My Health, The Killing of a Criminal, My God

It's time to start blogging, singing and playing again. Lionhearts is moving and grooving and my health just loves to create. My time with God is enhanced 100 fold in creation/reflection mode.

Ok. I have two things that I would like to write about today. It all came to me as I hiked the hills of the south this past weekend. So, today, we get a two for one.

MY HEALTH

What the heck is going on?

I know, this has been one hell of a journey to follow. 

I KNOW because I have lived this madness.

This past summer my health took another crazy turn. 

Doctors and test results were LOUDLY telling me I was in “Failure to Thrive” mode, due to malnutrition.

I took great offense to thier diagnosis.

My friends worried. 

It looked like stress, sometimes anger, often brain fog and the inability to concentrate and often I couldn't even drive a car. 

It was reminiscent of the hell I went through, in the beginning of my bad health journey.  The hell that rendered me bedridden for many years. 

I was even admitted last year with an eating disorder. I just couldn't eat. 

WELL This summer I started getting sick/vomiting, in my sleep! 

Well, I am good at mind messing with myself, but I can’t make myself dream/be/or act in anyway while I sleep. I mean, really if I could..enter Jason Mamoa...I mean...really...

I went with this discovery to my Health Team (liver specialist, primary, gastroenterologist etc.)

They immediately ordered more tests and came up with a new diagnoses, to add to the pile. It is NOT an eating disorder afterall! (although hangups I have by the bucketload.)

It’s Gastroparesis, well GEE!! 

I was gobsmacked.  We had a race the following weekend and Pro athlete, bestest buddy and owner of a Nutrition Practice (Roswell Nutrition) Karen Porter was coming down for the weekend. She cuddled up with my pile of test results and gave me a health/nutrition PLAN. An amazing plan. 

She is the absolute best at what she does AND is a world champion athlete.

I am eating. I am thinking clear. I am kinder. I have a huge slew of tests in November that I am certain will knock 10 years of terrible challenges OUT OF THE BOX. I had a Zoom meeting with my doctor and raised his hands praising the Lord! EUR-FRICKEN -REEKA

Solutions to the life threatening problems...never ending it seems.

Yes, there will be more challenges, I am still living with the other challenges, but this whole “Failure to Thrive” diagnosis was almost bigger than me. Ok, It was bigger than me, but not bigger than God!

Notice the singing? writing? hiking? kayaking? racing? Yep... No Failure to Thrive today...Seize the Day! Lord, please, show me your glory.

Ok...Section 2

THE SHOOTING OF A GUILTY MAN

I listened to the news, like most of my treasured community. Manhunt underway. Kill the man who shot our Policeman. Kill Him now. He has been shooting, running and all of our lives are in danger. KILL THE F(*&%#

He shot out much more than shot at. He died.

My heart cried huge tears. I heard these words before. You don’t know that part of my life. There are actually many, many seasons and sections that have created this beast called “shell” (Little s for the little girl inside. She is who I protect.)

Long before my world of Rock and Roll, or even my walk with Jesus, my life was very different. I was married at a very early age to a criminal. He was the father of my first born. He was a much more prison decorated felon than our recent local hunted . 

I loved him. 

I knew the little boy trapped in his hell. I knew the addict. I left him, for the safety of our daughter. If it was just me, I might have stayed. People were robbed, killed, raped, kicked out of moving vehicles and even scalped. 

Years after I left he was still wrapped in the clutches of addiction. His parents all died within months of each other. His father a Hall of Famer Football Player, died of “wet brain” in a mental institution, his mother an amazing ballerina, died of alcohol consumption. They all died the first year of my recovery journey (I am going on 30yrs. This is my second attempt at sobriety.)

The last day of his life, was in the beginning years of the 911 call in CA. 

Hardy Brown went to attack a “snitch.” He was prepared to harm. He was as high as a kite. He wore socks on his hands, knowing he would pummel his victim. 

The victim heard the pounding on the doors, the windows, the yelling, the screaming. 

How do we know? He was on a 911 call begging the police to hurry. 

Hardy finally made it to the man’s bedroom, who was cowered in his bed crying to the police, gun in hand. 

He shot Hardy, 3 shots and killed him as we all relived the cries we could hear, as Hardy took his last breaths. 

I can hear the roar of the community! YAYA! 

I can remember the torment of his daughter, his siblings, my siblings. 

They played the video around the clock. It was on the radio, TV..It was everywhere, long before the internet. My daughter heard the screams, time and time again.

One would think, “At least he hasn’t hurt anyone anymore.” 

Yep. Except every single day, his daughter. 

Yes, HIS CHOICES.

It doesn’t make the pain any less. Bless the poor man who had to shoot. He has had to live with that terror. 

I do not know the man killed here , this past weekend in Chattanooga, nor the officer and his family. I do know the pain. I also know the healing.

Thank you Lord, for it’s only by the Grace of God, there go I. Victim? Victimizer? I don’t know. I do know. 

Lord dear Lord, in every day, may we seize this day and LOVE.

We are not victims of our circumstances. We are victorious in Christ.

Lord; Show me your glory..in all things.

~shell