Timothy Leary and the Satanic Narco Men

Ai Timothy Leary, ivy towered pied piper of my youth! I remember you so well…

And in the legend to this day sung, they tell…

Repeat this famous line: you aren’t dead but out there, somewhere…

Looking in… And I’m wondering….

Is this the “Brave New World” you imagined?

Is this the evolution you desired to force by chemical enlightenment?

Did you see what became of the children who drank your “Magic Kool-Aide”?

What did you think would happen after “The Year of Peace and Love” became the past?

What did you think would remain after 1968?

I heard you talking in 1982 and it was evident, you still thought what you’d done was great!

A fine mind twisted by too much LSD! An old man still rambling about the destruction of society…

Truly, an aging reprobate…

Are you really out there? Have you seen the Satanic Narco Men of 2016?

The Counter Culture took over, man! Now, the Narcos rule! They’re the new establishment!

Dude! They rule! With an iron fist of violence, by the gun,

With the power of astronomical wealth!

Gained by selling your famous “Magic Kool-Aide” in every flavor and form…

Ai Timothy! I see your dreams coming true as society crumbles and nations fall,

To the madness brought on by so many chemically endarkened minds!

This is the “New World Order”…

Corruption maintains porous borders as great Narco Armies guard global trade routes;

Ensuring the flow of your “Magic Kool-Aide” (available in so many flavors) to a drug-starved world…

Did you know your little test would birth the world’s largest economy?

You, my Communist leaning mentor, who engendered this mighty capitalist’s black market,

If you’re out there… do you wish you could close the Pandora’s Box?

You who railed against Viet Nam, do you acknowledge the blood on your hands?

Are you able to number the innocents who’ve fallen? The collateral damage of the Narco Wars?

Everywhere now, there are “baby killers”. In this liberal world built on the amorality of science.

Conscious Evolution by chemically induced spirituality is a nightmare! A bad trip man…

But Timothy! The masses still dance to your tune! And respond by popping another pill…

For in this “New Narco World”, dealers often wear white coats and pocket prescription pads.

Every day new addicts are born and the cycle of abuse continues in our dysfunctional human family;

A family drowning in chemically empowered denial.

And Timothy? Before you dismiss this as the ramblings of a post-menopausal hag who back in 1970,

Took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ruined her health with drugs…

Let me remind you; chickens come home to roost, and America’s chickens are on their way…

The Satanic Narcos who crushed Columbia, Guatemala, and Mexico will crush America and the world!

The only way to stop them is to starve them out by abstaining from drinking “Magic Kool-Aide”…

It is our sin bringing this decent into madness.

I know Timothy, you really are dead but Judgment Day is coming and you aren’t the only one…

Who must answer for the blood on your hands.




The Recluse (Part II)

Read Part I here:https://joyindestructible.com/2016/01/16/the-recluse/

Alisha Hernandez isn’t sure whether she should be happy about moving to Greenwood. She wasn’t included in the decision even though she was the priority consideration. Alisha is twelve, on the cusp of adolescence. She vacillates almost, hourly between being a child and being a teenager, as she clings to what she knows and tests what is to come. Having lived only, in an apartment in Philadelphia, the idea of a house with a yard and a large bedroom all her own, excites her but her heart wavers on the unknowns. She misses her friends already and wonders if she’ll fit in here in suburban Pennsylvania. Alisha is tall, with long black hair, large chocolate brown eyes, with a glowing olive complexion. Though she bears the gawkiness of a twelve year old, the discerning eye can’t miss the hint of how beautiful she will be at sixteen. She doesn’t know how this frightens her father, keeps him awake at night, and is his main motivator for moving his family to what he calls “the safety of suburbia”. Alisha never felt unsafe in the city. Not understanding that her sense of safety has nothing to do with the city itself but instead, her parent’s love and vigilance, she questions her dad’s judgment. “Why is he so paranoid?” is the question she asks herself. In fact, she is beginning to question everything about her parents. As she gingerly tests adolescence, she is also, beginning to test everything she’s been told. At twelve, Alisha is embarking upon the process of deciphering the value of all she’s been taught and choosing what to adopt as her own. Though she longs for the security of childhood, the forces of nature drive her to demand she be regarded as an adult.

Anthony and Maria Hernandez are simple, hard working people of sincere faith, who adore their only daughter. They place her needs above everything and work hard to make sure she lacks for nothing. They can’t give her everything money can buy but they lavish her with attention and make sacrifices that enable them to give her more than most children of same monetary status. Unwittingly, they are raising a child of privilege in an environment of limited privilege. Their intent is to give their daughter opportunities beyond the limits of their own childhoods. They are gracious, giving people who don’t neglect to teach their daughter about the grace of God and the importance of serving others but they are so caught up in serving Alisha that they underestimate her need to serve and sacrifice. Alisha believes herself to have certain entitlements even though, her parents are lower middle-class. A new pattern is emerging in the Hernandez household as Alisha enters her teens; Alisha demands, her parents refuse, Alisha cries as if her heart is breaking, and her parents acquiesce.

