Dorienne's Log

…..

So yeah, fertility drugs….
…the more we talked about it, the angrier I became. The more I could not help thinking, “what selfish bastard would do such a thing.” I mean honestly, let’s think about this clearly. If fertility drugs are what is necessary for you, God has clearly not intended for you to give birth. I think people are having children for all the wrong reasons and this results in a lot of kids growing up “spoiled” and unloved. If one says that she wants to take drugs to get increase her chances of getting pregnant so that she can have someone to love and raise, then she’s a damn liar. How many millions of children are out there in this world in need of someone to love and raise them? How many children are isolated from other people living, literally, in cages or simply in their beds because there is no one available to hold them or truly care for them? If someone told me they went through fertility treatment just to have someone to love, I’d probably slap them in the face. They don’t want someone to love! They are just vain and want a little version of themselves running around loose. Knowing what I know now about those drugs, I can’t imagine any true Christian woman going through with it. The idea of what might happen with an undesirable result is just too much. How could someone live with themselves after it? How could you live on saying, “I wanted to be blessed with a child of my own so much that I was willing to give up on some if an undesired number developed?” It makes me want to burst into tears.

Why don’t people adopt more often? As of today, right this moment, were I in a place where I was deciding if I could have kids…..if I learned that I could not, I would be on an adoption waiting list the moment I learned of my misfortune. I don’t generally like children, mostly because most of those I know are ridiculous brats, but I could not imagine not loving any kids in my own house. If I decided that having kids was what I wanted and was ready for, providing that God did not decide for me, regardless if I was ready, and I could not bear my own kids, I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be heartbroken. Half the fun of my family is seeing the craziness form from generation to generation, but the thought of taking in a child in need would surpass that sadness quickly.

I think adopting a child is among the most noble and awe-inspiring things anyone could ever hope to accomplish. To take in someone else’s child so that that child can live in a loving, happy environment…..the very idea of it makes me smile. Maybe I’m just too young to understand, though I can’t imagine that being the case. Maybe I just see everything in terms of black and white far too often. Maybe I just have too much love to give. I love all the kids I used to take care of when I was younger. I would love the opportunity to raise a child, any child; just to have someone who would depend on me as they grew into an adult; to influence the entire life of another person….it seems almost magical.

I think, nowadays especially, life has become too precious to me, if that is even possible. When I think about how often the use of fertility drugs is mentioned in day to day society, it makes me realize how few people actually know the truth about them. What troubles me more, is how many people actually go through with it, knowing what the outcome could be. I think anyone who is too selfish and vain to use other avenues such as adoption as a means for having a child, has a very dark, cold future ahead of them; at least until they can successful explain to Jesus, why they thought it best to kill off some of their own children, rather than shower their love upon a child already here and in need of help.

I had a conversation today with one of my coworkers about fertility drugs and abortion. I found out some very interesting things that I would have never known otherwise. I just find it fascinating that my views about life and God and souls has changed so much in less than a year. More on this later after work…….

There is someone I work that I simply cannot stand. It is bordering on hatred. This person has angered me so much in just two short weeks that I just don’t know how I’m going to make it this entire summer. And, what’s worst of all is there is no recourse. There’s no one to whom I can turn and say, “You know what? This person is a complete jerk!” I sat this morning, wondering how am I going to make it having to deal with this person everyday? Finally, I realized I needed a mantra to sing either to myself or out loud to calm me down. The first thing that came to mind was a little diddy I used to hear in cartoons all the time, sung by Southern characters, but that didn’t sit right with me. It was kind of like a slower version of that “Ole, Ole” song. Anyway, it didn’t fit. Then, it occurred to me. The song that’s song as we accept our choir! Ureka! It’s positive, it’s uplifting and I can just sing it when people just plain make me mad. Now, to see if tomorrow’s shift goes better with this song in mind…

Today, I spoke with someone with whom I had not conversed in what seemed like ages. It was amazing to me….She seemed so very much the same and I felt like I had “aged” some ten years since the last time we had seen one another. The same things that anger the both of us were still there, but I felt the very strong need to remain positive and behave as a model Christian. However, I felt torn….We would shoot the breeze all the time about this or that, but always in negative terms, however, now I don’t want that negativity dragging me down anymore. For the first time since I joined my church, I felt truly changed. It felt very wrong for swears to come out of my mouth like I tried to today, and I don’t think I’ll be going down that road again. The whole situation seemed….just out of place….odd. There she stood, someone who I consider to be one of best…..my best friend, and at one point we were so very similar and today we seemed miles apart from one another.

I told her that I had joined the church, because I wasn’t sure if I’d told her earlier and she seemed VERY surprised, as I expected. We would go on about how stupid religion was for HOURS, but now I cannot see myself doing that anymore.

Today, I felt different. Today, I actually felt the change Jesus has made in me.

The next step is asking her to come to church with me. I’ll have to be crafty about it, but sometime in the not too distant future, I’ll ask her.

In my life I’ve faced
Many trials
And also tribulations,
And I know
That many
Too many
Far more strenuous exercises
Lie in my path ahead,
But now
Right now,
I simply feel empty.

