Father's Day: Dear Dad

 Dear Dad:

Today I miss you incredibly much. I joke about today being my day since my kids's dads were not really present and for the most part I played the role of mom and dad. But you were there. Not always. Not maybe to Mom's hopes and expectations, but you were part of my life. You were my shelter, my saving grace, a safe place in the chaos. 

I miss you more I can express. I miss your smile, and that twinkle in your eye. I miss you saying... "hello Sweetheart!" or "Carrie.... it's your Pop-oh!" or at the end, the last year or so... "you're one of my dolls..." or "Awww, you doll." I miss your hugs, and little peck on the forehead or even sometimes on the lip. Just a quick peck. Not a weird thing. 

To say I miss you is so small in comparison to these feelings. My life has been forever changed. There's life before Dad died, and life after. They are not the same. 

I love you and miss you. 

Carrie Lynnerskinner

Dad and I at Guymon Pioneer Days Rodeo 2013

Jesus was a Socialist

 A lot of bible-thumping, right-winging, conservatives seem to think that their way is the only way to heaven. And, of course, it is the American Way. These conservatives, who don't want anyone to tell them what to do with their religion, sure think they should judge everyone else. One of the things I've heard a lot of times thorugh this transition from right to left, is how Democrats are just Socialists in diguise. And socialism seems to be the mortal enemy here. I know I was taught how terrible it is. And in all honesty, I don't think that is works. Because people are flawed. And greedy. and power-hungry. But the idea that I should/could/would share whatever I have or whatever skill I excel at in order to help another fellow human who is lacking, that is what I understand to the be the basic premise of socialism. Is this right? Is my understanding accurate? Because this concept is how I undersand Christianity to be. And we've been told to take care of other Christians and to make our church our community. I seldom actually see that. And when I do, it is often connected with some form of a cult-religion. And I don't want to be part of the cult mentality. 

But when I think about socialism, living in community, and serving Jesus, I think it falls under the unbrella of Socialism. Of course, I often discover that I have these ideas in my head of what something is, and reality is something different. So I may go off on this tangent only to get educated in the future and say.... "oh, I was really wrong back then..." 

But I'm tired of people getting mad a those christians who are pursuing Christ and also practicing sharing what they have with people in need. I'm tired of hearing this is wrong because it is the dreaded Socialism. I'm just at the point where I'm annoyed with it. 

Jesus would have given me the fruit of his labor. He would have said, "hey, come on in to my garden and grab the groceries you need...." And when someone comes and asks, "Jesus would you help me build something, I know you are a carpenter..." I can only imagine he would say yes.  

I see people doing some of this in the world today. Not usually from the right-wing church. I see it in gossip groups on Facebook, people helping people in need with no expectation of pay back. I see it on Helping groups and pages on social media. Also with no expectation of payback. 

I'm sad that it is more common to see strangers helping strangers than friends taking care of friends. Or really what I mean, the church taking care of the church. and the unchurched. The people Jesus told us to take care of... widows, orphans, homeless, poor, and immigrants. 

Okay, my rant is over for tonight. I'm tired. I purged my soul and spit it out so it will not haunt me all night in my sleep, so I don't lay in my bed thinking that Jesus acts like a Socialist. And having the urge the shout, "Jesus would help others whenever he had extra, or maybe even if he didn't, he'd still share all he had!" 

I don't honestly think Jesus fits any political or social perameters. He's Jesus. He's not a democrat, republican, Libertarian, socialist, communist, etc. These are governmental inventions we made. Humans. And Jesus is not of human origin. He has heavenly realms at his fingertips. But this is another whole post. 

 

Slice of Life Tuesday

 Tuesday is here again. An opportunity to share my posts with a community of writers and readers and to comment and grow. There are some of my favorite things in life.

My slice today starts off being about baby goats. We've been waiting and waiting and waiting. The first possible due date was early May, like May 7. My daughter has been posting pregnant goat updates everyday for nearly a month. Sunday evening at feeding time, my oldest goes to fill waters for animals and suddenly calls out: "There's a kid in here!" and before we can get in there to see for ourselves, she yells, "There's another one!" We were so excited. After all that waiting. 