Moving is expensive and a house in suburbia makes it necessary for Maria to work outside of the home. Finding a decent job so quickly is a God-send but she is uneasy about leaving Alisha home alone during the day. Alisha however, is quick to let her parents know that she isn’t a baby and demands this opportunity to prove her maturity. She overwhelms her parents with guilt about all the changes “forced” upon her and they relent. Maria comforts herself by thinking she will find activities to keep her daughter busy once the bills are caught up and in the mean-time, she will trust God. Alisha feels empowered by her victory but also, a little worried about being alone all day.

Welland Avenue is a much quieter street than Alisha is accustomed to. Used to the rhythm of traffic she finds it difficult to sleep so, she stays up late and sleeps late. She will never tell her parents but she is bored during the day and rising late makes the day seem shorter. As an escape, she takes up the habit of lounging on the rear deck and reading in the afternoons. Alisha enjoys reading mysteries and dreams of being a detective or even a FBI agent, in the future. It isn’t long before she notices her next door neighbor, who is also, one of the few people in this neighborhood home during the day. Alisha doesn’t know any of the gossip about Estelle but she loves a mystery and this quiet, solitary woman seems to embody mystery. Soon, Alisha is spending more time spying on her neighbor and acting out her books than reading them. At first, she watches her only, in the back yard but also, begins to catch glimpses of her through the windows. In her lonely hours she becomes obsessed with the lady next door who is always alone. She often observes “The Lone Lady”, as she has titled her, sitting at her desk and absent mindedly gazing out the window, while seeing nothing. “Why does she look so sad?” Alisha wonders, as she vows to find a way to introduce herself to this interesting woman and get to the bottom of the matter. Even though “the matter” is all her imagination built around a woman who does nothing extraneous.

Momma, have you noticed that lonely, lady next door? She doesn’t have a family or friends. She is just home all day every day.” Alisha is careful to broach the subject on a sympathetic note. “ No mi jita, I’ve been too busy to notice our neighbors. It’s sweet of you to notice, mi linda.” Maria’s heart swells with pride and she is completely, taken in. “I was thinking, Momma…maybe I could make some cookies and take them to her. The Bible says we should be kind to people who have no one. You and dad always, say so.” Alisha’s words are meant to manipulate but also, to test the validity of the faith her parents profess. “Yes honey, we are to give of ourselves to the widows and orphans but I don’t know our neighbor, or why she is all alone. I want you to be safe. You are my first priority mi jita. When I have more time, we’ll go together and take her some cookies.” Alisha is frustrated by this answer and quickly, pulls out her best gun; tears, “Momma! It’s not like I’m asking to go out with a boy or stay out late with friends you don’t know! I want to do a good deed for our neighbor, the way you and dad teach me! Don’t be a hypocrite Momma! Haven’t I been responsible while you are at work? Nothing will happen to me if I bake cookies and take them to a lonely lady next door!” Maria looks at her daughter, who has tears streaming down her cheeks, and relents. “Okay sweetheart, if it means that much to you. I’m proud of you mi jita.” Alisha is over-joyed by her victory, files the technique away for future reference, and then pats herself on the back for her altruistic nature, as she allows herself to enjoy the self-image she created to serve her purpose. Most importantly, she’d won. Tomorrow would be less boring than today because tomorrow, she would finally meet, “The Lone Lady”!

Alisha went to the kitchen to make a batch of bisquochitos while next door, Estelle sat dreaming and wistfully waiting for her long delay to end.

(To be Continued)







The Recluse

From the outside looking in, it is very difficult to understand why this woman who appears to be healthy and normal would choose to live in isolation. It doesn’t however, keep people in the neighborhood from trying to peek and ascertain why their neighbor is so strange. In fact she is the subject of not a few urban legends, tales the town’s children hear and love to repeat. Though everyone has forgotten her name, she bears many titles, “The Ghost”, “The Brown Recluse”, “Witch”, “The Vampire”, each depending on the childish story repeated to then, be expounded upon. Adults repeat tall tales of their own in stories that are gossip excused as knowing the “dangers” that exist in the neighborhood. As a result, parents warn their children to steer clear of “that strange woman’s house” and everyone keeps a vigilant eye on a quiet home where nothing ever happens. If they knew the truth about their neighbor who by simply being isolated adds drama to their hum-drum lives, they would most likely, shed tears and understand “the recluse” to be a fellow human being.

