“for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
My crimes have been mental and relational, in other words, I have hurt people. I have drawn hatred upon myself for not knowing better, and persisting in it.
Like “the claw”–recently. I don’t really remember and I don’t know whether I didn’t quit or was forced through it.
But I was a person without understanding. I dwelled on bugaboos and didn’t know bad from good.
But I know that I am being accused of horrible things that are not true. “Scapegoating” is a concept that applies. I am only catching up today on the movie about Freddy Mercury which I knew not to see. My mother got a charge out of it. Her cousin was involved and I didn’t figure until very recently that I was too. And I don’t want or need to see it. I’m realizing that that is probably why people want to die me.
I have been an “anti-social” person for 40 years. A person lost in the psych system. There is just something so weird about that. Like the Jews wandering in the desert for 40 years and Jesus purging himself in the desert for 40 days. In my mother’s policy “anti-social” meant something criminal. There was the most beautiful book that I read when I returned to college after a leave of absence that turned out to be mandatory; by Carlo Carretto: “Letters From the Desert;” and the person who wrote the introduction said so passionately that she prayed that a person who had experienced an alternative lifestyle experience such as being on a psych ward (as I just had) would read the book. And for me this was the beginning of a calling.
So I have bumbled through the years with some kind of faith and tried to give my son the benefit of a Christian parent.
Un.Bon.Mot 