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Home At Last

7 September 2023

The past 24 hours have been a whir of excitement. Jolene came to me, in the arms of Dear Husband who flew to Salt Lake City to meet her, and her wonderful breeder, and bring her home.


I’ve experienced many emotions, intermixed with the sweet and tender love that this very small beagle puppy has evoked within me. Not all of the feelings are pleasant. In fact, some are odious.


During the past decade or so, I’ve crossed paths with more frauds and con artists that I’d known during previous decades. And those years were wretched indeed!


Re-experiencing the cads, manipulators, users, louses, and sneak-thieves of decency from the awfulness of my past wasn’t something that I’d planned, intended, or wanted. Evidently, my Maker knew it would be of some help to me — creatively, and personally. Me, I wanted to run like heck to the other side of the world!


“Stay within yourself” is a trite phrase that, for me, commands, “Debra, gut it out.” Or, as I wrote in one essay, Bear With It.


If there’s one constant thread that ties together all of the despicably phony smiling faces from my way-back-when to my here-and-now, it is:


“You can trust me. Who else are you going to trust?”

My not-too-silent reply (because my eyes always give away my truest thoughts and feelings) was/is:


“I’d rather trust no one.”


That way of thinking, feeling, being, is no way to live.


The way to live, to truly live —not merely exist — is to face the music. You might not exactly be waltzing to those strains of sordidness, but once you look at the awful truth, you can, at the very least, permit the truth to set you free.


Freedom — and fate — then become filled with hope as the merciful way of looking at the world, at your self, at the chains that the liars put around themselves. God will catch up with them; or, more accurately, they’ll catch up with God. That ending won’t be pleasant.


Jolene du Pré came home yesterday to a home that took many years to materialize, at least physically. The element of love, though, is what makes a house a home. There are some abodes, the macabre McMansions, that do not possess that vital force, known as love, because the humans dwelling within them lack hearts, maybe even souls, with which to invest a dwelling place.


In a just and logical sense, the dwelling possesses them, and not the other way around, so driven are those mercenary money-grubbing adults by the godless materialism that has marked the past few decades.


Martin Luther, German theologian and leader of the Protestant Reformation, stated that each betrayal begins with trust. The heart that betrays others, betrays itself most of all, and, eventually, is incapable of trust.

The trusting hearts among us are moving forward with their lives during a phase of history that has shown itself to have been vilely heartless. What started as defensive measures by sickeningly selfish people to protect their prized investments in this world ended up being offensive, very offensive.


The most precious investments in this world are the ones that an accountant can’t count and a calculator can’t add up. Those intangible investments belong to the heart. That heart is not a lonely hunter when it’s gentle and honest with itself. Learning how to recognize the face of duplicity is a merciful step toward that tendresse toward oneself. The process does take some time, but that time is a priceless investment.


Such lessons never leave a person. I can forthrightly say those lessons never left me. They paved my path toward becoming a novelist! I prevailed over les misérables, the miserables!


The miserables are the anti-social charlatans. Their MO is to go from Point A to Point C without including Point B. Point B is The Truth.


The truth is the finest ally that any conscience can have. The truth, however, is the gravest threat to the scammer. Here, in the US of A, killing the truth has become a full-time job, a ghastly occupation. That massacre of morality is aided and abetted by the propaganda industries, and the usual professional idiots.


Look into the eyes of any liar, and you’ll not see the look of tenderness or purity or hope. Forget about love!

The fibber prefers you not look him, or her, in the eye. The ever-steady flicker of duplicity might be detected. There does come a time, however, when those optical organs look dead, like the eyes of a fish with the hook in the mouth.


Look into the eyes of a beagle puppy, and re-discover the way you once looked at life, before the lazy, lying cheats took advantage of your purity.


Tarnishing trust is the aim of the despoilers of decency. Stripping decency from innocence and virtue, while posing as a victim, a martyr, a glorified soul, is the resentful punk’s way of punishing the world for his own self-made misery.


The louses of life aren’t worth your tears. You cry them to heal yourself. And well you must grieve your own misfortune. The sweet-talking scoundrel is long gone — to another party, to procure fresh prey. She’s not a prayer of actually being who she pretended to be. Therein resides the ultimate whoring of one’s self, and the corroding of one’s soul.


There’s not much new in the world in the way of envy, hatred, deception, and vicious intent, brought to you by the spoiled brats pleading poor-mouth and woe-is-me. There’s much new in the world for the intrepid individual who refuses to betray the truth, will not bend the rules of honor, and shall not compromise today for tomorrow.


Tomorrow is for the living, for the bold romantic who will not yield a portion of her soul in exchange for the illusion of security. Certainty during these uncertain times has become the latest gimmick, peddled with inflationary costs to your sacred self.

Martin Buber, the Viennese Jewish philosopher, wrote that when two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them.


In a state where electrical power blackouts have become the new normal; and in a nation where “green energy” is the latest rip-off act by the political poseurs, the power of a true-blue Prime Mover is boundless and beautiful. Only the Holy Spirit can promise tomorrow.


Tomorrow is the biggest promise (of many promises) that the prevaricator can’t keep, for he stays stuck in the past. Take that brave step forward, away from those horrible hoaxes of honesty, and you’ll be home at last.

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