Stand by your Man.

Please. Ladies. Stop! Stop it!

Ladies. Do not get your undies in a bungee. Girls take a breath.

”Just say corn.” NO. Not that. The old definition of the concept—

Relax. Take a breath. It’ll be o.k. Flirting is for amateurs.

Dislaimer. I am one too. A girl. Well, an old girl.

And. Before the cats come out of the woodworks ready for an eye scratching all out brawl and duel. We are all “in this” together. Kind of? Depends on… you.

It is not certain the year we became the frenemies and the enemies and the partner stealing maniacs in order to pretend we were kind and gentle in the face of starvation. Around some time, some year it all became out of control and the cat fights drowned out good sense. Was it a bug? To realign the women from the girls and place them in a “category” all their own?

Some people even died—the targeting was precise and the older ones went first and faster, fastest. Someone, somewhere was watching, while many of us were left to our own devices and defenses.

I am guilty. My tantrums proved to be a fruitless attempt at fighting a wrong and placing the blame squarely off of my shoulders in the midst of the buggy battle.

“How long are you going to keep holding on to the story you don’t want to keep reliving.” (jn)

Exactly.

Anything that is familiar is surely better than the unknown.

Right?

Wrong.

Lifetimes spent boasting our rightness in the clouds of our wrongness.

Yep.

Up and down.

As the passengers on the Titanic as well as the now “friendly” skies lectured us—“women and children first.” Did they really mean: Save your self first and then another.

Did they mean what they say? Who jumped ship first?….

Exactly.

What was as true back in the olden days is as true as it is now. Except one main Man. One main point.

He is the one who saves us from anyone—including our own self.

The Man of God.

Us? Easier said than done.

The bug of dissection now:

Triggers.

Mentally healthy individuals know a thing or two about these heat seeking missiles.

Girls. Cats. Bags. Eyes. Batty eyes.Men. Handsome. Enraptured. Of the possibilities.

C’mon.

Admit it. Even you stepped outside the box of your bored comfort zone because the grass seemed, well greener. Worse off you pretended it was all so……innocent.

He knows our hearts.

He knows our minds.

He is the ultimate lie detecting machine.

He is.

”Just say corn.”

I, for one like the old fashioned. The “corny.” Yeah. I am feeling a little worn out these days. Not quite bordering on exhaustion. To the cats with some left in the tank.

”Bring it on.”

Urban sophistication versus rural-laity.

”Bring it on.”

Reminder. Take your best shot and call someone in the morning. But don’t call me. Time is wasting and cats who have nine lives are really not getting any younger either.

I am guilty.

My tantrums and self doubt rendered me helpless and I…….

Blew a gasket, a top, my temper, my emotion, my physically, trying to bring attention to the issue when He was by my side the whole time. He forgave me for the hurt because he understood my shouts and cries and unbelievable fear.

Fear.

Fear is as fickle a beast as they come.

Good news.

Fear. Comes and goes.

I subscribe to you.

To the unbelievers who may not understand, may not get it:

Take a deep breath:

At the risk of sounding gross. A man and a woman are but one.

A man is the head, the woman is the neck.

Ugh.

Opposites attract. Opposites attack.

Aargh.

Did you know? It used to be a sinful for a woman to cut her hair?

Holy head lice.

A man is the head of the household and the woman is the extension of all that is good and kind and right. (Corinthians 11:14-16) “Be prepared for long and stringy hair that attracts bugs and lice? Your decision.

The man and wife who bear the burdens of an imperfect union learn this over time, over tantrum, over the wall of stone of coping mechanisms.

Yep.

And they live to see another day.

Doesn’t guarantee that ‘nother day will be hunky dorey.

Doesn’t guarantee the woman will grow her hair any longer or grayer, or whatever.

“Sh**” happens. Bugs turn into death defying germs of potential mass and immediate destruction. They are everywhere, too.

”It’s all about the hair.”

Yes. And No. Always. Maybe. In the end. Your decision. Well maybe not. I am no expert in coiffing and grooming and primping and mooning.

What He offers us when we listen and gives to us in His daily generosity is His mercies in a life and a life altering mood of goodness. His mercies are new everyday and if we squander the opportunity, we waste our time, not His.

His time is endless.

He wastes no time.

He is timeless.

HE NEVER CHECKS His watch, the time, or how much time we waste it in our self doubt of fear and un forgiven pasts.

He. Knows we will get there come hell or high water.

If a woman truly believes 1 Corinthians 11:3 “But I want you to realize that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of the woman is man, and the head of Christ is God.”

Put your knives down.

Get to work of managing your own affairs and not creating the drama and misery of a wrecking ball. Or. A wrecking cat. On another’s misfortune. Or fortune.

I am guilty.

Of weakness in the point proving.

I failed epically and only hurt myself. My “immediates.”

His mercies are new everyday is the “Notes” reminder I apply to and subscribe to each and every day.

Here I am.

To tell you to Stop. Stop it!

The only person who can change the story is you, yourself and you. On the way to the pity party would you rather think you are right, or thing you can do better?

Exactly.

Souls are best nurtured when they have been nurtured by good. I mean God. I mean good☺️.

Another person’s hurt is not another person’s hunk.

Manitenance.

Matriarch.

Patriarch.

Warning: This, too can be a mixed bag.

In our current century, “time” moves at lightning speed. So do excuses, and the like, the cat fight battle of nuances. Fall prey and although He is right beside you, He trusts you will,

”Figure it out.”

Standing by your man means different things to different people.

To stand.

A woman can turn her head in the “speak” of the man. Seeing things he may not see, helping him on good days and bad. Submission is only worth an ounce of prevention if it is first an ounce of cure.

The way to get there isn’t always pretty and the tantrum is down right ugly. Standing by one’s truth in His eyes and His eyes alone is what takes our lives from day to day.

He alone forgives our sins, and teaches us that it is o.k. to utter those three potent words.

”I am sorry.”