The Beggar's Bakery

By: Jana Greene

Im telling you, we were not created to have so much information bombard us online. I was overwhelmed today by 10:30 by all that’s going on. So I cope like I always do – by writing. It’s really goofy but I didn’t get much sleep and I’m pretty punchy. Everybody sing along. It goes a little something like this:

THE 12 MINUTES OF THIS DAY:

On the first minute of this day
Life gave unto me
An argument on my wall about Trump.

On the second minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Two new crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the third minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the fourth minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy political candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the fifth minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the sixth minute of this day
This life gave unto me
Six Trolls a stirring
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the seventh minutes of this day
Life gave unto me
Seven rapture warnings
Six Trolls a stirring
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the eighth minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Eight mask refusals
Seven rapture warnings
Six Trolls a stirring
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the ninth minute of his day
Life gave unto me
Nine Covid updates
Eight mask refusals
Seven rapture warnings
Six Trolls a stirring
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the tenth minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Fires in California
Nine Covid updates
Eight mask refusals
Seven rapture warnings
Six Trolls a stirring
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the eleventh minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Incoherent Biden
Fires in California
Nine Covid updates
Eight mask refusals
Seven rapture warnings
Six Trolls a stirring
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

On the Twelfth minute of this day
Life gave unto me
Voting controversy
Incoherent Biden
Fires in California
Nine Covid updates
Eight mask refusals
Seven rapture warnings
Six Trolls a stirring
Five ads for Clorox wipes
Four political scandals
Three “weather systems to watch”
Two crappy candidates
And an argument on my wall about Trump.

By: Jana Greene

Hello, Dear Reader.

This is the 501st blog post on The Beggar’s Bakery. When I started the blog eight years ago, I was undergoing a season of loss. I would have hoped that by now, my posts would be more light and fluffy. More chipper. You would think, right? So many relationships in my life have grown since then. Some people I barely knew, I now know intimately. Other relationships have inexplicably imploded.

We aren’t living in a very chipper world right now, and my heart is heavy. So I’m writing, because it’s what I do when I don’t know what else to do.

Time is a big weaving loom, in a curious way. It is forever moving. You watch it work, and see an intricate pattern come to life before your eyes as if by magic. Tiny, easily-breakable threads that seem nothing on their own become a part of something bigger and better. You think the warm blanket you are looking forward to wrapping up in is a sure thing as the time chugs along. What a day that will be when the careful weaving becomes a finished product!

But sometimes there are glitches. Either by my own human error or the seemingly random equipment failure of outside forces, things get off kilter.

The threads – manifested as relationships woven as time passes – knot up. One wrong move and the pattern is ruined, and how in the world are you ever going to set it right?

Lately, I feel like I am desperately trying to force the pattern I chose back into being; tweaking this part of machinery or that, even though I have no idea how the thing even works.

I feel a little like the bumbling character Mr. Bean at the loom, awkwardly (and sometimes comically) breaking off the pieces I’m trying to fix; the whole fabric paying the price for my ineptitude. It is then that only making things worse as the beautiful tapestry I set out to make turns into the World’s Ugliest Sweater or World’s Biggest Ball of Yarn.

Interestingly, “loom” has two distinct meanings. First, a loom is a tool for weaving. Second, to loom is to appear or stand over someone in a threatening way. Even more succinctly, “loom” can mean “to come into view indistinctly, often threateningly.” I found that pretty ironic.

If there were ever a time of looming for the world, it is now. It would be bad enough if all we had to deal with was a world of inequity and deadly viruses; of isolation and economic worry.

But as these challenging things are going on, so too is the difficulty of sustaining relationships. Something as simple as one wrong stitch can throw the whole woven cloth into a big, knitted mess.

Even relationships that took years to craft, and so much precious thread and careful patterning, become a mess. Things come into view indistinctly. And nothing makes my heart sadder.

I think I speak for most of us when I saw that 2020 can go screw itself. Everyone is stressed. Everyone is hurting. It sure feels like time is standing over us in a threatening way.

