Life.
"'Pilgrimage' is often used to describe an individual's journey through life, sometimes as a general description of personal growth and exploration, [and] sometimes, as in Christianity, outlining a particular spiritual focus or pathway which it is believed will lead to encounter with God." This month, I'm sharing my memorabilia as I have been since October, after sorting through alot of old papers and such, that I had saved, which are documentation of both my life story and my giving an honest and accurate account of it. In this post I am focusing on spiritual things, which I have felt, and written about, in some form or other, during my life.
A journal entry of mine . . . .
18 March 92
10:50 PM
. . . . Everybody thinks I'm always supposed to be strong, & Christian, & together, & forgiving no matter what, & I'm not. I'm tired! Tired of all the grief, & loss, & heartache, & betrayals. Tired of the struggle . . . . I want peace , & there is no peace. I've got to have peace. I need trust & there is no trust-- especially with my closest loved ones. Is love only in my imagination? A sugar-coated pain from Hell?
Another one of my journal entries . . . .
1 January 1993
As I begin this personal journal for the year 1993, I have seen the Lord meet every basic human need through each month's struggle and crises. I am going through frustrating, frightening, and difficult times, working multiple jobs with few hours and low wages, and on Food Stamps for the first time in my life. God told me just to trust Him, though, and so far He has met my needs for food, clothing, shelter (and to be with CeeBee), mostly through the help of others. He has not failed me, and yet there's the issue of me continuing to cry out to Him regarding deeper needs; desires of my heart . . . . I desire to love and be loved; to be in a committed Christian marriage with a man who loves God above anyone and anything. I desire to be a homemaker; have a sense of stability, home, family, affection, laughter. I desire a safe home for my pet cockatiel, CeeBee, and I. I desire to continue loving the Lord above all else and grow in Him and be blessed by Him. . . .
[NOTE: Some, of these things, became irrelevant, in my life, as the years passed.
[NOTE: Some, of these things, became irrelevant, in my life, as the years passed.
CeeBee flew home to Heaven in 2011, after nearly 20 years of unconditional love.
I was in my 30s, when I wrote this journal entry. I am in my 60s, now. I wrote it following my last marriage to a man that I refer to as a son of Satan who abused me so continually and in so many ways that he finally shattered my soul, making everything about living life so much harder for me. He dragged me to the depths of Hell by how he treated me and the first time he ever threatened me was mere minutes after we had just said our marriage vows! Due to the terror and trauma, he inflicted on me, for my making the mistake of trying to love him, I backed off, from my desire to be married, and I have stayed single, ever since then. Happily so for the most part. I feel like I just can't risk that another man would think I'm his property to mistreat, especially because, I married him! I still wonder what it would be like, to truly be loved by someone, that I love. I've never had a man in my life who, "loves God above anyone and anything". I can't even imagine that.]
A letter that I wrote, to the owner of, mega home store, Nebraska Furniture Mart:
1702 Nicholas Street Omaha, NE 68102
July 15, 2017
Dear Mr. Blumkin,
Thank you so much for your kind response to my letter I wrote you from Siena Francis House Women's Shelter, where I have, as of today, been living for six weeks. I am so grateful for their help, here, as they take excellent care of us. My own personal ways of being able to 'give back' to them are limited, by my situation and resources, although I do find various ways, on a daily basis, to try to help meet needs here in the shelter. I reached out to you regarding the well-worn, torn, and stained carpeting because I could see it was a real need here, and I am so very grateful to you that you responded that you are willing to assist Siena Francis House in selecting and pricing out flooring when they are ready to do this! . . . since I am continuing my search for a suitable apartment (for a 61-year-old woman), with a landlord that will accept my 'HUDVASH' (Veteran Affairs) Section 8 Housing Voucher, and I will be able to leave the homeless shelter once I can obtain that housing. . . .
