so she's not a kitten anymore....)

 Unconditional Love

Calm kitty cuddles overcoming calamity

giving my heart a much needed boost. 

Comfort and caring

for a beloved pet

to whom I am "mom."

Remembering the early days,

bottle feedings, snuggles and naps.

She holds my heart

in ways I didn't know

a furry friend could.

I've always loved the critters

but very few cross that abyss

and live in my heart in a way 

most of my pets do not. 

Purrs and perfection,

soft kitty fur

pressed against my skin,

as we snuggle and cuddle

and shut out the world.

Our time together is precious

putting perfect purrs in perspective.

-Carrie Horn

Forgiveness in a word, is never accomplished with a word.

 Forgiveness.

One little word.

Looms large.

Never small,

knowing that forgiveness 

is not a word at all! 

An act,

action,

gesture, 

event. 

Forgiveness requires

my heart to be humble,

and my contrition

to be complete. 

It is seldom a feeling,

but an ongoing

purge. 

Of hatred of old,

and resentments brand new,

that smolder and grow

and make life 

a messy goo.

I purge and I render 

my feelings 

all better,

different, brand new. 

But soon those old voices,

aches, and heartbrokenness

will build again.

I'll talk to God and tell him my plight

and how I forgive 

and that I've set things a'right.

But I know that the work

is never done. 

Forgiveness is a verb,

an action,

a battle won.

-Carrie Horn

I think the word I'm looking for is "Heavy"

 Heavy

like a box that has weights in it, 

or bags of chicken scratch and feed,

I carry this feeling with me.

It's been here all week.

I will call it grief.

Grief for a new friend,

I feel guilty that it hurts, 

because I didn't know her well.

Grief,

and relief,

for a family that I only know

in a small town way.

Guilt that I'm grateful

that it's not me

facing their walk,

their pain

their shame. 

Stigma...

I wish it weren't a word.

But especially in small town,

rural Kansas, 

it's definitely a word.

There is no shame,

but I feel it just the same,

when I face the crisis 

of supporting a child

that society doesn't understand.

or embrace. 

Heavy.

My heart is heavy

like a cold steel beam

facing the loss.

As if it weren't enough...

I remember

a man on a cross

dying slowly,

painfully,

because I am a selfish sinner.

Heavy.

The weight of the gift

is heavy.

My heart, 

dragging these feelings

is heavy.

I will lay it down today

so tomorrow I can remember

the joy

of my salvation.

Knowing that

these things, feelings, baggage,

are still 

heavy.

-Carrie Horn

WWJD?

 I know this isn't a religious forum. But lately everything in my life seems to be spiritual or political and usually with one affecting the other. I was raised to be a conservative, right-wing political and religious person. And I honestly believed that people who were different from me were going to hell. They are not "real" Christians. But as I have gained more information about myself, about the world, about politics, social class, and the beliefs that I hold dear, I am finding that I don't agree with my family and my younger self. I have some to the conclusion that "real" Christians follow the teachings of the new testament in the Bible. And Jesus and Paul both have a LOT to say about love and taking care of the poor and the downtrodden. Not so much to say about how "my" money shouldn't go to pay taxes or to take care of "those" people. Nothing that says that people will be led to Christ by my rants and rages and putting people down and making people feel scared or unsafe. Jesus example would lead me to believe that I should be non-aggressive even in the face of people who are trying to kill me. So the commonly held belief that people should: Hate the sin; Love the sinner by the way of excluding people from church, family, fellowship or by berating them or (someone I love, loves this option) writing them letters telling them to repent or they are going to hell seems to bass-ackward to me. 

Today is Transgender Day of Visibility. My decision to be an advocate and safe place for people who are different from me is especially important today. I am not telling you why, but that's okay. It is still important. One thing I'm learning is that I don't always have the right to tell someone else's story. And I don't have to explain myself in order for my reasons to be valid. They are just valid. 

So happy day of visibility. If I wonder what Jesus would do today in America, I'm confident he'd be giving free hugs to transgenders and other members of the queer community. He'd be going out to dinner with them, or playing a game with them, or hanging out with them, or just letting them know He was there for them. Not attaching that oh-so-important piece where we grade their life and judge and let them know they aren't welcome here because while we love them, we hate the sin. 

I believe that Jesus loves me. And that I want to give others the opportunity to know what that feels like. Because I'm far from a saint. Forgiveness and acceptance are components I deeply value. Jesus would be my friend, and he'd hang out with the people I hang out with. That's what I think Jesus would do. 

Suicide Prevention and a Rant....