Estelle is a pretty, older woman who was once, a beauty. She has lived in this small house on Welland Avenue for her entire life. As an only child, she simply never moved away not because she was dependent upon her parents but after her father died it was natural for her to remain and care for her mother. Estelle is a very independent person but her mother was unable to survive on her own. In fact, Emma her mother, was forever a child in a woman’s body. As if she had no arms and legs of her own, she depended upon the legs and arms of others to meet her needs. Emma was a beautiful woman and as a young woman, lacked for nothing of material value because of her looks. Instead of learning to fend for herself, she became adept at manipulation especially, of men. It all backfired on her at the age of thirty-one, when her allure was beginning to fade and she found herself somehow, pregnant. Estelle’s father Joe, a simple man, became an easy target for Emma in her dire situation. It wasn’t difficult for her to con Joe into loving her and accepting full responsibility for her and another man’s baby. He wasn’t the kind of man that Emma admired (admiration was Emma’s only, definition of love) but he presented himself as handy and she grabbed him to preserve the image she liked to project of herself. Unlucky Estelle was the innocent baby born to this union formed to suit Emma’s need.

Emma’s lack proved to be bottomless over the years. Joe wasn’t capable of giving her what she wanted. His simple love, devotion, and faithful care weren’t enough. Emma hated their small house but never thought of getting a job to help Joe buy a bigger house. Instead, she nagged and grew bitter, drowning herself in herself and alcohol. “Estelle! Listen to me schweetheart…don’t saddle yourself with a wimp like your dad. Marrying him ruined my life! I deserve so much more than this! You find yourself a real man with the means to provide, the way a man is supposed to provide for his woman!” Even though it was Estelle’s dad that gave her genuine love, discipline, and kept a roof over her head, there was something about Emma that required worship and Estelle worshiped her mom. She also, adopted the view of her father that her mom so often promoted. In fact Estelle doted on her mother, tended to her when she had too much to drink, listened to her complaints, and tried with everything in her, to please her mother. She wanted so badly, to earn her mother’s love but love was outside of Emma’s ability to give. In fact, nothing about Emma was real. She existed as a clawing empty shell projecting many false images designed to please and manipulate in a false hope of filling her insatiable desires. Estelle, the dutiful daughter, learned to reflect admiration for each and every one of those personas. In fact, she looked up to her mother’s pretense as an amazing ability to convey wholeness to others when in fact, her life was in shambles. Estelle felt that she was lacking in her inability to hide her true feelings. She knew her straight forward nature upset her mother and since she admired her mother so greatly, she also, learned to despise herself for being so different from her mother. Estelle’s self esteem revolved around filling her mother’s bottomless inner void, in hopes of earning her approval.

Estelle was in college when Joe suddenly, died of a heart attack. He was a hard worker who gave little thought to himself and his small family also, paid little attention to him. Perhaps, if he’d been more proactive about his health he wouldn’t have died at age 55 but his life’s reward was apparently, not on this earth but in Heaven. Joe was such a good man that to most people, he was invisible. Emma was furious when she received word of her husband’s death. How could he? “What in God’s Name am I supposed to do now?” were the first words out of her mouth. The second sentence, “Once a worm always a no good worm, I knew he’d pull something like this on me!” It was Joe’s death that made Estelle aware of what he’d meant in her life and now, she felt the full weight of the responsibility he had carried for her mother shift onto her shoulders. Suddenly, she knew her father may have had his weaknesses but he was never a wimp. “Don’t worry, Mamma. I’m here. I’ll quit school and I’ll take care of you.” She pulled her mother close to comfort her and they shed tears together. Estelle cried for the loss of her dad and Emma cried for herself.

Estelle cared for her mother with same kind of devotion that a good mother has for her child. It wasn’t so much that they reversed roles rather, Estelle grew into the role of mother, as Emma remained forever, a child. Over the years, there were men interested in Estelle. She was beautiful with dark hair, green eyes, white skin, and a long slender physique. Though quiet and shy, her personality was sweet and she was very intelligent. However, her mother couldn’t abide her daughter deserting her for any man and Estelle wasn’t capable of standing up to her mother. In fact, her whole life was about her mother and making sure her mother had the things she needed and wanted. She really didn’t have time for a life of her own. The thought of leaving her mother with strangers made her feel so guilty. She just couldn’t do that and soon she learned how to erect walls to keep men from even daring to look her way. Her girlfriends did marry and had families. Slowly, they faded from Estelle’s life, as she lost all commonality with her peers. As Emma aged, she became more demanding and staged great, draining dramas if she didn’t get enough attention. Estelle lost herself in work and in caring for the mother she doted on. Even though her mother never truly, loved her in return.

