Thursday, May 08, 2003

Eva Regine Schubert

That is the name of my mother. Today is her birthday. She was born in 1936 in a very small but historical city outside of Dresden in Germany. Her formative years were spent in bomb shelters and missing most of school because she had Lymph tuberculosis. She was a teutonic beauty....Hitler's ideal child. Her father Rudolph, was a butcher from a rich family and some thought he was related to Franz Schubert the composer....He had bi-polar illness and my mother was his favorite person and he hers. Her mother Lydia was a a loving person. I met her once when I was 12 (1972) and we lived with her for three months behind the Berlin wall because my grandfather was dying of lung cancer and wanted to see my mother before he died. She had escaped to East Germany during the midnight riots in the 50's and was not allowed to go back until the 70's

My mother wanted to be a star. Her first English words were, I want to be Marilyn Monroe... but, she got pregnant and married an American Airforce officer and had two children, my sister and I. Over the next five years, she lived in west Germany and North Africa and eventually ended up in Las Vegas in the early 60's where she and my Father divorced. She could barely speak english and got a job as a cocktail waitress to the high rollers at the Golden Nugget during the heydey of Las Vegas.....her beauty and charm opened many doors for her. She worked hard had a maid for us and saved a huge amount of money. Then she met my second father....the Polish math genius ( she loved smart men) who made a living playing poker and 21 because he knew how to count the cards ...eventually, certain houses wouldn't let him play, he was winning too much. Before he realized his gambling genius, He was a navigator in the merchant marines during WWII. They became involved and lived together in an apartment off of Desert Inn road until he went on a gambling and drinking binge and lost all of my mother's savings.....she made him marry her and move us to San Francisco where he would go back on the ships and pay her back every penny.

While living in California my mother's bi-polar illness began to surface. She would sleep all day , the house was always badly kept and then she would say and do inappropriate things. When she was in the manic phase she would stay up late, drink Martinis and paint huge flowers on bamboo mats, she was a gifted artist. I knew when she was in her up mood because she would wear her blue velvet cocktail dress and would play Glen miller records. She would wear blood red listick that was called Tabu and her white skin and almost white hair made her look like a goddess to me and I was facsinated by her. At these times my step dad was out at sea carrying cargo during the Vietnam War. So, mother was alone most of the time living in her own world belonging to nobody.

Eventually My step-dad could not keep a handle on his drinking and gambling and again he devastated our family financially and he moved us back to Vegas where he and my mother divorced. My sister and I, while in California, had become ballet dancers, trained on scholarship in the San Francisco Ballet school and got a job working in a production show at the original MGM. We basically divorced our parents too and our own adventures began. Mother went on to marry a sweet Italian guy with ties to the mafia and he died in 1987 leaving my mother quite alone and now in a rather delusional state.

She lived with my husband and I until she qualified for Senior housing before she was a senior because of her devastaing illness and lives there reclusively today, not really wanting much to do with my sister and I. The last mother's day I spent with her she thought we were driving her out to the desert to kill her and called the cops on me because she thought there was no food in the fridge and my children were not in school ( I homeschool). She never answers her phone ,she just sends my children cards for their birthday and holidays and the only way I know she is alive is by calling the landlord to see how she is.

So today is her birthday and I will send her a card that will get there late. She will never acknowledge getting it. She does not want to belong to anybody. I hope I have not been dishonorable to her in writing her story. I still love her and grieve that I have never and will never be close to her because that is what mental illness, left untreated and misunderstood does to people and their families....their dreams die along with their personality and identity and they must choose to belong to nobody.

Lord Jesus please belong to my Mother

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Welcome Greg Hubbard

Looking forward to hearing your soul breathe.
I find myself answering to the cross ( my life and its unique trials) that Jesus has asked me to carry while following him, in the same negative pattern. I can't seem to stop the familiar reaction to the "little foxes" in my path. It is like I am an addict . I speak in anger when I know I should not, I despair over temporal things when I know I should not, I React,React, React......I want the mind of Christ, I want the fruit of the Spirit, I want to RESPOND to my temptations based on truth, but today, I have chosen to be the strung out emotional addict to anger, bitterness, and frustration...I was okay this morning, but then I just shifted.......... started to believe the lies. This may be a rapid cycling day, nevertheless... I have become utterly disgusted with myself and I am going to lie down and have my daughter read her library book to me..........

