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Disappointment
When I came to America, twenty something years ago, I learned quickly a few things. Although I was aware of certain corruptions, the day to day business was done in a fair way, by regular folks that took pride in their work or hoped to get ahead providing great service. To a certain degree, that’s still happening but the crumbs of destruction are more visible- like the appliance delivery service, who turned from sad to down right pathetic.
Since Trump vs Hillary fiasco, America is shown it’s real colors and the people “came out of their closets”. Such hateful organizations or religious movements as: The Nazi party, Antifa, White Supremacy- and the list gets too long to bother- were not born right after Trump became president. These beliefs, because that’s what they really are, existed long before Trump became president, lurking in the background, some of them behind nice facades, but just as dangerous and diseased at the core. When sweet old ladies start talking about assassinating a certain president with such hatred you don’t seem to recognize them any longer, I loose a certain amount of trust towards them. Such hatred. It seems most people -around where I live, at least- favor one party above the other, which is to be expected for this area. But there is no tolerance against the one who may differ in opinion and that’s dangerous. Same goes for any adverse political parties. This is not a blog about one party is better than the other, but I can tell you one thing for sure, from my perspective: the party that thought themselves bright, tolerant and so very loving are far from that.
I used to have a sense of pride being part American, but lately…I’m only saddened. It’s sad to see how everyone’s exposing their garbage, proudly. Trump had it’s own pile of garbage before he became president, so did Hilary, and so do I, and so do you. What happened to focusing on our higher calling?
Seeing today’s clearly biased referee calls against Seahawks, was frustrating. How can one team be okay winning or loosing under such shady penalty calls? Let one win or loose on their honest efforts.
There once was a dream and people had a vision. Let’s dream again.
God Bless:)
Cine ti-a zis?
Cine ti-a zis ca nu esti bun? Cine ti-a zis ca nu ai valoare?
Parinte, profesor, invatator, coleg, vecin, dusman sau prieten fatarnic? Cine ti-a zis tie ca nu ai valoare ca om?
Este adevar in vorbele lor? Dumnezeu, cind te-a format, inainte de a te trimite pe pamant prin pintecele mamei tale, a zimbit, adaugand ingrediente frumoase cu caracter bun. De fiecare data cind cineva de pe pamant te-a ranit, schimbandu-ti characterul original format de Bunul Dumnezeu, El plingea cu durere de durerea ta. Lacrimile tale erau cele mai dureroase unelte folosite de diavol impotriva Lui. Lupta de pe pamant este provocata de diavol, si el foloseste copii Lui sa-l raneasca adinc in suflet. Dar noi, cind ne aduce-mi aminte de fapt a cui sintem si ce valoare originala avem, stam de partea Tatalui Nostru Ceresc, fara nici o indoiala. Adu-ti aminte caracterul original pus in tine- cu ajutorul lui Dumnezeu- si nu lasa cel rau sa uiti cine esti. Copilul lui Dumnezeu iubit la infinit:))))
Doamne multumim:)
The White Canvas
About seven years ago, while in front of my sink doing the mundane chore of washing dishes, I heard God. He chose that setting intentionally, to counteract the curse this mundane chore took upon itself.
“No matter how good you are you’ll aways end up in front of pots and pans, so don’t bother trying anything else.” These were the words of my mother, spoken in a moment of personal weakness and pain. But I took it as scripture and hated this mundane task ever since. It mocked my potential, reminding me I was nothing more than a dishwasher.
God chose this setting intentionally to speak to me for a season, raising in me a desire to wash dishes.
“You must forgive, Carmen.” Easy said. The people who brought pain in my life are not worthy of my forgiveness, I thought.
“You must forgive. You must leave the past behind.” What is the past? A day? A month? A year?
“Every second that moves from present to past is your past.” A shiver ran down my spine. I began understanding something new, something powerful, but I needed assurance more than I needed a further explanation. I believe when we need further explanation, in fact, we simply need further assurance in the form of a repetitive pattern of hearing something good. Bad, we seem to accept right away, many times without investigating the source and their intention. Like all wounded human being I needed that assurance.
“Every second you live is your present, every second past that is your past.” The repetition was necessary and welcomed. I pondered amazed. This is too good to be true, I thought.
