In Which I Stroll Down Memory Lane ll

So, for satellite groups, I am Midland. I’m assuming they put me in this group in case they wanted to send me home, as it’s he northernmost group.

Midland. 1990-1995. Ages 1-6. Yup. The very room in which we are sleeping, I used to sit in those chairs. I remember singing songs, and having cups of water in the room because to leave, yiu have to go through the cradle roll room, and our sabbath school teacher (sometimes my mom) didn’t wan us disturbing them.

I remember multiple vbs. I remember playing in the sanctuary wih a carpet broom when mom wood come to clean the church.

While waiting for Don to unlock the church, the 6 of us played ninja. Once, I played games on this same from lawn with my friends. Now, I was to play a game on it again.

Church service was so weird. I kept slipping, kept becoming 6 years old again (which is ironic, but nevermind why. One more thig to tease Callie about… She’ll find out… Haha)

Suddenly, instead of pants, I’m weari a pretty dress with tights and black Mary janes. Instead of a bible and notebook, I’m holding dolls, bears, or those little cardboard things with holes that you pull string through and pretend to be sewing.

One moment I’m 23 and listening to he sermon, he next I’m in the floor playing with felts on the pew cushion. They haven’t changed those cushions in 20 years. Or I’m sittin on or lying in my father’s lap.

Nothing about hat sanctuary has changed much. Except he size.

Some people here recognized me. One man said, “welcome home.” and, I really do feel like I’ve come home.

When I first left midland at age 6, I spent the greater part of my childhood trying to go back to midland. Now, for 2 weeks, I will be living here.

It’s a bit of a jolt.

Although, even in my run away from my parents to go live in midland fantasies, I never even bought about living in the church. And as an adult, instead of shaking my head at such fantasies that I DID come up with, I have to wonder: why not? Why DIDN’T I ever think of living in the church?

Help Me

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In Which I Talk About Cancassing

So….today was interesting. It started way too stinkin early, because Joana had to take me to the clinic to– oh, but I’d better back up.

So, yesterday I came to a house with this small, white dog. It’s just sitting there watching me, not acting threatening in the least. I knocked on the door. Nothing happened. I knocked again. The man opened the door. At that point, the dog started barking at me –mean barking– and attacked. Well, as much as an ankle biter can, anyway. She/he/it bit me on the….ankle area? really hard. Even though my leggings, it broke skin. The owner shooed the dog inside, and I kinda limped from house to house. I told my leader, but she started talking to Mason, so I figured nobody cared. We’ll fast forward a couple of hours to when someone finally paid ttention to me, and Joana realized that hey, maybe I should get that looked at. Since it is a really small wound, she waited till after work, which was kinda dumb in my opinion because most walk in clinics aren’t open that late. I mean, I know there are souls to save, but I mean, come on, who knows whether that dog had its shots?

So this morning I had to get up super early, not for devotions (though I tried to have those too, but because of the earliness, it wasn’t happening) but to go to a clinic. Hours and much paperwork later, I come out with antibiotics and a pill to deal with the sideaffects I always get. It’s awesome how willing doctors are to prescribe that pill.

Anyway, on to what you really want to hear about: Canvassing! Woot! Or something. I wish I’d gotten this down earlier because now I am fumbling for words. The guy behind the door wasn’t interested, so I continued. And then I hear someone running behind me. I’ve never had someone chase me down the street before, but I know it happens, so I turned around. It was the guy whose door I’d knocked on just a few minutes ago. He handed me two shiny gold dollar coins (I thought they were quarters at first, haha) he still wouldn’t take the HD, but he said, “you know, I was watching you come, and I wondered how you would take my rejection, but you were very polite about it, and respectful, and so I decided to give you this.”

Taken aback, I said thank you, I strive always to be polite (even when it’s really not easy. I don’t always succeed, working on that) and we proceeded to talk. It turns out he’s actually done some of the same type of work, for a different denomination. He said they would go door to door selling dream catchers and the money would go this church.

And…this is where I’m kind of ashamed. I felt the holy spirit leading, and I didn’t do anything. Basically, he said he wanted to give me something, free, and handed me a book. He said it was written by his church’s leader, and that it was about uniting christianity. I thought I felt the holy spirit leading me to give the man a GC in return, telling him that it talked about uniting the different denominations of Christianity. Book for Book, why not? But all I could think of was money, and how HE was being so encouraging, saying it was a good work I was doing, and to keep doing it.

I wish I was better, and actually LISTENED to the Holy Spirit. When he deigns to talk to me, which isn’t often.

I thought about going back to give him a GC, but never did.

