100 years

1920’s…prohibition…flappers/’rebellion’

1930’s…depression/despair…WWII on horizon/cause to unite (A generation of hard, earnest, folks.)

1940’s…decade of WWII (a cause to unite)…(2nd generation of hard, earnest, folks.) … baby BOOM!

1950’s – suburbs/we have arrived

60’s – The Draft…hippies/’rebellion’

1970’s…disco…WAR ON DRUGS/rock bottom

80’s – (WaR oN dRUgS) corporate culture/chase that cheese

90’s (war on drugs)-grunge music/’rebellion’

2000 – (rebellion)-*BLACKOUT*

2010 – *wakes up* (rebellion)’I’M FReE!’
Indulges in parental leave and $5 coffees… Creates reality in which playing video games all day is a legit career option. Still not satisfied… still searching…

2020 – “Jesus is the answer…what was the question?”

2084 – 3.?.02 (Charlie’s ramblinGs)

I long to now understand is to what degree it is acceptable to “love oneself.” Not in the narcissistic way, nor in the “treat yo’ self,” sort of way (at least not exclusively; I love me a good day of retail therapy, lol), but in the true spiritual sense of the word…sheesh…this feels like a whole lot of justification

What I’m saying is:

God is majestic and powerful and all knowing and sovereign and he made me just like he made a sea star and a scarlet macaw and
Every.
Other.
Person.
In the world.

It is not possible to justify my loving every other creature of god and not myself without turning myself into some sort of idol.

HERE COMES THE BUTTCOMMA

When I “try” to “love myself,” I end up vaulting myself to the forefront of my life, instead of letting the spirit hang out there, in the driver’s seat (where everyone is much safer, trust me. LOL).

So I’mm trying something new. I’m going to believe for a while that loving myself is not my job. I am going to put it on the holy spirit’s plate. I would just as soon not think about myself and try to love myself.

Because when I function in this way, I discover that I love to paint, and that I enjoy decorating my home. I have opened my heart to new relationships out of love and not obligation.

WHAT SUCKS IS

Even though I know the outcome is good, even though I know that this course is the right one, I know I can anticipate my occasional drift away. I mean, I’ve lived with myself longer than anyone else. LOL. So my plan is to have grace and mercy with myself in those times. After all, that’s what Jesus would do.

I just need some time to get used to this new pattern of relating to myself. For example, I had no clue that painting and home decor would feel like loving myself. I don’t know what else there is. I have the old patterns and not many new things to replace them with. I’m working on it.

GAH! SELF, SELF SELF!

I hate, LOATHE all this talk about self and self worth and self help and self love. HATE IT!
It confuses me! I am supposed to DECREASE so CHRIST MAY INCREASE!
Aren’t I supposed to disappear, or at least be smooshed down to as tiny of a pinpoint as I can be?

BUT I REJOICE as I make my own “pinpoint” ever smaller! Even here, I’m trapped within a bondage of MY WORKS.

So much better to believe the holy spirit is the driver. So much better to let them call me what they will.

Lord, I love existing in this place of bounty.

Lord, help my unbelief.

2084 – 3.0

Okay so how do we start?
I don’t know, It’s your mission.
What’s that supposed to mean?
Sorry.
Seriously, you have to stay out of the way.
Right. Got it. But I have to say this is a great starting point.
Right. Now you’re where you’re supposed to be.
Backseat. Right.
NO. Not backseat. Knock it off.
Right. Navigation. Got it.
Oh God, please no, not you navigating.
Oh, right. Lol.
Come on. Be serious.
Sorry. We’re frozen now.
No, no it’s okay. Let’s take a moment to think.

RESET

Check your posture.
Go message.
What if, inside each and every one of us…oh…
“oh,” what?
“Oh, now i get why this does not work.”
What do you mean?
You know what I mean.
They are not ready to hear, are they?
no.
Too bad.

RESET

Stella frowned at the words of her Mother’s screenplay displayed on the monitor before her in “strike-through” formatting.

“Go on. Write it.” The little voice in Charlie’s head urged her.
“But it sounds too preachy,” Charlie argued back.