Happy New Year? Oh Me of Little Faith!

The ball has dropped, the children packed off to bed; almost three hours have passed since we rang in the new year of 2010. And I've been sitting here, mindlessly watching television, playing computer games -- anything to avoid feeling.

This year has not been the best year in certain ways. I know. I said that last year. At this time frame last year, I was having constant panic attacks following the discovery of that friend who committed suicide. I know -- you must get tired of seeing that in writing. I know I must talk about death alot; when you see it up close -- and you don't want to see it up close -- it does something to a person. You realize that life can change in single heartbeat. Life is as fragile as a butterfly's wings.

It was the year of my high school reunion. I enjoyed that night more than I ever imagined. It made me realize how quickly this life of mine is flying by. What am I doing to improve the world around me? What have I contributed to it? One of my friends teaches special ed. She is changing lives daily in such a positive and powerful way.

I've had problems with my eldest born son that I never dreamed our family would ever face. He is somewhere else at the moment, getting help for his problems, and I miss him so badly, my chest cannot bear the weight of it at times. I see on Facebook where his friends are enjoying youth group, birthday parties, dances, and even though I am joyful for them, my heart mourns my son's choices that took him where he is. I could blame his father's influence for the reason why my son has done the things he's done. Even though what my ex-husband has done in this young teen's life has been wrong, my son made the decisions he did. His biological father was not in the room when my son did what he did; if I would have been in the room, he certainly would not have done what he did which landed him where he is right now. Sometimes it has been all I could do to get out of bed. It was a monstrous feat that got the Christmas tree up this year.

I miss my son. I miss him horribly. I know he's getting help, but I still worry about him. What will stop him from repeating the behavior which got him into trouble? Will people accept him? Can his step-father, the rest of the family, and I truly know that we honestly forgive him and trust him again?

To top all of that off, the day before my son was taken away to one place, my father had an aneurysm burst in his abdominal region. We were told that 97 % of those who have one burst, die before they get to the hospital, and half of those who make it to the hospital die from complications from the surgery. Things were touch and go. He's battled infections, a discovery of colon cancer, all with a very weak heart to still tell me on the phone that he's going to walk again and make it home; my dad is one heck of a fighter! He's still with us; better yet, he's given his heart to Jesus.

It has been a heart-wrenching journey, coming to grips with the possibility that you may have to say "goodbye" to your father, and soon. Growing up, my father possessed a LOT of faults; but I adored my father in spite of -- and maybe because of -- his many foibles. I always knew a call would come, telling me some bad news of my father; I never expected it would hit me this hard. I have talked to my Heavenly Father many a night regarding my earthly Dad.

Then I berate myself. Oh, me of little faith! Why am I worrying about everything so badly? Where is my undying faith in my Lord and Savior? Why do I stay awake so late, crying out to God to hear my prayer, when I should be sleeping safe in the arms of Jesus? My favorite disciple is Peter; he was able to sleep in prison, facing death, itself. No worries, mate. I used to emulate him more. I don't know who I'm like at the moment. I'm angry with myself for letting little grains of fear fester in the crevices of my mind. I did not know what fear was at one time; as long as I knew Christ was before me, who could be against me? Then I get the gentle nudging that I am not alone. Others have walked the path I am walking, and I need to know that my Abba Father loves me in spite of me.

What good has happened this year? Well, I reconnected with old friends and made new ones with the help of Facebook. These friends and family members have bolstered me up in so many ways, through encouragement, cyber hugs, prayers, and their love. My step-sons have become my friends on Facebook. I cried tears of joy -- seriously -- when they became my friends. If you would know what my husband and I have endured for nine years, then you'd understand. We never stopped loving them, not one minute. And God is paving the road. We need to be more patient until God completes every bit of His work in this endeavor.

It's almost like giving birth -- I want the good things to happen now. However, we have to push through the labor pains. Joy may come in the morning, but you have to endure the darkness of night to see the beauty of the sunrise.

So I look at the fractured pieces of this year, and I will ask God to help turn those shards of glass into a stained-glass window to the shine beauty into my soul. Help my life be a thing of beauty for You, O Lord, to show the world how you take the lowliest of the low and transform them into a thing of beauty. Who else but God can take an insect that looks like it's little more than a worm and metamorphose that creature into a glorious, colorful winged delight? May You turn me, the worm that I am, into that iridescent, velvet-winged butterfly. Help me to be more like You, Lord Jesus, and less like me in this year, and the years to come!