Thank you so much for your kind response to my letter I wrote you from Siena Francis House Women's Shelter, where I have, as of today, been living for six weeks. I am so grateful for their help, here, as they take excellent care of us. My own personal ways of being able to 'give back' to them are limited, by my situation and resources, although I do find various ways, on a daily basis, to try to help meet needs here in the shelter. I reached out to you regarding the well-worn, torn, and stained carpeting because I could see it was a real need here, and I am so very grateful to you that you responded that you are willing to assist Siena Francis House in selecting and pricing out flooring when they are ready to do this! . . . since I am continuing my search for a suitable apartment (for a 61-year-old woman), with a landlord that will accept my 'HUDVASH' (Veteran Affairs) Section 8 Housing Voucher, and I will be able to leave the homeless shelter once I can obtain that housing. . . .
As I have never been in a homeless shelter prior to this, I didn't have any idea what to expect. I have been very grateful for the many positive aspects, and struggle some with the lack of privacy, and, times of sleep deprivation due to snorers, door closings, baby crying, etc. Being poor, I'd longed . . . to be able to go to the zoo ($20.00 - $40.00 for the Adult Admission, alone) and the Joslyn [Art Museum] to see the special traveling exhibit (that requires paid admission). I was so excited that they took us on outings to do both of these activities! They also gave me a pair of new tennis shoes, to walk the zoo pain free (my old pair had holes). I got some chocolate-dipped coconut macaroons the other day, donated in a bag of sweet treats from Panera Bread. . . . but several restaurants have sent us their specialties while I've been here. Also, a Veteran Event is hosted here & we had pizza and watched a movie. . . . They had BINGO here, too, and I won a pretty lipstick the [other] girls compliment the color of.
We have chore lists, daily. We sign up for our time in the laundry room. At some point, everyone here-- staff and us included-- get annoyed at others and annoy others. Yet, for a varied social environment like this, with different ethnicities, cultures, age groups, languages, backgrounds, & lifestyles, there is a very touching and tender atmosphere of support, cooperation, and love. There are many conversations about God and Faith; and, other, more 'colorful', comments, about life, as well, as we each grapple with this reality we face in our own way.
The people I have met-- and loved-- here I will never forget. Sharing this intense experience forges friendships that will endure. Tears come to my eyes picturing some of these in my mind, now, to try to describe them to you. I am humbled by what I've learned about them and from them. My heart has been opened, now, to types of people I'd never directly interacted with or personally experienced before, in some cases; some I likely feared, before. This place is filled with the deep waters of Humanity; adrift, afloat, & struggling. Sharp voices; soothing voices. Laughter & tears overheard. I am constantly amazed by how much positivity the women muster, and strength, in coming here (sometimes for physical safety but always) to seek improvement in their life situation.
In closing, I'd like to share a little of the joy & laughter I've had here: I slept for 5 weeks in the Mat room, on a thick foam mattress-of-sorts on the floor, that is surprisingly comfy. There can be 20 women on mats in that one large room, more or less, at any given time, depending on how many have come through the front secured gate seeking help in their situation. My first night or so, I was awakened by a 'symphony of snorers' and sat up with a tired sigh to survey the scene. I saw one other girl, also sitting up staring around the room for the same (problematic) reason. We exchanged frustrated glances & shrugs of 'nothing can change it'-- IT IS WHAT IT IS. Then, as she watched, I solemnly raised both arms as an orchestra conductor would & 'directed' these sleepers, bringing in the bass-like snorers, then the 'woodwind' snorers, and so on. She & I smiled then, at the scene, & lay back down again. Another night before bed in the mat room (I'm in a bunkbed room, now), I plopped down on my mat & looked around. Girls were on their mats before lights out, some writing, some Googling, some rolling their hair, some conversing, some watching a TV show. I smiled at the scene & said to Sheryl-- another older woman, with a similar sense of humor-- "This reminds me of summer camp", to which she replied, to the laughter of all in the room, "This ain't NO 'summer camp'!-- We is HOMELESS!" She's gone now, from Siena Francis House, and is enjoying her new apartment!-- God bless you, Deborah Robinson
I came across a note that I wrote to myself about my time living in the homeless shelter, in the summer of 2017. It has the name "Ashley" on the scrap of paper. I added "One of the several, women, I led to the Lord (by His Holy Spirit) while we lived in (the homeless shelter) Siena Francis. Others got saved, excited about my relationship w/Jesus & interested in their Bible study and growth."
