Christian love

How does your church show love for the disabled? For the shut-ins? The non-believer?

Christian love is something that has been on mind for a while now. It is something that is missing from most churches I have visited over the years. If you have money, status and say the right words, you have all the love you will ever need. What about the single mom with no money? What about the prostitute who walks in off the street? The homeless man? They don’t have fancy clothes or the right words. Clean clothes are a luxury.

How do you greet this person Sunday morning? What do you do when the lady in fish net stockings and latex mini sits next to you in the church pew? Do you shake her hand and welcome her? Even if you say the right words of welcome and make the motions, what is going on in your head? After all,, the Bible teaches us that sin is a state of mind before it is an action.

What made me think about this today? Asthma. I think that the church doors should be open to everyone. Teachers should be there for the lost, the lonely and the sick. Not just the Pharisee who think they have everything together. Have you ever thought about the person sitting next to you in church that is coughing? Did you stop to think that your perfume or cologne may be making them sick? Maybe even the cigarette smell that clings to your skin and clothes?

Did you know that for those of us allergic to your perfume, church is a miserable place? It isn’t a place of learning, guidance and love. It is a miserable place where all focus is only on the next breath of air. Breathing during an asthma attack takes all of my focus. It is work to move air in and out of lungs that just don’t want to work right. Is it possible to listen to a sermon when all of your energy has to go into the next breath of life? Is eternal life the focus or surviving until the preacher shuts his mouth the focus?

Think about that the next time you put on perfume before going to church. Before you smoke that last cigarette before you walk in to take your seat. You never know who will be sitting next to you in church. Does your church leadership go out of their way to make every one feel welcome? The disabled? The homeless? The asthmatic?

My oldest daughter watches every Sunday as I struggle to breath. She is questioning what Christian love really means. She questions the existence of a God who would exclude her family. Everyone is welcome except asthmatics? Lets not offend someone wearing perfume. It doesn’t matter that mom had to go to the ER after church. Don’t step on any toes. Don’t make any waves. That is just one family. They don’t matter.

This is the message we have gotten at church after church. It breaks my heart. Is this the love that Jesus modeled for us? It feels like a loosing battle.

What will it take to start changing hearts? An ambulance? A lost life? Asthma kills. It isn’t a choice. It isn’t a preference. Think about that Sunday morning before you walk into your church.

Ps.  I am working with the leadership at our new chruch to find a solution.  So far we haven't made much progress but they are working with us.  They are trying.  We are trying.

A High Maintenance Bride?

A High Maintenance Bride? Who? Me? Never! but what do you call this lifestyle of ours? He has to take the time every week to help me deal with the stress of being a stay at home mom. Sometimes he enjoys the task at hand. When he is feeling good and I am too, we usually end up doing much more than just taking care of a bi-weekly chore. Who thought that an unpleasant chore for both of us would have so many positive side affects.

My backside is a direct link to many different emotions. After a stress relief, I feel very submissive toward my husband and at piece with the world. A punishment spanking is a different story. First nervousness when I realize what I just did. Then comes the fear when I realize the I have probably earned a good old fashioned punishment. Anger at him when he tells me he is going to follow threw. Panic when he tells me to drop them. Back to anger when the paddle falls. It takes a while for acceptance to hit and the sadness that I disappointed him. Finally, the last stage comes when the tears fall and I reconnect with my husband.

With all of those emotions vented, I am calmer and at piece with the world. I can face the day and take what life throws my way with the grace and dignity my husband expects from his southern lady. A punishment instantly ends most arguments. He reminds me that he is the Head of His wife and I will submit to him. The spanking, lecture and loving words mend the rift between us faster than ever.

My faith is growing stronger. Now why would this be connected to ttwd? I have no idea. My head is bowed in prayer more often. My mind turns to scripture during the day. When I correct my children, it is backed up with a Biblical principal. Who ever thought this would get me back into a church. I’m still not sure if my asthma will let us attend regularly. I have had a hard time breathing every time I walk into the building but I am trying.

We are getting further and further from the D/s lifestyle. Even as I become more submissive as he steps into the role of HOH, we are leaving that lifestyle behind. This is definitely a change for the better. I am happy to see that “alternative” lifestyle take a back seat in our relationship. It never was a good fit anyway. Now he is truly the leader in our house, not just a sad figure head that poses for cute pictures.

He is mine and I am his forever.  No more play pretend.  Real life ttwd is here to stay.

stupid silly fight

Discovered today.
1. Dragon wants to have the final word, even in stupid disagreements I thought were over 5 minutes ago.
2. The man has a memory like an elephant and will not forget disrespect on my part.
3. Disrespect will be dealt with the way he wants it dealt with.
4. I do NOT like his method of dealing with a slammed door or “improper” attitude.
5. I may not cry during the punishment but in the privacy allowed after, the tears flow.
6. It is official.  I am "Taken in Hand" 

I got a new sewing book for my birthday. It is on a CD which means I would have to use my computer while I work in my sewing room. With no spare surfaces that won’t work. I use a music stand to hold my instructions and books at a convenient height. So… He took it to a print shop and made a hard copy for me.
We were loading the newly printed sheets into plastic sleeves in a three ring binder. He didn’t put enough sheets in his binder. I told him to put more sheets into his binder before he started running short. Why? Those things are slippery and if you have try to put to many in a binder they slide everywhere. It is a pain to try to re load the sheets. Why do it if you don’t have to. Right? That was my thought.

Something stupid and silly to fight about.

