Why did I march in BLM?

As Chet and I began marching along side thousands of silent protesters yesterday, Friday June 12th 2020, here in Seattle, I asked myself one very important questions: Why am I marching?

Fake news is not to be trusted and there’s nothing better than being present and see first hand what’s really happening, historically, in America today. The march was mostly attended by white people, it was peaceful if you exclude some of the hateful signs and the rainy-cold weather was something I could handle. (Due to sound sensitivity the silence was why I could be there and the weather was another plus.) I felt healthy and strong enough to be there, but the other reasons I was there are explained in the sentences below.

There’s two sides to every coin.

Back in 1993, when I stepped foot for the first time on American soil as a legal alien with no rights to vote and an American husband by my side I saw for the second time in my life black people in real life (it was my first time for Asians, Mexicans, Indians and Samoans) and I marveled thinking: I can’t believe how imaginative God can be in his masterful work. I never, not for one second considered myself superior. In fact it may have been the opposite- the communistic propaganda learned over the years does not drop off you just because you stepped across another country’s border- for you see I was tolled by the system, mostly in school, that I was an inferior human being for two reasons: I was a woman and I was a christian. But I digress.

Since that day in 1993 I’ve had many black friends, mostly women, and I loved hanging out with them, seeing nothing but a human being on the other side of my conversation and friendship. I like to give my mother full credit for that. She raised us, the Damean kids, to believe that every human being is God’s child, created equally and equally important. (You see, back during communism times when I was only nine years old or so, my parents hid in our small apartment an African missionary. If caught by the communist party they would’ve faced jail or worse- be put to death. All their christian friends were too afraid to take the poor man in but not my mother. Not my mother! Who I believe to be the strongest human being I’ve even met. She not only took this wonderful man in, fed him and sheltered him, but along the years took many street children in, if only for a day, bathed them, fed them, and clothed them. Her heart always had room for those in need and she saw everyone as God’s children, some marginalized by society.) Thus I grew up, along my siblings, eating at the same table with those rejected by society be that an African man or the poor or the rejected children living on the street. My mother thought us that all people were God’s children and we should take care of them, not harm them. So you see one of the reason for marching it has to do with my upbringing and seeing other people (not color), suffer. I marched because I understand suffering.

Now, time passed since 1993 and about five years ago I was startled by a black man. (It was not his fault. I was suffering the neurological consequences Lyme disease and its complications brought in my life at the time. The poor man apologized deeply even thought he was not in the wrong.) That’s when I also realized for the first time that a part of me was also scared of him, part of that fear was associated with Lyme disease the other part was associated …with what exactly? What changed in me since 1993? I took time and pondered on this, sorting time and memories to find the answer. It came down to two culprits: media and a close American relative who on numerous occasions showed fear and spoke that fear out loud while I was around, warning me of hidden dangers I never thought about.

Loving and recognizing that all of humanity are God’s children created no fear in my heart, but suspicion and prejudice did. I was not aware of the American history on race until I came here and learned it. But the media fueled what once used to be and no longer needed to be repeated. Communism used media to control people’s minds and separate them. By separating us it’s easy to conquer us. So I marched because I refuse to allow the lying media separate us.

Since my future son-in-law is part black this hits even closer to home for us. He’s an extraordinary young man and I see thought his silent eyes some of the struggles he’s had to endure. I also hear loud and clear the grace and forgiveness his heart constantly bestows on those who wronged him. I see God in him, I see Jesus’s example in action. It’s very healing and so human. I marched in the thunderous silence for those wonderful human beings who lost their lives while innocent, or less perfect, because of expressed hatred.

While marching I thought of all those suffering from lyme disease or other horrible illness which leave them disabled and stuck in their bed or behind closed doors too fatigue or ill to march alongside me. I thought of you and your desire to come along if only the frail body would allow it. I like to think I represented you in that march.

Here comes the other side of the coin, the conflicting part within myself.

I do not believe in the politicized version of Black Life Matter movement, you know that part which expresses anger and hate by destroying other people’s hard earned livelihood.

I do not believe in police defunding. Why? They follow orders from higher up; it’s the politicians who give the orders of how the society should be run. If I believe in defunding anyone, and I do, I believe in defunding the crooked politicians with hidden agendas and their megaphone puppets we know as “media”. They are the ones that made me aware of racism, not God. (Here I don’t add the misguided people who speak in the name of God spreading hate meanwhile seriously disconnected from Jesus’s message. For Jesus did’t die on the cross for white, rich people that believe only a certain denomination is “the right one” he died for all, including those who hated him and didn’t believe in him.)

In conclusion, I’m not sure if I helped anyone by writing this blog, or if I’ve simply added to the pile of opinions out there irrelevant in some manner, but I do stand for one thing: All people (be them nice or not) were made in the image of God and all are his children and if every single one of us really believed that we would not have marches of any kind because we’d be too busy living peacefully among ourselves.

God help us see that.

Amen.