When Emma passed (due to liver damage as the result of her alcoholism) the empty hole at the core of her being didn’t die. It simply, transferred itself to haunt Estelle. Having lived for her mother instead, of developing a life of her own, left Estelle with nothing but the void she inherited. It was all she had left and sadly, it was so familiar that she surrendered herself to it. She became one with it as she withdrew entirely, from the world around her. She began working at home through her computer and the only, people she had contact with were those acquaintances who provided necessary services. This is the truth about Estelle, the recluse; a tale more sinister than any urban legend, the story of a woman who lived for another and never developed a life of her own.

Now, Estelle lives in isolation and waits, with no clue as to what or who she is waiting for.

(To be continued.)

Hope Purposed in Twilight

Such a sickly, small child, one in whom the light of life seemed as twilight, soon to fade. His mother wonders how this could happen to her. Her dreams of being loved unconditionally by the child she bore, shattered when this four pound boy made his entrance into the world, too soon. She longed for a strong son, who one-day would take care of her but this child was proving to be a bother. All the clothing she’d received from friends and relatives were much too large and she’d been forced to bring him home dressed in doll clothes. Her mother and sisters said she should be grateful that she was able to bring him home but when she compared her son to her nieces and nephews, she experienced no feelings of gratitude. Her son was such a weakling that his cry resembled that of a small kitten. He was difficult to hear from the other room and she resented him for that. How would she ever be able to get anything done? What must people think? Surely, his condition had nothing to do with the cigarette smoking she was unable to completely, set aside during pregnancy. A lot of women drank wine when expecting and surely, the few times she’d over imbibed weren’t enough to hurt her baby. It just wasn’t her fault! She felt herself cursed to receive such a defect. This puny runt of a son was just another example of how badly life treated her; another disappointment to cope with.

At age eighteen, Marissa was little more than a child herself and her love of alcohol kept her emotional maturity at about fourteen, the age when she first began drinking. She was the youngest in a large family and though her sisters doted on her, she had too little attention from tired parents who were also, grandparents. Marissa drank because she was lonely and she fell into other bad behaviors because of her need to belong to the drinking crowd. She became pregnant on purpose, thinking she’d find the emotional connection she yearned for in a baby. All of her dreams of motherhood were the fantasies of a little girl and her self-care during pregnancy was childishly, negligent. At eighteen, Marissa was frozen in narcissism and would remain forever, as a selfish child unless someday, she should decide to stop drinking, grow up, and develop into a whole person.

This isn’t good news for Marissa’s child. The tiny infant she left sleeping beneath too many blankets, while she sat drinking, smoking, deeply immersed in self. Suffocating, Adrian struggled to breathe beneath the weight and heat of the blankets, as his mother sought relief in the love of her life, Jack Daniels. The small boy’s twilight was quickly fading into night when one of Marissa’s sisters rang the door bell.

Arianna became an angel the moment she entered the room; an angel sent to save little Adrian. Wanting to see the new baby, she pulled the heavy blankets back and found the meager baby not breathing. Marissa began to helplessly, scream and cry in fear for herself, while Arianna tilted the baby’s small head back and breathed her life into his lungs. Miraculously, it was enough and Adrian began mewing his pitiful cry. This would be the first of three times that Adrian would face death before the age of five. Each instance brought about by the irresponsible actions of a mother who would forever remain a little girl.

Adrian was born with all of the odds set against him. No one looking in on the first years of his life would hold out much hope for him. This small child born as a sensitive in a harsh environment was doomed to suffer intensely. Many would say that abortion would be the greatest kindness to bestow on such a child. No greatness was evident in this child that seemed to be born to live only, in a moment of twilight. It is true that if he hadn’t been born, he would not have to experience pain or anguish. However, if he’d never been born, the world would suffer from his absence. For by his suffering, Adrian learned great compassion for abuse survivors and coupled with his inborn sensitivity, it gave him the empathy of insight into the suffering of others. He became a powerful counselor, teacher, and mentor to adults who also, survived abuse and neglect as children. The greater purpose for Adrian’s life could not be accomplished if his early years had been years of health, love, and comfort. God watched over Adrian despite the dysfunction of his mother and sent many angels at just the right time, to save him from death, to nurture him, to love, and value him. These angels enabled Adrian to survive and also, find his way to a saving faith that gave him the purpose and strength he needed to heal his trauma. In Jesus, the person not the religion, Adrian found the nurture he lacked from his mother. In mirroring Christ and seeking to live as He lived, Adrian found his purpose in serving God first and from that position of power, serving others. By faith, the power of choice, and hard work, he overcame all the odds; and rather than growing up to become another generational link in the curse of family dysfunction, Adrian became a blessing to many people. A child of twilight purposed in hope and filled with the divine light of God!