I wrote a poem (free verse poetry that does not rhyme or have a regular meter), about a young Army veteran, named B.C., whom I met, the same summer that I was in the homeless shelter, when I was stuck in the VAMC for awhile, after that. He looked just like Jesus, with his long hair, and he occasionally exhibited benign behavior if you encountered him on a, rare, good day when he was medicated to the extent that he was safe around the other patients in the Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit. Many, if not most, of his days, he was frighteningly out of control, and one night he slipped into another male patient's room as he lay sleeping soundly, and beat the poor guy up while the staff was off the floor for their briefing during shift change. Just before he did that, I heard someone jiggling the door handle to my room but my back was to the door at the time. I didn't roll over to see who it was, because I assumed it was the nursing staff, doing the room checks, as they also peered through the small window in the door of each room to see if we were asleep. Had my door not been securely locked, I hate to think of what B.C. might have done to me. It, still, gives me chills. A couple of times, he seemed to regain his sanity enough to carry on a conversation with me for a few brief sentences of exchange between us before his eyes disengaged and took on the vacant zombie-like look that he had for most of every day. His outbursts were terrifying when he blew up at staff, trying to get him to, eat something, or shower. They would often have to sedate him to keep him from harming himself or others. He had served in the war in the Middle East where Americans were sent to fight, and I cannot even imagine, what he had seen, or gone through, there, that took a, fully functioning, young man, who had clearly been competent, at some point, to be sent there, at all, and pushed him, to a point, beyond, what he could cope with, causing B.C. to lose his mind. Some of the other veterans, I met there, who suffered enormously from PTSD (as do I, but, mine is due to different experiences, than theirs, while I was enlisted), were able to talk a little bit about things they had seen, over in the Middle East, and it was horrible to hear. When a bed became available on the side of the hospital floor that offered a dorm-like live-in setting, for stressed vets, like myself and others, to both learn and improve coping and life skills, I went to that side, but B.C. remained in the locked ward as, clearly, the most hopeless case, of any patient in that psych ward. Even though he was 'unreachable' my heart went out to him. I wish I knew what became of him and whether he is institutionalized.
(A young man, in a war zone. This, is not B.C., though)
[Reference the following post for alot more information on that chapter of my life: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2022/06/romans-828-trusting-god-regardless.html]
I was in one of my classes at the VAMC, live-in, program, when we were asked to write about some experience that left a strong impression on us and then share it with the group. I had not been able to get B.C. out of my mind. He was locked up and heavily medicated, on the other side of the same floor as me, in the hospital. [I did not even have any medications, my entire time there, on either side of that floor, except for my over-the-counter Benadryl, for my allergies, and it was, 'only as needed' (PRN).] I still wonder, what ever became of B.C. He was in bad shape. I don't know if that young man ever regained his right mind. He was so young! It was so sad. So, in that class, that day, at the VAMC, I wrote about B.C. I cried as I read it to the other veterans there. He was now this, appealing, yet frightening, shell, of a young man. The whole thing, with him, haunted me. Here is my poem:
B.C.
8-6-17
Deb Robinson
Brandon stood before me, smiling,
eyes to eyes, all bright with openness,
we greeted one another with
exchanges, of notice, and names.
"You look like Jesus!", I observed audibly,
to which he replied, "Yes, I do",
and added, "You can call me 'B.C.'"
"Like, 'Before Christ'", I acknowledged.
This young man, a recent veteran,
after serving on active duty
until it finally broke him,
was in his PICU pajamas & socked feet,
scuffling up and down the halls (on his good days)--
walking & walking & walking.
He would be 'absent' from the locked ward activities,
more often than not, I would soon discover.
I always missed him, when he was not around;
staying in his room,
angry and aloof,
sleeping all day.
I also missed him when he was around,
but not really 'present', with us.
