Gabbie Says: Life Happens. Be prepared for disruption from your plan of action...
Don't know when I actually started this. Have so much to say, yet...Life Happens...
The following is a repeat/expansion of what disrupted my and millions of others lives as, once again, we have been traumatized just by he fact that we live in the United States, at a time when our government is no longer able to routinely conduct business and respond to the needs of the country.
Gabbie says: It's too late for prayers. God is Love. Instead you chose guns as your god... You spoke lies and said that there was so much hate that you had to have a gun to be safe. Republicans stood with the NRA over and over, ignoring the real result of allowing guns to be bought without even attempting to manage this dangerous asset that has controlled the lives of all Americans for decades and longer. You spoke, republicans that you are a political party of Life, yet you chose over and over and over to forget about that child of rape or incest and allowed them to fester in the hate, the fear, that you manipulated through your lying incitement of ignorance and control. You care nothing about God's children. It is easier for you to act self-righteous and expect all women to listen up and hear the man speaking. You instead, argue about time of conception...then wanting those who are raped, including by relatives, to immediately tell what had happened to the police... YOU republicans have no empathy to accept that MAN is the one who rapes and produces babies... You have no empathy to even comprehend how a child who is touched by a relative becomes so confused because all they had wanted from the men in their lives was love. You men who, then, like King David, did absolutely nothing (or, if you did, other men who edited out what exactly happened to the life of the daughter of, yes, David of the Psalms, of the Bible, who saw his daughter raped by her brother and chose not to do anything. That Bible that you claim has the real words of God...Well, you allowed all of us to see that a father did absolutely nothing when his daughter was raped by a brother. And you have taken advantage of that act ever since... just because you "believe" that the Bible is the actual words of God. YOU are responsible for all the deaths of babies ever since. I see absolutely no sympathy, no empathy, no God Given Love in any republican that I have ever known--in relation to Gun Control! Do not speak to me of prayers when I was a victim of incest, yet was unable to share because I didn't trust that anybody in my family would even attempt to listen to me. Do not say you taught children to understand that men surrounding you may, at any time, and by any one of those men, touch you inappropriately...and result in the devastation of not only being raped, but being told that YOU, the victim, must go to another man, normally in police work, that is going to be the individual that brings you justice. Well, actually, not even that, they will grab your baby...and use that baby just like children have been used by men since the time of Christ, and learn in that Bible that if you are the King, you can do anything you want...just so you force a child to be born, no matter that the mother is often a child herself...bear that child just because, in effect, men own women's bodies, to do what they want...just as was done historically! Bring another child into a world of hate, of pedophilia, of human trafficking...of men choosing to sell women which brings more of a profit than even selling the drugs that are destroying our nation. You, who once again say your are praying and will pray AFTER 19 CHILDREN AND 2 FEMALE CARE GIVERS ARE MURDERED BY THOSE GUNS YOU WORSHIP. You republicans who say they speak of prayers at the same time they are planning to attend the NRA national meeting and speak of how many more ways that guns can be used within America, to murder babies... Babies who are old enough to understand that they are dying because the men in their families care nothing about anything except their own power over women and children. You who have given all women absolutely NO choice in our lives related to our own bodies.Some of you may already know that I have started writing in my two blogs, Book Readers Heaven and Just My Personal Opinion, Of course. https://gabixlerpersonalopinion.blogspot.com/ My time in the hospital was so filled with miraculous proofs of God's Love that I had been unable to write fast enough to share all that I want to share... I've been "high" on the power of being and seeing God's presence...and then, quickly learned, once again, that I couldn't stay in His Presence. That we who believe in God's Love, most of all, no matter who you are, must go back and face just how bad the evil of the lies, the hate and more that is being used by a very small part of America (10%) can control the 90% of America who only hate, when they see they are hated. They only are angered when they see that those men who want to be in control care not one bit about the majority of Americans who came here to escape...all that they had endured in their earlier places... ONLY to realize that when Man becomes so important in his own mind that he is willing to, actually, stop action in Congress just because he has the power to do so... And, yes, you all know who I'm talking about...The one that stopped OBama from even being able to appoint his choice on the Supreme Court (and now you see the mess we are in)!I, for one, refuse to keep my mouth shut any more. I have allowed family and being politically correct, in a culture to keep me from sharing my truth from God. NO MORE!'Cause It...is...just...too...damn...late...for...prayers.
