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I Need - 8/7/2005 10:51:43 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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"As the Ushers hand out the Visitor's Packets, we have one final announcement from Brother Karl: We are in desperate need of adults to work with our young people! Nobody is stepping up to the plate, and we need you badly."
We were a growing church. At least a thousand at each of the Sunday morning services. Friendly people, challenging sermons, occasional visits from internationally known speakers. And, if you knew where to look, there were some seats with extra wide bottoms for people with...well, never mind. But, wow! The church had a need?
"We have not only our young people to raise up. We are in a strategic location on the south side of this city, and we want to expand our outreach into the neighborhood. We need you!
"You don't have to have experience; we'll train you, and we'll pair you up with an experienced youth worker that you can learn from. If you have a special talent or hobby, if you have just a few hours a week; most important, if you have a heart for these kids, we need you. I tell you again: The need is great! I would ask each of you now to search your heart. If you feel God's gentle tug, please see me after the service."
I watched after the service as a neatly dressed man in his 40's approached Brother Karl. I knew the guy from Bible study and a few other church functions. Nice guy, good job. Had some setbacks in his family life recently, and we were all praying for him. I didn't hear what he said, but I'll always remember the answer.
"I'm sorry, Brother. You misunderstood. We're not looking for just any warm body." That was the last time I ever saw him in that church.
That was nearly ten years ago. But I'm seeing similar things happen more and more. Even here on these forums. "I need! The need is great! Please God, provide! But, only answer the way I expect You to. And You're late in answering the last prayer, by the way."
I think I'll be sleeping in on Sundays for awhile.
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Pick A Lane - 8/17/2005 2:02:40 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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"Pick a lane."
Those were the very first instructions Bill ever gave me. Behind me were 20,000-pounds of kitchen appliances bound for a retailer in Detroit. Around me was the cab of a new Peterbilt with 13-forward gears, and a trainer with a scowl that would have sent Charles Manson into hiding. In front of me were the eastbound lanes of I-94, and someone's bad idea of a joke.
Due to road repairs, the road was a mess. The cones marking the edge of the inside lane were laid out crazily; some were knocked over. I was fresh out of school where I'd learned on old Freightliners with short trailers. I'd never been in a Pete...with a 13...and a 53-foot trailer with real cargo...at 2 a-m. And my trainer is on me. "Bill, there ain't no lane! I got cones to the left of me that musta been laid out by somebody who got boozed up! I got no markings at all to the right of me!"
"Pick a lane."
We made the delivery, and Bill found other things to holler at me about in the coming weeks. But, there's more to the story.
There was no sign on the truck indicating it was driven by a trainee. (Bill would usually write Jesus Loves You in the dirt on the back of the trailer, but that's another story.)
There were other drivers on the road that morning. They assumed I knew what I was doing, and that my lane excursions had a purpose. When I'd move right, they moved right. When I wandered left, they followed.
It's the same deal today. This is all new to me. I've confessed to my friends I haven't the first clue what I'm doing. But for my own benefit, and for the benefit of anybody who might be following, maybe I ought to pick a lane.
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I Was Allowed To Cook Today - 9/4/2005 2:08:52 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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I was allowed to cook today.
Over the past couple of years, cooking has been kind of an empty thing because I've been cooking for one. When I cook for me, I'm either looking for the new and unusual, or I'm cooking comfort food.
By the way, "comfort food" to me is something you could put in a rocket, light it, and the rocket winds up on Mars. The fumes alone kill small animals in a two mile radius.
But today, someone allowed me to cook for them. It was a big challenge: No spiciness at all. Careful of the greens because Vitamin K interferes with Cumidin. No cooking with whisky; I made due with that awful salted Marsala from the store.
I got off to a bad start. While searing the beef, I filled the whole house with smoke. I consider that normal; if I'm not setting off smoke alarms, my heart's just not in it. I had forgotten that the one who allowed me in the kitchen was of a "pro-breathing" denomination. I felt like crawling into a hole, and then pulling it in after me.
In the end, this person who eats like a bird had seconds. And thirds. And then told me I would never again be allowed to leave the kitchen.
