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“Is Anyone Thirsty?”

On Wednesday, October 28th, John Stumbo, the Alliance Board of Directors, and Salem Alliance Church hosted the The Alliance’s fourth Livestream Praise and Prayer event based on “Is Anyone Thirsty?” Isaiah 55:1 (NLT). Area churches were welcomed to attend in Salem, Oregon, while the entire Alliance family around the world was invited to participate online. The livestream video can be viewed here. (Poem performed at the 11:30 time-stamp.)

The following original spoken word poem was written and performed by Jessica Murdoch for the aforementioned event.

Spoken Word 54
Murdoch performing her spoken word at Salem Alliance on October 28th. Photo credit: CMAlliance.org.

“Is Anyone Thirsty?”

Written and Performed by Jessica Murdoch, Rhetorical Redhead
©2015 Rhetorical Redhead All Rights Reserved

The Rogue Ovary Chronicles: A Tale of Two Cysts

Note: This blog post includes a lot of biological/sexual/medical descriptions that may be considered graphic for some readers…this is a post about my lady-anatomy, after all. I do not spare any details; read with caution if you’re prone to discomfort when reading such content.

Monday, August 3rd, 2015 – 8:30 pm

Irony has a funny way of jumping in to my life to yell, “Surprise!” while my pants are still down.

Steve and I just had a lovely round of marital relations and were looking forward to a nice relaxing evening, probably involving a movie and going to bed early. (Don’t squirm–intercourse is kind of a thing that happens in marriage, people. And I include this snippet because it single-handedly initiated the following story.)

I stood upright to go to the bathroom and was greeted by severe cramping in my lower abdomen. Curious, as I have never, ever experienced cramping before (lucky me, I know…sympathies to my not-so-lucky fellow females out there). True, I was due to start my cycle any day now, but this was something quite different than the usual pangs of discomfort.

Cramping was soon accompanied by extreme bloating in my upper abdomen, and the pain only continued to increase as an hour passed by. I lay in bed with a heat pad on my stomach in hopes the cramping would pass. But I found myself sitting on the throne of my misery, cramping at a full roar with my abdomen refusing any form of calm as nausea and fatigue and light-headedness took over.

I couldn’t even call out to Steve, barely getting out, “Babe…something’s wrong…”

He called an advice nurse through our insurance company, who asked me a laundry list of questions and concluded with, “You need to be seen at the ER. Immediately.”

Great.

Steve was a superhero—dashing around the house to pack a small bag of necessities for the hospital as I attempted to confidently leave the bathroom behind without concern of needing it again soon.

This was bad. Let me be clear—I have a high pain tolerance. Like, stupidly high. I know when my body is just dealing with something minor, which is most of the time. But this was unlike anything I’d ever felt, and everything in my body and brain screamed wrong wrong wrong. The pain was so bad I seriously considered telling Steve to drive me to Salem Hospital (which is a desperate move…everyone knows how bad the local hospital is when it comes to ER care…or any care for that matter). The proximity was that tempting. Steve reasoned me out of my insanity, though, reminding me that I would be seen and likely diagnosed at Silverton Hospital in the same amount of time it would take Salem Hospital to simply call me into triage.

Good point. To Silverton…

Guest Poet: “God Is Watching” by Mary Lou M.

My sweet, beloved aunt passed away a few weeks ago. As I unpacked from our move, I found the program for her funeral service, and inside was this poem she had written in 2003. I typed it up in her memory, and I’m posting it for the world to see…because every single person has a story to share. And every single one is worth sharing. ❤

Quote by Marianne Williamson

What’s not to love about this poem by Marianne Williamson? What an encouraging and insightful piece of prose! I have this sitting on my writing desk for inspiration, and as a daily reminder of who I am and who He calls me to be, as a woman, as a friend, as a wife, and as a writer. As the year closes and a new one dawns, I draw upon this poem for what my goals and desires for this next year will look like. A new chapter is opening for me and my writing career; there is no room for…

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Simon, Called Peter

Friday was a long, intense, and crazy day for me. I didn’t get any writing done, and I wasn’t able to post anything (even my daily haiku!), and I couldn’t be happier.

I spent ten glorious hours working on helping to build an interactive, modern version of the Stations of the Cross that my church creates every year for Easter. Called “The Way of the Cross,” the theme and the stations are vastly different every year, but the principle never changes: you get to physically walk through the final week in Jesus’ life in a guided, maze-like setting, and discover a deepening of your spiritual understanding. Whether you simply walk away having learned something factual you never knew before, or you walk away wishing to give your life to Christ, everyone has a different experience, everyone has a different take-away, and that’s what makes it so beautiful and amazing. Whether you feel something or nothing, no one will judge you because we are all walking different paths in life–everyone experiences this differently–and that’s okay.

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