I'm just sooo perfect... uh, don't stand close to me or the lightning will strike!

I signed up my children to participate in 4-H. It's a good program, with good people in it. Fortunately, the leaders have been in 4-H since they were children, themselves. I am hoping the children meet new friends and learn new things.

Last month, a demonstration about how to give a demonstration was held. It was alright. Afterwards, the leader asked for volunteers to give a demonstration of their own. My boy said, "I'm not gonna do it." I walked over and signed him up, along with his sister, to do a demonstration for the very next meeting.

Cruel, I know. After the initial screeches of "What'll we talk about?!" were heard by me, I said, "We'll figure it out. It'll be fine, you'll see."

We sat and thought about what they could do, when we decided upon creating Christmas ornaments. That's an easy enough demonstration, as that is a craft we take on almost every year for Christmas. Our tree is nothing but home made ornaments, lovingly crafted by my Gram, my children, and me. We bought the wood, we planned out what they were going to say, and we put together the poster boards. Everything seemed to be perfect.

We went to 4-H, sure that everything would go as planned.

We sat through a very informative and interesting demonstration. Then it was the children's turn. Maybe I had the items set up in the wrong place, maybe I should have had index cards for the children. It all started out wonderfully. I did notice that we should have written larger on the poster board, but that was okay, the children were doing great. Then it happened. Whatever happened, I'm unsure, but it appears as though one of the children went out of turn. Then the other went out of turn. The next thing I knew, one of the children started doing ALL of the talking, and the other got very frustrated and started crying. Not only that, but the crying demonstrator tried to rip ribbon out of the time-hog demonstrator's hands. The time-hog did NOT budge. As an observer, I could only stand there, hoping and praying to God that it would all end soon.

Why is it that parents always feel an obligation to think that the actions of their children in a situation such as this is an excuse to label themselves as "bad parents who had to have done SOMETHING wrong?" Because that's what I did. The children did not have a perfect demonstration, so I decided to blame myself.

As I sat later contemplating all of this in front of a game of Bejeweled -- the game I always seem to gravitate to when I want to do "veg-out", a certain memory or two flooded my tired mind.

Sixth-grade Sunday school class, 1977 or 1978. We were all given Bible verses to memorize for something going on in the church. I was given a very long Bible verse. I think I actually volunteered myself to take on that long verse. I worked hard at memorizing that verse. I wrote it out, said it to myself, as well as my family members. We finally had a practice session right before we were marched into the sanctuary. I said it PERFECTLY. I was so puffed up about it, I could not WAIT to say that verse, and make everyone so proud of me and my abilities!

We all walked single file into the sanctuary. All of my fellow classmates said their verses perfectly. They were great. Then, me having the longest verse, the "piece-de-resistance", I opened my mouth to say my verse. I looked around the sanctuary. There were TONS of PEOPLE! And there, three-quarters of the way up the church, sat my mother. My mother, with a proud smile plastered across her lips. And then, as if in the movies, it seemed as though my mother's face was transported mysteriously into a close-up! Oh, my GOODNESS -- I could NOT let HER down! I HAD to get it right, I just HAD to!

Every single word of that verse FLEW straight out of my brain! I stammered, I stuttered and flustered. I felt like crying and running to the bathroom, all at the same time. Everyone in the class was disappointed. The teacher was very disappointed. My mother was extremely disappointed. But no one was more disappointed in me, than me.

That tended to be my "mode of operandi" when it came for me to do something in front of a large group of people. During practices, I'd SHINE. But to then perform in front of a group of people would cause me to forget lines, to say something out of line that was not in the script, to throw a Frisbee at sixth grade field day in such a way that it would not soar gracefully, but would rather hit the ground and roll.

I've tried so hard all of my life to be PERFECT. And you know, it just doesn't work. I'm NOT perfect. And thank God, neither are my children. I think the Lord allows me to fall flat on my face to keep me honest, so that I don't puff up and say, "Oh, look at ME!" It would be so very easy for me to do that. I need to be pleased with my children and love them -- no matter if they get a blue ribbon in something, or if they fall flat on their faces. It's the times when you fall flat on your face that you truly learn.

The question is, will you let your times when you fall flat on your face to be a time to get up, dust yourself off, look at what happened, and learn from that experience, or will you sit in a corner and be afraid to never try again unless you're perfect coming out of the shoot?

Lord, help teach me to find joy in my imperfection, and help me teach my children find the joy in their imperfection, for You are made perfect in my weakness, and we learn to rely upon You as our source and strength!