There is no way to even begin to understand how America not only is, but continues to be, the only country in the world that can not even begin to deal with, little on solve the problem of the proliferation of guns--available both legally and illegally to be had by...children...and used...to...murder...other...children.
How does one go back to the routine of living?
Once again I am caught between sharing the joy of living and being forced to deal with the utter demoralizing life that occurs these days. Can we manage to still our minds sufficiently enough to just prepare a meal, take care of washing up the stacked dishes in our kitchen sinks, or, even to just sit and take a deep breath...accepting the welcome calm that can come with quiet...
Instead, we are caught listening to the pain and horror of gun vaiolence--violence that has been permitted to fester and grow, just because a percentage of America has the power and money to not respond to our need, but rather to do exactly what they want to do, through incitement of fear, anger, and more...and then encouraging the use of guns to take care of that...very...hate that was a lie...turned into a reality!
I had planned to share just a few excerpts from the book I am reading... Chosen, purely because the writer is our president, and I wanted to get to know him personally, as well as his background.
I remain convinced that it was the exact time for Joe Biden to be the president of the United States. While I agree that he has not been as effective as he could have been, I do not blame Biden. I blame...me...you... because we are a fickle nation and choose to blame somebody...NO MATTER THAT THE BLAME SHOULD AND MUST BE LAID AT THE FEET OF THOSE WHO CAUSE EVIL, IN ALL FORMS, WHICH, IN THIS CASE, IS A TOTAL LACK OF ANY KIND OF GUN CONTROL!
Reading a book by Joe Biden, the president of the United States of America, is very similar to actually be in a conversation with him. He shares his home-style background as a basis for all of his life, without pride, without artifice. I know he is, at any given time, talking routinely, trying to deal with the magnitude of what he is presently facing, yet having the expertise and background to undertake just about any of the situations that he has so far face. Even Covid.
I think most if not all of those who voted for him was because they readily saw the empathy...the sympathy...this man feels for all of us in the United States. He cares. He loves America. And, he has dedicated his entire life from even early childhood memories to what he has learned through education and experience. Like many, including me, Joe jumps in to take on something new--both studying relevant books, as well as planning on using what he has learned, even as an early child, about the issues facing each of us...
This excerpt, I believe, exactly shows what I mean... especially with relevance to today's politics...
Sunday was different; that day was reserved for family. It started with Mass. My attendance was not optional. The entire Finnegan clan rode over to Saint Paul’s Catholic Church together, and church always felt like an extension of home. I had already worked my way through the questions in the Baltimore catechism: Who made us?…Who is God?…What is a Spirit?…What do we mean when we say that God is all good? And the answers: For the word of the Lord is right; and all His works are done with faithfulness. He loveth mercy and judgment: the earth is full of the mercy of the Lord. I could practically recite the entire catechism. I’d memorized the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostle’s Creed. I’d been to my first confession.
A Gabbie Note: This is my favorite version of The Lord's Prayer, sung by favorite Tenore, Andrea Bocelli. But I had never seen this video before, which was such an experiential learning about the words of the prayer. I've been having God Incidents left and right...Yes, they are continuing even after I left the hospital. You know, What I've been trying to tell you about--excitedly and words spelling from my mouth.
But a New Vision Came to Mind today. Today My Prayer has Changed:
God, Give the words which I have become committed to Bear Witness To With Who You Choose to Receive Them...at Your Own Time... Now I realize that I do not need to fret and hurry to speak Truth of His Love...He is Indeed in Control of that and I Trust You Will Listen with Open Ears and Heart to those Words.