But, there is a point to this little story: that guy came back to talk to me ​because I was courteous. ​Even if we don’t feel like it, (and it is hard, I know) courtesy will go a lot farther sometimes than anything else we can do.

Anyway, I actually sometimes get a fair amount of people who tell me this is a good way to reach out and I should keep doing it. Not every day, but some days. But I’ve never had it happen twice in the same day.

I was at this lady’s house, and I could tell by the signs that she was a conservative Christian, but I asked anyway (because one should never assume… maybe ​she​ wasn’t the Christian, after all, maybe it was her husband. Actually it turned out her husband was in A and had run out of gas, and she had to go pick him up. This was why she had no money, otherwise she’d help. (Yeah, I’ve heard that one before, but this lady seemed honest, and I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.) Since she said she was a Christian, I asked if I could go ahead and pray for her. So I said a quick prayer for her and her husband, that she would have patience and that God would be with her. Afterwards she hugged me, said thank you, and that that was much needed.

I think that is the first time someone has hugged me out in the field.

I’m surprised I didn’t mind it.

She said she thought it was a good mission for me, and to keep doing it, and she was just very encouraging.

The rest of the day was very discouraging. Especially since I started today, and was in minimal amounts of pain. Plus I was getting dehydrated faster than normal because of this, and was actually feeling sick because I couldn’t get in enough water. I think Jeandra actually felt bad for me, and if I’d complained too hard, she probably would’ve let me stay in the van till lunch. But, I didn’t feel I was quite that bad off.

The rest of the day was rough. I know Jesus was with me, but it was hard to believe it.

I’m disappointed. God only had till today to show me in some mighty big way whether he wanted me here or not. And please don’t tell me that the above experiences are proof of anything, because I’ve had even more people tell me that I should quit and get a real job. I was hoping for like, a ten book set, or a dump bag, something, anything. Even a sprained ankle would be a sign: GO. All I got was a stupid dog bite.

But actually, I’m thankful for that dog bite. You see, yesterday Joana was a little crazy. She said that if we didn’t get a certain number of books out (it kept changing, seriously) that day she was going to keep us out at a gas station until we got out the number we were “supposed” to. Of course, after that I had fifty thousand fits of anxiety, (which meant I didn’t sell ANYTHING because I was so anxious all I could do was pray I’d get out enough books to keep her off my back) because

1. gas station. Late at night.

2. This would cut into my Jesus/reflection time

3. This would cut into my sleep time, and then I’d be tired in the morning.I did text Wyson and ask how late Joana was allowed to keep us out till, but he never texted back. He probably thought I just wanted to go home at 9 instead of 9:10 or something stupid like that. No, Wyson, I’m having a blankety blank blank blank anxiety attack AND YOU WON’T EVEN HELP ME. Ahem. Sorry. Moving on.

But, since Joana wanted to take me to the clinic, we ended up skipping the whole gas station thing. So, even though I was kinda mad at God and super disappointed with him at first, I’m thankful that he let that dog bite me. The fact that I still didn’t get evening time with Jesus is beside the point, because I thought I would be getting it and was able to calm down after that. I’m not sure if I sold anything still, but at least I was able to get through the rest of the day without having to take cry breaks. Yes, I literally had to stop on the street twice yesterday to shed a few tears, or I was going to break down at the doors. In fact, I almost did.Which is why I stopped and took cry breaks.

But! that was yesterday, and this is today. Today was… better than yesterday, but not in terms of sales. In terms of

1. I had experiences

2. I was able to pray with someone who sounded like she really needed it.

If I had to go through all that to reach even just one, just that one lady, a sister in Christ, who needed encouragement, it was worth it. It was worth working in hundred degree heat sipping on water that was hotter than I was. It was worth walking in extreme heat even though I was not feeling well.

I still do not like canvassing. But I do like having experiences like the lady. Like the man. Next time I will listen to the Holy Spirit. Especially if money is the only objection. I know they tell us not to give out books for free, but in some situations I believe it can be beneficial. And, I mean, come on, God can provide donations to cover it. If not today, then the next, or the day after that. And, at the end of the day, I did have enough donations to cover it.

But who knows. Maybe we’ll be back next year. Maybe some other student will knock on that guy’s door. Maybe that other student would be better to reach that guy (whose name I never caught, so I’ll call him George) than I was because… some personalities are better at reaching people than others. Maybe he’ll remember the student who showed him the GC. Maybe he’ll remember the courteous way in which she treated him. Maybe he will figure out the student is with the same organization, and the new student will canvass the GC better than I did. Maybe all I did was soften the way for George to be open to the Holy Spirit’s leading later on in his life.