Stormy Silence

On this blog, I've been quiet lately... too quiet. Usually, I pour out my thoughts and connect those thoughts to God. But if I would share what has been in my heart, life and mind these past months, it would be the equivalent of one of those bad nightmares where you're standing out in public and you suddenly realize you're standing there in your underwear. What -- you've never had a dream like that? Well, I have... I didn't want to write my hurts and such for an unknown world to realize later that I've let it all out to the detriment of society. Trust me, you do NOT want to experience all of this!

Since the middle of August, though, my world has been in a tumult. I've asked for prayer on Face book without being overly specific. I cannot be all that specific even now, as there are other people involved who could be hurt if I go spouting off about myself and these problems.

I keep trying to find joy in the pain. I keep trying to count the blessings in all that has occurred in the midst of it all, and to be honest, I've found quite a few. It really is true that God is good, all the time/ all the time, God is good.

I find joy in praise songs, or songs that I haven't heard in years. Hymns have spoken to me. Such as "Jesus Calls Us, O'er the Tumult," and "It is Well, With My Soul." Reading those small books with titles such as, "What Does the Bible Say When You're Feeling...." also helps me. Knowing that my loved ones and friends are praying for my family and myself -- even when they don't know the entire situation -- is such a blessing.

I grew up in a world where we had a lot of secrets. Since then, I've tried to be a very open book. I've found that many people can't handle that truth I tell about myself. I keep other people's secrets wrapped up nice and tight -- it's my life that is usually out there for all to see. Why? Well, I've known what it's like to live in a secret-filled environment, where you tell no one about yourself. You keep it all hid, make no real close friends, etc. What a lonely existence. Who gets helped by secrets? No one. If there is SOMETHING from my life that can help just ONE person to see that Jesus can touch ANY ONE'S life and give hope, then it's more than worth it.

I'm not giving up on the One who touches the untouchable, the One who reaches the unreachable, the One who consoles the inconsolable, the One who loves the unlovable. He has not given up on me.

My silence these past months in the blogging sphere has not been silent in my soul. It's pressing into the One who can dry my tears, sings to my spirit, and holds me close in the midst of the storms of life. I've needed to rest in Him. To hear His voice. I'll start writing again. I've just needed to ride out these storms that have hammered and blown at the foundations of my being. I'm so very thankful that my house is built upon the firm foundation -- the rock and the anchor -- of Christ Jesus. Otherwise, I really don't know what I would have done these past months.

All I can say is, "Thank You, Lord, for being my refuge, my strength and a very present help in times of trouble... You lift my head and I love You with ALL of my being!"

Reunion

It's funny, what twenty-five years can do in the life of a person. I'm not talking about physical changes; it's the human condition in its fullness that a person will change in his or her appearance. No, I'm talking about the changes that occur deep in the heart.

You see, this weekend I went to a place I vowed I would never go unless I was rich, famous and looked absolutely fabulous: my high school class reunion. In my immature, teenage mind, I viewed high school as another place of torture in that sad episode entitled, "My life." Let's just say, in my mind, I didn't fit in anywhere. I wasn't an athletic girl, as my knees were not strong. I didn't do drugs or drink, because I knew my mom would kill me if the drugs wouldn't, and I didn't want to end up like Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, or like a dear, sweet, older girl I knew named Peggy. I wasn't in band or chorus, because I goofed off too much in 7th grade chorus and wasn't asked back; my mother said that I made my bed, I had to lay in it. I was not allowed to ask the Chorus director to let me back in. I was smart, but not the smartest kid in class. I was not the prettiest girl in class -- in fact, one kid came up to me and said, "Hey, Becky -- you're pretty...pretty d--- ugly." I already knew that because my mother told me often, "Oh, you poor thing, you look just like your ugly mother." I had greasy hair and wore dark clothes, but it was not because I was a "goth". I actually loved Jesus -- I just didn't think He could love me. And besides, there were issues with the house that I've talked about before; it made it hard to wash one's hair every day like a young girl would have wanted.

I hid behind a goofy mask that made it seem as though nothing or no one bothered me. But certain comments and actions hurt. They hurt badly. There were times I'd tell the teacher I had a headache, and then would rush to the nurse's office to sob. She always let me cry things out. I couldn't tell her about home, I couldn't tell her about school, but she always gave me a safe place to cry and cry until I could "get it together," and face the world again. I found release in dancing (no formal dance lessons -- couldn't afford it), art (even though my sister was the artist of the family), and music (no, no chorus, but I played tons of records and sang along with them); that's where I could be me, and totally express who I felt I was.

