Today, I took my mom out to breakfast.
She deserved it.
For five days she
- watched the dog
- fed our homestay student and college boarder
- held down a very part-time job
- answered the phone when our kids called wondering where we went.
I have a great mom.
We both enjoyed an amazing breakfast at the Roadhouse Café.
Best part was the bathroom.
You heard me,
- the Loo,
- Powder room,
- Blessed Place of Rest and Relief.
From toilet to sink it was decked out with pictures of Norma Jeane Mortensen Baker.
I bet you do.
She started out as a foster kid.
Eventually, she grew up to be one of the most well known actresses, singers and sex symbols of our time.
Oh, wait, maybe you know her by her another name.
she pouted and grinned and looked at me in that sly way of hers.
As I dried my hands, I wondered
who loved you, Marilyn, for you just being you?
Obviously, not many people.
Her fame, sex appeal and money defined her so profoundly, I don’t know if she even knew who she was inside.
At 36,Marilyn died.
It may have been caused by prescription overdose. The medical examiner officially classified it as “probable suicide”.
After we left the restaurant, six words kept running through my mind,
No man cared for my soul.
At home , I googled the phrase.
It was the King James version of Psalm 142:4.
(Note to readership – Ok, I’m Baptist by birth, what do you expect? We even dream in the King James version. )
The verse was written by David, a God fearing man who was hiding in a cave at the time.
I looked it up in the New International Version.
“No one is concerned for me…” he penned, “no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life.”
Despite all the accolades and attention, Marilyn may have felt the same way.
Difference was, David had his Faith in God to keep him strong.
Marilyn had no one.