"Playing the Victim"

I have been reading a lot about people who have come out of abusive religious situations. I believe it needs to be repeated that people recovering from toxic ideals that were enforced as religious mandates are *not* being "victims" when they are openly honest about the abuse they've suffered. Rather, they are victors who now stand strong enough to call out wrong.

Many in my generation were raised under a veil of silence. "Don't harm the church. Don't harm the 'man of God'. God didn't harm you: people harmed you. Do NOT talk about it or you will harm the good people who are left. You are hurting God if you are honest about abuse in His churches!"

I have said it before, calling out sin and crime in the church is the *only* way Christianity has even a modicum of hope to regain any decency. This continuing onslaught of gossip and condemnation spewing out against people who dare to leave only demonstrates the deepening need for purging in God's houses.

A church that has to work to earn back a good reputation after outing a bad person has a head start if they are open and honest. A church that hides the deeds of a disgusting human being - or worse, a criminal - under the guise of 'forgiveness' becomes an accomplice.

Do not mistake God's forgiveness for the necessary justice required by law.

If a person has committed fraud, embezzlement, or some kind of immorality (against children or other adults, for example), they must be held accountable by the legal standards of the day. God may forgive the soul, but He is also very clear about following the law.

Church members who vilify those who have left their denomination or even just their specific church building only further prove the toxic nature that made leaving necessary. I have witnessed time and again the way people are ripped to shreds. I have seen gossip spread and cause. Shoot, we were the target of this, ourselves. I do not speak this out of hurt feelings. Any feelings I have on the matter are long gone. All that remains is a passion to see people in similar situations freed and supported.

All of this is done in the guise of the 'righteous' discussing the 'fallen'. It is vicious and ugly. Make no mistake, it is sinful. When the church no longer matches God's plan for His people, it is *not* the place to find spiritual growth.

If you've found yourself leaving a denomination and under fire by the 'good' people, please remember that they do not speak for God. Whether or not they can see that you are running towards Him, not away from Him doesn't matter. Compassionate children of the Almighty would not behave this way. It is better to find a fold of flawed sheep than to forever remain in a den of wolves in sheep's clothing.

Empty Shoes/One Month

At five in the morning, the house is always perfectly still. Yesterday, I was in the dark browsing my phone before beginning a busy day. Out of nowhere, it hit: the mental image of your house shoes, sitting empty. I pictured them as I had last seen them, in the hospital by your bed.

"All of her little shoes are now empty."

The thought sucked the breath out of me and grief thudded its crushing weight on my chest like a herd of elephants. My gosh, you're so very gone! 

I was so afraid your shoes had been left behind when you died, but they haven't. Big Sis has them. I asked her for this lovely photo and she graciously obliged. This image will replace the sadder one in my memory of the hospital the day we said goodbye. I am so grateful to you and  Dad for starting our family with such a quality person. I have found myself hanging onto her for dear life.

We went to the orchard today, my little family of four. You know the one: *our* orchard. The one you, Dad, Jim, Karen, Baby Sis, and I first went to one happy afternoon in 2001. On the ride down today, it struck me that only Baby Sis and I are left alive from our original group. That joyous afternoon blossomed into our annual pilgrimages to document the girls' growth in the chestnut trees.

I am heartsick that we have been without you for an entire month already. It is such a sad occasion to mark on such a special and precious day, but that is life, isn't it? It is death itself that makes the lives we have so incredibly dear. The memories we are making with our children were born in traditions started with you and Dad. How fleeting are these moments! 

So today I celebrate my children and the ways they have grown, inside and out even as today I grieve for you, for Dad, and for the years I feel somewhat cheated out of. 

Every thought, sad or happy, brings me back to the Savior and the overwhelming sense that He is good. 

Thank you, Lord, for giving me the parents I had. Thank you for the time we spent together creating the memories that will have to sustain us. I am so grateful that Dad and Mom are up there celebrating with joyful abandon in the most precious of places. Comfort us as we hold them here in our hearts. Help us to create and carry forward their legacy of loving and serving you. Answer the prayers spoken by lips that no longer utter, and also those we who remain speak over our own children. In your holy name, I pray. Amen.

Untethered

I am wrapping up another year of my life. That isn't something I usually care too much about. In fact, I have a rather disheartening history of bad birthdays. No matter. 

This is the first one I'm facing without any parents left walking this earth.

For whatever reason, I'm finding that increasingly intolerable. By this morning, I'm completely devastated. I can't seem to quit crying. I thought it was horrible after my dad died: unbearable, really, to hear my mom singing "Happy Birthday" all by herself on the other end of the phone. 

This is worse.

As I sit here mulling this over in the silence of my empty house, my mother is a small pile of ashes in the back room of a morgue 450 some-odd miles away. 

Gosh, that's bleak. 

I know.

I know, and I am 100% *not okay*.

So, now what?

Linda K. Pringle

Linda K. Pringle (65) of Oakland, MD was joyfully welcomed into eternity by her Heavenly Father and her beloved husband early on August 7^th, 2024 at the Garrett Regional Medical Center in Oakland, MD.