I know
Really, I know,
When one door closes
Another will open.
I know
Honestly, I know,
Jesus will guide me
Every step into the light.
This is part of a plan
However unpleasant
And I must go through with it.

One day, someday,
Hopefully,
I’ll look back on this and smile,
But now,
Right now,
I simply feel empty.

I didn’t start this out as a poem,
It simply flowed.
What can I do
But make make myself feel better?
I trying restlessly
To not feel empty,
So very empty.

While I sat pondering over a problem that has been plaguing me for some time, I got to thinking that if this works out for the better, Jesus would have taken care of me. I then thought that if it did not work out, then this was all part of His plan too. Why does this come off as apathy to me?

Maybe I’m just so accustomed to stressing over situations because I had nowhere to turn, but now that I do, I’m just not used to it….? Maybe….?

I’m really tired right now, so it’s too hard to continue thinking about this…for now anyway.

I was telling one of my roommates about this past Sunday’s church service and I began to feel strained. I was yearning to ask her to come to a service, since the words of pastor about when was the last time any of our congregation asked a ‘white brother or sister’ to our service were still fresh in my head, but I did not. I already knew the answer, but I felt strained, compelled almost to ask anyway, most likely because it was the right thing to do, but still….

There is a part of me that feels like all this is maybe happening too fast, that if I were to even suggest that she come to church with me, that it would seem fake. Why? It’s not; it shouldn’t be. I am not doing this for anyone, and yet the idea of becoming a witness feels fake. It’s times like these that I wish I knew my Bible better. Maybe then, I could find something, read something that would make me feel better.

For that matter, I would simply like to find the Bible my grandmother gave to me so many years ago. It had sat, unused and unloved for ages, and now that I truly need and want it, I cannot find it. I’ve been bringing the Precious Moments Bible given to me when I was in Sunday school when I was about seven at Mt. Olivet. It’s the New King James Version and I feel like I’m old enough to have a ‘normal’ Bible. I’ve searched my room, my car, all through my room at my mother’s house, where I discovered that I’d done something with the Women’s Bible my father had given me ages ago too.

This has just now got me thinking….what have I been doing these past few years? What was going through my mind that I might have tossed out that Women’s Bible in some random haste to remove clutter? I would never have considered tossing one of my ‘precious’ The X-Files tapes, even though I never watch them and they are probably in need of being tossed. However, when it came to a Bible given to me from my father, I was only too quick, I guess, to give it away or throw it away or whatever.

I think that if I could just find the Bible my grandmother gave me, I’d feel better. Even if I didn’t know where to go to find something helpful, at least I would have SOME source to which I could refer.

I just now remembered I post I had made a year and a half ago in another blog (http://kaitco.blogspot.com/):

Friday, October 29, 2004

Pepsi’s log…

Two weeks ago, after finishing a 12-pack of Pepsi in less than five days and realizing just how much sugar I’d consumed in that time, I decided that my addiction had taken a new hold and it was time for a change. Thus, I began the “no-Pepsi” era of my life and I’ll see if this lasts at least until December….

So, tonight while watching an ER re-run, I was suddenly overrun by the urge to drink my third Pepsi of the day. Mind you, I’ve already had a breakdown in the “no-Pepsi” era of my life, by having two today and there I was craving a third. I tried to not think about, I drank water, I had a push-up pop, and yet the craving raged on. And then I looked to the small green Bible given to me by the creepy little man handing out Bibles on campus the other day for solace in my Pepsi temptation. I don’t know what I was expecting exactly, but to no surprise, I got nothing from reading passages on temptation in the Bible. After agonizing over the thought that I will never get back those five minutes I spent reading that damn Bible, the urge subsided and I’m happy to say, I’m back on track, so to speak. But then again I do wonder…..Perhaps reading that little Bible did work. Hmm……

I think I’ve been so caught up in the meaningless dribble of pretending that all those who turned to their Bibles when in times of trouble were stupid and ignorant of how the world worked, that I let myself be devoured by my own misery. I look at the words I’d written so long ago and I can see it. He had been calling and I simply chose to ignore it. Of all the things I’ve undertaken (if that’s proper English, and I know it’s not) in my life, this feels the best of all, mostly because I know that there’s no need to find another ‘obsession’ and that this one will not let me down. It was like during Freshman year when I’d lost my cross: I had been telling myself that I was technically not a Christian, but wore my cross all the time. Why? Because deep down in my heart, I knew that I could not live without feeling that Jesus, God if you will, was not by my side. When I lost my cross, everything in my life seemed to be going down in flames. I cried all the time, simply wallowing in my own despair. Nothing seemed like it was going right. When I got a new one, the world seemed brighter, birds were singing, children laughing….everything was right again. Last year, I lost my cross again, but depression did not follow. Why? Perhaps because I was already beginning this process, this journey, and I knew that I had nothing to fear.