Cooking for myself is ultimately cheap gratification, and I don't bother with it much anymore. Today, I was allowed to serve someone else, and I am flying right now.
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Nobody Answered - 9/14/2005 10:21:57 PM
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is5512
Posts: 187
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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I'm thinking Chicago's possessed.
It's nothing I could defend in the theo-threads; just an observation from a guy who's had to pass through every now and then. If you'd like to learn a whole lot of new words that would get you t-o-s'd from CW, drive through Chicago once with your c-b set to channel 19. It's lively and colorful 24/7.
Amazingly, I did hear it go quiet one day. I was bringing a load up to Milwaukee and crossed I-80 right around 5 a-m when the call came on the c-b. "Anybody interested in some gay loving, switch to channel 11."
This caused an immediate uproar for two reasons. First, given the location and time of day, most truck drivers were too busy to tolerate much nonsense, and they said so in the direct manner typical of professsional drivers.
Second, there are a number of drivers who identify themselves as Christians. You could tell who they were because they were the angriest, they shouted the loudest, and said things like, "You're going to hell, you evil sinner!. God will judge you for your filth!" Et cetera.
The voice came back. "Anybody tired, cold, hurting, lonely, desperately in need of a friend, switch to channel 11."
Dead silence. The first and only time I've ever heard that happen. To my shame, I was one of the silent ones.
Sometimes I wish I had the day to do over again. I wish I wasn't in such a hurry. Or maybe I'm lying to myself, and I really wouldn't have had the courage to do what I should have.
I know of course that what happened that morning in Chicago was not unusual. It happens right here every day. Amazing, isn't it, how many people feel they are called by God to tell others that they're sinners on their way to hell. And isn't it also curious how few people think God has called them to address the needs of those who are "tired, cold, hurting..."
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TFC - 9/25/2005 11:08:17 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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The season in my life that I drove big trucks was one of my most memorable and rewarding.
It was a brief season for two main reasons. First, because of the way the DOT regs were set up (and because of the company I drove for), I figured I could find easier and more fun ways to run myself ragged. Second, I wasn't very good at it. But there are men and women who can groove to that kind of life, and I salute them.
But, there is another group of people that I want you to know about. I consider them heroes, and I'd ask you to save a prayer or two for them.
They're the men and women of Transport For Christ. You'll find their story at transportforchirst.org. There are a few truckstops blessed to have T-F-C chapels on site. TFC chaplains hold services, they pray and offer encouragement, and they come face to face with their share of demons. Of the times I came in to pray, sing, or cry on someone's shoulder, only once was there the slightest hint of a "denominational line."
Do something next Sunday morning for me, will you? If you live near an interstate highway and anywhere near a larger truckstop, swing by on your way to church and count the trucks. Some will be there because the drivers live in your town and it's a convenient parking spot. Other drivers will be there for breakfast and/or a quick shower. The rest are there because the drivers are alone and couldn't get routed through their homes this weekend. You may find upwards of 200 drivers who won't be hearing this weekend that Jesus loves them.
A special note to the church in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, that took me in that certain Sunday morning: To this day, I still remember your love; you're always in my prayers.
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Home - 10/4/2005 2:59:18 PM
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is5512
Posts: 187
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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Been thinking a lot about "home" lately. What it's like, is there a place for me there, would I like it, is it really "home." That kinda thing.
I should back-track: I'm writing this from the town I was born in and grew up in. I left in 1974. I came back in '87, left in '89, and came back just before Christmas of '05. A few months ago, one of the larger national magazines named this "The Dumbest Town In America." I've found their position has some merit.
But there's another "home" I've never seen. The story is that members of my family were awakened in the middle of the night and told to gather everything of importance to them and start walking west. Anyone remaining after 15-minutes would be shot. They walked, and never looked back.
And now, 60-years or so later, I'm looking back. Does that village even exist anymore? Is there somebody there that looks like me? If my family had found an opportunity to go back and had taken it, who would I be right now?
What is "home," anyway?
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Digging Up Rocks - 10/12/2005 8:50:21 PM
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is5512
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I've worked for some strange bosses over the years.