The Breach

An old woman sits on a bench, placed against a south facing wall, enjoying the sun as it melts aches and pains away. Lost in the bright warmth on her face, she begins to dream in reverse. Riding the rays of the sun, she finds herself transported to that special place, sitting on flag-stone, beneath the blooming bows of the old Lilacs at Grandma’s house. Such a sky on this day in early May; a vast dome of the bluest blue that only a child’s eyes can see! The scent of Lilac permeates everything, with the bushes themselves joining overhead in an embrace that provides protection for two little girls, immersed in imaginative play. With tulips and other spring flowers turned upside down to become dolls dressed in ball gowns; these happy girls dance the day away. Light gleams on the hair of the cotton-top girl’s curly hair, as if in competition with the sun. The older girl is darker and even this bright day only manages to pull a few golden highlights from the ashen, darker waves beneath. Sisters in deep contrast to one another but locked together by blood, trust, and love.

Lost in the dream of her memory, in the past as important as now, the old woman sighs as from this point in time, she starts to dream forward. She begins to roll away from this heavenly moment, this snippet of blissful harmony, down her road of life. So many rough spots, navigational mistakes, mud-holes, missed stop signs, and confusing intersections. Somewhere on the way, harmony was lost and the contrast became glaring. Blood wasn’t enough to hold these sisters together. Trust was broken. Love does remain but only, as a reminder of the relationship that once existed; but now, is a relationship severed in a fierce misunderstanding. Pride over-rode the bond of blood and to this day, frustrates love.

A dark, wet cloud passes overhead, blocking the sun. At the same moment, the old woman’s heart sinks with grief and her eyes flood with tears of loss; if only, they could go back to that happy day and find a way to blend the contrast of their personas. Though one child was assigned to be golden, and the other to be twilight, in that happy moment, the contrast worked as compliment. Was it jealousy that loomed and turned sisters to adversaries? Or was it as it seems to this old woman; that the golden child wanted to rule over the child made of twilight and when twilight came into her own, the one who shines even in competition with sun, couldn’t abide it. She knows deep down that neither of them can help the role they were assigned. For each there is no choice but to play it out. In heart, the old woman embraces her little sister, that cotton-topped little girl, and lovingly, forgives her(again) . Then more tears flood in realization that her forgiveness isn’t enough to restore them to sisterhood; it’s only half of what needs to be done. On the other half she must wait and never give up hope in the waiting.

When the longing is too much, she drifts backward to the moment that is part of her now, and warms her aches in the trust that only, loving sisters can know. Though trust is broken and takes two to mend, love remains. Where there is love, there is always hope for reconciliation.

Hope for a Little Girl in the Dark

Caste into the outer darkness by the forces of illness and neglect, a child grows in the absence of the comfort and nurture that ensures a child’s becoming whole. Suspended in isolation with nothing but childish, undeveloped thoughts and the voices from the outer-world (of the family) to keep her company, Ester gives into sleep. In her dreams the door to freedom opens and allows her to escape the loneliness of her dusky room. If it were not for sleep and dreams, the vacuum would consume her and she would evaporate to nothing. However, the benevolence that surrounds Ester, the presence she can feel but not name, enters her dreams and speaks the loving words she so desperately needs to hear. Ester has a destiny greater than the one assigned to her by poor health and negligent parents.

Floating in the void of aloneness, Ester knows nothing different and is unaware of the threat to her existence. The void wants to swallow her whole before the world knows of her but Ester has a gift; the ability to fight the void by the power of imagination. The presence never leaves her and though the isolation she endures would destroy most adults, Ester never feels lonely. The warmth of divine love surrounds her and keeps her alive in her dimly-lit room and fills her dreams with joyful images, experiences, and even a sense of self. In the world of flesh and blood, Ester is small and weak. However, in the world of her benevolently guided dreams, Ester is very strong.

In this gloomy room, Ester will face death and win. Even though she’s been in bed for many months and her legs are too weak to support her, she will learn to walk again. She will leave this room one day and enter the real world because the One who loves her has predestined it so. Though Ester will embrace the void for a short period of time, in a wrong-headed effort to subdue and overcome it, the void won’t be able to destroy her. Instead, the emptiness she will for a time internalize will make greater room for the filling of the Spirit of God, who hovers around her, limiting evil and working all to ultimate good. Though Ester has no definition now, of either the loving presence or the void, she knows each as her constant often, only companions. Though she is nothing in the world, even valued little by her parents, God will be glorified through her. Her life, her very existence will be a testimony of Jesus; when she lets go of the void and knowingly invites Him in. Though the world views Ester as having no identifiable purpose, as only a sick little girl wanted by no one, God has predestined His purpose for her in Christ and her purpose will be completed. The void will be filled by the divine light that is Jesus and Ester will know the outer darkness no more.