This is not what I’d hoped things would look like 500 posts into this blog. Loss – that ugly Spector – once again at the forefront. Unraveling.

But as the loom of time spins out of control, I will keep trying to grab hold of that single thread that isn’t knotted. There is still time, right? All I can do is take responsibility for my part

If I’ve learned anything about God, it’s that he takes the shittiest circumstances and makes beautiful tapestries out of them. I’m counting on that happening again, continually. I’m counting on one day stepping back from the finished product and seeing the pattern intended for me. I know it will not be flawless. But it will be what it’s meant to be.

Five hundred posts ago, I thought I knew what to expect from friendships and other unpredictabilities of the passing of time.

But God, who designed time and space itself, is close to the broken-hearted. And sometimes that has to be enough.

I’ll keep weaving I’d you will.

Peace be with you and God bless us, every one.

Hello, my beloved readers. Today I commemorate the 500th post on The Beggar’s Bakery! What a long, strange trip it’s been. Thank you for letting me share you thoughts and dreams with each and every one of you. Here’s to 500 more!

By: Jana Greene

To all my friends struggling mightily during this crazy, isolating, chaotic time, I see you.

For those of you also hurting so deep inside that you feel like you’ll implode from the sadness and confusion. I hear you.

My sweet friends wondering if things will always be this way, and despairing because there is no end in sight, I feel you.

Depression is a cold bitch who delights in despondency, but she will not have the last word.

Because as much as she feels like the strongest force around right now, she lies.

She is a house of cards, building upon one fear at a time on a foundation of sand. And she is helpless when the tides turn and again – always – wash her out.

Love will have the last word, as it spurs us all on toward hope.

Hope is the Comeback Kid, and Love it’s vehicle.

Hope nudges us to remember to reach out to others, even when all we really want to do is shut down.

And there Love gently guides us. It holds us. It comforts us through one another.

Love says “keep going” and eventually, one fine day, yells “that’s a wrap!” when despair finally backs down and we can laugh again.

And it will back down.

It will always bow down to Love.

It can’t help but bow down.

I’ll keep going if you will. Keep going with me.

And we will wait together for the tide that is surely turning again, just as it always has.

Just as it always will.

• Jana Greene

By: Jana Greene

I took a “selfie” today, you see,

And gave myself the third degree

Right off the bat, right out of the gate,

I found a lot of things to hate.

Like, oh my neck!

What the #%&$! HECK?

It used to be tighter

and I think you’d agree,

The Thanksgiving turkey’s

got nothing on me.

And didn’t my eyes used to be bluer?

Was ever there uttered a statement truer

Than “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder?”

So why do I mind so much getting older?

My neck and chest scream “Sunblock please!”

Crow’s feet pop up with careless ease.

Marionette lines around the mouth?

Body parts migrating South?

What’s this new crease in my chin?

*Sigh.* Pass the wrinkle cream again.

See the furrows in my brow?

You ask how it got there and I’ll tell you how…

Birthing two daughters and raising another

That is the furrow of being a mother.

And the crinkles you see around my eyes

Are from laughing so hard I thought I’d die

(Laughter’s a good way to go as any…

And occasions for laughter have proved to be many.)

Those lines are proof of the joy life brings,

Because silliness is such a sacred thing,

Sure, everything on my body is a little bit lower,

Every task I complete goes a little bit slower,

But even as I rush to cover gray hair,

I’ve survived long enough for it to be there.

My teeth are not straight and there’s fluff

in my booty,

But I’ve earned the right

to be eccentric and moody.

Women, this is the pivotal stage in our being.

All the years have led up to our seeing

This as OUR time to shine and regroup.

Who cares about a little bloat and droop?

Society may think we’re past our prime,

But I’m calling bullshit on that line!

You’re a queen! Stand strong!

And y’all?

We must love ourselves, cellulite,

wrinkles and ALL.

I’ll remind you if you remind me

To love the image in the mirror we see.