At the time of her passing, Linda was a substitute teacher at Southern Garrett High School, especially for the Stars Class. She often spoke with affection about her coworkers and her time there.

Linda was born to Donald and Edith Borst in 1958 and grew up in Hammond, IN, graduating from the Hammond Baptist High School in 1976. She attended college in Florida, where she met the love of her life – Richard W. Pringle. They were married in August of 1979 and spent much of their lives together as pastor and wife from 1986 until Richard’s passing in 2017. She served faithfully with him at Ashland Baptist Temple (Ashland, OH), Union Valley Baptist Church (Belle Union, IN), and Frankton Bible Baptist Church (Frankton, IN). During her years in the ministry, Linda reached the lives of many children and people of all ages. She had active friendships around the states and across the world.

Left to cherish her memory are her four daughters Elisabeth (Nathaniel) Wisor, Lynn (Christopher) Wells, Rebecca (Jacob) Riffe, and Sarah (Timothy) Reed, seventeen grandchildren, and one great-granddaughter. She was preceded in death by her father, mother, older sister, husband, and several grandchildren. She is survived by her three younger siblings including her cherished baby sister, Diana.

Linda loved to spend time with her fellow residents at the Liberty Square Apartments, several of whom became her close friends. 

She is best remembered by her daughters for the special flair she brought to each holiday occasion, the peals of laughter shared over the silliest things and the way she was always there on the other end of the line for countless phone calls. She was serenaded a final time by all four girls in the hours leading up to her passing. Each has expressed gratitude that the Lord has shown such grace and mercy during this difficult time. They are also incredibly proud of her selfless anatomical donation lovingly made through Infinite Legacy.

Linda was a very private person who asked not to be memorialized with a public service. 

Feel free to express your condolences to her children or in the comments below. All notes will be read and cherished. *You can click on the preselected 'anonymous' for a drop-down menu that will allow you to enter your name and continue the comment as yourself.*

We Are Losing Her, Too

 I had intrusive thoughts. I often do, but I had little breakthrough nudges that seemed so stupid.

I sat on my patio watching the garden and mulling over my mom's upcoming summer visit. She hoped to stop by for at least a week in July - maybe August. Her gallbladder was hurting: a lot. Aching *so* badly. It unsettled me: reminded me of my three month saga from hell. 

"Go get it checked out, Mom."

"They said the bloodwork is fine, but it just really hurts so that I can hardly breathe."

And so when I sat on my back patio watching the garden, any time I was alone - really alone, the intrusive thoughts started. What if... what if?

"Is this her year?" I asked God.

He knew what I was asking. 2017 was my dad's year. 

I chided myself for being overly worried. After all, I was likely projecting my own medical trauma worries onto her.

"Please go get scanned, Mom. Don't let your doctor off the hook." I pleaded.

"Yeah... but the blood tests..."

It didn't seem to matter how much I pushed. This went on for about three weeks. Finally, FINALLY, she found someone to listen to: her sister reminded her that their older sister had lethal cancers that began as unexplained pain in her side. Mom *finally* called the doctor. They couldn't get her in Monday, but they would Friday. 

Friday came and the kind NP at the doctor's office got her in for a scan straight away. But they didn't call her with the results: they called my sister. She called the rest of us. Pancreatic cancer, metastatic to a lesion on the liver and spots in her lungs. 

Oh, my gosh. *This* is why the pain left her breathless. Her lungs also had cancer. 

The bomb went off June 28th and the world has never been the same. 

Never, like we are so far in the future. 

It has been just about three weeks since 'the big day', and Mom has already been hospitalized for five days, has had a total of four CT scans (counting the original), one MRI, and one PET scan. 

This is all so surreal, so unfair. 

On the same token, I have friends who just lost their parents within the same set of months. I cringe with guilt, thinking that I cannot/shouldn't say that seven years is 'too close together'. Even so, both parents are dying in their 60's. That seems too young and this all feels too fast. 

I have such a vacillating sense of what I should and should not feel. I am trying to make space for all of it. 

I am rambling again. Losing parents does that to me. I ramble, or I am left speechless. 

Why did those nudges come to me in the garden? Why can I feel things ahead of time if I cannot change them?

"Is this her year?"

Yes. 

It is her year and now we are losing her, too.

Eight Father's Days Without You

Christians have hope of seeing one another again in the afterlife. Any person of any faith that includes that element does, in fact.

This is not about that.

This post is about the reality of this world as we know it. 

You are missing from us right here in the present where we can't see you. Your arms that existed on this earth will never hold us again. Any time I need your advice, I cannot call you to get it. I don't get to hear your laughter or beautiful voice booming in song. 

I don't get to watch your face light up as you look upon your grandchildren. Their memories of you stop at young ages: for my youngest, at just four years old. That is not enough time to remember you the way she deserves to. Six of your grandchildren have become adults since you died. Six, and the other eleven right behind. You have a great-grandchild we are all so proud of, who will never know her Papa.

It has been seven full years but this is our eighth Father's Day holiday without you, and it feels like you've been gone simultaneously for just a few months and forever. 