Most days, when I looked at his dulled, unfocused, eyes,
and said, "Hi, B.C.",
there was no apparent recognition,
or response, at all,
to my invitation to interaction.
B.C., after serving our country,
now stood there before me,
yet was Missing In Action.
I wondered, watching him,
walking & walking & walking,
away, again, down the hall,
back to his room, to bed,
what touch-- to his body, soul, & spirit--
the Lord Jesus,
whom he so resembled,
might impart to B.C.,
to heal all that had become broken
in him--
including his mind and heart.
This is a letter I wrote to a priest I'd been talking to about theological differences:
August 20, 2015
Fr. Carl,
Thank you for the visit with one another at the parish office this afternoon.
Whenever I say something in a conversation regarding any 'Christian' subject matter that the hearer indicates they are not familiar with, I conscientiously try to follow up to clarify that, because as a Called-to-ministry layperson representing my Lord as His disciple/ambassador to others, one of my responsibilities is to bring light/shed light. Leaving known questions or concerns with someone, therefore, isn't helpful to that mission. Even communication does not clear things up, in all cases, but providing the scriptural source that I am citing gives the person the opportunity to understand how seriously and respectfully I approach my efforts toward the Great Commission; and that my heart is never to patronize or disregard the immense value of each soul I interact with whether that be to God, or to me, including on God's behalf, by my leaving any confusion or doubt, about spiritual matters, 'in my wake', when departing the encounter.
I am supposing you would mandatorily have a Greek reference work, for your study of the Bible, in order to 'check out' the word I used with you, in describing the source of the energy exuded by me that fuels and fosters the Christian love (that I cannot do at all on my own!) which emanates through me to others by the Presence and power of God's Holy Spirit. It was part of my discussion that-- apart from Him-- there is no 'good' about 'me'. Indeed, Jesus said, ". . . there is none good but God." I used the Greek/biblical term "dunamis" (δύναμις). It speaks of the ability/power/strength/might to do a wonder work (for God; indeed-- by God through 'me'). I have heard it said our word "dynamite" comes from the root of this, and it comes out of the meaning "to be able or possible".
I was saying to you that all love, truth, forbearing with (the unsavoriness & annoyance, to my own flesh, of dealing with hurtful, difficult) people, etc., flowed from me by God's Holy Spirit/power within me, and that there is nothing truly 'good' in 'me' apart from that. Acts 1:8 ("power") is this word 'dunamis'! Many other verses, including Acts 4:33, 6:8, 10:38, Luke 9:1, Matthew 6:13, etc. I call 'dunamis' (II Timothy 1:7, 8, & 9) the animating, energizing unction that provides not only the (Grace-given) ability (Romans 7:15 - 25, especially verse 18) to love - pray - go - tell - etc., to fulfill the Great Commission, in Jesus' Name, but even the desire (Romans 7:18) to do so, because my flesh never wants anything beyond its own wants/needs met, and my own spirit can know I should, or think I can, "Go into all the world and preach the Gospel", yet fall short, because 'my' own efforts can't sustain it.
Weariness, rejection, inconvenience, distaste (at odds with 'my' own natural affinities), etc., beset 'me' and I become bogged down, losing all desire to continue the effort. Should I, nevertheless, try, even then, it becomes a 'flat', tedious, Pharisee-type 'religious' exercise done in the wrong 'spirit' for the wrong reasons, rather than the 'relational' interaction where (the reality of) Christ (& His Love, in us) is lifted up, so that He can & will draw men unto Himself, again, 'relationally'. 'Religion' lacks the intimacy that must come from 'relationship'. I'm not a fan of 'religion' for its own sake.
. . . . Peter-- my favorite disciple-- 'grew into' his Calling, by the Holy Spirit's help, & became very good at speaking up & speaking out, even in 'intimidating' circumstances. (Acts 4:13 & 29 & 31) Paul, never shy, covers this-- and also some of the subjects you & I spoke of today-- in the passage of Hebrews 4:12 - 16.