I will never know what I did. Whether I had a positive or negative impact on his overall spirituality. (I mean, if I didn’t listen to the HS telling me to give him the book, that could still be a negative impact.) But maybe I planted the seed. Maybe.

This is a rebuke to me. No matter how people treat me, I must be polite. I must be courteous. I must treat them like my own brother/sister in Christ.

Because we don’t always know the impact of just one kind word. Just one.

Help Me

In Which I Fall Asleep

And almost miss a wonderful (not!) day of canvassing. I should’ve stayed in the goram church and not let Jeandra find me. The perfect excuse, really. And it probably will not work again.

My battery’s low, so I’d better do this quick.

Maybe the bad day was God punishing me for not wanting to go out…

So. Not only do I not like N, I REALLY do not like N. When the rest of us count out money, we do so QUIETLY. N does not. N counts her money loudly, and then whines rEALLY REALLY loudly about having an odd number of ones. Which would bother me a bit too, but I would never actually name a dollar ammount.

And if you ask her how her day went, she’ll start talking about how much money she made. Not even how many books she sold, MONEY.

I thought the point of all this was souls?

Maybe I’m just not above petty jealousy. Maybe if I was making as much as she brags about making, I’d be more willing to take it. Maybe I’d even enter into the discussion. Maybe it’s a good thing, then. If I concentrated on money, I’d always be trying to one up her. No, it is a good thing, then, that I don’t usually make half as much.

But, I do feel it is a concern. After all, I have needs. I am trying to go to school. It has really been bothering me that I only get to keep 50% of what I make. that means that, that one day when I worked ALL FREAKIN DAY and only got $4, I only got to keep $2. And currently they’re only allowing me to withdraw %5 a week. I checked what that would have been, because I needed $40 for my medication.

Bottom line: I haven’t even made enough money to cover a bottle of pills. Last week, 5% was around $5. A little less, actually.

That’s not going to pay for school. A car. Braces. That’s not even going to be enough to pay for half a textbook.

A student left today. Heruy (pronounced Harry, also not a typo). The pressure from his parents got to be too much. They told him he needed to get a real job and make real money for school. So Heruy packed his things and he left.

I don’t think anyone has a clue how effin jealous I am. His parents came and got him. His parents cared enough to come and get him.

Mine didn’t even care enough to drop me off.

One of my parents told the other parent they didn’t even love me.

I need to talk to someone without bias. Someone who can sit down with me and look at things objectively. All the arguments I’ve heard are from people who are hardcore pro-canvassing. I need someone to look at things with me objectively.

If you or someone you know is willing to do this, PLEASE let me know.

sigh. I’m getting rained out, so I guess I’m done.

Help Me

In Which I Tell An Experience

I want to know why he laundry room closes at 7:30. Seriously, it’s not even sabbath. And people were Sooooooo SLOWWWWWW getting ready this morning that we didn’t leave till late. Sigh. Worked something out wih lady in charge, but she’s no too happy.

Sometimes I really do think Advetists get too worked up over this whole sabbath thing. Particularly when it’s not even sabbath yet. I wish we weren’t leaving tomorrow night.

Anyway, weird experience yesterday. I started canvassing the man on the GC. I thought he’d shy me down right away. He had a somewhat angry expression on his face, and he barely even glanced at the book. So I was surprised when, halfway through the canvass, in an abrupt tone of voice, he asked me how much it was. Taken aback, I told him. He left, and took the book with him. I just stood there not knowing what to do. Eventually he came out with he money, said here you go, and shut the door. I did manage to squeak a thank you had a nice day in there as he’s closing the door in my face.

I use no idea what was going on in that mans head. Maybe it was a divine appointment, and he was jus private abou it. Like maybe he just said “lord sent someone to my door” or something. If he was just goingto buy whatever I showed him, I wish I’d pulled out man of peace. The great controversy is often toyed as the best book, bu man of peace talks about Jesus, the most important thing/person ever. The great controversy is…. History. And frankly, it’s BORING history. Until the very last few chapters on the 2nd coming, where it finally gets interesting.

I want that man to know Jesus. I’m not sure the GC can/will do that.

Maybe that’s why I can sell man of peace even without a canvass. I’ve read the book. Twice. I love it. When I talk about it, my eyes light up. The people who bought that book from me bought it because they were interested. Except for that one weird exception, those who bought the GC only did it to help me with school.

There’s something to be said for that. About me, probably.

Doig slightly better, but id lie to leave from cm. maybe grandma alma will give me a ride to bc on the way back if there’s room?

Help me

By he way, I am still looking for a ride out of here. Any takers?