As many teenagers do, they don't look at the positive aspects going on in their lives; they brand themselves with the negative, wearing those negative occurrences as badges that say, "Look what I have to suffer. My life is a mess" But the saddest thing is, they don't share that hurt with anyone who can actually help. They've learned not to trust anything or anyone. The enemy is a master at convincing teenagers that they aren't special in God's eyes, and that the junk which is going on in their lives will never end. I hate the devil for that -- because he still uses his same ploys to try to convince those former teenagers when they become adults that they are less than what God has called them to be.

I wore that badge for too many years. I wore other badges, too. I wore other masks; masks that hid my emotions, my sins, my fears. With the suicide of my friend in October, and the PTSD which resulted after that, I've had to really look back. Go to places where I did not want to go. I'm having to rip off some of the badges and toss them in the garbage. I'm tired of holding onto past hurts -- real or imagined. I've been taking a hard look at myself, and starting to embrace all of the parts of me -- the sad and lonely little girl, the quiet and introspective person, the caring, yet funny woman, as well as the super-boisterous, outgoing gal. It's a hard journey, because in all reality, I don't always like the loud, wise-cracking girl. That part of my personality annoys me, many times, to be honest. But I'm slowly learning that God has helped form in me the personality that I have, to be the person that He needs me to be to touch those who like my type of personality -- I just keep asking Him to help me tone it down.

Case in point: at the reunion, I wanted to walk in, a self-assured, even-tempered woman. But, no -- I saw some of my old friends and SQUEALED. How many people were attack-hugged by me? I cannot honestly say. But you know, it was so GOOD to see these people. Even those who had previously made fun of me. To my surprise and honor, I was asked to say the blessing over the meal. I looked at the class and realized that, contrary to what my teenage mind thought, there were some really sweet people who actually had liked me and wanted nice things for me -- even some of the popular kids. Those adults sitting in the seats, awaiting the blessing had been young and grew up, too. They had their own issues, their own insecurities and expressed themselves the only way they knew how a that point of time in their lives when we were all young.

Yes, I was goofy at the reunion and sang the Alma Mater for ten bucks, but I had fun doing it. It was a joyful time for me. No, I was not rich or famous, nor was I the ravishing beauty that I was planning to be if I ever returned; but I am very blessed with a loving husband, awesome children, great friends, and a beautiful Savior who gave me something much more lasting than riches and fame. I know who I am in Christ; a person loved and adored by the King of Kings, in spite of what I ever did in my life -- and I've done a lot, both good and horrible. I was wishing I could have spent some more time with some of my old friends, and talked a little more, but there was so little time to be had at the reunion.

Afterwards, I was suddenly struck with silly, stupid fears -- what if I made a complete fool of myself, squealing with glee, singing the Alma Mater, doing some karaoke, going all over the place, hugging lots of people. But you know, so many old issues were buried for me; I wish I could tell that teenage me that I needed to look more at the positive and less negative. To see some friends I was sure I'd never see again brought tears to my eyes. But as I look back -- and forward -- I can understand how Romans 8:28 fully comes into play through the tragic, comic, and everything in between: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." All things -- good and bad -- have helped shape me into the person that God wants me to be today. Through it all, I'm happy in Him; God still loves me -- all of me --and that's good enough.

Good that comes out of the Bad

August first, 2000 is a day that will be forever etched into my memory. It was the very worst day and the best day of Tim's and my life together.

It was a sunny day, and Tim wanted to play hooky from work to take our children (his, mine and ours) to the beach. However, they needed him, so he quickly kissed me "bye" and away he went.

I told the boys to ride their bikes; the chain eventually fell off of my younger step-son's bike, and I fixed it. There was grease on my hands, so I went upstairs to wash them, hoisting my toddler to take him upstairs to our apartment with me. He started throwing a fit, as toddlers do when they wish to be held, and I had to yell over his shrieks, "I'll hold you as soon as my hands are washed, baby!"

Suddenly, a knock on the door. "I didn't know I was making that much racket," I thought. I opened the door, to see a policeman and another gentleman standing in the hallway. "Holy, moley - I didn't know I was THAT loud --and boy, they come fast!" I remember thinking.

"Ma'am, are you Mrs. Rebecca J..?"

"Yes." ("Oh, no, something's happened to either "M----" - [my ex], or to "P---" [Tim's ex] - how am I ever going to tell them?" flashed in my head)

"We're sorry, but your husband, Timothy has been involved in a vehicular accident...."