Our world and its influence on us

As you can see from the pictures below, we’re living in a bubble during the following renovations months.IMG_3392IMG_3485-1E2F020C0-7348-405B-BDA7-3606DA812B47

Due to asbestos and lead findings in the windows seals, the whole building, along with all the windows, has been fully wrapped in a protective white plastic sheet. At least it’s not black:) Even though it’s suffocating and unpleasant at least is a temporary inconvenience. In comparison to other people’s lives who have been ripped apart by all sorts of tragedies, this inconvenience is minuscule. So I’m greatful.

I find myself outdoors taking daily walks and on such walks, sometimes, I bond with neighbors. This morning I was talking to a retired female who used to work for the Post Office and lived in Seattle, where she was also born, most of her life. There were a few years back in the old days spent in Canada when she used to be married to her first husband, who happened to be a Canadian. She liked living there, mostly but found herself frustrated over a few of the socialistic perks, specifically health care. While talking about this and that she turned the conversation towards the politics. I understood the temptation since we just had mid-term elections on the 6th of November. I could swear that suddenly I was talking to my in-laws. She used the same terminologies and verbiage, the same quotes and so on. The thing is, my in-laws and this woman never met, to my knowledge, yet her words were eerily similar if not verbatim to those of my-in-laws when it came to her political point of view. I walked away knowing such verbiage was learned from TV news reports or newspaper articles, which reminded me how powerful the media is in shaping people’s minds. And that gives me a lot to ponder on regarding my personal thoughts and beliefs which I constantly evaluate and re-evaluate and change when needed because inevitably our world has an influence on us.

On a personal note, I have a part-time job now and it feels fantastic to get back into the swing of things. I’ve joined a book club as well and being part of the community around me is good not only for the soul but for the body as well. Small steps, giant accomplishments:)

Chet’s B-day, yesterday, was a happy event celebrated in the intimacy of our family:) Next week we’ll be celebrating my beautiful girl Meleah’s B-day:) I can’t believe she’s turning twenty-two years old. Time sure flies when you’re having fun, or even when you’re not having fun:)))

Merrill moved in about three months ago and we’re complete again, even if a little cozy in the small apartment. I would much rather have it this way.

Happy with our lives, thankful to God for health, peace, and love. I hope you’re doing well. (For the Lyme sufferers or all other autoimmune disease sufferers, keep on fighting because there is light at the end of the dark and most days unbearably painful season you find yourself in now. Psalm 23 rescued me.)

God bless:)

IMG_3512

 

 

Protest

Last weekend the annual women’s protest happened again and besides hatred towards the current president and the right to abort an unborn baby, I’m not quite sure what else are they protesting for, because the last time I checked we still lived in America where women have far more rights than most women combined in other parts of this world.

Personally, the vaginal hats and F*** signs are extremely insulting to me, but don’t worry that does not define me as a woman; my children do, my husband does and other things that have nothing to do with profanity and genital hats.

I’ll tell you a story- my story.

I was born with few health issues.

For one thing, my reproductive organs did not fall into place as they should’ve and my mother was told I would not be able to have children.

My Fontanella (the soft spot between the parietal bones and frontal bone) was bulged out- the doctor said I was going to be a retard or an idiot, in other words neurologically I was going to be slower than the norm. The Fontanella it looked and felt like jello and my mother hardly touched me for the first few months after birth for fear of hurting me further. So I lacked the bonding time, very important and necessary to a healthy development, but life was different back then and information was lacking.

I also had a severe vitamin D deficiency and I began having regular shots of vitamin D right away that lasted a whole year. These were among the issues that were visible right away and the doctor pressured my mother to have me aborted after I was born, worried that my quality of life would be a burden to the medical system and Marxist society in which I was born. I was a defect product and needed to be discarded so I would not become a useless eater. My mother vehemently refused.

“God’s will be done.” She tolled herself accepting the outcome, but if I wasn’t going to recover I was in danger of a “vaccine shot” that was nothing short of a euthanize method. I did recover.

At home, I grew up in pretty harsh poverty, mostly between the age of 5-19. We went many days in “involuntarily fasting” whether we liked it or not, but for that now some of us are rounder than we’d like to be:) God, yes God, took care of us. That is what I choose to believe, despite the skepticism of others.

We also went through physical and emotional trauma, abuse and at times torture methods until the day each and every one of us left home. Emotionally, if we give way the emotional abuse would continue to this very moment, but all of us have chosen peace, so we have departed from the source of the abuse.

So from many people’s modern standards of today, I should’ve been aborted. After all I had too many physical issues putting a burden on the family or society, I was born in extreme poverty (Eastern Europe poverty), and raised in a very abusive family environment. I fit most of the reasons given for an abortion, right?

Yet, I’m thankful for every day on this earth despite its hardships. I thank God every day for his love towards me shown mostly through other people, some of which are reading these words. We see the goodness in others. We see hate in others as well. So choose. I’ve chosen. I stand for life.

I do not judge anyone who had an abortion- I wasn’t in your shoes when you made the decision and it’s not my place to judge what I don’t know. But I do know the fetus is a living being and I’ve always fought for the underdog. Its just part of my character and I will continue to do so.