I’ll fix your crown when it’s off kilter,

(And post the occasional pic with no filter).

At this point in life, we’ve covered our bases,

We wear history itself on our faces.

Women of a “certain age?”

Let’s flip the script and turn the page

On accepting that we are fine as we are,

Embrace every crease, and wrinkle, and scar.

Cuz there ain’t nothing more fierce, feisty, and bold

Than a woman over half a century old.

By: Jana Greene

If I could give one nugget of advice to my daughters and all the young women in my life that I love so much, it would be this:

Marry your best friend.

Marry someone who loves you not ONE iota less when you are at your worst, someone you are proud to be associated with, someone who impresses you with his integrity.

Someone you miss when you are only apart during the workday. It’s possible, I promise!

The secret, I think, is that each person loves the other far more than him/herself, and puts his/her needs first.

You will spend your life adoring the person you wake up next to and fall asleep with. Don’t settle for any less!

If he doesn’t “get you” move on. You deserve to be “gotten!”

It is far, far worse to be with the wrong person Han to be alone.

You deserve to be loved big, and to love hard in return.

Blessed be.

By:Jana Green

This piece is born of sheer frustration. So enjoy, or don’t enjoy. You’ll feel one way or another though! I can guarantee that.

NOTE: It’s been brought to my attention that thisis article may enforce stereotypes that are obviously not true of all evangelicals. But bear with me. As a Christian who also doesn’t fit the stereotype of evangelical (or any other “denomination”) I get my fair share of misunderstanding. I am writing today about the “Trump can do no wrong” segment of Christians that seems oblivious to the fruits of his Spirit. Read ahead with an open mind, and try to understand the point of view of a Christ-follower who cannot figure out what the Sam Hill “born again” people SEE in said POTUS. This is one person’s POV on her personal blog. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

1. Too many white evangelicals blindly follow the cult of Trump, even though they wouldn’t accept his words and behaviors from ANY other person.
2. Too many loudly proclaim him King ‘o the Land now and forever more because they believe he is sent by God and not even his OWN actions and words will sway them.
3. Many evangelicals claim to be persecuted by the media, freethinkers, and humans with eyeballs who see what’s really going on. If you don’t agree, you’re in the dark side, no acceptions. Christians, open your eyes and risk seeing him for what he is. Keep them closed and you told America will be “great again.”
4. White evangelicals tend to be keen to agree with every petty, nonsensical, mean spirited thing Trump says. You are wrong if you think differently, according to the current line of thinking. We don’t do dissenting points of view here now in America; not unless you tow the party line. If you dissent out loud, enjoy your brandishing. You are now a flag-hating, Jesus-loathing, baby-killing, God-denying, anti-American dumbass and he will not hesitate to call out out as such.
5. Today’s evangelicals also get to be martyrs for staying true to Trump even though they are “persecuted” for it. Fighting the good fight, I suppose. We are being divided by design, more every single day. And not just by ONE political side. Trump is no unifier.
6. Many white evangelicals insist that you are “among the deceived” if you don’t buy all-things-Trump hook, line, and sinker. If you’re lucky, they’ll pray for your soul because you’re going to Hell if you don’t support the POTUS.
7. They like to banter about their loving God sending human beings to eternal conscious torment forever. No wonder they believe POTUS is sent by God, if that’s their theology. It seems like he would totally be down with throwing anyone who disagrees with him into the lake of fire. But maybe that’s just my perception. I’ll be super happy if proven wrong.
8. Many white evangelicals don’t seem to mind that he calls world leaders names like a first-grader. Or that he deeply insults every person who isn’t on his “team.” Or that he has the diplomatic skills of (um, I can’t even think of anyone with worse diplomatic skills.) Never you mind! He is clearly doing “The Lord’s Work.”
9. And some – not all – white evangelicals are in denial that in addition to him displaying evil tendencies, he’s is off his rocker entirely. And like the Emperor’s New Clothes, I guess none of us are supposed to notice.
10. Please wake up. Look at the fruits of his Spirit. Don’t blindly believe what he tells you. Don’t blindly believe what I’m telling you. God gave you a brain and expects you to use it. Until we all start thinking for ourselves, I worry about the direction we are heading.