Swirling in the head,,, all I could say was, "NoNoNoNoNo...." I didn't know what to think, it had to be a horrendous dream. I had to wake up any minute!

Suddenly the gentleman spoke up; it was Tim's boss' son: "Becky - wait - he's okay! The car can't be driven, but he's only broken a few bones! I'll drive you and the children."

OH, a few broken bones! I had plenty of those! I'd be taking my hubby home, and we'd have a laugh about how he'd gotten his first bike and first broken bones in the same year. I had to gain complete composure and not worry the children. I remembered reading about mothers in World War Two who reacted with fear in front of their children tended to raise children afraid of everything. I was going to be as calm as possible, although my stomach was turning flip-flops -- and not from the new life that was growing inside of me at that time.

I told the children that Daddy was in an accident, but that all would be well, and we'd have him home in no time. When we all arrived at the hospital, however, I heard a different story. I was not sure if he was going to make it through the night, if he had internal injuries, if he was going to walk again... there were so many if's. The only thing I could do was pray.

I tried to call my in-laws and only got my sister-in-law. She showed up at the hospital. I asked for the church to pray. Finally we were told we could go to the ICU waiting room. I don't remember what happened with my sister-in-law; I do know that I relied upon her quite a bit when the accident first occurred. Finally I was able to see my husband briefly. The children were too young to go see their dad, so they sat with a nun at the hospital and watched television.

Before making my way to his room, I could hear him... moans... horrid moans. I put my hand over my mouth, shut my eyes tightly and vowed I would NOT be anything but positive for him in that room. I asked God for inner strength. I bounced into the room and stopped.

He was hooked up to all sorts of stuff. The nurses told him, "Mr. J, your wife's here." He stopped moaning, but instead made a horrid sucking in of the air sound that was akin to what your mouth does when you're freezing cold. He was nothing but shiny blood all over his face. His eye had a sewn up gash over it, his mouth had stitches, there was glass still in his hair. I found the one place on his face that didn't look like it would hurt as much if I kissed that spot, and I kissed him.

"I must look like Frankenstein; how can you ever love me looking like this?" he groaned.

"I didn't marry your face, I married YOU," I replied. "Besides, I think you're still gorgeous!"

"How am I going to take care of all of you - the boys, too?" He was worried about us more than himself.

"Don't worry - God will take care of us -- it'll be fine. Now, get some rest - I'll be right outside. I love you, love you, love you."

No sooner did I walk out of the room, he started moaning in horrendous pain again. I leaned against the wall, somewhere between his room and where the children were awaiting me in the waiting room, slid to the floor, and sobbed. I knew I had to be strong, but was I strong enough?

Someone helped me up and embraced me. I used the pay phone and called the boys' uncle. I knew that I would be going to the hospital to see my husband as often as I could, to make sure he was going to be okay; I knew that at that time, we also needed to look out for all of the children, and so I asked their uncle to call the children's mother and let her know what happened.

What happened was, Tim was travelling along the road, when a car in the other lane unsafely passed a mail truck and hit my husband head-on. Even though Tim was wearing a seat belt, his head still hit the window, bounced back and hit the side window. The force of the collision caused his hip joint to shatter his hip bone, a compound fracture and fractured ankle on the other, and a few other problems to be dealt with. We found out later that he had to be revived three times on his way to the hospital.

Tim spent 28 days in the hospital; I didn't miss a day of visiting him, even though one lady in particular told me I shouldn't visit him every single day. As his wife, I knew my place was beside my husband in his worst days. When he was released to our home, he still couldn't walk. We couldn't afford to have him at a nursing home. It's funny -- I went the assistance office to get emergency service, and didn't get much assistance. So, I took care of him at our home - morning, noon, and night. I remembered thanking God for my CNA experience.

The people who helped us the most were the wonderful folks at our church at the time - the Mission Church in Holmes, NY. First, they took up a collection. Then, they made sure we had food; even non-essentials were included in the mix. They became a family to us as they made sure we had Christmas gifts for the children, and necessary items for the baby when she arrived in January. We were even given a car, and someone paid for our van to be fixed. Their benevolence fund helped us, and when things got better, we paid them back so that they could help someone else. The Mission Church is filled with people who help with loving hands, and to those beautiful people I will always be thankful.

By then, Tim had been walking with the assistance of a walker, then a cane. However, every single day, he experienced extreme pain.

