I think God is afflicted with Munchausen by proxy syndrome. This is where a person, usually a parent, makes their child ill through various means, so they can gain attention from the medical community. They like to be in the center of the healing process and gain approval for their selfless devotion to the child.

I thought of this while watching the aunt of one of the missing young women just rescued in Ohio. The aunt said you have to believe in God because of this miracle. Wait a minute. God let this happen to start with. What’s up with that?

Actually, it would explain this “mysterious ways” answer to every tragedy. You know, God works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. Classic Munchausen. Allow the holocaust, wreak havoc through natural disasters, kill millions through earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, and the like, let evil-doers succeed -- all so that the survivors can claim the miracle of God for their good fortune.

Well, if God saved everyone from undeserved misfortune, we might be over-populated, so maybe that’s God’s version of birth control. You must have the child and, don’t worry, I’ll see that he dies so we don’t crowd the planet.

If I was God and some terrorist, Muslim or Christian Evangelical, there is no difference, set out to kill innocents in my name, I’d just extend my astral finger and zap that s.o.b. on the spot. Now that’s a miracle.

I was also thinking of these abducted young girls, ranging in age from 14 to 19. It took Amanda Berry, now in her twenties, 10 years to manage an escape by attracting the attention of a neighbor, who helped her. And she came out with a four-year-old, hers by her abductor.

I can remember my teen years. No way would anyone have held me for 10 years. My abductor would have had to keep me drugged 24/7 for me not to figure a way out. I am also reminded of the young girl who was held by the religiously perverted couple … I am forgetting her full name, Elizabeth something. During the course of her several years captivity, she was in public with them, had dinner in restaurants, etc., too timid to make a fuss. That is in no way me. I would have been screaming my head off the minute we sat down in the restaurant.

I am not inventing my rebellious nature because it looks good in retrospect. Here are some real instances from my past. I was constantly rejecting adults who interfered with my life, notably, one day, a priest who my mother asked to talk with me because she thought I was too wild. I was 16. I told him to get lost. His supposed exalted presence that might have intimidated some other young girl, meant nothing to me.

My sis and I had to go to Greek school after regular school. It was held in the dingy basement of our church. The teacher, an old school martinet, wanted to bang his ruler on my hands one afternoon for some imagined infraction. I was not only not going to be his victim on general principle, but was also protective of my hands because of piano studies, so I yelled, “No way, kiddo” and I retreated, grabbed my coat form a rear seat and called out to my sis, (who was mortified) “Seeya later, Toops.” Furthermore, I told my mother there was no way I was ever going back. I resisted all efforts and won out.

In case anyone cares, I had and still have a habit of playing with the names of those close to me, so Tula became Toops. She used to call me Kika because it was the result of her inability early on to pronounce my Greek name, Hareikleia. I wish I had kept it. It’s a lot more interesting than Harriet.

So I don’t know what kind of children we are raising. Self-determined is, I guess, not one of the lessons we teach them. Or maybe it’s genetic. I just always was braver than my childhood playmates. OOhh, the ball went on to the witch’s porch – what do we do??? Really? So I went and got the ball and wondered what all the fuss was about. Ed thinks these captive girls had a Stockholm syndrome that kept them down.

xx, Teal