“Carmen, with every present second the canvas of your life starts white. You decide the pattern and colors of your life. You no longer have to drag the mucky colors of your past into the new canvas. Leave it behind. I made it possible for you. You can start new every second of your life. How do you want your canvas of life to look now?” Tears ran down my face as I slowly absorbed the unbelievably great news. I had the freedom provided by Jesus to start new every second. I didn’t need to bring the ugly of the past, which was weighing me down so much, into my new canvas. I had billions of chances and billions of white canvasses to paint my life the way I wanted it to be and not the way others tried to manipulate me into painting it. I was free to choose. Free of past, free of pain, free of guilt, free of fear, free of bitterness, free of insecurity and the list kept going. How do I want my new canvas to look like now? So many possibilities! All so very wonderful! A new beginning with every breath of my life.
How about you? How do you want your canvas to look like? You have a new start with every breath of your life:) Think of the fantastic possilities. No more hold backs, no more past to drag you down. Just paint! Use the beautiful colors and smile while you decide the look of your canvas:)))))
God Bless:)
The Ash
Today I woke up to ash falling outside like soft snow, in Seattle. My patio is covered in ash, my furniture inside has a thin ash layer and the smoke smell is quite heavy. Despite the predicted 94 F temperature, it was smoggy with a dark orange glow troughout the day, temperatures hitting only 84F. I can’t close the windows because it’s too hot and we sneeze and pray for rain. This is the second smoke wave, first one came from Canada’s fires and today from the Oregon and northers Washington fires. During Canada’s fires we woke up to what looked like heavy fog that lasted a good three-four days. The Oregon fires brought on the ash and the orange glow in the air, and Chet began sneezing, the kids closed their windows preferring a stuffy room over the ash in the air and all over their furniture.
I think and pray for the people close to it all. All I have to endure is a layer of ash and a foul smell, while others had endured far more.
God, bring on the rain.
Nourishment
A week of food deprivation took it’s tool on the body as I laid in bed shivering, frail and faint.
Why didn’t I eat this week? Was it laziness? Was it ignorence? What was it?
The knock on the door only irritated me further. It took all my remaining strength to get up and answer the door. I squinted my eye from the pain the light reflecting through the window gave me. A UPS guy stood in front of my door. A huge box sat next to him.
“Sighn here, please.” I signed. The unexpected blow come from my left and I fell down too weak to get up as he hit me over and over leaving behind broken bones, gashes with fresh blood dripping all over my bruised and semiconscious self. Then he leaves. I lift my fist in utter bitterness and anger.
“Where is my neighbor when I really need them? Where is everyone? Can’t they see I’m hurting here?” The UPS left, not bothering to bring the big box inside the house. Now I’m left struggling with the box and cursing all the people, so called friends, too selfish to come and help me.
This is a fictional story, based on something God tried to help me understand. When we choose not to feed ourselves regularly -everyone eats a different amount of food and their diets are different than yours- you weaken and are easy prey to the unforeseen battle ahead. Same with soul/spiritual nourishment. If we don’t regularly feed ourselves -encouragement, pozitive thoughts and faith (in God in my case), we’re left just as weak and vulnerable as the example given, and simple tasks- like lifting a heavy box- became overwhelmingly frustrating. To blame God or other’s for us freely choosing not to nourish ourselves is just as ridiculous as the example given. Stop over-spiritualizing -myself included- our actions or lack there of. We must take responsibility for our actions. More times than not, we suffer from being unprepared.
God bless:)
Time to be
Is Now.
Happy B-day Michael Jackson!
Yesterday, Michael would’ve turned 59 years old.
I remember listening to Michael’s songs from a few neighbor’s boom box speakers, usually blasting loudly from a window ledge while the boom box rolled a cassette tape slowly in one mesmerizing circle letting out beautiful sounds. But for a girl like me, it was the safest way of listening to secular music-called the devil’s music by my father- without getting in trouble. To me, that devil’s music had a happy beat and made your body want to celebrate all day long- a stark comparison to the sad, serious and at times dreary music I heard in church. Being a teenager made Michael’s music that much more desirable. Not speaking English I really botched up the words, only to realize that mistake once my English improved greatly, here in America.