 Kansas is in the throes of political and moral turmoil right now. Especially with this new gender law. People with their current gender affirming ID, no longer have a valid driver's license. I have a whole biblical rant about all this stuff too, but all I'm going to say is this, if you come at me about what God says in the bible, make sure you can back it up and that you educate me, not throw shade. But that is a little off topic.... which is kind of how I live, especially since the cost of my ADHD med just went up by $300/month. 

Saturday my daughter participated in a Suicide Prevention Event in another town. We drove an hour and a half to get there to discover that we were one of three vendors. But it was for a good cause and there was no booth fee. So not a total loss, right? 

Set up just across the way from us was Kris Kobach. I was stunned. Kobach has consistently opposed LGBTQ rights, and Transgender rights. What does this have to do with suicide prevention? Did you know that in 2024 the Trevor Project surveyed the LGBTQ community and found that 39% of the LGBTQ+ community have seriously considered suicide in the past year and 46% of the Transgender population have considered it. Kobach has also opposed funding for mental health services, which is a direct hit against suicide prevention from where I'm sitting. or Standing. 

It's kind of blurry and that's okay, because it 
isn't the ladies fault that Kobach is a liar.

I really wanted to go over and ask the lady why the booth was even there. But when I went to the next table over, I heard her talking to someone and she doesn't actually work for Kobach. She probably genuinely thought she was being proactive in Suicide Prevention. So I clamped my lips shut. And that was super hard. I wanted to call out Kobach for his two-facedness. But I know it wouldn't actually affect Kobach. 

The great things at this event included the educational materials that were available for free, the PRIDE booth that was manned by a very informative individual who provided solid information for someone with limited knowledge of gender indentities such as myself. We connected to people personally affected by losing someone to suicide. 

Now, what are the next steps? How do I become an advocate in my community and let kids/adults/all peoples know that this is a safe space and they can talk through their fears, anxieties and disappointments with us? 

I know that God made my LGBTQ+ friends and family. And I know that God loves me. My job isn't to judge. It's to give hope. 

Sometimes You (by you I mean me) Need to Bang Your Head...

 Tonight was unwinding as a pretty chill Saturday evening. I was making a queso dip with beans in it, like Chili's skillet queso. It was coming along nicely and I was pretty excited about sitting down to eat and spending time hanging out with my kids. I had this little bit of mozzerella left over in the fridge and it needed to be used up, so I started to cube it up and throw it in the skillet. But then I got busted doing that thing you're not supposed to do (holding the object you are cutting and cutting toward your skin). And after bleeding through 4 or 5 bandaids in an hour, I thought maybe it warranted a trip to the ER. So me and the eldest took off toward the town with the better ER. We listened to music and talked about the good music (in the 80's) and talked about life. And laughed. Apparently we'd each stressed over this cut and the adrenaline rush made us funny. Or we thought so. And let's be perfectly honest here, we usually think we're funny. But we were giggly goofy. So we get checked in, and the nurse calls us back, and cleans my cut and wraps it in gauze and tells me to keep pressure on it. So I do. And soon enough the Nurse Practitioner comes and looks and says "It's closed itself off, you just need a bandaid. You're good to go..." We giggled some more. And signed dismissal papers. 

All the way home we jammed to some rock and talked. Some talk was serious. Some not. But as we turned onto our road, we were mid conversation when Whitesnake came on the radio. My long time anthem, "Here I Go Again..." Therefore, it is forbidden to talk during the song. And said child felt the need to fuck with the radio. She kept turning it off or changing the station. So after a not-so-idle threat to let her walk the rest of the way in the dark with the coyotes as her companions, she stopped and I was free to crank it up and head bang. Still bangin' as we pulled into our drive. Child gets out. I had to leave the car running so I wouldn't miss anything. But the trees seemed to interfere with the reception, so a little backing up was necessary. Child is watching and laughing. Just Mom, going for a cruise, banging her head to her 80's rock. 

Now that the head banging has commenced. All is right with the world again. Rock on my friends. Rock on. 

So much I don't know

 I could say this about anything in life really. That there's so much I don't know. But tonight I'm referring to sourdough bread making. There is a certain thought that the dough will be forgiving. That it's not rocket science. But a lot of the posts and comments say that it is rocket science. That it is precise and you (me) have no margin for error. 

Is my room/house too cold? What if it doesn't rise or double? What if it does? What do I do with the discard (besides discarding it)? 

Tonight I'm drifting off as I try to think of what I want to write about and I have this sinking feeling I'm forgetting something important. Nah.... you're just worried about.... oh crap! You're worried about those jars of bread you managed to forget about on the countertop. 

oh no.

I guess time will tell. If it's forgiving or harsh. I'm off to see if I can rescue it.