By: Jana Greene

Let’s talk about eternal damnation in the fiery furnace we like to call “Hell.” Because apparently, if you don’t believe that God would punish his very own children forever and ever (amen) in the modern-day definition of Hell, you are a sorceress. File this under “Huh. Who knew?”

When I stopped preaching that a loving God would damn his children to the eternal, conscious, tormenting flames of Hell, all sorts of accusations come ‘a flying. And on really special days, you sometimes wake up to people accusing you of witchcraft on social media!

You see, I got on Facebook to scroll-about as I enjoyed my coffee this morning, when what to my wandering eyes should appear but a witch hunt afoot directed right here! Yep. Toward me, ya girl.

Here’s the thing. God gave us brains to THINK. All my life I believed what I was raised to believe. I’ve read the Bible a few times. I know what it says. I’ve also studied the original Greek and Hebrew texts, which take into account the literal meanings of the scripture we like to beat each other up with. Also, taking into consideration the sociopolitical climate of the day, especially in the Old Testament.

It ain’t like I’m pulling this outta nowhere. It’s been six years of delving and praying and researching the roots of the concept of Hell. The church of Acts is unrecognizable to most churches in modern times, but it would behoove all of us to study it and emulate it.

I came away with wrestling with God to find he is so much more wonderful than I’d ever imagined. And that when I get to heaven, I don’t have to hide behind Jesus’s garment to avoid an angry, vengeful God. ANYTHING that can be in ANY way construed as “New Age” (a reaalllly broad term,) is considered witchcraft?

I’m sorry but when did we give away our mysticism? What is more mystical than the Creator of the Universe coming in skin and flesh to our environment to show us how to love? New Age it is, then, I suppose.

I came out of this study free of my fear-based relationship with God. And opened my heart to the possibility that He is only ever good. I think we need to stop scaring people into loving Jesus, and just represent Jesus to the best of our abilities.

You would think that because of what I believe, I’m “gambling” with my own eternal soul because I that’s how strongly I feel about the inclusive gospel of grace.  A gospel that came from Jesus himself. Don’t get me wrong – there is a hell. I’ve been there. Plenty of it here on this planet, just look around. But is it Dante’s Inferno? Does my loving Papa, invisible to the naked eye, send us to Earth to try to figure out if He is real or not, so that if we get it wrong, into the lake of fire we go? I don’t believe that anymore.

But nobody likes to pigeonhole a person more than an Evangelical Christian. I know, because I was one for most of my life.

I’m of the mind that when it was said that every knee shall bow, every knee shall bow. When he said it is finished, it is finished.

THAT, I take literally.

Hell as we think we know it was popularized in the Medieval period as a way to keep the church in line. The masterpiece Dante’s Inferno also helped lend to the idea – it’s what culture “sees” hell as. God did not create us to bring us here to doom us if we don’t say magical words or we screw up. My God, what kind of father would that be?

He is in all, and all are in him. Some just don’t know it yet.

My question since my faith reconstruction is this: It’s actually pretty creepy how much time Christians spend fixating on Hell. And some of them get VERY upset if you take away their eternal torment thing. It took me years to let go of my Hell concept, so sure was I that people I loved would be cast into the fire and brimstone if they don’t get their shit together. Which, of course, leaves no wiggle room for grace, which is kind of the whole point.

Ditto giving Satan too much credit. We are always spiritually exhausted because we are fighting a battle that has already been won. Whatever is good, think on these things. Can you imagine how many hearts would open to Jesus if his children weren’t constantly threatened with being thrown in a lake of fire? Holy cow.

Bottom line: You have to do your own research and come to your own conclusion, either way, God is not mad at you. Ask Holy Spirit to help. She is willing and able (and yes, I refer to Holy Spirit in the feminine because of the nurturing and gentle care taking she provides for my spirit. Also, spirits are gender-less. They are SPIRITS, not people.)