One made me help him get ready for his day by having me pour three fingers of rum into a coffee cup, and then topping it off with hot tea. He said he needed his caffeine to get him going every morning.
Another had a fool-proof way of getting me to listen to a new song he was considering adding to the playlist: "Hey Jacob! I think this one here is by someone who could be your next ex-wife!" Who says Christians don't have a sense of humor.
One of the meanest, crankiest, and most fun to work for was Rick. He demonstrated his understanding of the nature of the business by always keeping a suitcase packed. The evening after his final shouting match with the General Manager, he called each of his announcers at home to tell them they were about to be fired (even though none of us were). It took me awhile to realize that this was a genuine parting gift. It was the equivalent of a Daddy naming his son Sue.
One quiet afternoon, I asked him how he managed to wind up in Columbia, SC. He said, "I've spent my entire career digging big rocks out of fields. Just once, I'd like to be there long enough to see a harvest. I think this is the place." It wasn't.
Rick wasn't a Christian, but he had a grasp of Galatians 6:9 that is worthy of envy. When I get tired of even hoping the harvest will ever come in, that mean old grouch is out there somewhere getting into screaming matches with his General Manager while he digs rocks out of the field.
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God Has A Plan - 10/21/2005 11:22:01 AM
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is5512
Posts: 187
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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I'm thinking I may have messed up.
Wednesday night Bible study had Brother Randall sitting in for the Pastor. It's o-k; he's good. "God has a plan for your life..." Yeah, yeah; I've heard this one before. Get to the good stuff. "Whether you're 20 or 40 or 60 or 80, God has a plan for your life."
Uh-oh.
I had a plan once. The fact is: I was very good at what I did for a living, and my intention was to keep growing and climbing. Then I got this notion that I was tired of loading up the U-Haul every few years. I wanted the white picket fence, mortgage payments, and a neighbor named Fred. So, I determined to climb one last hill and then pick out a nice green valley to coast into. The St. Joe River Valley seemed perfect.
...but God has a plan for your life.
I've already hinted at what happened in that valley. But apparently I haven't gotten any smarter. Here I am trying to find a way to make the years between now and retirement tolerable if not comfortable, but ignoring one of the church's oldest aphorisms. Mom is 84 and convinced that she's still alive because God has stuff He still wants her to do.
Oops.
_____________________________
Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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Junk - 10/28/2005 7:21:17 PM
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is5512
Posts: 187
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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In his book, "What Every Man Wants In A Woman," John Hagee relates this story:
"When I was in Bible school, I went to the junkyard to buy a used tire. I said to the owner of the junkyard, 'You have a lot of junk here.' I was looking at acres of car bodies, bumpers, tires and hubcaps -- every concievable mechanical abandoned device your mind can imagine.
The owner of the junkyard said, 'Young man, this is not a junkyard. Junk has no value. You are here looking for a used tire because it has value. What you are looking at here is Unlimited Possibilities.'"
I can relate. Earlier this year, I had a minor fenderbender. But, the fender belonged to an '83 Buick with 75,000 original miles. Easily fixable, but the insurance company totaled the car because parts were impossible to find. It took me months to find the right parts and to get the car legally drivable.
Here's my conclusion: You and I ain't junk. We may have a few dings, and been written off or abandoned. But right now somebody is in a desperate search for what others have decided was "junk."
There is even One who gave the best He had to purchase the rights to us.
_____________________________
Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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The Useless Cross - 11/3/2005 1:15:32 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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What was accomplished at the cross; what did we get?
I know the "religious answer." Daddy was a Deacon in the Baptist Church, so I've been talkin' the talk real purty for close to 50-years. But what do I really believe?
Forgiveness of sins, right standing with God, a place in Heaven. To an objective observer, I believed (which is an intangible thing) and will receive intangible benefits in an unprovable afterlife. In other words, I gave "God" a 12-dollar bill, and He gave me two 6's in change.
