"Bomb's" Away!

Because Jesus knew what they were thinking, he replied, “Every kingdom involved in civil war becomes a wasteland. Every city or house torn apart by divisions will collapse." (Matthew 12:25 CEB)

I'm walking in the Jetway to the plane.

I'm flustered at the security checkpoint's confiscating my Mary Kay makeup. It was more than 3 oz. and I had too many little tubes. Is there a numerical limit?

The guy behind me is giggling at me shoving things back into my backpack.

Laughter builds up in my frustration. I giggle myself.

"You'd think I was harboring a bomb in my tube of cover-up"

Everyone stopped cold, faces and eyes frozen like the old "deer-in-the-headlight" cliche.

"Don't say that. What's wrong with you? Shhhhhh..." The man behind me urged my silence.

After the long, awkward pause, we continued the shuffle toward the small doorway into our waiting plane. I remained silent, still chuckling to myself inside.

What a shame. A Mary Kay makeup comment and using the word "bomb" can stop a line of people and cause terror in their faces.

If only people could live in peace--not fighting, quarreling, killing, hating, judging, cursing, and mistrusting. Only God knows true peace and he wants us to have it.

But walls of religion create fissures to life.

Take down the walls. Love all peoples like God does. Forgive and rebuild. That's what a Christian should do. That's how a Christian should live.

How do you perceive others? What bombs of division do you launch?

Visit me at http://www.cindyscinto.com

Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

What I got to do to make you love me?

What I got to do to make you care?

What do I do when lightning strikes me?

And I wake to find that you're not there?

What I got to do to make you want me?

What I got to do to be heard?

What do I say when it's all over?

Sorry seems to be the hardest word.

It's sad, so sad It's a sad, sad situation.

And it's getting more and more absurd.

It's sad, so sad Why can't we talk it over?

Oh it seems to me That sorry seems to be the hardest word. (Elton John)

I'm really feeling sick tonight. I'm sorry about what I've learned. I'm sorry for the pain I see people going through.

Here are some emails I've exchanged with a family member who has a brother in Sound Doctrine Church in Enumclaw, WA. (I'm not posting the link for this group. You can look it up. I don't want to send anyone to their site.)

R: "Hello Cindy, it was so nice to hear you talked to my brother. It's been 7 years since he left and we miss him soooo much you have no idea! I was wondering, do you still keep in touch with him? I write an email him once every week but I'm not sure if he gets it. I never hear back. Please let me know if you know anything. Thank you soooo much!!!!"

Me: "The last time I saw L was in August when I stayed at the house there in Enumclaw. I made a big Italian dinner one night with lasagna and homemade bread, cheesecake… I knew L would love it. But he could only say a quick thank you and when we sat in the living room to talk, he got excited about back east, Italian stuff, I spoke some Italian, bagels, pizza… All of a sudden, Malcolm, the man in charge who was just arrested on alleged charges for child rape, gave him a dirty look and L had to leave to go home.

They tried to convert me and said I had to learn to be like L. That when L first went out there he talked much like me and was loud. Now he’s submissive, controlled, and quiet.

To me, he’s a broken man with a broken spirit.

I'm sorry you never get to hear from him."

R: "Thank you so much for writing back. We are so depressed and want L back home. (New Jersey) For the first time I've been writing him for 7 years, the email finally came back. They must of deleted his account. I want to call him so bad but I'm so scared. I wish there was a way I could kidnap him. Before something happens to my parents, and they pass away, I want him home. My mom cries every single day without him, and with me being a mom now I know if one of my kids left and never called me I would be devastated. Please keep in touch with me if you hear anything. Thank you sooo much for writing back. Thank you. R"

This communication between me and a sister of a member of Sound Doctrine Church makes me so sick inside. A big loving, caring Italian family in New Jersey cannot be in touch with their brother and son because of the mandates of this organization.

They're not the only ones. I read another dialogue on my friend's Facebook page tonight. The same scenario--a grandma and her grand-kids she can't see or talk to. It's been years. Here are a few of her requests:

"It would go a long way for me to hear that you care about the hurt my family has gone through and it would also help me to hear even a tidbit about my grandchildren over the last ten years--what do they like to do, what is their favorite food, what would they like but can't have, what are their personalities like. Did you ever hug them? Are they being treating kindly? Anything you can share would help me as I continue to seek peace and forgiveness for everyone involved in keeping me from them.

To be able to talk to someone who was close to my grandsons is more than I could hope for, so forgive me if I seem intent on only my hurt and sorrow. I just can't get enough information. I have been starved for too long and you could never tell me too much or too little, no matter how trivial it may seem to you.