Yesterday we are outside, letting new-to-us bunnies play outside and eat a little grass. I look up. I see our other goat who's due to kid, and then I see the kid next to her. Then the other one! Both our does kidded within 24 hours of each other! We are so smitten! 

This morning I had the responsibility of helping get mommas on the milk stand, getting kids outside to play in the grass and later, getting them put back away. What a privilege to "have" to be responsible for these things! And we have the cutest kids ever! 

So this was how I started my day. In spite of being sore and tired from my little dog Maddie being terrified of the thunder and lightening in the night, keeping me up and forcing me to sleep in the living room, not in my bed (sadness...), it was a pretty awesome start to my day. 

baby girl... she might be a keeper!

Sweet baby boy

Ivy is a great Mom! She nudges them toward the udder, 
she keep them clean, keeps watch over them, and talks to them. 

Poppie is a pretty good mother too... she is feeding them, 
and is very protective of them, headbutting the cats and 
other kids if they get too close! I don't have as many pics of these guys yet.
They are both boys. 

To read other slices of life, click on the image. 

Why PRIDE matters to me

 Staring at the page... wondering where it all went. The ideas. I had a million and one ideas. Now I have none. I know something I want to write about, but I'm scared. Scared because sometimes when I get off on a tare I get mean. Scared because I have said this stuff before. Scared because God is telling me some things lately and they are not really pleasant. Like how the insanely high standards that I apply to everyone else in my life, need to apply to me as well. Yuck. I just read something on facebook about "tone it down" and it didn't really apply, and yet it spoke to me. I don't want to tone it down if it is something I'm passionate about. And yet I know that I listen to people who are passionate, but not assholes. 

So anyways... here goes. 

Why does PRIDE matter? 

I mean, there's a plethora of fundametalists in my life that are ready to attack. To talk about how disgusting it is and how it is an abonination to God and blah, blah, blah.... Christian Nationalists is a label that fits well here. I also hate that. I hate that so many people that I love dearly fit the Christian Nationalist sect. 

But here is why pride matters. I can't say I love these people and then mock them and shame them. With love, comes respect. Enough respect for the human being to treat them like they are intelligent and valued. Do I think everything LGBTQ+ aligns with biblical principals? Eh, maybe not. But I think that there is a LOT of my life, habits, daily routines, actions, don't "pass" on a biblical level. I know I'm covered by grace. See where I'm going? If I am covered by grace, why wouldn't my LGBTQ+ friends and family be covered as well. Well, because, if I'm honest here, in America, we skew the rules to match our white supremist system. Ouch. You know, I know that every day I experience privilege because I'm a white person. With a big vocabulary. And believe it or not, that wordist shit matters. But I digress... 

Isn't the goal of Christianity, of striving to live like Jesus asks me to, to reach other human beings and bringing them into the fold? "Love the Lord, your God with all your heart" and "Love your neighbor as yourself..." Even in the middle of a bunch of self-loathing and self-sabotage, I still "love myself" and give myself a pass for a lot of things. Behaviors. "I couldn't help it," "I didn't know better," "I'm doing the best I can with what I have to work with..." and so on. Jesus didn't ask me this. Jesus said, the greatest commandments are (paraphrasing here)... "Love God" and "Love your neighbor." Know why? Because if I do those things, actually do those things, I'll cover all those other things that God wants from me. If I love God, I'll respect him and do what he asks. If I love my neighbor, I'll accept them, even if they look, love, sound different from me. 

God loves my LGBTQ+ people. God love everyone. He is not American. And I am not his favorite. 

This is the short list as to why I celebrate PRIDE. I don't want my friends and family to think no one loves them and maybe suicide is the answer. I don't want them to think that if Christians don't love them, God doesn't love them. This weird American thing where we think we can hate and bully someone into feeling loved is beyond me. I know it didn't work on me (yes, I'm straight, but always the outcast). I didn't feel loved and I didn't feel motivated to "fit in." I just felt more outcast and more alone. I felt determined to never be like the people who tried to pressure me to be worthy of their love.