The Colors of Joy

Adeline, a little girl raised in a world of dingy grey somehow, learned to dream in color. She was a talented child of limited privilege but gifted with creativity. Her talent to dream beyond her environment was her ticket to survival. Trapped in a home characterized by spiritual, intellectual, and economic poverty, Adeline escaped into the inner, colorful world of her dreams. That special place was the opposite of the deadly vacuum in which she lived and breathed. Adeline’s world was made of vast, rolling, emerald-green hills beneath an azure sky filled with cloudless rainbows. The sun was always shinning but never too hot, it gently, kissed and nurtured flowers reflecting the color of the rainbows above them, in the sparkling sky. Every animal on the planet that Adeline created in her mind was a pet, even bears and lions and the people were always loving and kind. Everything was wonderful in the dream-world of Adeline’s imagination and she spent as much of her time as possible there. Every book she read, every movie she watched was like a seed that upon germination, added depth and detail to her inner world. To Adeline, reality became just a bad dream and the better world within, her reality. Adeline found happiness in the colorful, loving, joyful world she imagined but her fantasy didn’t have the power to change her reality. Then something happened to turn Adeline and her desire to create goodness and beauty changed; she became creatively evil.

A man, all dingy, dank grey, with an empty soul, filled with alcohol, destroyed Adeline’s personal dignity before she even understood it as her right. Adeline became an “anybody’s” and a “nobody” by a process of degradation she was too young to comprehend. What she did understand was that if she pleased him, he wouldn’t hit her, and he even gave her things. In a world of dingy grey, survival and getting things is everything. Adeline wanted to live because all little girls want to live but the colorful world within her died, in the face of evil’s revelation. Forced by the cruelty of harsh reality into understanding her dream world could never be, Adeline turned all her creative powers over to the darkness. She became adept at pleasing by pretending to be what others wanted and then taking whatever she could clean from them. Sometimes though, her soul still screamed for relief and she found the escape she craved but no longer had the childlike faith to create, in drugs. A puff, a pill, a sniff, and finally, an injection artificially inflated Adeline’s dreams. However, they lacked the power to breathe life into her deadened soul that was now also, dingy grey. Adeline had no access to the joy she knew as a child and as the popular saying goes, when she grew up, she was a completed product of her environment. Sweet, beautiful, little Adeline didn’t make it into the world of human beings and by them, was regarded as only, a statistic.

Thankfully, statistics are another form of fantasy and no statistic can rightly define a human being. Adeline, no matter her environment or the choices she made to survive it, was a child of God. Her gift of creativity was her Godly attribute, a reflection of the Father who made her and adored her, even in her grey, lifeless state. Though the world labeled her as ”a nobody” who gave herself to anybody, God saw her as His precious daughter and He sent His Son, Jesus to save her from her sin and heal her from everything that damaged her. Though she appeared to be broken, useless, only garbage, through Jesus, God reached down whispering, “I love you. I bled and died for you and if you believe in Me, you will be free. I am living now and if you take my hand, you will live a new life in me.” Adeline recognized this voice that didn’t come from without but from within, as she reached for that hand that her physical eyes couldn’t see, and immediately, felt the wrapping of the warmest most comforting embrace she’d ever known. It was her Daddy, come to rescue her, and heal all of her wounds.

Because of Jesus, Adeline’s story didn’t end in a sad statistic and she found a sure escape from a dingy grey world of poverty, crime, and degradation. Adeline lived a life beyond mere survival. In Christ, she grew to overcome everything her childhood seemed to predestine for her. She wasn’t limited by her life’s circumstances because from before the foundation of the world, God had a better plan. Adeline became a wife, mother, teacher, and a painter who filled her corner of the world with every color of the rainbow. Every painting shone with a brilliant light empowered to bend every sorrowful shade of grey and disperse throughout: red for Christ’s blood, blue for peace, green for life, and yellow for joy. Adeline’s creativity found a new purpose, that of glorifying her Father. Adeline, that sad little girl trapped in a dingy world who managed to survive by the seed God planted of Himself within her, lived a life better than her dreams when she recognized the giver of dreams, as her Heavenly Father. Now, she belongs to only, Him. She is a daughter of the King! She still dreams of a better world but that world isn’t a fantasy. It is Christ’s Kingdom to come that her childhood dreams were but a taste of. In that world, there will be no sad little girls who must survive and then overcome a dingy world of grey.

Crushed Joy

Pretty little girl, dressed up like a doll, beautiful living toy!

An accessory for her mother! A show-piece for her father!

Sent to her room when her childish wants began to annoy,

Sedated with alcohol, when her emotional needs bother;

This is the beginning of girl’s ending: The Crushing of Joy!


