It’s a Grand Night for Bein’ Bloggy
I sit here surrounded by furs (all housing their original owners, thanks), and I wonder what the other mes are doing. Me’s? Me-s? Um, the others who bear my face and live in alternate realities. I hope they are having more fun than I am, although the definition of ‘fun’ is so wide-ranging, maybe I’m having lots of it and just can’t tell.
I ran into a woman at Walmart the other night who has me flummoxed. She cuts hair – it seems to be a gift for her. Her other most obvious gift is gab, followed closely by insanity of the highest order. Don’t get me wrong: I love crazy people. I have to, because they find me, follow me, and generally stick to me like a fart in a phone booth. This one, well, she’s special. She sees demons.
Before you get all hallelujah-praise-Jesus on me, you should know that I believe her. I have been attacked by them occasionally at night, and it’s not a big step to say I have a healthy respect for the supernatural. It’s just that this woman, she does not know what she thinks she knows, and she is in seriously deep waters. She has actually crossed into the occult, and I don’t know how to help her. We’ll call her Lorie, a totally fictitious and otherwise made-up and unrelated name. Verily I say unto you, it is not-eth her real-eth name. Eth.
Lorie believes God showed her the face of the devil because she asked Him, and she has a gift for casting them out, and that she has had them living in her while she was claiming to be a Christian. Those three things, they do not play well together. While I as a Christian can be aggravated beyond sanity by demons, the Holy Spirit is in me. He’s not about to rent a loft to a little demon to make some side cash. If she truly is a Christian, she wouldn’t be talking about a demon rising up out of her belly. A house divided against itself cannot stand, and all that.
She’s a train wreck, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to serve her god. That he would show me the enemy and allow him to take me over when he knows I am chemically imbalanced while IGNORING my requests for health and peace is just not something I would tolerate in a deity. Thank Him, mine isn’t like that. Mine speaks very clearly to me and says, ‘Girlie, you can NOT handle that right now.’ Then He says, ‘No.’ Or, if He’s feeling spunky, He gives me a taste of what I want, just so I can SEE how much better off I am without it.
My problem here is two-fold. 1. I want her to be sane. I want her to see that she is being unwise by inviting this stuff into her life. 2. I really like how she cuts my hair. To sit in her chair is to be lectured, sermonized, and beaten to death and resurrection with her stories and her dreams. She… um… wants to be a famous singer. And have sex. A lot.
You can’t make this stuff up, people.
The good news is I won’t need another haircut for a couple of months.
Oh my word. I don’t even know what to say. Sounds like either possession (the most logical choice) or schizophrenia (which may be a fancy name for possession). But unless you’re willing to cast out a demon, I’d have serious second thoughts about the next hair cut. You have a preacher you trust to find her and talk? Pray, pray, pray.
I sorta wonder about the haircut thing too…maybe I have seen too many stupid slasher movies. I try to avoid them, but they stick in yer head, ya know?
LOLOL Um, yeah, well, she DOES wave those scissors around a LOT.
Yeah, talked to him last night. She does have diagnosed mental issues, which is another reason I know prayer is pretty much all I can do at this point.
Thanks for visiting!