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Archive for May 2012

A Message To Pastor Charles Worley

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I have something to say to Pastor Charles Worley, minister at Providence Road Baptist Church (the minister who gave the sermon where he would have all lesbians and homosexuals put inside of a fence and pretty much left to die).

Shame on you.  Shame on your hateful, bigoted, narrow-minded view of Christianity.  As a Christian, I was appalled at your words.  I had to listen time and again just to make sure I was hearing you correctly.

First of all, we are all sinners.  YOU are a sinner.  It is not your place to pass judgement on anyone.  It IS, however, your place to love everyone.  That is what Jesus called us to do.  Jesus did condemn the adulterers and tax collectors. He loved them, and gave his life for them.  He did the same for you. 

I daresay that if your parishiners were to do a bit of spying, they would see that you are not perfect either.  Do you ever lie or cheat or steal?  Have you ever had a lustful thought about a woman or a man?  Have you ever coveted the pulpit of a minister with a bigger church or wished you had a bigger house or newer car?  Well, if you have (and I’m certain you have),  then guess what?  You belong right inside of that fence with the lesbians and homosexuals.  Sin is sin and God cannot live in the midst of sinners.

The same grace that is available to you is available to them…and it is up to God where their hearts lie.  Nobody knows but them and God.  Perfection is not a prerequisite to forgiveness.  If a person is perfect, then he has nothing to be forgiven of.

Just as you have no right to judge them, I have no right to judge you.  I will say this, however;  your example of Christianity is the reason why so many people have no desire to become a Christian.  It makes me sad, because I know that this is not the message that Jesus wanted his followers to share.  God is love, and there is nothing loving about the message that you are sharing. Hopefully, the majority of people will see this.

Weight, Self-Esteem, and Bullying

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I have struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember.  As a teenager, I remember wanting so badly to be popular, but I allowed my weight to put a barrier between my peers and me.  It was hard trying to fit in.  I wanted to be able to do the same things the other kids were doing.  Going out for pizza, however, was a traumatic event for me.  First of all, I didn’t want my friends to think that I actually ate pizza.  I had much rather have them think that the weight just mysteriously appeared on my body.  As ridiculous as that sounds, at the time it made perfect sense to me.   To go and eat pizza with my friends would mean risking them thinking I was a big fat pig.  If I didn’t eat anything, that would only draw attention to the fact that I was trying to lose weight, and that wasn’t a conversation that I wanted to have either.  After all, that would invite follow up questions down the road.  How much weight have you lost?  How much do you want to lose?

I remember many a lonely night sitting at home while my friends were out having funI was not able to wear the cute fashions that the other girls wore.  My mother always had to buy my clothing in the chubby girls section at the department store.  I hated that.  I remember cringing with embarrassment every time she took me shopping.  It was humiliating. Summer time was the worst.  I can’t even remember how many swim parties I was invited to that I had to turn down.  I never went to even one of them.  The thought of putting on a swimsuit in front of my peers was almost more than I could bear.

Kids can be cruel.  As an overweight teenage girl, I beat myself up enough, but the harsh words of my peers were enough to send me into a deep dark depression.  I didn’t want to go to school.  I didn’t want to hang out with them.  I didn’t want to do anything except…well…eat.  Food became my drug of choice.  It became my comfort, my friend.  In my loneliness, 

Don’t get me wrong.  I tried to lose weight.  I would go on water fasts for days at a time, obsessing about my weight.  I tried the grapefruit diet, the rice diet, and countless other diets all to no avail.  It was simply too hard to keep up that kind of eating for any length of time.  Even if I lost weight, it would come back on just as quickly as it came off.  Add to that the fact that I had a mother who showed her love to her family with her food.  She was such a good cook, and if I didn’t eat seconds or even thirds at dinner, it would hurt her feelings.  The perfect recipe for obesity in a shy, quiet child who loved to please.

I’m very glad that I am not a teenager in today’s society where expectations of what one should look like have tripled since those years long ago.  I feel for the girls who are so obsessed with their looks that they forget who they are deep inside.  As long as they look good, life is good.  If only life were that simple.

Unrealistic expectations coupled with a culture where bullying is prevalent is a recipe for disaster.  Who can ever measure up?  Both the bully and the bullied both suffer from a lack of self-esteem.  The only difference is that they manifest that lack in different ways.

My upcoming YA novel, “Alone in the Crowd” is a must read for both teenagers and parents.  Stay tuned….

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Written by cherylawilliams

May 20, 2012 at 7:58 pm

Today is a day …

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Today is a day filled with inspiration coming from many directions.  Some days are like that.  On those days, the writing come easy.  Words bubble out of me freely.  They can’t contain themselves.  Other days are not so effortless.  Those are the days that take discipline.  Those are the days I don’t always feel like writing, but know I must write anyway.  My muse may be taking a nap, but I know that consistency is needed on my end.  It shows my commitment to what I do.  I have to admit that it can be a constant struggle.  On those days I search for inspiration and none is to be found, it’s hard to sit down and write.  It seems that the harder I try, the harder it is for the words to come.  Still, they come.  They may not be the best words.  They may not be the final words.  But they are words, and they always lead me to something better.  I am my own worst critic.  If what I am writing is not that great, something inside tells me to just stop and wait until I can do it better.  This is never a good idea.  What if my muse is taking a very long nap?  Am I supposed to just shut down?  Of course not.  Still, it can happen easily if I am not ever mindful of what I need to be doing.

Today my muse is awake and being a bit mischievous.  My mind is racing with new ideas, and words are flowing.  I savor the moment, because I know it may be fleeting.  Days like this help to remind me of why I love to write.

Wrestling With My Muse (a Poem)

I stare at blank pages.

They call to me with ancient rhythms

as my Muse sits on my shoulder

wearing a jester’s hat,

drinking rum from a tin cup,

teasing me into believing

he has a few words of wisdom

to fill my empty pin.

A fickle fellow is he!

Sometimes I want to hug him tight;

Other times I want to trade him in

for a bit of eloquence.

Today I just chuckle back at him

as he passes me his bottle of rum.

Written by cherylawilliams

May 4, 2012 at 5:41 pm

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