Of course this is all just my two cents and I’m sure some of you are dooming me to “hell” right this very minute. But that’s okay. We all gotta figure it out for ourselves.

I promise you that if you want to know what God is like, look no further than Jesus – not the other way around.  Consider the cultural of the people who lived in Biblical times. It’s okay to think.

I could touch on so many other points, and likely will. In the meantime, God loves you. I love you. Namaste and God bless.

As far as God and I?

We good.

By: Jana Greene

There can be honor in tradition

Sometimes that’s surely true,

But old ways hurt so many

It’s past time for something new.

Changing your mind means a change of heart,

By the shortest route,

Count it all joy when loving others

Becomes what you’re all about.

Don’t grieve for all the old ways

That only worked for a few,

Show respect for me and mine,

And I’ll show respect to you.

We can do this, I believe,

But it’s required of us all.

To pick up one another

When we falter, when we fall.

Don’t mourn the way it’s always been,

Instead let your soul embrace

Kindness, justice, righteousness,

And you’ll see God in every face.

By: Jana Greene

This is an article I need to write. I’ve been needing to write it for years, but haven’t had the courage to “come out,” lest I disappoint friends and family. And that itself is sad, from my current vantage point, but we too often inherit our political beliefs and sit on them like the goose who laid the golden egg.
But I can sit on it no longer. The egg is rotten.
I’m finding it disturbing which issues are falling down party lines lately. Things that should just be a HUMAN thing are becoming a political thing.
Us vs. them. Right vs. wrong. Enough already.

Something shifted in me years ago and I can’t dance around the really hard issues anymore. It started when it became apparent that my daughter in her late teens was becoming a *GASP* LIBERAL. I couldn’t believe it! My far-right heart was in despair! But one day when I picked my girls up from school and we enjoyed one of our many spirited (ha) conversations about current events, I made a snarky remark offhandedly that she was becoming a “bleeding heart liberal.”
To which my kid, who was brought up in the evangelical church but professed no religion, says:
“But Mom, didn’t Jesus’ heart bleed for other people? The disadvantaged and marginalized?” (And yes, those are the actual words she used, she’s a smart kid.)

And I sat there and stewed in my judginess for the rest of the ride home. I was SO offended! I thought I had it all figured out.

Welfare: Get a damn job already. Why should I work and someone else get my money?

Death penalty: Stop wasting taxpayer money and just do it.

Immigration: Take a number like everyone else and wait your turn.

For the rest of the day and even for weeks after, I couldn’t shake the question. It became clear that I had gotten to the point I was using my religion not to help people, but to help me decide who was worthy! There are a myriad of other things I had “strong feelings” about before my spiritual reconstruction and could justify by political lines. Then it gradually became clear to me that Jesus didn’t let politics get in the way of loving people. Not once.

Our hearts SHOULD hurt that we have been propping up politicians and giving them all the power in the world to decide what is morally acceptable. Because none of them are Jesus. Many of them shouldn’t even be in office. And some things should not be partisan.

And so a paradigm shift began. “Break my heart for what breaks your heart, God,” I prayed on my knees.

And here’s the thing: My heart didn’t break for the rich and privileged. Or the justly treated. Or the Christian who darkened the door every time it was open. No. Instead my thinking became:

Feed the poor, without holding back. Without a superiority complex. Quietly.

Welcome the immigrant who is fleeing violence. And for God’s literal sake, uncage the children. What have we become?

Against abortion? Me too. But mothers need help to care for the children who we insist they carry and raise. And if a mother chooses to abort, we have to find it in our hearts to be compassionate to them, too.

Speak out for justice for George Floyd, the gentle giant who had the life choked out of him by a cop. It is happening to untold others. This cannot be. A man murdered slowly in broad daylight by someone by means of an abuse of power.

Stand with the oppressed, including our African American friends. Because black lives DO matter. Oh how my heart ached for Mr. Floyd as he was calling for his mama with his dying breath! You might even say it bled.

