Why do good people do bad things?

"It isn't my fault," she pleads.

Standing in the rental house from which she's being evicted, she cries and mascara runs down a pasty white face.

It's not her rental house ... she was just staying there with her boyfriend who'd signed the lease but they didn't get along so he left ... and she stayed.

In frustration, anger and tunnel vision focus only on herself ... she trashed the place.

There's no way she's going to be out by the deadline ... forcing the owner whose already losing money with every second she remains in the house to make an ethical/moral/religious decision on the spot.

Call the Police and confiscate her belongings (all scattered on the floor ... including the pictures of her two small children) or ... give her one more day?

And it's raining.

The owner has done nothing wrong yet feels God's punishing her for past sins.

Most blame belongs to the boyfriend who signed the lease, realized he's in a shitty relationship and ... rather than deal with it ... flees. (I don't know why the story of the Prodigal Son flashes through my head at this point.)

Wearing running shorts that don't cover her ass, dirty hair piled on top of her head, standing over the photographs of her children on the floor ... she cries explaining the boyfriend said he'd paid the rent and she has time to figure out what to do ... and where to go.

"It isn't my fault," she sobs ... using the only weapon she has left ... manipulation.

"This is my kids stuff."

The air is sucked out of the room.

Sitting on the banister of the staircase, bare feet dangling in the air, Styrofoam cup in hand, staring at the trashed house ... I watch and listen ... and think.

Why do good people do bad things?

I don't know how good they are ... most are better than others ... some seem Angelic ... but whatever amount of good is in this mother of two ... and her relocated boyfriend ... has crashed on the shoulders of the owner of the house like a heavy cross ... with Roman shoulders slashing with whips ... in front of a snarling crowd.

It just ain't right," as Grandma Carver used to say.

Why do people ... regardless of how much good they have in them ... do bad things?

Why do tornadoes swoop down blowing up homes and killing people? ... How do tsunamis roll out the sea flooding homes and drowning families? ...  Lighting strikes from nowhere killing a father watching the sun set as his family plays in the sand ...

Can it be that bad things are simply part of the way life is?

Let's be honest ... we all got bad in our lives ... some more than others ... and bad always arrives at the worst possible time.

But ... it is what it is ... as my Mother says.

What do you do when it comes?

That's the real question.

What do you do?

What's wrong with the Church.

The purpose of church is so people can get together and remind themselves to think about something other than themselves.

Most churches fail miserably!

We take ourselves to church often knowing what we want to get out of it before we get there.

We want God to do this or that ... heal something we can't manage ourselves ... forgive us when we can't forgive ourselves and curse those we can't forgive ... we seek refuge from guilt, fear and loneliness.

Or we come for the entertainment!

We want good music ... funny sermons that can also make you cry ... great people watching ... wonderful gossip ... fervent political rhetoric ... opportunities to pass judgment ... to be part of a mob.

We go to church with so much agenda!

God help the clergy because most try to deliver on all of these things. They script the service with the precision of a Broadway musical or a military campaign. They ensure their people have the latest popular trend in worship ... excellent sound systems, large flat head television screens so everyone can see, elegant robes and mood lighting. They steal blindly from their peers for the best material. Some even orchestrate valet parking.

Often the result resembles an addiction. The junkies want their fixes and the minister is happy to serve them as the dealer.

Lenny Bruce, of all people, once quipped, "Every day people are straying away from the church and going back to God."

It's little wonder.

Love God like you love yourself. And love others like you love yourself.

That's what it's suppose to be about.

It's a shame its about so many other things.

Snipers on the High Road

"He's the biggest Son-of-a-bitch I've ever met," I angrily said.

"He says the same thing about you," was the quick reply.

Peter Doliber and I were having lunch, talking about things we'd done and people we'd worked with back when we did a lot of work together. For several years our friendship grew, based on common work and compatible personalities, and we were truly fond of each other. Then Peter moved onto other work and I did too. There's not much of a relationship anymore. Over lunch we were reaching into the past but not making it very far.

Our conversation focused on things that had gone wrong. Though we had accomplished groundbreaking things together in health care, housing and mental health services we both focused on scars we still have, unresolved anger that still eats away.

By nature, I am not an angry person. I rarely get mad figuring the anger is one of the Seven Deadly Sins for a reason. It is true however there are a few people who hurt me beyond my ability to understand why, leaving me wounded. While I can still name them, I choose to not think about them. They no longer merit my energies. I'd rather focus on other, happier, things.

Sometimes at night, these people and the things we did to one another, scurry on the fringes of my dreams but when I awake I dismiss them quickly. There are too many good things I prefer to think about.

I'm a contemplative soul by nature, enjoying sitting on the beloved back deck with my feet propped up on the rail, music in my ear, watching the stars and smelling the ocean. Occasionally the angry people kidnap my prayers and as soon as I am conscious that I'm giving them room in my life, I cast them out like demons.

I write about the past a lot but I certainly don't live in it. That was then. This is now. I delight in my three grown children and live with three little girls. My resume is full of things I'm proud of but I'm much more excited about the things I do now. While I still have scars from old wounds, I've survived them and enjoy my life.  I live with and love my best friend who happens to be incredibly lovely.

These are the things I give myself to now because its where I find joy. It's where love reigns; where laughter falls frequently; where contentment comes easy; and where happiness is achieved.

I know there are bad people in the world and I've met my fair share. They are angry people, snipers on the high roads of life, not giving a damn about anyone other than themselves. It's best to shy away from such people, in person as well as in my thoughts and dreams.

If there is a hell, it's made by the angry people who don't wait to die before going there.

Likewise, I'm not waiting for heaven either.

It's here now for the taking.