The next time I meet some homeless guy who hasn't had a job in over a year, is my only response to offer him Heaven? Same deal for the woman renting herself out at the truckstop? The 84-year old hospitalized with heart problems, the person about to enter an abortion clinic, the kid whose encounters with his parents leave him with broken bones and welts all over his body, the guy in jail, the stoned girl at the factory, the family that until five minutes ago lived in an aluminum tornado-target?
Hey, guys: Just repeat The Sinner's Prayer after me, and you'll be in Heaven someday. Silver and gold have I none, but I can offer you that. I mean, it beats the alternative, don't it?
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Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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The Wrong Nest - 12/1/2005 3:24:21 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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An Assistant Pastor once tried to tell me about the nesting instinct; how certain people had it, how they'd panic and run off if they didn't feel they had a secure nest. I knew instantly that what he was feeding me was total rubbish. But I knew it would be impolite to say so to one of my own Pastors. I also couldn't explain why I knew it was useless and harmful garbage. I just knew.
It took several years and several misfortunes to figure it out. I lost my house, my family, my animals who were more faithful to me than family and friends. I lost my car, my job, my career, my church. But, lately I have been blessed in getting to know someone that had never had what I lost, and we've been comparing notes. I've reached the conclusion that I never really knew what my nest even was.
Consider Jesus' words (actually, you can peek at Deuteronomy 8 for the scriptures He was teaching on): "...man does not live by bread alone...I have meat to eat that you know nothing about...birds of the air have nests..."
Jesus did have a nest. And with all of this...stuff...shaken off of me, I have the incredible blessing of finding mine and being able to build it up further. And it will be a safe one. A nest that can be neither invaded nor destroyed.
My prayer for you is that you find the "place" spoken of in Proverbs 27:8. "As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place." (Strong's 4725)
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Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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The Demons Are Laughing - 12/10/2005 12:59:32 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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I remember getting upset a few years back. Couldn't tell you what it was about. Knowing me, I probably had an idiot cross my path, and it "flipped my switch." That sort of encounter can get me honked, depressed, or both for a day or so. What makes that incident stick in my mind was that it happened hours before a friend really needed me. My friend had to go through their situation alone because I was dealing with my own issue.
I woke up miserable yesterday. A Macy's Parade of idiots had crossed my path; they had me fuming and depressed. I called a friend for our daily lunchtime chat, and they said, "Hi. How are you?" In those four words, I knew something was terribly wrong with this person, and we were in prayer within 30-seconds.
The famous theologian Garth Brooks pointed out that no one is much interested in tackling a person unless that person is carrying the football. My own corollary is that the opposing team doesn't need to pancake you to get you out of the play. Just a nudge will generally do it.
Next time someone attacks you unfairly, spreads not just lies but stupid lies, or does whatever generally flips your switch, I wonder if you'll notice the same things I've begun to notice. First, it happens when there's another play developing nearby. Second, you hear the sound of demons laughing.
_____________________________
Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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The Wind-Up Duck Incident - 12/20/2005 11:15:38 AM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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I persecuted Bob mercilessly. It's not that I disliked him; Bob Cope was the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet. My first night in-country at Kleber Kaserne was spent in a poker game in his room. I remember bringing with me my Army Class A, Class B and Fatigue uniforms. Bob only wore the Army Rumpled uniform. Maybe it was the two stripe advantage he had over me; maybe it was because we were part of the roughest, toughest, most gung-ho training film production outfit in the Whole dad-gum Army! I persecuted Bob.
Everywhere Bob went -- down the hall to another office, up the hall to the latrine, down the basement to check on film, out the door to head for chow -- I followed. I followed, marching precisely in step as a soldier should, and quacking precisely as a baby duck should.
It caught on. Soon Bob could go nowhere unless I was right behind him, and up to 15-guys behind me; all in step, all quacking in unison.
There were times Bob caught a break. Those were the times I played at the local rec center and pizza parlor. Just me, a Yamaha acoustic guitar, and a bunch of dippy love songs, hold the anchovies, extra heavy on the schmaltz.
One night, I was really wailing. Through half-closed eyes and while in the middle of a passionate love song to my dream girl, I saw Bob walking toward the stage. He carefully wound up and deposited at my feet a wind-up duck, then calmly returned to his seat. The duck stole the show, and probably my dream girl as well.