I have to leave now, but I reminiscing just now has got me remembering the absolute hatred I had for a girl I knew while still in the dorms. I think I’ve come to that point in my life where I am strong enough to actually admit that half the reason I could not stand the sight of her was because she was keen on Jesus and happy all the time because of it. I was jealous that I did not have that same love in my heart. Mind you, this girl said and did MANY things that prove that she did not truly ‘believe’ as much as she wanted people to think she did, but at least now I’ve come to terms with all of that…

I think I feel fake when I try to be a witness because of all the people I know who are ‘witnesses’ everyday, but really are not. They say PTL – Praise the Lord – to everyone they know, but put down people when they are high and never have respect for those who think differently than they. They attend church every Sunday, carry a Bible in their cars, but sleep around with two, three, and even four different people at one time, without a second thought. I see them and see that they are false, and I can’t help thinking that if I open my mouth, I will seem just as false. I suppose I can only try to be the best Christian that I can be and pray that Jesus help all those who proclaim they love Him and His word without really meaning it; all those who say they believe in the Word, but hate those who are not Christians, or do not look or speak like they do; all those who say they believe without ever once asking themselves if they truly believe it….

At least on Xanga, I’m not afraid to say, “I love Jesus.”

….it kind of brings a tear to my eye.

I’ve always heard some sayings along the lines of “it’s the little things that make life worth living” but I’ve never truly given it much thought until recently. Twice yesterday, I was able to rise from deep sleep to accomplish necessary errands – Church and later work. Had I set and alarm for either event? Well, yes and no: I set an alarm for the last possible moment for church, but I was awakened a good hour and a half before my alarm and I simply went through the mechanics of preparing myself for the rest of the day without even realizing that I’d “underslept.”

Why was I able to wake up long before I had wanted? My subconscience knew that I needed more time than I had allowed myself and woke me…I know it was my subconscience, but I relish in the idea, fact if you will, that Jesus woke me to do what I already knew was right. And to my benefit at that: during service, my pastor informed me, well all of us, of something that I had no previous knowledge.

Christ actually went into Hell for three days before ascending onward to Heaven. I won’t get into the specific chapters and verses and such, but simply the idea of it, the fact if you will, eased many of my issues with truly believing that Jesus was the son of God. It had long been told to me that the only way to get to Heaven was through Jesus, and of course my logical mind had asked the question, “well, what about all the people who had died before Jesus had come upon the earth? Were they simply doomed to Hell?” I learned yesterday, that all those who had come before Jesus, had indeed gone to Hell and Jesus went into Hell so that they might receive Him and thus go to Heaven.

As I sat listening and learning this new information, I couldn’t helping thinking how logical Christianity now seemed to me. God so loved the world et cetera, meant that all His souls, His creations, were being sent to Hell because they were imperfect and because they sinned just as Adam and Eve did. God sent a part of Himself, His son if you will, to the earth, so that all those who believed in Him could come “home” to Heaven. The very thought of it makes me smile in a sort of relief. It makes sense to me now….well….more than it ever has. It makes it seem less illogical that a virgin could give birth two thousand years ago. Most of all, it takes so much of the burden of being both a scientist and a Christian away from my shoulders. When all the facts are considered, not saying that I have all of the facts, but more than I’ve ever had, rationally, I cannot think that Christianity is a farce, a fable or fiction. Yesterday was the first time in a very long time that I actually felt saved and happy that I was such. I know dark times are coming for me, but I cannot feel despair. How can I when I know as long as I stay to His path, I will be all right?

I have one more trial before I know that I have been, indeed, born again into Christianity – becoming a witness. It’s hard, so very hard. So many people know me as I was, and I they still perceive me. I say that I’ve joined my church, but no one seems to look at it as anything significant. I don’t feel like I could extend my hand, asking my friends to come join each Sunday morning, because I already know how loud their laughter would be. I’ll have to come to terms with this….one thing at a time, though….

My mind is becoming fuzzy and it’s getting difficult to focus on coherent thought, it is time to stop. There’s always so much more to say though: I’ve started new poems and new stories; success at work; hope for school; my website’s leaps and bounds; things that piss me off that don’t so much anymore since I’ve re-discovered Christ; my reformed addiction to caffeine….

It’s always nice to have a brand new obsession, my new one being X-Men. I’ve already made plans to create a dedication website. I simply cannot stop watching….the episodes are running on Play-All and I can’t even get up for long enough to do anything while watching television. It supersedes my Sims….it’s wonderful! I can’t get enough of the story lines and the fact that I’ve realized what is wrong with today’s kids: they are all idiots because the cartoons they watch never contain anything resembling a plot. The show has the most incredible on-going story line and makes me want to get into comic book collecting, but that is for another day…

When I was fifteen, fourteen for the first time really, I had surgery on both of my feet. Both times were among the worst experiences of my life. With an MRI coming in my near future, that feeling that I get every time I near Grant Hospital, is appearing once more.

Why is there something always wrong? Nothing can just be fine. Everything must be complicated….I am trying to remain positive because I know there is some kind of lesson to be learned here, but I have no idea what it could be. I can’t wait for what other lessons lie in wait for me.