To me, Michael’s music will always remain on the “Top artists” category in my heart, with songs like: Billie Jean, Beat It, Bad, Man in the Mirror, Heal the World, Earth Song, They Don’t Really Care About Us and my favorite Black or White.
What a world we live in today. What a world I lived in yesterday. Why not heal the world? Why not heal the planet? Why bother with the color of our skin while completely ignoring the color of our hearts? I’ve seen pain. I’ve lived pain. I’ve went to the groceries with pain. I’ve joked with pain. I’ve eaten pain. I’ve looked in its eyes and it looked back at me. I saw it’s questions. I saw its despair. I saw its innocent victims. Nothing like the stupid causes I see today screamed out of overly spoiled and bored minds with too many privileges in their laps, causes linked dangerously close to Marxism and Communism, both systems from which tables I actually ate, a poor meal of poisoned foods well frosted with cruelty while void of human value.
Michael’s music videos speak a massage far stronger than most protests done on our streets. His style is uniquely genius. When I watch the “Black or White” music video I smile. There is a beauty- unless blind to it- in our differences. But hateful people choose to see potential dangers in this differences- most of the time dangers real only in one’s hateful and fearful mind- and act in the most cruel of way against its own kind.
Instead screaming your rights -and some are just down right ridiculous and silly issues- why not look around and see who’s in pain and do something! The world is tired of our opinions while starving for our mercy manifested in the action of love. Start with the Man in the Mirror and change will inevitably come. And stop giving power to hateful people with dark and empty souls.
Let’s start helping the ones in pain and we’ll start healing ourselves that way.
God bless:)
Romanii intre Romani in Strainatate
Mi sa adus la cunostinta azi un subiect interesant de fratele meu, Flesh, care este redactor la emisiunea: Radio Timisoara Vocea Evangheliei sau rve-timisoara.ro, la ora 8am, ora Romaniei.
“De ce fug romanii de romani cind sint in strainatate?” Citeva interviuri audio cu pareri bazate pe experiente personale a citorva din fratii si surorile mele printre care si a lui Michelle, nemtoica cu singe de roman, fata fratelui meu Sergiu. Este un subiect interesant din punctul meu de vedere, cu multe opinii:) In general eu am avut de aface cu romani cumsecade aici in America.
Interviurile sint cu Alin Damean, Michelle Damean, Delia Damean (Mal), Sergiu Damean si Carmen McKnight (Damean).
Auditie placuta:)
Voi reveni in viitor cu mai multe interviuri. Parerile voastre sint bine venite prin audio file:)
O zi buna tuturor Romanilor:)
Steaua si Dinamo
In anii 1987-1993, cind eram copil, ne unitam mult la fotbal, adica echipa Steaua, care era stiuta ca echipa oamenilor de rind- sau cum Leo fratele meu zice “a oamenilor normali, usor fericiti si mereu ragusiti”. Dinamo, pe de alta parte, sau “ciinii rosii” era echipa “comunistilor, securistilor si oamenilor la care le placea tortura” ca sa cotez iara pe fratele meu, Leo:)
Zilele cind Gigi Hagi era admirat mult, si galeriile se auzeau print tot cartierul in timpul unui meci televizat au fost frumoase:) Eu preferam pe Belodedici- slabiciuni de adolescent- dar Duckadam mi-a umplut inima de respect. Am decenit portarita la meciurile noastre din fata blocului sau la scoala in clasa de sport datorita, lui Duckadam:)
Odata ajunsa in America, am realizat diferenta de bogatie intre un atlet in America si unul in Romania pe timpul “epocii de aur”. Diferenta mare. Dar imi aduc aminte cu drag, galeriile familiei si dicutii ca de exemplu: “Eu tin cu Hagi! Eu cu Lacatus! Eu cu Piturca!” Eu cu Belodedici. Gindeam eu in sinea mea cu zimbetul pe buze:)
Ma gindesc ca si voi ati avut jucatorii vostrii preferati, si va aduce-ti aminte cu drag de zilele glorioase a echipei de fotbal, Steaua.
P.S. Dinamo in loc a practica tactici se ocupa de mismasuri impotriva echipei Steaua.
O zi buna va doresc si multe binecuvintari de la Bunul Dumnezeu:)
Journey 