God Bless.

 

Red-A Philosophical self-talk-

I’ve begun reading “The Naked Communist” by W. Cleon Skousen and it’s not an easy task for me as flashbacks from my own experience while living through the last of the communist era, back in Romania, rise up.

I’ll let you know in my up and coming posts some similarities that I see in the America of today and communist tactics I’ve experienced while back home. This is a subject that I would love to capture it with my brother Alin’s philosophical point of view and have a recorded debate on the matter. It would be both entertaining and informative… and done in our native Romanian language. But not yet.

Today, after bleeding for the past 27th days, and clearly a little lightheaded from losing so much blood, I become philosophical:) (I have an appointment tomorrow with gynecology.)

I was truly hoping 2018 to be void of doctors, pain, pocking, needles and medical stress, thus hid the bleeding issue for as long as I could. Thanks to Elizabeth I did end up going to a Zoom clinic and thanks to my mother-in-law’s insistence I finally made a gynecology appointment. I must admit I struggle emotionally. I’m fighting with a Marxist syndrome, a disease in itself, and trying to grasp a truth as seen through my husband’s eyes, a reality built on being born here in America. I like his view so much better than mine, but in reality, it seems to be just a beautiful fairy-tale I like to listen to often. I have changed quite a bit living here in America, for the better I think, but when disease keeps on knocking at the doors of my soul, the old Marxism rises up debating loudly while trying to win.

When one becomes sick and unable to provide for the motherland (this can be geographically anywhere the mind goes) a man’s value disappears, thus he is no longer needed, according to the communism/marxism laws. If you can’t produce you’re no more than a useless eater (Hitler, Communism movement, Margaret Sangers, Darwinism are the best known for this type of thinking). Raised in that type of thinking, I automatically think like that. Back in Romania, you can see this in divorces, affairs,  abuse, neglect, blame, and shame, after one becomes sick vs. here in America, where you see support systems, encouragement, and fighting until the end on behalf of a loved one. (This is a generalized point of view based on the majority of cases, for I have seen harsh consequences following the tragedy of loss or disease here in America as well).

“Oh well, at least they’ll not be a burden to the family now. The sooner they die the better. This is God’s judgment for your sins, your father’s sins, your children’s sins, etc.” Are some of the more normal expressions as a response to any disease in Eastern European culture. (Eastern Europe has migrated into other lands and that philosophy can very well follow.)

In America that differs: “What else can we do, doctor? You’ll get better. Focus on getting better. Don’t worry about the money, you’re more important,”  to name a few, not to mention all the “Go Fund Me” types of support.

To top it all off, I’m a woman, raised and tolled in my formative years to believe that I matter less than the life of a dog, born to please a man only and nothing else. Now here’s the tricky part, this belief was preached loudly from the churches pulpits, all done by males, not communism. In communism law (gender or age didn’t matter, you simply didn’t have value). In Romania, I was nothing else but a Christian woman (that’s not a compliment:) to be used and abused than tossed aside when no longer needed or able to perform my duties- at least that would’ve been my lot in life if I would’ve remained there. (Not all men are cruel, alcoholics or abusive in Romania, but most are). I know great Romanian men that are very decent and loving to their wives, their children and in general to everyone else around.

Now, don’t you worry about me, God’s helped me heal quite a lot from many of these issues, by providing proof of ignorance, instability, indoctrination, culture and a theory (Marxism) based on violence and narcissism (read about Marx’s own pathetic life, his example as a father and husband, and his inability to live up to his own theology). I’m healing, that’s why I can start talking about some truths without disintegrating and with a healthier perspective. Now let’s move on.

Its been only God’s presence and patience, working either directly in my heart or through people such as Chet, my parents-in-law, Elizabeth, my Romanian friends and so many other people I know,  that helped me heal. My siblings have been the biggest help, other than Chet. Chet wants to help but it takes someone who went through hell and back with you to understand the darkness you must heal from. I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. There are far too many that have seen an even greater darkness than I have.

In the days when I’m not feeling well it’s easier to fall into that autopilot old way of thinking, yet, those same days are the ones healing me and teaching me some of the best lessons about myself and life itself.

Why have I let the lies of others (religion, a devil, etc, call it anything you want) take such residence in my heart for so long? Guilt and ignorance of the truth.

I’m dying. (I’m being dramatic here) We all are. Some faster than others. But I’m the one who decides if I’m going to help the evil end my own existence with feelings of fear and hopelessness, or if I would much rather spend that time laughing alongside my loved ones.

When you really get this, life even at its hardest will be worth fighting for. It’s our life, given to us as a gift by God, so guard it and fight for it, it’s our right to it.

Well, like I said, the philosopher in me came out today:) Be happy with the simplicity of life, for a farmer is far happier with his life than a philosopher usually is.

And ultimately, I’ll keep on learning or unlearning, sharing with you parts of those lessons hopefully to help you heal faster and sooner, and be grateful for everything.

God Bless:)

 

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:)