For them to remember me I am sure is asking too much of two little toddlers who played on the floor with their MoMo, but I have kept a few of the toys in case I ever see them to see if they can remember our fun times.

Are they being abused mentally or physically? I guess I just need to hear what they are going through and how they handle it.

Thank you for caring and I look forward to any information you may feel led to share--the good and the bad"

What supposed church would ever want to separate spouses, children, families, or anyone from their loved ones? I'm tired of this group wielding scripture around and making each verse is a weapon of destruction. The outcome? Hurt, shame, fear, isolation, and heartache.

Can anything good come out of this? I hope so. God, please help all the hurt people and free the ones who want to be free. Protect the children. Amen.

A Ban on CoBan

He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God? (Micah 6:8 KJV)

The 3M website states, "For more than 40 years, 3M™ Coban™ Brand Self-Adherent Wraps have been making life easier for patients and health care providers for a variety of applications, from securing dressings to immobilizing sprains."

And I love my lime green Coban.

Each time I get poked or cut, I tend to be a bleeder. Lot's of meds make my blood thin. I like the security of Coban so I know I won't walk down the hallways with red blood dripping down my sleeve.

Last week, I had my regular, monthly, sometimes weekly, labs done and when I stretched out my arm to be wrapped with Coban, the tech told me they didn't have any.

"No Coban? Is the budget that bad? I'll start bringing my own."

"No," she answered glumly, "We're not allowed to have Coban anymore. A tech made it too tight on a patient's arm and it cut off their circulation." I watched her place two Band aids on my arm and press on them firmly.

Lawsuits, threats, liable, defamation, blaming, cheating, lying--what else do we contend with? Why do so many people find it rewarding to do the he-said-she-said-my-uncle's-a-lawyer game? What happened to caring for humanity?

And worse, why do so many Christians engage in the same practices as the rest of the world?

I've been dealing with the very issues lately. And as small as the Coban ban is, it reminds me of the state we have placed ourselves in. When Christians join in on the blame game--we all lose.

So ban the Coban if you must, but ban the blame game too.

Visit me at http://www.cindyscinto.com

The Chair

You gave them your good Spirit to teach them to live wisely. You never stinted with your manna, gave them plenty of water to drink. You supported them forty years in that desert; they had everything they needed; Their clothes didn't wear out and their feet never blistered. (Nehemiah 9:20-21 MSG)

It was a while back. In the summer. My favorite thrift shop called out to me as I turned the corner, heading for the gas station.

I had to see what was new.

After lingering, inspecting and touching, I asked the owner if they had any folding chairs. My office was crowded, but I had a work table and needed one more chair to place in front of it for packaging up mail, cutting things, and writing notes.

I wanted just one. Had to be sturdy. Had to be beige.

"We have one set in the back, but don't split them up. Most people come in for a set of at least four." The middle aged man popped his baseball cap off and rubbed his eyes with a calloused hand. Not the look of a hand that simply stocks a thrift shop with donated items.

We chatted a bit and casual conversation led to my heart transplant miracle story--as usual. But he looked at me with searching thoughts and wanted to know more. His story and his current struggle began when he developed diabetes and could no longer work in construction. Money flowed easy when he had jobs. Now he and his wife ran this thrift shop as their sole income. They want to make a living, but help the community in doing so.

We discussed health issues and the multitude of problems that follow from insurance to healthy eating being expensive. I saw his weariness.

"You know, God always takes care of whatever it is I think I need. And often, he does a better job. So remember that when all this comes flying at you." I wanted to encourage him, but not dismiss his worries. He has children to feed and bills to pay.

The next day, I got a call from the owner. He found a single chair for me. While at the warehouse early in the morning, searching for fodder to sell, he spotted a lone chair in the back as he was leaving. It sat by the employee entrance, the beige color of it's metal frame contrasted against the dark warehouse walls.

"Is that chair for sale?" he asked the manager.

"What chair?" The manager turned to look. "Now where did that come from? I leave the door open for a minute and people start dropping off their junk." He walked to the back.

The thrift store owner offered $5.00 to rid the manager of the chair.

When I walked in the thrift shop that afternoon, the chair sat by the front counter waiting for me. It was beige, sturdy, had a soft cushioned seat, and not a blemish. And he only wanted the $5.00 for it.

"I knew God would provide a chair for me. He can provide much or little. He can help you and your family too." We exchanged satisfied smiles.

I visit that thrift shop often. I love the owners--hard working, sincere, honest and caring.

And I love my chair.

Thrifty Living
326 S Pines Rd
Spokane Valley, WA 99206
(509) 315-5617

http://www.thrifty-living.webs.com/

Visit me at http://www.cindyscinto.com