Finally after more than 25-years, the nice Doctor says we don't have to meet as often anymore.
Quack Quack!
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Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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What If - 1/6/2006 10:50:34 AM
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is5512
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I used to really be proud of my ability to play the What If game. I thought I was being very wise and prudent. Even Godly. I am being very gently and lovingly taught that I was an idiot.
I've been sowing a lot of seeds lately in different areas of my life. Let's take the job applications as an example. They're not cheap, running me over a buck and a half a pop, and I've spread them out liberally. And no sooner do I send one out than I start to question it. "Maybe I'm not the one they're looking for. If they do make an offer, how will that affect my life? Are there potential problems with the job, city or company that I should check out? Should I have waited for the other applications to be turned down before I sent this one?"
A gazillion What If's. The best thing that could result from them is (Ecclesiastes 11:4): I do nothing at all. The worst thing that could result from the What If game is detailed in the Book of Job.
(As an aside, was that a beautiful con job he tried to pull on The Almighty or what. First, he brings the pious, "I'm low, I'm nothing, I'm insignificant." In the next breath, it's outraged righteous indignation. "What'd You let that happen to ME for!!!" Pure chutzpah.)
I think I'll try this What If game: What If God knows what He is doing?
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Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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the abusive god - 1/12/2006 7:05:36 PM
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is5512
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Would you love an abusive god? What price would you ask for your soul?
Let's say you ask for the following: survival (food on the table, a roof over your head), a promise of heaven after you die, and a group to belong to on earth. Some "god" who happens to wander by says, "Suuuure, I'll give you that," and proceeds to treat you like dirt.
He beats you over the head for the smallest infraction of his "rules," but gives people who flaunt those rules incredible wealth. He brings tragedy after tragedy to your life, but demands that you face each one quietly and bravely because he looks good when you suffer.
He writes down a book of promises, and never keeps a single one. Why should he? He's a "god;" who's gonna get after him about those things he wrote down that he was "only kidding" about?
What if one of those promises was that he'd always be there, and yet he continually abandons you? You're never sure if he even hears your prayers, much less keeps a straight face.
Would you put up with the abandonment, the failure to keep promises, and the emotional emptiness...just for the promise of heaven? Oh, and let's not forget" this "god" is capable of taking life...even yours...without a second thought.
Would you love this "god"? Or would you just fear him, and go through the motions hoping he can't read minds any better than he can read hearts?
_____________________________
Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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To Those Carried - 1/19/2006 12:55:15 PM
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is5512
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I remember my dad's favorite imprecation. The literal translation is: "Where is the unclean force carrying you?" It was always delivered in a combination low growl and almost liturgical incantation that I still find hilarious when I think about it. And laughing at dad's backhanded application of Ephesians 6:12 somehow keeps me from getting (too) torqued at Christians who delight in other Christians' misery.
Mind you, I'm not talking about the Mean Christians that satan so delights in. It's the well-meaning one who spreads curses unknowingly that I've learned to run away from.
Take this morning's phone call: "Hi, how's your job going?" "Well, actually, I'm looking for one right now." "Oh, how DEPRESSING for you!"
Actually, I'd had a good pray and was feeling confident that God is in control...until you put your two cents in and told me how I should feel.
I helped my mom get to the pharmacy the other day when a nice Christian lady told me, "Enjoy your time with her. I just lost mine, and she was about your mom's age."
Umm, and the Lord be with you, too?
Last week, I visited a church whose former pastor is now a famous author with a daily radio ministry. They handed out legal size, single spaced sheets of paper with the names of the sick in the church we were to pray for. At the end of the prayer, the pastor intoned, "We pray for healing for these people. And we know that a lot of the time, that is Your will."
Maybe y'all could save paper by only printing the names of the people it is His will to heal. For that matter, Bibles would be a whole lot cheaper if you'd take out all the verses that talk about why I should have joy and peace and hope. "De nechisto cillo tebe necce?"
I feel better already.