In Which Many Tears are Shed

So, I’m going to start with last night, because I wanted to blog about that this morning, but, as you all will see, my time was taken up with…. other things.

Last night, I did not want to go in for curfew. This in and of itself is not usual. However, really, part of me just wanted someone to talk to, someone who would listen to me and take me seriously.I was also very angry about…something. Don’t remember what. Doesn’t seem to matter now. Not after today.

I was trying to talk to Wyson, but I kept getting interrupted. And then…. I’m not sure if I should post the name  or not, as I’m not sure if confidentiality is an issue. Ok just got permission. Anyway Kiana called me back in. “You should come back, I miss you.” And I was mad, because, here I am trying to talk to somebody, and she’s calling me away just so I can be in the room for God knows whatever reason. To make this short (bcause I’m already late and with all I’ve missed today JEandra will shoot me) I was a jerk.I didn’t even tell her goodnight.

At night, I finally was able to let loose the flood. I was crying. I couldn’t stop. As I’m wondering to myself if Kiana (who is literally in the next bed over) will be able to tell I’m crying by my breathing patterns, I start noticing the same ones from her. It took me a full 3-5 minutes. I’m such a jerk. And then a line from a song popped into my head, “….or would we cry together?” And then the holy spirit said, “Abby, it makes no sense for you two to cry alone.” So I did what I should have done the minute she invited me in the room. I reached out to her. And we cried. Together.

This morning, Joanna and I butted heads. Again. We do that a lot, and I’d like to mention now that event hough I might criticize her a lot, I do think she is a good person with a lot of good qualities I’ll blog aboutlater when I have time. IT wasn’t just this, but it did set me over the edge.

I skipped worship because I was calling people, anybody, to come pick me up. I’d made a decision. I was leaving. I spent a long time vacillating. Should I really leave? I’ve rarely before quit anything, even when it was to my detriment not to. Callie’s words came back to taunt me: “You won’t leave, you’ll just call and threaten. but you won’t leave” Oh yeah? I thought angrily screw her. I’ll show her!

And then I thought, Wait, I’m letting CALLIE decide if I’m going to leave? so then I thought about it for a moment and decided I was leaving anyway. I called around, and texted, but couldn’t find a ride.

Kiana texted me asking where I was. I told her I was calling around for rides because I was leaving.

She left worship to come and find me. Joanna is going to shoot both of us, probably.

long story short, many tears. from me. after our talk, I made up this list:

 

Leave Stay
I hate the treatment I get to see Callie….sometimes
I hate living with these people Living with my parents is not ideal, or even healthy (is it any healthier staying here?
I hate the stupid rules
I hate being treated like a child
I hate canvassing in and of itself
If I leave I could get a REAL job (maybe?) and make enough for a car AND braces? And then what would I say when asked why I left this one?
I’m only serving God out of fear, and he doesn’t like that reason, so since nothing I do will please him, why do it at all? Could I get to know God here? Better than anywhere else, I mean?
But at least I’d be making money! You know, based on how long I work, not on what I sell. In another job, I might face some of the same problems: people treating me like shit, being on my feet all day
I could stop crying every single day. That would be so nice. How will my parents react if I leave? Would I never hear the end of it?
I don’t feel like I’m really getting enough training What are the consequences of leaving? Would I be able to find a job? Would I face ridicule by family members who think I’m insane anyway?
If I leave, would I at any future time be able to come back, or would I be rejected because of my attitude/lack of perseverance?
What are the spiritual consequences of leaving? If I’m not willing to go where God wants –and stay there—what is the point of worshipping him at all?
What are the spiritual consequences of leaving? If God wanted me here, he might just drag me right back next summer and the next until I finish, whereas if I just pull through now, he might allow me to go somewhere else next summer. Again, this falls under the serving God out of fear category.

Since I had no ride, I decided to go out today. This after a pep talk from Jeandra. Otherwise I would’ve said no way.

Today Wyson decided we were alll going to start on businesses. IF he had made me go alone, I would have refused to get out of the car. That’s how mad I was.

So Wyson went with Marenda and I the first few, then decided that 3 is a crowd, so Marenda and I went together. Aside from the trials and tribulations of canvassing, it was fun working with her.

I wasn’t here for this, but apparently the police stopped Wyson. When Wyson produced a permit, it was discovered a mistake had been made. Wyson had a permit for B— CITY, and we were in B— TOWNSHIP. So, we basically got kicked out. But I didn’t know that because by then it was time for lunch anyway and we’d finished our street.