Romans 7: 24-25 Wretched man that I am.......who will rescue me from this body of death? ( not my doctor, not my husband, not my church)..... Thanks be to Jesus Christ our Lord.


Lord forgive me, I am a sinner.
I thank you, because you do not love me as I should be, but as I am
I know you are Lord, even when I fail....be my victory, be my truth...help me replace the wallpaper of lies in my mind with your truth.






I'm doing a little redesigning of my blog....and Gregg said he will help with making it more cool, like my friend Joe's. Hey, Kelly, want to come over so Gregg can help make your blog cool, like Joe's???? I'm going for a simpler look. I want it to look more like a journal and I prefer the font.

Monday, May 05, 2003

I took the test

I have never seen or heard of the X-men but the test results said I was Jean Grey whoever she is. But I have always wanted to read minds......
Places of Honor

Luke 14:8: When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited.

I have always been fascinated with the dynamics and intricacies of group interaction. There seems to be a phenomenon that when people gather ,the collection takes on its own personality based on the individuals of that group. The stronger personalities primarily mold this group persona and are facilitated by the more passive ones that are vicariously energized by the dominate ones....yet still ,strong or passive, all personalities vie for that place of honor within the group. We all want some form of recognition, no matter our place. I think this idea runs across the sacred and profane. I am not saying this is good or bad....... it just is. Our egos demand attention whether in a prayer group or or bridge club.....selflessness is a rare bird.

But Jesus, as always, takes us out of what "just is" and makes us pay attention to our heart drives and ambitions ( a true teacher).

In Luke he is obviuosly saying humble yourself and you may be pleasantly surprised and avoid humiliation. But I always look for the between the line or the less obvious lesson.
What if he is saying hey, don't make the drive of your life a 'seat of honor' you may want to focus on the one who is more distinguished than you. This is where all the life is. Now we all know that God's idea of 'distinguished' vastly differs from our definition. There is often that one person in the group who may not be one of the beautiful people, exegetically swift, or the passive fan....they may be the one who is most wretched...in the most pain ( his favorites) and we will not recognize this one unless we are sitting in the 'lowest place' ( on a regular basis).

The Pharisees missed Messiah himself in his lowly state. So busy in the places of honor being the movers and the shakers, they couldn't see him because in his first journey, he came as a suffering wretched traveller and to the religious elite this is just another bum to put at the "kids" table.

How many times have we missed the distinguished of God in our "gatherings" no matter what their nature or purpose because we are so busy looking to be in the seat of honor or applauding the imposters in them? Was Jesus saying take the worst seat in the house so that he could have a following of severe, repressed ascetics who could live on a material and philosophical shoesting for some afterlife pie in the sky????? I don't think so. I think he wanted us to experience full life starting on this side of our true home and that taking the lowest place has the best view.... you'll never miss the distinguished of God and you may be pleasantly surprised ( not to mention have the ride of your life).

Lord forgive me for still coveting the place of honor in my heart. Teach me and take me to the 'lowest places' so that I won't miss one of your distinguished ones. Lord this is a dangerous prayer isn't it?

Sunday, May 04, 2003

Little girl's and their Daddy's

My husband works too hard. He has three videos due for intel and two freelance accounts going. We are going on the third week of working the weekends and working late into the night during the week and it has finally caught up with Daddy's girls.

My youngest one is laying in her room crying for daddy. On this beautiful spring day she wants daddy to stay home and do their favorite things......jump on the trampoline, wrestle and do collage art, but he has to edit and this is one too many weekends without him. It breaks my heart. But Monday is the big event and he will finish up during the week with freelance and then we will go away to the beach and he will be ,daddy build a castle; daddy wrestle me; daddy look at the waves and sunset.......daddy hold me.....little girls love their daddy's

So I must go to my little one and hope that a mommy hug and a trip to the library and park will cheer her up. But every mom knows nothing can satisfy when we just need our daddy.

Jesus always be our ABBA