_____________________________
Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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What Changed - 1/28/2006 2:03:16 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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Once upon a time, I remember telling an Assistant Pastor that I had gotten off track. Pastor Lloyd said, "Get back on." "It's not that easy." "Sure it is. Find out where you got off track, get back on at the same place, and keep on going."
To this day, that makes absolutely no sense. And I'm getting the growing conviction he was right. Common sense dictates that, if you miss it, you go back to square one and do the whole thing over again. And since you Must be assessed a penalty for missing it, your prize won't be as good as you could have had the first time. If you're forced into a subsequent do-over, the prize is something they wouldn't even sell at Target. Eventually, you run out of chances to get anything.
But, what about forgiveness and restoration? Are all things made new or aren't they? You gonna believe The Book, or you gonna believe people?
The words of a t-v preacher have been ringing in my ears over the past week. "In 40-years, what changed? The land was still a good land. God still wanted them in it. It was still flowing with milk and honey, and it was still filled with giants. What changed was that the people decided they weren't grasshoppers anymore."
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Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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False Forgiveness - 2/6/2006 2:11:44 PM
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is5512
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This one's been chewing on me for a few weeks now. I'll not say conclusively I've got it right. You can make that call. I will actually feel more righteous and holy if I'm wrong about this.
The "what" of forgiveness and the completeness of it are settled issues for me. But the "what" of it may well be tied in to the "why" of it. He forgives us for His Name's sake. O-K, I got that part. But that's not a good enough explanation for me. Was there some Heavenly Slip of the Tongue, and now He is bound to honor it in order to keep His reputation intact? That reminds me of Paradise By The Dashboard Light: I promised I'd love you till the end of time, and now I'm so miserable that all I can do is pray for the end of time.
What if God derives some benefit from forgiveness...He achieves some goal? There's an O-T verse (please pardon my sloppiness in not quoting it) that God not only observed the suffering of His people but felt it as well. And there's the famous "O, Jerusalem!" What if the"why" of forgiveness is for the purpose for restoration of relationship?
If then we are to forgive each other as we have been forgiven, I've got a problem. It means everytime I pray the words, "Forgive the one who hurt me..." and I exclude the words, "...because I desire restoration of relationship with them in the same way You desire it with me," then it's a false forgiveness.
Worse, it's a Holy Con Job.
_____________________________
Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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Owing Love - 2/15/2006 12:04:00 PM
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is5512
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From: stuck out here in paradise
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The story was told in Bible study about a little girl who gave her Daddy all the Valentine's Day candy she had received. She then stated, "O-K Daddy. You owe me!"
The Home Group leader tacked on. "...And some married couples do the same thing."
Just how healthy is the love between a man and a woman if one says to the other, "You owe me." Just how healthy is the love between a parent and a child if one says to the other, "You owe me."
Just how healthy is the love between a person and their God if one says to the other, "You owe me."
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Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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Household Of Hate - 2/21/2006 12:56:45 PM
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is5512
Posts: 187
Joined: 4/15/2005
From: stuck out here in paradise
Status: offline
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We're in the third week of a one-week lesson called, "Love, The Great Distance Eliminator." What Pastor preaches on Sunday gets discussed by Touch Groups during the week, so I know what I'm in for tonight. Knowing Pastor, we won't finish this one-week lesson until after the next Olympics are over if he thinks we need it.
The others in the church may wish to consider throwing me into the sea if I'm the cause of this storm. I am definitely content keeping distance between me and those who have harmed me. And I know that this contentment is ungodly.
In pondering the possible source of it, I realized that I grew up in a household of hate. Nobody in the home was allowed to wear anything red (the color of communism). Nobody was allowed to say anything nice about the Democrats (they sold us out at Yalta). We weren't allowed to even eat with non-protestants (they had persecuted our family).
Hate, if it was justified, was o-k. Those parts in the Bible about loving and forgiving your enemies didn't apply when it came to those people who had hurt our family the way they did.
I've got two main concerns today. First, I have apparently forgotten how to cry for my enemies. Second, my kids: Even if they lived under my roof, would I still be powerless to keep them from growing up in a household of hate?
_____________________________
Tales From The Dog House
The Back Seat - A (W-o-F) Safe Place
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