Imagine?

“Imagine there’s no countries. It isn’t hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too.” These are some of the lyrics to “Imagine” which was both written and sung by John Lennon. It is a timeless song that wonderfully imagines a host of possibilities about life. There are those, who despite the songs tempting and lofty ideas, couldn’t imagine a life sans religion, or faith. Though the ever increasing presence of xenophobia exists, it can be argued that so does the willpower of those who practice any religion, and who dare to persevere and not conform, while running the risks of being lambasted or rejected for refusal to endorse the status quo. Perhaps what the world sees as a religion, faith practitioners see as an undying relationship, to a deity or deities, for whom they deem it is worth to suffer.

The Middle

It is pretty fair to say that I was born in the middle. I am not the middle child. I am my father's only remaining child, and my mother's only child. The statement about being born in the middle comes from the role that I was assigned by my mother and grandmother. I have been in the middle of their on-again, off-again contentious relationship for as long as I can remember.

Fast forward to now, I tend to still be in the middle. I try not to take sides, but rather acknowledge fault on both sides and strive to remain peaceful. I don't tend to tell either of them where I find them to be at fault, unless there's some blow up that causes me to lash out. 

Throughout my life, I tend to be the person that other people come to--to vent. Sometimes about one another, and sometimes just about life. I have learned to not repeat what I'm told, and to remain neutral. Open to listen to both sides, and quick to remain loyal to both as well.

This can sometimes come at a cost. A very high cost, especially when people take my passivity for weakness, and believe they can bully me. There is a lot I know, and that much more I can say in response to being insulted. Most times, I try to be the bigger person. I try to take the high road, forgive, and move forward.

What I have recently, and very painfully recognized is that there comes a time when silence is not the best answer. When a response to insensitivity and bullying must be called out for what it is. A family member recently popped-off at the mouth so viciously that upon reading her text, I was nearly shut-down.

I couldn't think. I wanted to cry. I wanted to curse. Instead, I shared it with my husband as calmly as I knew how and together we shared the truth behind the person's mean words, and from where they were coming. We acknowledged our hurt and our pain. Then we sucked it up and had fellowship with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

I know the latter part of that paragraph may appear to be full-on mush, but it's true. We decided that we weren't going to allow this person's distorted version of the truth shape our actions, and how we chose to spend time as a family.

Can I tell you that we are still hurt by the words this person threw at us. I am still angry, but I refuse to lose joy, to stop living my life over the misery of someone else.

While I believe in the power being in the middle provides me such as, serving as an intercessor or mediator; I do believe it's vital to walk away from this person to assess how to remove myself from being her target. 

My response to this person closed with "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I didn't do it." "Take care." Translation: We both know what's wrong with you, but only you can do something about it. In the meantime, you don't have the right to bully me through text. You don't have the right to speak recklessly to me. I don't have to take your crap. I am not your target anymore, and until you can treat me with respect and not intentionally seek to wound me with your words, I release you.

I am not a victim. I am not a pushover. I am no one's target. I have removed the bulls-eye from my back. And no one will put it back.