Halloween!!!

 

 

Witch Mombe - My idea of a Halloween costume

 

Halloween was the Holiday that got me started into costumes.  It also pushed me into acting.  What other Holiday are you encouraged to be something else?  I received praise and gasps on Halloween and I loved it.  I enjoy watching the Travel Channel with the shows on the best Haunted Houses in the United States.  Halloween has become quite a big business in the last decade! 

Growing up in Burbank, Ca next to the studio's we had some fun times.  First for us came the costumes.  My father is a retired set painter.  That means he would make fake walls look like a real place.  For Halloween he would transfer those skills to our costumes.  We had to be trained to wear the cardboard boxes.  They were never easy costumes to walk around in and it was horrible to push your way up narrow pathways, but the reactions of the different people made the pain and agony worth it, plus we would get more candy at the door.

Someone in the family would usually win the costume contest.  My costumes were on the cute and fancy side since my mother could sew.  I didn't start getting the cardboard box treatment until I was in Junior High.  It depended how busy my father's job was.  If he was really busy that year we would have to scramble for the back up robes Mom had made one year and put some blood on our faces to be vampires, but if Dad was free he would make us the most fantastic creatures. 

It began in September when we would gather around as a family and have a brainstorming session.  Mom and Dad would offer suggestions, but they would let us choose what we wanted to be.  Now that was hard for a little kid because it is tough to be clever at 6 years old.  Even if we asked for mundane costumes, we would get the special treatment.  I remember my younger brother wanted to be a mummy and I wanted to look like I was run over by a car.  That year we went to Dad's work after school.  He had a professional make-up person work on me while he tried to wind some aged gauze over my brother.

I can remember two costumes of my older brothers, they are twins so my father had to do double the costumes.  The one that made every one's jaw drop were the robots.  He made my brothers into metal monsters with blinking lights on them.  The other one I really remember because of the people's reaction was one brother dressed as a gas pump, a really detailed gas pump and my other brother dressed as an Arab sheik.  People would see them and laugh and laugh.  This was in the late 70's to early 80's and there was a big gas shortage going on.  I was too young for the political joke, but they won the costume contest again that year.

Here is an example of our love of costumes being passed to the next generation.  Spongebob is in the bulky hard to wear costumes of my youth.  My brother made the box part and I made the Spongebob clothing.  Poor kid could not mange the costume and we never tried agaun.  The fairy costume is how much better we became with using our fabrics and making our designs,  When we first put the wings on her she cried and cried.  We felt so bad!  Who knew a pair of wings could provide so much trama.

I had some really fun and difficult costumes to wear.  One of the best was when I was the computer.  My father put a real keyboard on the box with blinking lights to show I was on.  My face was in the monitor and I would try to talk with a computer voice.  I wanted so badly to win the costume contest but I didn't fit in the car very well, so my parents had to drive really slowly with the hatchback open so I could get to the school.  We ended up arriving late, so I didn't win the trophy.  It was quite heartbreaking for me, but everyone said I had the best costume.  The teachers loved it so much that I was the computer in that years Christmas play.

The list of costumes goes on and on.  Our best year was when I decided to be "Hickory-dickey Dock".  I was very surprised when Dad made me into a grandfather clock.  That was the worst costume to wear, but it was beautiful with fake wood grain on the cardboard sides and beautiful crown molding at the top.  It came in two pieces a box for the body and another box to make the shape of the top of the clock with my face as the painted face of the clock.  It was kind of nice and also really annoying to wear the costume at school.  Once encased nobody knew it was me so I could wonder the school relatively safe from peers.  But when they did find out it was me I was very vulnerable.  The knocking on the side of the box my head was in would drive me nuts!

I did not stop with the costumes.  My father no longer made them for me, so I started making my own.  I do not like making normal, ordinary clothing.  That is very boring to me.  Sure I can make myself a useful everyday skirt, but I do not have the motivation.  Instead I spend $500 making a fur trim "Queen of Hearts" fashion.  And I am very happy with the results. 

That is me as the "Queen of Hearts".  It is hard when you are not a skinny body type to find a costume.  I have no delusion about my body type and I am not going to make a good Disney princess.  I had lots of fun designing the gold and black skirt.  The dress is made from silk and has mohair trim. 