I can't bear that you are just a set of cherished memories. I can't stand that you get farther away from us the longer we live. I remember the intense panic attacks I had daily after you died when I first became so vividly aware of that reality. You were farther and farther away from us every single minute of every single day. Your loss has been excruciating.

I know someone who likes to say that people are 'holding onto grief too tightly' or 'too long', as though she has any sense of what any person's process looks like outside of her own. Unsurprisingly, she also posts publicly about herself missing you usually within 24 hours of chastising one of us. I find that really gross, but I know that genuine conversation with her is useless, so I don't say anything. I'm just so sick of the emotional gatekeeping. I pray that she grows beyond the need to do this very soon.

Missing you so deeply that it steals my breath and throws me into tears randomly through the year doesn't mean I'm not healing in the spaces in between. It doesn't mean that any family members aren't, or that anybody is "grieving wrong". Certainly, none of us is qualified to claim to know what is healthy for the rest.

Your remains were recently interred in a place you've never visited: permanently laid to rest somewhere that was directly against your wishes. The intense amount of disrespect in not even giving you your final resting place about did me in, I'm going to be honest. I had to finally settle my soul on the fact that you were an easy-going guy and would likely have caved to the wishes and needs of those who love you. That somehow made me feel even worse. Still, Mom is alive and you would have wanted her needs to be respected. I can work on that. My final attempt at reconciling with this madness was the fact that the spirit who exists in an eternal state isn't concerned about where the ashes of your earthy body are laid. That settles it for me. 

Forgive my rambling, Dad. I know I am not actually talking to you but to the universe. That has to be okay for now. Thank you for loving us, and for investing your time in us. I will never forget the closeness we shared before you died: the way you made yourself available to us when you were already hurting and suffering. 

Thank you for being open about the darkness you faced. I've never seen Christmas the same since your last Christmas contained that confession, but I needed it somehow. I would do anything to go back in time and try to find a way to support you better or soothe your emotional pain. Knowing that you had these feelings inside helps me to give myself grace as I struggle through my own breathtaking depression. 

This year as Father's Day comes around and you are not with us, I will celebrate my hubs and his dad the way you liked best: a family cook-out. I will feel desperately sad and alone even as we are all together in the room, bc grief is like that. It is a very private journey. 

I miss you, Dad. 

Love,
      ~Lynn

Straw Bale Garden Update June 8th, 2024

Our garden this year is being grown up the sides of an arch tunnel extending from my back patio out toward the treeline. We have five bales each along the inside of the arch, four on the outer left side, and two on the outer right. There is also a garden container against the house full of wee Little Birdy Yellow Canary tomato plants and some fennel, a hill where Little Pie is growing pumpkins (Jack-O'-Lanters), and  small buckets that are growing Yukon Gold (new) potatoes. I say 'new' because we tend to harvest them little and use them in soups. We have the usual chives and strawberries, as well. 

 

Little Giraffe's Jack O' Lanterns

Hubs went through the garden today with me and we adjusted the names of tomato plants so I can *finally* make my list for the year. We have been updating it all along since it was planted last month. Unfortunately, critters (I believe raccoons that my neighbor is currently FEEDING, of all things) have been decimating plant after plant. We have already replaced something like ten plants and I still have some more naked spots of which I was unaware. :( I should have checked them personally this morning.

So, instead of being the conclusive list for the season, I present to you what we are growing right this minute: 

Outside Left Bales 

1) White Wonder, Jasper, Tatume Squash 

2) Mint Julep, Dr. Carolyn, Weaver's Black Brandywine 

3) Queen of the Night, Pink Brandywine, Sun Gold 

4) Amethyst, Golden Fang, Royal Golden Watermelon, My's Mystery (so named any time we've lost a label or it has faded in the sun) 

Inside Left Bales 

1) Wapsipinicon Peach, Royal Golden Melon, Jasper 

2)Fuzzy Blue Balls, Wild Boar Pork Chop, My's Mystery 

3) Sun Peach, Moonbeam, Chocolate Cherry 

4)Sun Dipper, Pink Girl, White Beauty 

5)My's Mystery, Pink Siberian Tiger, *empty*

Inside Right Bales

1) Lemon Squash, Phil's Two, Yellow Brandywine

2) Goat's Bag, Golden Fang, Banana Leg

3) Beefmaster, Beefsteak *or* Mark Twain (lol), Striped German 

4) Dino Eggs (entire bale)

5) Brandywine Pink, Hillbilly Potato Leaf, Brandywine Cherry

Outside Right Bales

1) Freckled Child, Dino Egg, Watermelon

2) Alice's Dream, Dirty Little Chicken, Chocolate Cherry

If you're counting, that is thirty-six distinct varieties of tomatoes. That is down by fourteen from our record-breaking year of fifty varieties last year, but it *is* past the thirty mark I kept trying to hit since 2017. I had fallen short of that by two or three for several years in a row, so I'm chuffed to have hit thirty for the second time. 

That is if the little rat-coons don't keep decimating my plants one by one...