I unequivocally understand that there are reasons of law and plain old practicality that require order. Nobody disputes that. But Jesus was less concerned about law than human beings. I just want to emulate Jesus. And Jesus loved on everyone, whether or not they had the right values. He saved his harshest words for people who thought they were better than everyone else. The ultra-religious.

My previous and inherited belief system was wrong for me. It was unintentional.
But I won’t make the mistake of hardening my heart that should rightfully break for hurting people. No more. I want to love them intentionally.

Lobby and vote and all the rest, but don’t wait around for a bunch of rich old white men to get the ball rolling. It starts with you and I, in our words, deeds, and actions. No two party system can separate us from the love of Christ, and no politician should have the power to separate us from one another.

So don’t fight it; go ahead and let your heart bleed when you see racism and discrimination. Cry for the refugee. Let a little seep out for the victims, the underprivileged; the addicted and the homeless. Please. Let it gush!

Pray the most surrendering of all prayers – “God, break my heart for what breaks yours.” It may start a flood, but you’ll never be the same. And that’s not always a bad thing.

There is liberation in that release.

By: Jana Greene

This rainy Tuesday morning, I am sitting on my back porch at the crack of dawn. The sun is coming up behind the clouds, I’m sure, but you’d never know it from this vantage point. All I can see is grayness. Dampness. It began raining around 3 a.m., when my pain woke me up. They call it “painsomnia” – a more fitting term I cannot imagine – when you move in your sleep and the pain wakes you up. And keeps you up. It’s always a rude awakening, literally.

So I did what I normally do when I cannot sleep, which is not to do edifying things like read my Bible or work on getting back into seminary, but to scroll through my phone ad infinitum, which is Latin for “again and again in the same way; forever.” There are a lot of things that seem to be operating “ad infinitum” these days. Including a pandemic with no end in sight. Including chronic illness and pain.

While scrolling, I came across an article on “The Mighty” (a site I highly recommend for those battling invisible illness) titled ” “How My Husband Helps me Fight Chronic Illness.”

As you can imagine, it is a piece written by a chronically ill woman about all the ways her husband holds her up – emotionally, and sometimes physically. It’s a great piece. I wish I’d written it.

Earlier, I was reading the article while still in bed, laying next to my sleeping husband. I’m glad he is sleeping soundly. He has much on his plate these days. Too much. And part of that “too much” is that his wife is having a horrible pain flare, and I can’t fake otherwise, and I know he worries.

In the back of my mind, there is still a little joy-hijacking goblin that insists that THIS – a wife who is bedridden part of the time – is NOT what he “signed up for.” The goblin can be very convincing, what with telling me he deserves better. Because he really does – he deserves a wife who can easily travel and have adventures with. That was the PLAN, you see.

 The goblin carries a knapsack full of guilt, which it does not hesitate to unzip and unfurl the contents thereof when I have my guard down. When I am weak. Like now.

My husband has to do things like bring me water, when I’m too sore to walk to the kitchen and back. And that’s the very least of it. There is no task he shirks at helping me with, and he does it with remarkable patience. He is my best friend, and he knows when I hurt, no matter what I do to try to hide it.

But before he woke today, I got up and fed the cats and made some coffee to take out on the back porch, to watch the storm.

If there’s anything that we are all experiencing, it is the frying-pan-in-the-face that things do not go as planned. As we socially distance, this situation is either bringing out the very best in us, or the very worst. Much like chronic illness. And marriage.

I once remarked to my hubby that he “didn’t sign up for this.” To which he said, “I signed up for whatever being with you looks like.” Such a simple answer to a messy, muddled, mind-goblin riling situation. And I knew I could accept that – which is harder than you’d think – or continue the rest of our marriage mired in guilt because I’m sick. I’m trying hard to work on my insecurities. It’s a process.

But all during the process, God has shown so much grace – including the grace with which my better half has risen to for the crappiest of occasions … a life together that didn’t go as planned.