I needed a matching Alice, so my mother created this costume for a family member.  It has little white rabbits as pockets.

When I started making costumes for the theatre.  I made the hero costumes, the pretty one-of-a-kind show stopping costumes and that is mt favorite thing.  Luckily I have a mother who believes in doing an assembly line.  She would often say. "Why make one dress when it is just as easy to make two."  So we worked well together. 

It sure is funny to think that how we grow up with our holidays affect some of our choices in life.    I am not impressed with store bought costumes, Mostly because I could never fit in any, but I do understand the simple fact that not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who can make their costumes.

 

Fear

The picture I used to announce my mission.

I was so full of fear I am very surprise I didn't head for self destruction.  I am kind of confuse why I didn't.  I never looked to drugs for comfort or support.  I had no desire to experiment with alcohol or anything else that would lower inhibitions.  And now that I write that statement I understand.  Besides my being taught not to turn to the false euphoria within my own religion and by my parents it was again fear that held me back.  What would I do if under the influence?  I knew what horrible base animals people could be and I felt I had to be on guard.  I am amazed at the girls drinking and partying and putting themselves into danger.  Your whole life is stunted when you realize that other people will not protect you and indeed will take advantage of a situation.  What would happen to me if my mental abilities were compromised?  Not something I wish to contemplate.

The fear was one of the only emotions I felt.  Hurt and fear.  It didn't even blossom into anger. I was thought I was very calm considering the turmoil I was under.  I'm sure if you talk to other people from my childhood you may hear a different story, but for me I was quite calm in public  I think I only really blew up at my mother, otherwise I kept myself under control because of the fear.  I couldn't do anything because of the fear.  I wasn't very practical either.  I did not know how to do basic everyday living.  I hate the phone.  I hate calling people on the phone.  I hate talking on the phone.  I do not like the disembodied voice on the other end of the line.  It is not a connection to me, it is an inconvenience.  I have gotten better.  I do not think the person on the other end of the line will hang up on me as soon as they hear my voice anymore, but it still takes me days to get ready to talk to someone on the phone.  It is never an easy process for me.  I have to explain too much.  I have to try and communicate without my face and it just does not work very well.  So I avoid the phone.  Not good.  I hardly went out with other people, so I had manners fit for my family, but not with the norms of society.  I realized this through out my life and I have tried my best to smooth out the rough edges, but it is hard to see, let alone admit to my own failings.

I had a very important lesson that helped me to overcome my fear.  I found myself out on a mission for my church.  It was never in my plans.  I did not plan for 18 months of service to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints, but that is where I ended up.  I will talk in later posts how that happened and the journey I embarked on, but for now I was 4 months in with my 3rd companion.  My mission was the Billings, Montana mission, but that included some of Wyoming in the area.  I was in Worland, Wyoming trying to build back a reputation of responsible capable missionaries after the fiasco of my last companion.

I wanted to be a good missionary.,  I wanted to be seen in a spiritual way and I wanted to teach.  I was good at teaching, but I never seemed to be able to find anyone to teach.  I was forced to do the drudge work.  I believed in paying my dues.  My companion and I went around knocking on doors every day, hours a day.  That was the only work to do.  The members were very impressed to see us burnt red when we went to church.  I learned I was allergic to sunscreen and would bust out in a rash.  We walked so much my feet hurt constantly and I had to wear my muck-lucks(snowshoes) all the time because they had more support inside them.  We began to know the town better then the locals who had lived in Worland their whole lives.

My new color after walking the streets of Worland, Wyoming

It was during this time when I figured out that I was paralyzed with fear.  I hoped that no one would be home when we knocked on the doors and when it did open I had no idea what to say.  I wasn't clever.  I wasn't witty.  I seemed slow and stupid.  My poor companion blew up at me asking why I didn't help her,  Why didn't I take the lead?  I sat there with my mouth open because she was right.  I was a dead weight to her, but I did not know what to do.  My mission had been a series of unfortunate events so far and she was actually teaching me how to work.  I think I expressed this to her because she calmed down after I tried to explain.

