The Accusation

“You’re possessed by demons!” The critical eyes on the other side of this accusation always turned out to be trouble makers within the Christian circle with a very poor example of their own personal lives. Despite me being aware of that obvious fact, I blinked, taken a back by such a bold insult packaged as a statement. My heart got hit, yet again. Can it be true? The doubt sneaked in inevitably.

Why does this particular accusation bothers me- besides the obvious reason; who wants to be tolled they have demons?- and creates such unease within my soul? I’ve meditated on these words many times while asking God for his advise.

Conclusion: While growing up, my siblings and I were called “devil’s children” or “piu de drac” in the Romanian language, regularly. Our role- according to our accuser- was to torment him. That wasn’t very nice and I’ve tried to break away from such a stigma for years. I’ve succeeded only recently, right after God tolled me to look at the evidence- an evidence between how God treated me during the course of my life versus my accuser. The evidence speaks for itself and I no longer need to worry about a lie, passed around with such ease while leaving behind such damage.

Let me ask you this: What person full of the true spirit of God, would say something like this in your weakest of moments (first one was during my first pregnancy and the second was during these past four years while fighting a diagnosed disease). Only a hurt person would hurt another. Religion, hate, pain and misery would speak out such things while the true spirit of God brings you comfort in your weakness.

Some of you know what I’m talking about. You’ve hurt because of such accusations done in hate against you and excused by religious beliefs.

I do believe in being attacked, as we all are either by disease, disappointment, fear, anger, etc and if not resolved it turns chronic. But when “help” comes with a big dose of guilt, condemnation, accusation and down right hate, it no longer falls in the category of help. And when you’re already fighting a battle you don’t need sand in your eyes.

Thank God for healthy friends, like Chet, Elizabeth, Natalya, Gabi, Lynn, other American friends, my brothers and sisters, my Romanian friends and my family here in America,,, thank God for so many of you, full of love, that outnumbered the other ones. I hope you’re all doing well:)

God Bless:)

My first hi tops

Back in the 90’s in Romania-1991 to be precise- while in 11th grade, the town was hit- probably an American famous pop singer brought it about- by a new fashion must; white hi tops sneakers.

Like any respectable poor person -not sure what’s respectable about being poor:)- I dreamed of having a pair but lacked the money to purchase such an outrageous item -the cost was two months of a laborer’s paycheck. Food was much higher on the priority list than some silly notion of fashion-I knew, if I asked my parents for a pair, their answers would be along those lines. So I had to take matters in my own hands; after all a poor young girl can only forgo so many earthy pleasures before resenting her social status; and I was way past that level.

After the revolution of 1989, where communism supposedly fell- only to be replaced by the same corrupted politicians wearing hats with different political agendas- my family began receiving packages of clothing and food- a perk for being poor. Most of the clothes were of a “worldly style”, meaning too racey (sexy) for our conservative Christian life style, so I sold them to my classmates who seemed to love such style. (I loved some of those clothes too, but I would’ve been blue and purple if my father caught me wearing them). It was the two gold necklaces that I sold who brought me real dough. I purchased food and my favorite (and only) new pair of shoes as far back as I remembered. I admired those white beauties for a long time, too afraid to get them dirty. Eventually I put them on and walked, chest high, all over town. Yes, I did get a few looks of envy and admiration, which was all so worth it. The first crack -after only 15 minutes of wear- was the most painful rip through my heart. By the time I go home there were big cracks on top. Pieces of fake junk. Bought them directly from a store but that held no guarantee of quality for any client. Well, I felt foolish, sad and still loving those sneakers but soon after, I had to throw them in the trash -a sad day full of mournful thoughts and a plan to learn the difference between real leather and the plastic fakes. I still remember those nice pairs of hi tops -never bought another one- and for a few days I felt as rich as everyone else in town, a feeling well worth all that trouble:)