So, after lunch, unbeknownst to me (and I wish Wyson had told me because it would’ve saved me spending hours angry at him) the only territory left to us was mansions. No, I do not mean the McMansions we normally canvass. These were not ye average big houses. These were OVERSIZE houses. Take the McMansions, and combine them. That was what the smaller houses in this area were like. I actually left one house because I couldn’t find the front door.

As you can imagine,these people are not receptive. At all. In fact, they were downright mean. I wondered why on earth Wyson had put us in this territory. We’ve never canvassed mansions before, and I felt so….small.

We almost got out of there clean. But then Glory wanted to go back to this one house for some reason. It wasn’t really clear why. Sometimes Glory is just Glory and he does crazy stuff. I mean, we know this, it’s Glory.

Anyway, because we were still in the neighborhood, the police found us. The first officer was very professional with Wyson. Looked at the permit, and everything seemed to be going ok, with the exception that some paperwork was missing, but he seemed…. polite is too nice a word, but you know how cops are when they’re being….ok Joana just gave me 5 more miutes so i’d better hurry it up.

The second officer showed up and he was…very aggresive. Wyson says he has never had cops be that aggressive with him before, and I thought the officer wasn’t THAT aggressive as all that, but Wyson would know because he’s dealt with this more. So anyway, Wyson doesn’t have his driver’s license, he’s misplaced his wallet, the officers want to know why we’re out after 9 if we only have permits till then, Wyson tries to explain about Glory,t he officer doesn’t understand… it’s a mess.

On the way back, they start singing, but I don’t. I ‘ve had a bad day and I don’t want anything to do with the others.I just want to get back so I can go to my not so secret spot and cry,

And then Marenda starts crying.

It doesn’t make sense for both of us to cry alone.

It just doesn’t.

When the current song ends, even though we’re almost back, I start singing it is well with my soul.

And, I don’t mean it, but, I want to. Today was rough. Which is probably why Joanna is being gracious to me tonight.

Marenda apologized, but I told her not to. “We’re all in this together hon. It dosn’t make sense for us to cry alone.”

And then I thought about what I’d just said: we’re in this TOGETHER.

Satan attacked hard today. I asked Wyson if he thought God was punishing me. tune in next time to hear the answer because I have one minute. Satan attacked hard today, and —

I have to make a decision: either we’re in this together, or I abandon everyone.

The choice is mine.

It’s time to go

Help Me

In Which I Am Angry

Especially because this is THE FOURTH FUCKIN TIME I’ve tried to write this. whoever wrote the script for wordpress is a TOTAL DUMBASS.

Warning, post contains swearing.

If The lord ever calls me back to canvassing (which he’d better not, because I still REALLY DON’T LIKE THIS) he’d better find an all adult program for me to go to.

I am an adult. I am 23, to be exact. And I am SICK TO FUCKIN DEATH of being treated like I am 16. Actually, I was sick to death of that at 16 too, but at 16 it’s at least a bit more understandable.

Do ya’ll know how FUCKIN HARD I WORKED to GET to 23? Do you know how hard I worked just to survive childhood, to get to the point where I had the HOPE of being treated like an adult? Let me tell you, it was hard fuckin work.

Especially because I lost track of the number of times I tried to kill myself. Sometimes all the time, I wish I had succeeded.*

When I left glaa, I promised myself I would never go anywhere where I was not

1. treated like the adult I now am

2. Not allowed technology, like computers, cell phones, and ipods. Exceptions being if there was a really good reason, like an activity that involves lots and lots of WATER.

3. Any place where I’d be forced to wear a skirt.

When I left GLAA, I said I was done with all that. I have not kept my promise on the first one, and am wishing I had.The 3rd is barely live with able, but I could do it if I didn’t feel like those who have skirts here are treated as less than subhuman.

*sigh* Need to find a new secret spot. Problem is, most don’t have wifi. fuckety fuck fuck fuck fuck

God it’s so great to say that. Fuck. Just, fuck. It’s so great to say that without fear of being yelled at. Fuck goddammit bitch bastard hell cunt dick fucktard fuckhead goddammned idiot dammit ehiowijfdew

If you are an Adventist, and you just read through all that, congratulations. I really greatly respect someone whose ears aren’t delicate. Or in this case, your eyes. Personally I think those with delicate ears are annoying as fuck, because they’re if they’re seriously too weak to handle it, they’re not for this world.

Help Me

Side note, I really do need to stop swearing. It’s a bad habbit.

 

 

 

*disclaimer, I am not currently suicidal. Because suicide pisses off the Almighty God, and when God gets pissed off,  the pisser off ER does not get to go to heaven or get help when he or she needs it. So, no more suicide attempts for me.