(Continuing Joe Biden's Words:) My grandpop Finnegan had taught me to say the Rosary. And every night when I went in to kiss my grandpop good night, he’d remind me: “Three Hail Mary’s for purity, Joey.” It was a long time before I understood he was talking about chastity. In the beginning I thought he meant nobility or purity of cause, ideas that tracked with the sermons we heard at Saint Paul’s. It was more about doing good than being good. After Mass, the Finnegans and their friends would gather at my grandpop’s house at 2446 North Washington Avenue, out at the end of the trolley line. Dinner was already cooked, warming in the oven, so the women took their ease in the dining room, thumbing the lace tablecloth, having tea. Meanwhile, Grandpop, his pals from the neighborhood, maybe a crony from the Scranton Tribune, and my Finnegan uncles, Jack and Boo-Boo, settled in at the kitchen table. They’d sit in the spreading afternoon light talking sports and politics. These men were educated, informed, and eclectic—and they loved to debate. They’d argue local politics, state politics, world events, Truman against MacArthur, Truman against the steel companies. They were Truman Democrats, working men, or sons of working men, but they had to admit Truman might have gone too far when he tried to take over Youngstown Steel. Probably the Supreme Court was right when they knocked him back. A president’s a president, not a dictator. It seemed un-American. Still, at least he was up front about it. That’s the thing they liked about Harry Truman: no artifice. He knew where he stood, and he wasn’t afraid to say it. The fellows at Grandpop’s table didn’t trust the new Democratic standard-bearer, Adlai Stevenson. They thought he might be a little soft. They were willing to give Eisenhower the benefit of the doubt; he was a hero of the war, after all. My dad, who didn’t join in the talk much, trusted Ike because he had been able to win a war while negotiating the competing national prerogatives of the western allies and the substantial egos of Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Charles de Gaulle, Field Marshal Montgomery, and General Patton. Dad thought Eisenhower was a man with ballast, a leader. But the Finnegans wanted to argue Ike’s policies. I found myself drawn to my grandpop’s kitchen by the pace and power of the volleys, and although I was too young to merit a regular place in these arguments, the men didn’t mind if I stayed around to listen from time to time. Even when it turned to local politics—the doings in Scranton and Lackawanna County—and the talk got heated, they never shooed me.
One Sunday, as I remember it, they were on the case of a local pol they called Patrick, a slick Irish operator, friend to the diocese, friend to the working man, friend to his neighbors, friend to his family—maybe too good a friend. I guess Patrick’s political favors, even in the days of patronage, had often caught the attention of the local newspapers. Some of the younger guys thought it was time for Patrick to move aside, time to put a more modern sheen on the Democratic machine in Scranton. But I noticed my grandfather was defending Patrick even when his friends kept attacking him. After a while my grandfather stopped defending and did something he’d never done in these Sunday talkathons:
He turned to me and said, “Joey, you’re wondering why Pop likes Patrick.”
“No, no, no, Pop. No.”
“You like Mr. Scranton, don’t you, honey?”
What was I supposed to say? You didn’t lie at Grandpop Finnegan’s table. To me William Scranton was the epitome of an upstanding citizen. He was the sort of man my dad respected. Mr. Scranton was descended from the town’s founding family. He’d been a flier in the war, like my hero uncle. He was a well-educated man and a civic leader. “Well, yeah. Yeah, Pop. I like him.”
“Joey, let me tell you the difference between Patrick and Bill Scranton. When I ask Patrick for a favor, he might say yes and he might say no. He might look at me and say, ‘I’m sorry, Ambrose. I’m gonna cut your heart out.’ I can deal with that. Whatever Patrick has to say, he’s gonna say it to my face. I might not agree with him, but he thinks enough of me to tell me to my face.” My grandpop called me over to his chair, and as I moved beside him, he put an arm around my waist and pulled me closer.
“You know where Mr. Scranton’s family lives, Joey?” I could picture the kind of home the Scrantons would live in; it’d be a mansion. He said, “I could call right now and say, ‘Mr. Scranton, it’s Ambrose Finnegan from the Tribune. I have a problem. Can I come and see you?’ He’d say, ‘Sure. Come on over, Ambrose.’ Couldn’t be more polite. I’d walk up that big flight of stairs and knock on the door, and his man Jeeves would answer the door. Jeeves would invite me in. He’d take my coat. Then he’d take me to the library and offer me a sherry.”
I didn’t know what a sherry was, and my grandpop didn’t slow down to explain, but it sounded like a good thing to get.
“Then Mr. Scranton would come in and say, ‘Ambrose, what can I do for you?’ And I’d tell him my problem. And he’d say he’d be happy to help.”
And just then Grandpop reached up and hit me in between my shoulder blades. He hit me so hard, it startled me. I thought he might be angry at me, that somehow I’d disappointed him. I could feel the heat rise in my face. But my Grandpop was still talking.
“‘Ambrose,’ he’d say, ‘I’d be happy to help.’ “Joey, it wouldn’t be until I got my coat, got out the door, and reached the first landing that I felt a warm trickle of blood down my spine.”
“You know what we Irish call that, Joey?” one of my uncles said. “We call that a silk stocking screw.”
My grandpop didn’t even look at my uncle. He held my gaze and he said, “Joey, remember this: Men like Mr. Scranton would never do to their friends at the country club what they would do to us on the street. They think politics is beneath them. They think politics is only for the Poles and Irish and Italians and Jews, so anything goes.”