I had to improve.  I had to do better.  I felt it inside, so I did what I do best.  I observed.  I looked.  I watched and I listen.  My companion surprised me with her love of the scriptures.  I had only seen them used as a way to fight with other religions in a term called "Bible Bashing"  I wasn't into showing off my lack of knowledge, so I did not like to participate in that activity, but the Elders (male missionaries) liked to show off.  My companion read the scriptures for our personal study time and seemed to get something out of them.  She had knowledge at the end of her studying that she did not have in the beginning.  That fascinated me because I did not have that experience with the scriptures.  They confused me and did not make much sense.  At one point I saw my companion kiss her scriptures and say how grateful she was for them.  I did not understand that love, but I admired it.  I read the scriptures like a novel and it bothers me a lot because it seems more like a fantasy(my favorite kind of books).  I am unable to glean the truth out of it.  I have the same problem with Shakespeare.

So I knew I had a problem.  I was so fearful of everyone I met that I was unable to open my mouth and if I wasn't going to talk then there was no reason for me to be out there spending time and money.  I decided to turn to the scriptures for help.  We use 4 different books as our body of scripture.  The Bible, King James edition with old testament, new testament and bible dictionary.  Then on top of that we have The Book of Mormon, another testament of Jesus Christ and the record of his visiting the peoples in the Americas.  This book if you believe is the Word of God is one of the basic reasons for being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints.  Also included is The Doctrine & Covenants.  This is from the very beginning of the forming of the Church and the rules and differences of the gospel.  It holds revelations to our first president and prophet Joseph Smith.  Finally there is a Book called The Pearl of Great Price.  That book is a translation of ancient scrolls.  It has the story of Mose and Abraham in more detail.

I am not here to tell you that they are true and the Word of God.  I am telling you that they are a resource in the life of a member of the LDS church and as a missionary for that church I should have some knowledge of there content.  I do personally believe that they are ture scriptures about the Gospel of Jesus Christ and a resource in understanding my place in the plan of happiness.

I had grown up with the works and I have used them most of my life.  I was used to there format and to the extras in the books.  I did not know that the footnotes had been a huge undertaking for the church.  Each scripture has little letters above certain words and you can look at the footnotes to find a definition of the word or a listing of other verses to help you understand the concept.  This is how I decided to study.  Instead of reading the book as I would a novel I decided to look up the subject of fear and look for what the scriptures would say on how to overcome it.  I started in the Topical guide in the back of the bible dictionary.  Looking up the word fear I found a list of scriptures in all the books with the word "fear" in it.

I skimmed those that didn't seem to help.

fear not, for I am with thee, Gen. 26:24 (Isa. 41:10).

Fear and dread shall fall upon them, Ex. 15:16

...and so on.  If  found one I thought would help I would look it up, but I wasn't finding what I needed to help me until I can across this scripture.

1 John. 4:18
18 There is no ^afear in ^blove; but perfect ^clove casteth out fear: because fear hath ^dtorment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

19 We ^alove him, because he first loved us.

20 If a man say, I love God, and ^ahateth his ^bbrother, he is a ^cliar: for he that loveth not his ^dbrother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not ^eseen?

21 And this commandment have we from him, That he who ^aloveth God love his brother also.

I read that scripture and I despaired.  I didn't hate my fellow man, but I knew I could not love them.  Was I breaking one of the greatest commandments?  How could I continue if I was?  The problem was I had felt a perfect love.  I did not know how to generate it myself, but I knew it existed, so I had to figure out what was meant by "perfect love."

I looped around in the footnotes and dictionaries trying to find the answer when I found this scripture.

Moroni 10:32

32 Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ; and if by the grace of God ye are perfect in Christ, ye can in nowise deny the power of God.

To be perfected by Jesus Christ is I believe the reason that we are on the earth.  It isn't to be perfected by my parents or my neighbors or even the people at church.  I am to be made perfect by trusting in Jesus Christ and what I feel is the best for me.  With this new knowledge of Jesus Christ's purpose and the fact that perfect love can only be achieve through Him I read the first scripture again.

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. 1 Jn. 4:18

There is no fear in love!  It is impossible to feel those two emotions at the same time.  I knew I couldn't love my fellowman, but I could love Jesus Christ.  That was a huge break through for me.  I was on a mission because I loved Christ not for the people.

I wish the lesson became apart of me from that moment, but realizing the truth for myself and putting it into practice were two completely different problems.  I had more terrible heartaches after this experience, but I kept to what I knew to be true.  I learned the next step and when I came home from my mission I was completely devoted to God.  I had to learned to put Them first and I felted extremely rewarded by feeling and partaking of Their spirit.