I saw a potential for a huge mess. Visions of pages everywhere and me trying to put them in order. He snapped at me and acted like he is Mr. Professional binder loader. Grrrr I’m not going to just sit there when I have been snapped at and didn’t deserve it. I tried to explain what was going to happen since he was working with more pages than I was. “I know how to deal with it if that happens” he said. Ok. I’ll let him deal with the mess.

He waited five minutes to bring it up again. Where did that come from??? I knew my temper was getting away from me so I tried to leave.

“NO! You get back over here NOW!”

“NO, I’m taking a break. This is stupid and I am leaving before it gets out of hand.”

I stomped off and slammed the door. What was I thinking? Hello! Did I leave my brain under the bed last time I was hiding under there or what? He followed me into the bed room and I thought I was in trouble right then. But I wasn’t. He tried to make up but by this time I was steaming. Know-it-all-jackalope. He went back to work on the binders and after a few minutes I did too.

Moving on…. planning supper. All is forgiven, I thought. The menu was decided and I went to look up the recipe for tortillas. He came into the bedroom soon after I did.

“You need an attitude adjustment.”

“Why?”

“You are still steaming.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are. Now drop them and put your hands on the bed.”

“but”

“No buts. Do it now.”

All I can say is ouch. Still don’t think it was fair. He started it and he ended it too. When the weather gets warmer spankings will happen in the garage to give us more privacy from little ears. I dread it. He won’t stop when it starts getting hard for me to stay quiet. The air compressor is more than enough to mask my little squeaks. It looks like we have an early spring this year. Normally I would enjoy it but I’m not so sure it is a good thing this year.

“Do you know why you got those swats.”

“No”

“An improper attitude, leaving before the issue was resolved, slamming the door and pouting.”

I didn’t cry before or during. I cried after he left the room and I finished printing the recipe.

Ok. I admit it. I was being a brat. There was more said and I deserved to be punished. I deserved more of a punishment than what I got. It had to be cut short. I couldn’t stay quiet enough. The swats hurt too much. That is why we are moving to the garage in warmer weather.  

Unintended Effects

Yesterday, I was peopled out. Even my family was just too much for me and I tried to hibernate. Hide from the world. We needed to leave and I just couldn’t do it. My husband opened the bedroom door. He looked at me and knew what was going on in my head.

“You are peopled out.”

“Yes”

I gave a one word answer. He didn’t need any more information than that to take action. He gave the kids orders.

“Get your shoes on, get your stuff in the car and walk the dogs. Don’t forget jackets, it is cold outside.”

He turned back to the bedroom and closed the door. His face was blank and unreadable. Not a good sign for me. The paddle some how appeared in his hand and my heart dropped.

This was only a motivator. Not punishment. Right? So….. Why did I get so worried? He takes care of punishment when he already has me in position. Now I know that for a fact. He admitted it to me and explained why.

You don’t get as worried or scared when I wait. The spanking is your punishment, not the worry of what will come.

I thought that was sweet until he had me bent over the bed. My heart dropped.

I thought. Oh no. What have I done this time? Did I mess up and not realize it? I’m in for it now.

I closed my eyes and braced for the worst.

Four mild to middlin’ swats latter he was done.

Oh, that’s it? I’m really not in trouble? Ok. What was I so worried about anyway?

He was right. I needed just a few swats to break the tension in my shoulders. The ride to town would have been miserable without them. It was just enough.

Now last night I know I messed up. A mouthy teenager and a huge attitude. I MESSED UP. Oh no. I’m worried now. What will the next “stress reliever” look like?

If you need to find me, I can be found under the bed, keeping the dust bunnies company.

it is what it is

My Dragon has been home for almost 2 weeks now. He has shown me that ttwd is not something that will fade away. It is not a passing fad. Spanking is not the focus. Roles are. He is the head of our household. I follow his leadership. It works for us. I don’t understand the why behind it but my understanding is not necessary.

The list of rules grows every week. Noting he adds to the list is unreasonable and all fall under the 4 Ds. Disobedience, dangerous, disrespect and (I always forget one) The seatbelt rule falls under dangerous and shouldn’t have to be a rule. Language has two categories. Disobedience and disrespect. All of his rules are fair even if I don’t understand why they are necessary. There are more rules. They flow seamlessly into our lives. Most of the time, I don’t even think about them.

There is no big ritual or routine for a spanking. OTK is out of the question right now. He can’t hold me in place. I’ll be in the position of his choice for a regular session and he brings up something that bothers him. The swats get harder to take. No break. No petting. And it is over. No anticipation. No worrying on my part. Just there it is and it is done. No opportunity for me to backtalk or to try to whine my way out of it. It works for us.

I don’t know why I asked for this to begin with. I hate being spanked. Yes, I even hate the “pleasure” swats. I like what they do to my head. I like what it does for my relationship with my husband. But….. I hate…. I HATE! ! ! ! pain. I can’t stay still. I spend the entire time trying to wiggle away from the paddle, cane, strap and switch. He chooses the implement. He decides how many and how long. It is a time for him to have complete control and for me to submit in every way. Although I am naturally submissive, it is hard to do it all the time and in all situations.

For now he understands my need to retreat. Having him at home has let him see how demanding the kids can be. I can get my time alone. That’s ok but when he says it is time to come out of the bedroom, I better move. When he tells me to, not when I get ready to move. I want to grumble and grump but he is right. If I hide all the time, I’ll miss seeing the kids grow up. They will grow up and leave. I’ll regret the time I missed.

I know how lucky I am. He makes submitting to him easy. His rules are fair. Punishment is fair. Even when he does punish, he does it in a way that isn’t awkward or hard. It is what it is. 

He is mine and I am his.  Forever.