I knew that Ambrose Finnegan was a Democrat, with a bit of a chip on his Irish shoulder about the Scranton elite, but I still didn’t see the wisdom of dismissing the Mr. Scrantons of the world outright. My dad always said you couldn’t blame a guy for being rich. But I understood that my grandpop was trying to instruct me in something more elemental than class.
He wanted me to understand two big things: First, that nobody, no group, is above others. Public servants are obliged to level with everybody, whether or not they’ll like what he has to say. And second, that politics was a matter of personal honor. A man’s word is his bond. You give your word, you keep it.*
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a sort of romantic notion of what politics should be—and can be. If you do politics the right way, I believe, you can actually make people’s lives better. And integrity is the minimum ante to get into the game. Nearly forty years after I first got involved, I remain captivated by the possibilities of politics and public service. In fact, I believe—as I know my grandpop did—that my chosen profession is a noble calling.
FROM THE TIME I was little I had a picture in my head of the sort of man I wanted to become, a picture filled in by my mom and dad, by the teachings of the Catholic schools I attended, by stories I heard about our family hero, Uncle Bosie, a pilot who was shot down in World War II, and by a faith in the size of my own future. During my adolescent and college years, men and women were changing the country—Martin Luther King Jr., John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy—and I was swept up in their eloquence, their conviction, the sheer size of their improbable dreams...
*Italics are Mine...
A Gabbie Opinion: When I think about the fact that Joe Biden, a life-long Catholic--and recently, the Speaker of the House--who are being refused communion... I am sadden. I believe in faith. Yet I believe in words...The first that came to me re this issue is "Render Unto Caesar, the Things that Are Caesars. I also consider the words of Jesus who spoke about the need to forget about the rules of the pharisees, that they control you (again, my words). To me, the rules of a church are good, but need to be in line with the overall message that God is love. I believe fervently that Joe Biden is in office because it was God's decision for him to be there. He is God's Man, leading a nation that has been so corrupted with the lies of leaders and the confusion brought on by some who call themselves christian, chose to align themselves with a man who is daily, being revealed as a criminal and, so much more. I believe that God recognizes the need to allow a man leading a nation to be totally impartial to the rules of any and every religion that is espoused by the people who live in America... BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT AMERICA IS TO BE--a NATION OF ALL PEOPLES, FREELY ACCEPTED AS EQUAL UNDER THE CONSTITUTION.
Think about it...Folks...How else could a leader be than non-denominational in serving the needs of a country as diverse as America has become...
And, not, none of these can be replaced...They are a part of America as, as they say, apple pie.. Open Your Heart, Your Eyes, and Ultimately Your Mouth...God is Love. If a democracy is to truly exist, there can never be what is called a "State" religion. It is Caesar's...
God has His plan for each of us...purely His Path He Allows us to accept freely. No authoritarian is My God... No striving for Power is my God!
Deserves a repeat - And Words for a Singalong!
Getting Late in the afternoon, so need to start closing out... with, what you just might declare as my taking a "good thing" too far. LOL That's OK... Cause I Had another God Incident...
Coincident: Need for a Lift Chair
Coincident: Shout Out to Reese's Warehouse in Smithfield, PA, where every bit of support was provided to me including a wheelchair to get me to the area where their stock was on the floor.
Coincident: Both I and My BFF Rachel picked the first, yes, but the same one.
Coincident: I wanted not only Lift capability, but heat and massage.
Coincident: That chair was the only one in stock that fit my wish.
Coincident...
Becomes God Incident: After delivery and Rachel was helping me get it ready for personal use, she read: Catnapper!
I said, What
This is a Catnapper. So already she was realizing that since my home is full of cat pictures, curios and more, including live ones. that...this...was...exactly...the...chair...that...was...to...be...mine.
God Watches Us!
He Lives
I Sing Because I'm Free
He Watches Over Me...
GOD INCIDENT #1
Again, I'd never heard this artist before...NOW
Yet, I feel, there is somebody who will read Book Readers Heaven And Know It is For YOU
Right now, My Eyes are...
Crying in Joy!
And I've just Felt that I Don't Need to Proofread!
Now That's a God Incident, since I never immediately publish...of course, you realize that the editor in me will come back sometime to check for typos! LOL
Oh! Well! God Is Alive!
I am Alive in Him!
Will take some time to read all that you have written, @GlendaBixler @BookReview
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