The next part of the lesson was learning to trust God and following through with the promptings I felt, but that is another story.  The point is because I had found God's love for me I was able to conquer my fears.  If something was important to me then I reached for the perfect love.  I knew it wasn't a right choice for me if I was unable to feel the love. 

I am so grateful for being able to overcome fear.  I see it paralyzing others and my heart breaks for them.  Fear is the most paralyzing emotion that stops us from reaching true perfection.  I am grateful for the love I can feel and for the profound affect it has on me.  It is awe inspiring what we can do if we feel loved.

A Different World

Shirley Peck felt baby dolls.

Despite the crap coming at me.  I was able to entertain myself in my own world.  I seemed to have grown up differently within my own home.  My mother did not get a 9 to 5 job, but she was always doing something other than cleaning the house and taking care of kids.  I thought it was great for her to have her projects and I followed her everywhere. 

I don't quite know when she started selling her dolls professionally.  I would help her by making little felt flowers for a penny each.  I didn't know that was child labor prices, I just thought it was cool to get money at 7 years old.  She had a Representative who sold her dolls and she was quite popular.  I have a box full of professional doll photos.  She had ads in magazines and went to doll shows.  I helped her with that, but I only went to the big Toy Fair in New York once.  That is where doll stores would see the new lines and buy stock for the year.  It was a very big deal and costs thousands of dollars to have a booth.  Mom would manage to buy a shelf and then she would take my Dad or even better, my Aunt Debbie to New York with her.  She liked Debbie the best because she was skinny and pretty and very fun to be around.  It didn't matter that she didn't know much about the product.

Example of one of Shirley Peck Original later doll with truck.  I hope you can tell it is Red Riding Hood.

So I grew up with this artist business in my life from the beginning.  I have developed some of the strangest skill set because I would help her to earn money.  As I grew older I was able to take on the more specialized skills needed for her.  I did the computer work.  I made the flyer's and the tags.  I assembled the boxes and for awhile they had plastic windows in them that I would need to glue in.  I helped to dress the dolls and I got the orders ready to ship for her.  As you might imagine this was not a subject I could use in conversation.  I read a post recently were a cousin asked if we remembered "the creepy dolls in grandma's basement."  The post made me sad because that is how most people view dolls.  The clever techniques and the artistry to sculpt, paint and make clothing for the dolls is completely overlooked because they are "creepy".  So another aspect of my life was push aside because of preconceived ideas, but honestly how many people are actually interested in the doll world?  Not many. 

She began to trust me and I started to help with the dolls.  She had an idea to do fairy dolls, but the wings are always a problem.  How to make them?  She couldn't take the time to paint each one.  We don't like the look of nylons on wire.  The dolls with real butterfly wings were the ones we liked the best, but Mom's dolls were to big.  Finally she figured on embroidering the wings on the machine.  It was a great idea, the only problem?  I had to figure out the actual how.  When we started the project the software was still new and expensive.  It was very difficult to use, but through trial and error I was able to figure out the best way to create the wings.  I am so proud of them I have them in my portfolio.  Now the software is so advance I can create the same design that took me days in only a couple of hours.

 All of the wing designs are from real butterfly wings. 

 Mom would draw how she wanted the color blocks to look.

 Then I would digitize the points into the software and create the design.  We would experiment with the colors and fabrics.

I didn't know at the time that my mother was very brave to drive into the heart of Los Angeles to get to the fabric district.  I was so used to the homeless, to the foreigners, the dirty streets and the crazy traffic that I didn't realize the pain and agony it took to go there.  Once I was doing the driving myself I learned that I was very lucky to be exposed to a completely different world and not be afraid.