No longer useful to accessorize the attire of her mother,

Her alarming behavior stole all of her father’s crowing joy!

Blaming Joy for parenting sins and shaming Joy to smother,

All her memories of how they abused and ruined their toy!

Not abuse but love they said, as we are Mother and Father!

We know best, you beautiful doll, valuable to some old-boy,

Merchandised as a wife, he will free us from all this bother!

Guard your treasure, wait, and don’t fall for any love-ploy!

Pretty, dumb doll, you are merchandise! And nothing other!

Don’t dare to dream any bigger! Don’t knit a plan to employ,

To lift yourself higher! You’re nothing! Don’t outshine mother!

Our needs matter! Don’t shame father! Don’t be a kill-joy!


Then sweet-talker came, disguised as love a Raging Monster!

Shattering! Crushing! And pulverizing! He dismantled Joy!

Finishes work the parents began, then reaches for another

Doll toy to break; sullied merchandize to use and destroy!

Crushed! Never becoming! Battered doll that dared to bother!

This is that too often repeated sad tale: The Crushing of Joy!


Little girls treated as objects grow up to objectify themselves and be objectified by others. Parents who emotionally neglect and abuse their daughters, paint a bright red target on their backs that make them prime targets for men who enjoy using and abusing young women. Taught that abusive words and actions are love, they will accept abuse as love. Girls who have no self-value but in their physical appearance and no goals but the love of a man, will be victimized by men who have no regard for women as people. Daddy’s little doll will not see anything wrong in being used as a sex toy or in being valued as merchandise. Being taught that abuse is love, they will often love themselves by abuse, and become alcoholics, drug addicts, self-mutilators, and develop eating disorders. The greatest damage inflicted through child neglect and abuse is the lies taught about identity and self-value. False definitions of love drive them to set themselves up for further abuse by anyone who promises love.

There is no more evil act than to crush the joy of a child but abuse victims don’t have to accept their fate. Jesus can rebuild what sin destroys and Jesus can fully restore the joy of every abused little girl. Those who turn to Jesus in belief find true love. Love that respects, values, protects, and guides them to wholeness and an abundant life. It isn’t magic but a miracle that takes place over time, on a healing journey that is a process of becoming the women God intended them to be. Miracles are better than magic because magic is just a trick but miracles are real. Everything a girl-child loses when abused, Jesus restores. He is the One who can turn an upside down world right-side up and then bless crushed little girls seven-fold in the new world to come. No one, no matter how broken is beyond transformation in Christ Jesus. Through genuine faith and obedience broken dolls can become living miracles, with joy restored!







Stormy mood clouds roll in and darken his demeanor,

Like rolling thunder he begins to mumble dire warnings,

Lightening-like words strike randomly, zapping everyone

Who dares to come too near or carelessly, crosses his path;

Then the storm intensifies and builds into all consuming rage;

He becomes a maniacal mad-man, a wrathful anger machine,

Hurting, breaking, hurling, destruction until suddenly, the storm

Stops! The clouds dissipate. The sun returns. As if he has no

Memory of the storm. But the damage and destruction remain.


Everything he broke, he neatly and methodically, sweeps away,

By blaming others and casting shame on the victims of his raging

Storm that vanishes; but always returns without warning or reason;

It’s only, his temperamental- season cycling within his intemperate

Mental climate; his untamable nature; and he expects all who love

Him to accept; with his shaming-blame and swallow their tears

And deny any fear,

When his mood clouds begin to rise, his thunder begins to roll,

And disparaging insults strike their tender hearts like sharp bolts

Of lightening that electrically burn loving hearts until,

The love that lights them dies.


Dead love evaporates to form new thundering mood clouds;

That build, and roll, and rage, and destroy, and suddenly, dissipate;

Only, to build again; with each storm’s passing leaving more fodder

For future seasonal storms; a natural part of his intemperate climate,

His normal cycling that all who love him must tolerate or self-dissipate;

Because to love him is to precipitate and become a casualty

Of his wrathful-raging-anger storms.

Complex Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome is unendurable pain in response to trauma that continually, recycles. Dark moods that seem to come from nowhere have a very real cause in the past and when the present acts as a reminder, the unresolved emotions related to the past trauma begin to cloud the mind of the CPTSD sufferer. While women often turn their anger inward, men are prone to turn it outward but neither rightly places their anger with the person or persons who hurt them. There may be no concrete memory of the original event as it may be buried deep in the subconscious. Even if memory of the original trauma event is acknowledged, the feelings associated with it are often stuffed down in avoidance only, to rise when triggered. When triggered, sufferers traumatize others and re-traumatize themselves. As the illness cycles, it also grows in strength, and CPTSD can destroy the life of the person trapped within it.