Slice of Life Tuesday: Memorial Day and Memories

Today is a Monday on a Tuesday. With yesterday being a holiday. 

Yesterday we took a moment to honor family who have passed on. My Dad, who did not pass away in combat, but who was a veteran. And my grandparents and my "real" grandma. Of course, my grandma was my real grandma, but my dad's mom died when he was 8. 8?! What a burden to carry. Or lay down, but I think mostly he carried it, tucked away deep inside his soul. 

 Anyway.... we had a quick visit to the cemetary yesterday evening and put some things on Dad's grave and visited the others. There is so much history in that cemetary. The Loewens, and Sudermans, and Hieberts, and Penners. And Leppkes. and more. But these are names that overwhelmingly fill the cemetary, and bring up memories of childhood. 

I wanted to stop and talk to Dad a little. But.... too many people. 

So I just acted like I was fine with simply decorating his grave a little and moving on. Shame on me for acting as if. But that's what my family does. We act as if we are fine when indeed, we are not. 

I remembered Dad and all the many times we went to the pond to fish on Memorial day. And times when he sacrificed his opportunity to fish in order to put the worm on the hook and take the fish off the hook and ride kids around on the 4 wheeler and prepare the fire for us to cook our hotdogs. 

Earlier in the weekend, we took part in a craft show to sell my daughter's crocheted stuffies, otherwise known as amigurumis. During this show, they played a lot of music featuring "America." America the Beautiful; the Star Spangled Banner; Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue; Proud to Be an American; and more. Many songs that made me think of my Dad, his patriotism, his love of our country and our state, and his pride in his citizenship, and probably in his service. 

Though he went into the Navy as a pacifist, and pursued things that would only involve peace, much of the community/church etc., did not appreciate that someone of a faith of pacifism served in the armed forces. We didn't really talk about his service until I was fortyish. When I became a teacher. But the American Legion did place a nice flag at his headstone and he had a lovely tribute from the Navy (?) at his funeral. They played taps, and ceremoniously gave him a flag. It was very cool. 

Memories. I'm flooded with memories. The good kind. I'm so glad there's so much to remember and so much GOOD in my dad. 

Dad's headstone. The flag was placed for his service. And we brought the rest. 

Grandpa and Grandma Suderman's headstone.

My Grandma that I never knew, this is her headstone. My Dad's mom, 
who passed away when he was a child. 

A poem of solace discovered

 This Space

Who is that? 

Chittering in the tree? 

I cannot see. 

It's not the cardinal 

or the robin

whose song I'm well familiar with.

I catch a glimpse

from the corner of my eye 

of movement on the sidewalk.

A toad.

Or maybe a frog.

I will only know for sure

if it rains a lot and I hear their song.

Currently I hear

the wind rushing through the green,

the trees, the grass, the newly headed wheat. 

I smell rain

though the sun is bright and the clouds are high.

No foretelling

of disaster to come. 

the calming drum

of the woodpecker

drilling away 

as he seeks to build his home.

Quiet chirps of all types of birds.

And always the rustling of the wind.

Calling me. 

Reminding me.

This is home.

-Carrie Horn

5/18/26

Love of Poetry

Poetry...

one of my passions;

a necessary evil,

a source of joy.

Part of daily survival 

for me.

Like rain to the crops

and hydration to my body,

poetry is a life substance. 

It inspires me

purges me

gives me  courage, strength: a voice.

A voice to shout

to whisper

to tell my story.

To rant and rage, 

to build my case. 

Poetry gives me purpose,

rights some mysterious wrong,

some feeling I can't quite touch.

Poetry gives me a voice,

reason,

a way to purge my thoughts. 

There's a beauty,

a majesty, 

a sense of certainty,

that lives in poems.

I hope the world can read

my emotion

floating 

between the lines,

in the breaths, 

the beating of my heart,

my passions....

my convictions,

my causes,

and quiet certainties. 

Poetry.... 

expressions of my soul.

-Carrie Horn

5/16/26