I believe my first time in the fabric district was at the age of ten.  We lived an hour away and there was a horrible move on the freeway that took crossing 3 lanes of traffic at 70 miles an hour.  If you don't do it you get pushed off the freeway with no idea where to go.  We know our exit and what to do once off.  Over the years I have picked my stores.  I knew who had the stuff I liked.  Where to park and what my route would be.  You have to be out of there by 4pm or meet the worst traffic, so time was important.  That first time I followed Mom a bit shell shocked.  I wasn't sewing at this time, so I didn't have any idea what to look at.  We were in a store that I still go to today over 20 years later and Mom found some fabric she wanted.  I was confused because there wasn't any price stuck to it, so Mom grabs the fabric and says to the guy hovering over us, "How Much?"  They almost always respond with, "How much you want?" "Um, about a yard."  "Then 10 dollah." "No, that's too much."  I remember being surprised my Mom said no.  I knew she wanted the fabric.  "How about 8?" she countered.  "No, no."  He shook his head "9."  "Sorry, still too much. Thank you for your time."  She turned to leave and I frowned in confusion, but then I saw her wink at me and knew she was up to something, so I followed her lead.  "We will be going now.  Thank you again."  And she walked towards the door with me following behind.  "Wait!  You can have it for 8."  She turned to me and smiled.  That was some of the best haggling I had ever seen!

Example of the fabrics I would buy downtown.  This is my Wardrobe as human dress made from silk velvet to look like theatre curtains and silk dupioni.

This is the gold Belle dress.  I thought I was only making Belle's costumes and so I spent alot of time on this one.  It has three large rows of silk shantung ruffles with a beaded top skirt and collar ruffle from fabric I bought from"Best customer."  This would be a $500 dollar dress, but I was able to make it for about a hundred in material.

I used that knowledge every time I went downtown LA.  I was willing to walk away because I knew someone else would have the same fabric who was willing to work with me.  I loved it costuming.  I could buy expensive silk for the same cost as cotton or the cheap poly version.  I knew all the kinds of fabric and what they were used for in a professional capacity.  When I took the fabric class in Fashion Design college I laughed because I knew just as much as my teacher from years of education from my mother.  I would go to the fabric district with fellow students and they would go the Micheal Levine's a store with set prices.  I stopped going into that store because I could get the same fabric for cheaper if I did a little digging on the street.  My fellow students were terrified of the no price stores, so I would take them to the places that I had developed a relationship with.  I would show them how to haggle just like my mother taught me.  I walked those streets every 4 months, but never mind an actual name, I knew them by my own names.  I loved this small store, the shop owner would see me and yell, "Oh, my best costumer!"  I would try to buy from him because he gave me great deals on beautiful beaded fabrics that would be over $40 a yard.  So when I want a certain type of fabric I tell my mom to try at "Best costumer"store.

I miss the fabric district so much I can't bear it.  I see the design in my head and then find the right fabrics and trims to make that vision come true.  I loved the variety down their and I would find what I needed.  We have buckets of fabric, but that is not how I work, that is how my mother works gathering different combinations of supplies and constructing her design through what she already has.  I haven't done much sewing since I stopped costuming.  The need isn't there and it really is hard.  I had no idea what I was accomplishing with the costumes.  I am very proud of my work, even though I felt like my mother and I were taken for granted, especially my mother. She did the many ie needing 7 Christmas dancers or needed 9 furry monkeys, while I did the one-of-a-kind dresses.

 

Forgiveness?

                   This is how I tried to present myself, as slim as I could.

 

And in this picture I believe it shows the stomach I was carrying around.  I did not wear pants very often.  That stomach is now gone.

 

I started this post before, but I pushed it to the back burner.  The content was how I had found forgiveness from my childhood.  I recently had a birthday and with that birthday came a bunch of phone calls.  I have spoken more this last week then I have in a year and with the conversations came some realizations.

I have not forgiven.  I have accepted.

What's the difference?  I think with forgiveness a person can heal.    I do not feel healed.  My scars are just as jagged and ragged as they were when I received them.  I do believe I have progressed.  I have tried to conform more to the box of social nicety, but I do not enjoy it

Who do I forgive?  No one person abused me.  No one person physically abused me and no one person emotional abused me.  It came as a deluged from all sides, from all people and I desperately search for the triggers that meant an attack was coming.  Unfortunately the people with in my circle, whether they wanted to be or not, were hit by the splash back.  I don't blame them for abandoning me. when I look at the situation from their point of view,  Unfortunately, for me it became was an emotional betrayal that I was unable to heal from.

As has been pointed out to me I am socially stunted.  In many ways I am still the 11 year old girl attempting to make friends.  I did not have others to tell me that I shouldn't say such things.  I have not had a boyfriend to guide me in what was appropriate.  I have not developed the facade of public interaction.  I feel the facade is a lie and I can't stand the lying.  People lie constantly.  They lie to themselves right along with their neighbors.  I have come to understand that it is mostly sub-conscious with the general population.  The behavior so ingrained that no one seems to notice that they do it.

