Wednesday, August 8, 2012

G-d Help the Outcasts

It’s Tuesday night and I’ve had one hell of a day. I’ve been pushing myself so often to go out and do and to spend time with the girls when I’m home and so on. Today I was supposed to go to Montmartre but decided at the last minute when the times for the day changed that it was too much to try. I just didn’t feel like it. The morning work time went from 11 til 2:45 instead of 10 to 2. Then we had lunch and I worked again from 3:45 til 5. Trying to go to Montmartre after that was just too much for me. I’d have to go to the RER station, buy a ticket, ride the train, explore, and THEN ride the train home, eat dinner, go to bed, work tomorrow. It was just too strenuous. And the housing arrangements were further clarified to me and it was aggravating.
I was asked last week or the week before if I minded people living in this house with me for a few days. Of course not. Not like I can say no anyhow lol. It was clarified to me today that basically we’ll be cutting the house in half. The kitchen? Is in the other half. I don’t mind using the downstairs bathroom. I don’t mind switching rooms. But even if it is basically for one day it bothers me that I won’t have the kitchen at all. I can’t make tea. I can’t have something for the girls to drink. I can’t have yogurt and museli for a snack if I want. It’s annoying! That’s one of the best parts of having my own place: the ability to eat what and when I want. URGH! So between that and Nuria being very tired but fighting sleep for half an hour, I then managed to SLAM my hand in the baby gate which made me shout which scared Nuria (who was in the sling on my chest but not yet asleep). And then I tried running cold water over it but that didn’t seem to get cold enough. So I wrapped my bottle of vodka (that I keep in the freezer-tricks learned from dating a Ukrainian I guess) in a towel and used that. So I had two little girls on my bed, one in my arms, and a bottle of vodka in my hand. I’d messaged Jalil (the guy I went to Montmartre with before) if he was interested in going tonight but didn’t feel like it. Luckily, he already had plans. So I went to the supermarket and bought hair dye. (Noemi had told me I ought to dye it red. When I told Kathrin she basically said, “If you want to, go right ahead. It won’t bother me.”) Then I went swimming. Noemi was my little cheerleader tonight. It was so nice to have encouragement. :) Yes, she’s six. But when I asked, “Do you think I can do 20 laps?” She said, “Yes! You can do it.” And not only did I get the 20 laps that I wanted minimum but I did five more! 25 laps! That’s 300 meters. And at the end of it, I felt so accomplished. I pushed through the wall where I didn’t think I could do anymore and I managed to surpass my goal. I watched some Grey’s Anatomy (yes, again) and we had dinner. Now I’m sitting here with hair dye on my head watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame. The song that Esmeralda sings, “G-d Help the Outcasts”? I must have played it three or four times. I love it. And now that I’ve BEEN to Notre Dame it’s even more touching. The statue of the Virgin she sings to is actually there. It actually looks like that. And it actually has white flowers in front of it. I honestly got goosebumps and almost started crying. The lyrics to that song are:
I don't know if You can hear me
Or if You're even there
I don't know if You would listen
To a gypsie's prayer
Yes, I know I'm just an outcast
I shouldn't speak to you
Still I see Your face and wonder...
Were You once an outcast too?

God help the outcasts
Hungry from birth
Show them the mercy
They don't find on earth
God help my people
We look to You still
God help the outcasts
Or nobody will

I ask for wealth
I ask for fame
I ask for glory to shine on my name
I ask for love I can posess
I ask for God and His angels to bless me

I ask for nothing
I can get by
But I know so many
Less lucky than I
Please help my people
The poor and downtrod
I thought we all were
The children of God
God help the outcasts
Children of God

Shouldn’t that be our prayer? G-d help the outcasts. But I don’t believe that G-d is our last resort. I believe that G-d will use us to help the outcasts. Because Mary must have been an outcast once upon a time. G-d uses outcasts for His purposes. And you know what? I’m an outcast. I am. Don’t try to tell me I’m not. I’ve never fit in. But I’m not meant to! This world is not my home. G-d use this outcast for YOUR good, YOUR purposes. Let me help the others. And use my mistakes to become a ministry for You, Father. Use my path to reach others who have been broken in similar ways. Use this outcast…


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