There is hope for survivors of CPTSD in Jesus. He is a reason to live and continue the struggle required to overcome CPTSD. In Jesus there is validation and empathy for survivors of abusive trauma. He is the example to follow on the narrow path that leads to complete forgiveness and the deep letting go of past events that breaks the cycle of CPTSD. It is more than a choice it is a journey of right-reckoning that employs truth in attaching painful emotions with the root of their cause and leaving responsibility in the lap of the person who caused the injury. It is in facing into triggers and deciphering the truth of where the pain originated that emotions are re-attached to what caused them, making those triggers more manageable. Honest acceptance of the pain caused to innocent others and attempting to make amends for those hurts is also, a vital part of genuine reckoning. It may require confrontation of the abuser but their repentance isn’t required for healing. Repentance on the part of the abuser within is required. When responsibility rests in it right place, the work is finished when those offenses are nailed to the cross and the sufferer dies to them.

When a child’s joy is crushed through abuse, that child will grow up and crush the joy of others; but they aren’t beyond the hope available in Jesus. Truth, when rightly employed, will break the cycle of pain and rage that is CPTSD. Though someone you love may be trapped in suffering from the past and because of it have become unlovable, don’t stop loving them. Avoid being a casualty, keep yourself safe, and if no other avenue for loving them is available, love them through prayer.





A Mocker’s Twisted Joy

Bill (always referred to as William by his mother) was once a bright, happy, little boy. He was the youngest child, with two older sisters, in a family that doted on him. There wasn’t anything his parent’s wouldn’t do for their children but in William his mother, Della especially, saw greatness. She centered her life around him and tended to his every wish and need. Determined not to deny him any opportunity, she sacrificed many things to make sure he attended the right schools, had special lessons, and played whatever sport caught his interest. Della did everything she could to make sure his childhood was the opposite of her own. Her William had the right clothes, the right friends, and never lacked for anything. Bill was the center of his family and understood that the sun, moon, and stars revolved around him; and were purposed to serve him. Bill seemed to have everything but he was denied the joy of serving others and never learned to give but only, to receive.

Della loved Jesus and she taught her children that they should love Him too. She took them to church every Sunday and did her best to raise them “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” Della and her husband, the original William, both had servant’s hearts and dedicated many hours to their church. Truly, they were nearly selfless people who gave of themselves freely and seldom asked for anything in return. Young Bill observed them giving away what he thought should belong to only him and grew to resent their church service. He saw how some took advantage of his parents and came to regard them as foolish but that didn’t stop him from availing himself of all he could garner from them. It was jealousy and entitlement that tied the first hard knots in Bill’s heart; knots that anchored him at the center of his universe and strangled any remnant of childish joy. Though Bill knew everything about the Christian faith, he never accepted Christ because that would mean surrendering the throne of self that he knew himself as entitled to. He grew bitter toward God and as a young man, declared himself an Atheist. However, deep inside he knew the reality of God but had no use for a God that required service rather than catering to his whims.

Bill is now known as a bitter, old man. Life was a disappointment to him as the world refused to serve him as his parent’s had. He hates them too for making him believe that everything he desired and wished for would be handed to him on a silver platter. The only thing he really enjoys in life is deriding Christians, in the same way that he derides and abuses his aged parents. Bill didn’t learn to work and doesn’t like to work. He rode his parents financially for as long as he could until, their money ran out. After that they were useless to him and he abandoned them entirely. He assuages any pains of guilt brought on by his actions by trolling social media and haranguing believers. He made it his call in life, to de-evangelize the world. He prides himself on his intellect and reason, as he seeks to free others from purpose, hope, and the joy of faith that he finds most, unreasonable. His methods consist mainly, of rapid-fire statements disguised as questions, designed to overwhelm intellects he regards as inferior to his own. Even though he denies belief in any deity, there is nothing he adores more than blaming God for every evil in the world. In this Bill reveals the truth buried deep in his heart that he is not an Atheist but an apostate. Instead of choosing a faith he knows is Truth, he decided instead to unreasonably rely upon human reason and its inability to prove the existence of God. It was the only, way to keep his throne. He denied a life of purpose and embraced a life of purposeless, self-gratification that left him empty, bitter, and joyless. Bill still proudly, sits at the center of his universe and he sits all alone.

Many blame Bill’s parents for creating the man he is today; but Bill is the only one who can change his destiny. As a child, he observed all their ways and chose to be the kind of man he wanted to be. Any hope for him lies in changed desire and the softening of his hardened heart. Only the Truth that Bill eschews has the power to free him from his isolation, pain, and bitterness. Only, Jesus can loosen the knots of defective non-belief and fill his heart with joy. His only, hope lies in the Mercy of the one true God that he denies.