I do not lie, no matter how harsh the truth is.  I believe in getting to the heart of the matter and sometimes that means being politically incorrect.  It means I come off sounding harsh and unfeeling.  My own mother called me a snob.  She said I was being an elitist and I should be ashamed of myself.  Her comment has stuck with me because I did not mean my words to convey that thought to her and I despair because if my own mother did not understand what I meant, then how could anyone else?

It happens to me all the time.  I try and say my opinion or something important to me and my words come out misplaced or the tone of my voice is wrong.  I can see I have a negative effect and I try to back track, but it doesn't work.  Why aren't I forgiven?  Why am I not allowed to fix my mistake?  I see the end of the conversation and I know that I come off looking bad.  It is a bridge burned.  Why can't I be forgiven?

So I hate free-for-all conversations.  Parties, bah, I have almost never had a good time unless people were drunk.  Social gatherings are horrendous.  I only kind of can handle book club and that is because we are there to talk about a certain subject and it is loosely guided.  I only seem to do well in one-on-one conversation because I can concentrate on that person.  With one-on-one conversations the person is more forgiving and I am allowed to express myself or if they are not interested I can stick to safe topics of conversations.

I hated family gatherings almost beyond my ability to express.  I did not hate my family, but they had to have every relative possible in the same room.  It was hot and noisy and I did not have anyone to talk to.  They were just as bad as strangers and it seemed to hurt even more because they were family.  I knew a lot of it was my fault and I have tried to have some kind of personal interaction with each of my extended family, everyone should be able to mention a time when I visited without my mother.  That was very hard for me and I'm sure I managed to offended someone in the process.

I rub people the wrong way.  I know that.  I see the evidence of it and yet I am still pushed to be a social animal.  Why?  Tell me the reason?  Is it because it makes you happy?  I have to admit that is one of the few benefits of being sick.  I am left alone.

I have accepted my fate.  I have no idea how to change how I am treated unless I change who I am and I refuse to do that.  I see the same reactions in people over and over, but it feels wrong to be anything but myself.  I do not understand why I am punished for that fact.  I do not find joy in the same places as those around me.  I dislike the anxiety I feel in connection to people.  I hate giving of myself only to be dropped like a hot rock.  I have lost people who I thought were my friend and while that maybe perfectly normal I can't stand it.

I thought there would be one person on this earth who I could trust.  I do not think I wanted too much, not only someone to love, but someone who understands me.  That is what I prayed for, one person who I could release the hate and self doubt with and he would still love me, balance me and smooth out the rough edges.  Apparently, it was wanting too much.

I guess I need to ask for forgiveness.  I need to say sorry for all the stupid, hurtful things I did.  I hope with my earlier posts it has become clear why I reacted the way I did.  I learned that I only had myself to depend on and I could not allow most things into my well maintained defenses.  I did not mean to be a jerk, but I know I was.  So please forgive me.

I feel like the only reason I have survived through this mess of a life is because of my hope.  I had the absolute convection that I would find a safe haven.  I did not with a peer, instead I found peace in a historical figure that I was promised could become more.

When I felt acknowledged by Jesus Christ I poured everything I was into continuing that connection.  He is the only name that I can point to and say that I feel loved by him.  I know in my brain that others love me, but it is hard to priece my heart. I seem to speak a different language when it comes to love.  My mother proves her love everyday to me, but she has shattered me many times.  I feel that I must be on guard for a well placed verbal jab even though I know she doesn't mean it that way.  I do not feel that way with Christ.  He lets me be wrong.  He lets me be stupid, but in the end he lets me work through the negative feelings and resolve them.  That love is my whole world, unlike the people around me, Jesus Christ has full filled his promises to me.  He has given me comfort and knowledge in a way unlike fragile humanity.  I pursued his teachings.  I pursued his words.  I pursued Him because he is the only presences that I felt as a constant.

If Christ loves me that means that I am special. 

The ironic point is that I know he loves everyone in existence, but that doesn't change my view of being special because I can feel that love.  For along time I wanted others to feel that love, but I have come to learn that it is a very personal process.