On bad days, it feels like a storm rolling in. You cannot see the sun for the dark clouds, as cliche as that analogy is. You’d never even know it was there. So the only thing to do is trust what you cannot see. Or change your vantage point, because perspective is everything. And tell the Guilt Goblin to put a sock in it already.

I’m so grateful for a mate who signed up for whatever being with me looks like. I certainly didn’t earn it. But that’s the thing about love … it doesn’t play by selfish rules. It refuses to leave. It digs in and stays in.

Ad infinitum. Again and again; the same way forever.

By: Jana Greene

 

Hey, guess what, dear readers?

I’m happy to announce that I’m working on a new book, “FIERCE Recovery – Living Your Best Sober Life Now.”

I believe that living a passionate, vibrant recovery life is one of the most badass things a person can choose to do. I’m a society that often misunderstands or underestimated the recovering populace, it’s time to show our stripes.

A FIERCE recovery is:

Faith-filled

Intentional

Engaging

Restorative, and

Empowered.

Watch this space for updates, and as always, thank you so much for your faithful readership!

Fiercely,

Jana

By: Jana Greene

Oh if I were just more thin

Perhaps then I’d be happy.

I’d strut my stuff,

Wear stylish clothes

And dress all kinds of snappy.

I’d not so hate my muffin top,

Would know when to eat

And when to stop.

Maybe that’s it,

Perhaps that’s the key,

I’d be happier

As a thinner me.

Or maybe it’s a vacation

That would set my heart anew,

One in a place where

The waves lap the shore

And the water’s a crystalline blue.

Where the sun always shines

And dark clouds stay away,

Yes perhaps I’d have peace then

At least for a day

(Or however long I decided to stay!)

If my venue underwent change.

If I were only healthy, you see,

If the pain would scram and let me be,

I’d run and jump and skip and hop

If my body were only free.

No matter what struggles we all face.

So long as we hold tight to love,

Hope, and grace.

Well make it through

This difficult race

And come out the other side.

Would I really be a better me

If all the things above were true?

Do circumstances dictate

The happiness in me and you?

It’s not ‘bout getting when we’ve wanted,

But wanting what we’ve got,

If we don’t practice self acceptance

All these things would be for naught.

So wrap your arms around yourself

Give yourself a hug (from me to you,)

Know that you are more than enough,

And God will see you through.

By: Jana Greene

By: Jana Greene

What a strange experience this is for us all.
I don’t know about you, but I vacillate between being okay and not being okay, all day every day.
I will be trucking along in my day, trying to enjoy things that I have taken for granted and now fear I will lose, when my primitive brain is more than happy to remind me that something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.
A sudden sinking feeling.
Heart palpitations.
Raw, unadulterated panic.
And then, eventually, I pray for peace that passes understanding. And I again laugh at funny memes, indulge myself in painting (or ice cream…) and rather calmly go about my day in this “new normal.”
This pattern cycles throughout the day, maybe a handful of times. Or maybe 100 times. It varies.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I know I’m a a Christian, and as such, should “fear not.” If I had a dime for every post I’ve seen about FEAR NOT, I’d be a gazzilionaire. But I’d probably still fear, because I have anxiety disorder.
I have anxiety attacks, it isn’t so much my evolved brain that forgot to “fear not,” but the primal brain. Christ-followers have mental illness too. Rather than consider our faith weak, you should know that someone who battles depression and anxiety has HAD to keep the faith in ways you probably cannot imagine. Their faith was hard fought and won, war-torn, and durable. But at the end of the day, we still have to make the best of the genetics and brain chemicals we were dealt. Add life circumstances, and it can be overwhelming.
None of us have ever been through anything like this before. It’s weird, and it’s foreign, and it feels like a zombie movie.
How are your brains processing all this, friends? Do you have moments that the surreal-ness overwhelms you? What are some ways you handle anxiety?
This isn’t going away any time soon, and I love to know what makes people tick. How are you doing with isolation, being confined with family members, and your self care routine? We are all in this together. ❤️