Part 1

Hi, y'all...(I lived in Texas from 1985 to 1997, and though I have been here in the 'burgh for 10 months, I still have Texas in me...) Hard to delurk, for me it is...but, *deep breath* here it goes. I found Bridges "serendipitously"...Many moons ago, like in 1979, I had met Melanie, not Geyer yet. She lived in the same Christian community in Champaign, Illinois. I had been in South America, as a missionary and was at the time, experiencing clinical depression, and her church opened up its residential facilities to me, until I could get back on my feet. Mel married and over time we lost touch. (*lah, dah-dah, dah-dah* read: years go by, things get better, and worse, etc..) Then, after 19 years, I end up doing this MFA here at Carnegie with lots of time to do *research* on the net...and her name came to mind. I searched for it, and voila' ! she appears as a writer in this site called Bridges Across. I've sort of lost touch again since she no longer writes in journeys, but no matter, I am sure this was what I was supposed to find. *** I have zillions of chapters to my journey so I will speak only about my present stance, since my past wanderings could easily fill a book. But, as a brief intro, let me just say that at age 20, after I decided to commit suicide, someone told me that Jesus was alive, i.e. that He RRRReally did get up from the dead. I figured that the dead don't speak so, I said, in my head, "Jesus if you are there let me know, and I will follow you." The next day, during a dance at the college hall I had a supernatural experience of being bathed in pure love such as I had never experienced ever, and the "knowing" or understanding that Jesus indeed was alive and that He was love. I'm 48 today and through very deep valleys, that understanding I received after I gave up on my life has never gone away. 

In Bridges lingo, I suppose I am a Side B that still experiences sga's with diminishing strength. It took me quite a while to understand that for me, following my feelings, what ever they might be, is deadly given that my feelings don't speak to me about reality, but often about what I think about something, and those thoughts are usually inaccurate. I am also an alcoholic in recovery. Through the school of hard knocks I had to learn, that for me to live requires that dreaded word---discipline, which I understand to be, the creation of new habits through steady practice. Some people have the luxury of engaging their feelings, their passions, and still live normal lives. For me, all that ended since my feelings and passions always drive me to my poisons. 

Part 2

In 1987 I visited NYC (I still lived in Texas at the time) where I met with folks from a non-Exodus ministry called L.I.F.E. ministries and more than anything, they loved me. A lot of prayer, healing, understanding, etc. was given me, but the most important thing, was that I could just be exactly how I was, and did not have to be making up some kind of cover story. (I had been kicked out of a church, a ministry, and rejected by "friends" who were afraid for their kids. (!sheesh!)) Anyways, I met my last relationship there, and had a brief 6 mo. affair in 1990. Since then, I have been on my own, resisting the feelings, knowing that sga's are my attempts at coping with other things, like isolation, loneliness, fear of intimacy, etc. 

I gave up on organized church. I think I just became like a hermit crab and every so often I take a look outside and go back in. I grew up in a very contentious home and I HATE arguments. I feel you lose the person and you only deal in dead doctrines. So, I feel bridges has manageable amount of conflict that is not reminiscent of the war zone I grew up in. 

I hope this gives you guys an idea of me. Feel free to e-mail me [on the Journeys email list] if you want to ask me anything more. 

Ro 

June 1998

A wonderful poem that Cory Ten Boom used to quote (Ten Boom's were a Dutch family that hid Jews in their house in Haarlem, Holland during WWII, were caught and some killed in concentration camps) talked about how my life is a weaving between God and I, that looks pretty awful since I only see the underside, and that only when we see Him face to face (ah...The Bliss!) that we will see the Other Side, where the pattern then will make full sense. 

Along this vein, personally, the big issue for me has been rage: rage at powerlessness to directly affect and effect the change I desire, finding that The Door out (as in Sartre's No Exit) is called surrender, that my strength is found only when I admit total weakness, and that when Jesus said: "Apart from Me you can do nothing" is turning out to be true. This whole spiritual walk for me is a mystery in that most of it is veiled except for the part that I need to see today.