Also, here is the passage where Jesus is saying that, ultimately, it is the Father, not Himself, who is to become our "all in all" (Amplified Bible), which I quoted to you in our discussion today: 1 Corinthians 15:20 - 28. Many if not most Christians teach and preach that Jesus is to have that position in the Kingdom of God and in our worship of God, when He is telling us, Himself, that this is not to be the case.
Existing from, by, and in the Lord,
Deborah Robinson
(Gen 35:8, & Judges 4:4 - 5:15)
Coming full circle, in this post, I leave you with a poem that I wrote 21 March 91 titled 'Upward, Christian soldier!' I wrote it for our military serving in the Persian Gulf at the time. It describes the need to walk with God, through our pilgrimage, especially when that journey takes us to the battlefield and/or into the unknown:
Upward, Christian Soldier!
Christian soldier, take God's hand,
And through the endless miles of sand
Walk by faith and not by sight
Through each day and every night.
Read God's Word-- on it we feed--
It's the spirit's MRE*!
Wholesome food to nourish souls,
And strengthen us in all our roles.
Hold this knowledge ever fresh:
Our war is really not with flesh,
But with the sin inside us all
That weighs us down and makes us fall.
Our hope is in the Lord alone;
He'll redeem what we have blown,
If we repent, get on our face,
And come to Him to seek His grace.
When you return again to home,
Or wherever else you roam,
Know for certain God is there
To lift and carry every care.
Though we love you, more does He,
With love that lasts eternally!
Count on Him then; He won't fail.
His love for you will never pale.
by Deborah [Robinson]
Verses from Isaiah 35 (The Living Bible)
"Even the wilderness and desert will rejoice in those days. . . . for the Lord will display His glory there, the excellency of our God. With this news bring cheer to all discouraged ones. Encourage those who are afraid. Tell them, 'Be strong, fear not, for your God is coming to destroy your enemies. He is coming to save you.' And when He comes, He will open the eyes of the blind, and unstop the ears of the deaf. . . . God will walk there with you . . . . These, the ransomed of the Lord, will go home along that road to Zion, singing the songs of everlasting joy. For them all sorrow and sighing will be gone forever; only joy and gladness will be there."
A NOTE to my readers regarding next month's blog post, which will focus on love:
I will share alot of things from and about men who have traveled into and through and out of my life during their own journey, in next month's post. With Valentine's Day being in February it seemed appropriate to save those for that post. Also, my birthday is in February, marking yet another year gone by without my ever having experienced, real, reciprocated, love, in my life. At this point, given things as they are, I don't think that it's something I will ever have. I have only been in love, like that, twice, in my entire life, despite meeting, many thousands of guys, including, in my dancer days, when I worked in the nightclubs, and it was part of my job, to talk with the customers, during every single shift. It was like eventually earning a PhD, in Men, only, if anything, it disgusted me, and drove me away, from wanting any man in my personal life. There just wasn't ONE that could UNLOCK MY HEART to LOVE. I compare it to those scenes I have seen in TV shows and movies where the guy is a safecracker, and is able to open the safe when he has not been given the key or the combination, to do so. He just slowly and carefully checks different numbers to see if they will line up so he can gain access to the safe and all of the valuables, inside. Only TWO men have EVER been able to UNLOCK MY HEART! No one else ever came close. Due to circumstances as they were it couldn't work out with either one. It is what it is. So, those things that I will share, next month, are mostly things that I was given by various men, over the years, who may have felt something for me, but I just didn't feel it for them. When I love someone it's very deep but it's also very rare. My heart is not an easy safe to crack at all! I'm picky, I am very sure of who I am, and I, absolutely, know, what I do, and don't, like, in other people, including men, in my life. My Valentine's post will basically be about my NOT finding ROMANTIC love, but honestly, I am far more content to spend the rest of my life all alone than to settle for poor choices, which I felt I had no choice but to do, when I was younger, and also did because of that BULLCRAP that, LOVE CONQUERS ALL. It, most definitely, does NOT. THAT is merely a myth; a fairy tale.