The worst part of it all was that we only saw Tim's sons one time since the accident. Tim couldn't drive, but another church friend took Tim along and picked up the children, as the children were somehow convinced that if I drove the car, I would wreck the car. The last time we saw them, our newborn daughter was only a month old. After that, their mother filed for full custody. We did not have the money to fight. We tried to get a public defender, but since he had previously paid for a lawyer, he could not get a lawyer. We didn't know the legalize necessary to defend ourselves, and after other hoops that were jumped through, we ended up not having any custody of the boys. That was the darkest time for Tim. He lost his ability to use his legs to full capacity, he lost his ability to drive professionally, and then he lost his sons. If anyone knew what Job felt like, I'm sure it was my husband. I felt helpless as I watched him lay in the bed and sob tears of sorrow over his sons.

We eventually moved to a warmer climate (better suited to my husband) that was still close enough to his sons -- if things ever got better -- and to my ex-husband's. It hasn't always been easy. His hip still hurts every day, sometimes his pain causes him to be grouchy here and there, and yet he still keeps pushing on.

But, God has a plan. Even today. Even when things get their darkest in our quest to reach the area with the Gospel of Jesus Christ, Tim and I know we have been through the fire -- more than once. And we know that even if the tunnel is long and dark, the light of the Lord awaits at the other end. God has taken care of ALL of our needs. He will do it again and again in our lives. And I believe that the Lord will restore all the years that the locusts have eaten in regard to his sons. One of the sweetest days of recent history was when we heard from his younger son with his ex-wife. I sat at the computer, tears of joy streaming down my face when that beautiful, one-lined correspondence glowed upon the computer screen.

The worst part of the day is that I almost lost my love, my best friend, my husband that day. The best part -- God spared my husband's life that day. God still continues to show His blessings which emerge from the pain of life every day. And I thank God for the strength that only HE gives.

If you're going through a horrendous time, please, take comfort in knowing that ALL things work together for good for those who love the Lord. Even those things that hurt us so deeply and that we just don't understand. Put your hand in His -- He'll carry you in His arms and see you through it all. Just trust and obey; I know where you've been and know that God will NOT let you down... not for a minute. Be safe in the Lord, today and everyday.

Who is it?

Lately, I've heard from more than one person that they feel President Obama is the anti-Christ. You know, back when I was a freshman in high school, my old friend Brenda rushed up to me with the news that President Ronald Wilson Regan was the anti-Christ. The key clue to this fact was this: Regan's initials were each six letters long. You've guessed it, "6-6-6".

I'm not completely sure why there's a big group of people who believe Obama is the anti-Christ; it may be that he's the son of a Muslim, or it could be that his policies seem to be in direct violation to God's laws. This is where I'm going to either anger or challenge the "Obama is the anti-Christ" camp: it is time to stop concentrating upon "who" the anti-Christ may be and to start compelling people to fully turn their hearts and souls to Jesus Christ - no compromise - so that they can WITHSTAND the anti-Christ, should they encounter him.

Do I believe that the anti-Christ is in this world right now? Yes, I do. I believe that he will arrive on the scene in such a way that he will even fool those who say they are Christians. I believe that modern science will have a big part in fooling certain Christians and Israelites. I believe that the anti-Christ may be born of a virgin using artificial insemination of a virgin girl. You see, the devil is an imitator of our Creator, and he will try to imitate what he can using whatever means he can. How can you make sure you are not conned into hell? Read the Bible, or listen to the Bible on CD; after all, the Bible is the key to your eternal success.

But in all reality, there are many anti-Christs in the world today. Right now in the world, the single group that is persecuted more than all others are Christians. Now, Americans may scoff at that bit of information. But there are Christians dying right now in China, in India, in the Middle East, in Africa, and persecutions of Christians are on the rise all over the world. The amount of Christians killed for the cause of Christ in the past 100 years has, actually, far exceeded the number of those killed during the initial persecutions (yes, there has been more than one period of Christian persecution) for followers of The Way. There are Christians who are forcibly being made slaves right this minute in Sudan. And in America, bars, schools, government offices, and churches themselves are filled to the brim with anti-christs.

I love America, and am thankful for the opportunities I currently possess here. But, there is a time soon coming, church, where we will NOT be able to speak or worship freely. American Christians are adding to the problem by adding all sorts of forms of gnosticism in their personal lives. They twist and turn the Gospel of Jesus Christ to fit THEIR ideal of what THEY think God should be. We want to enjoy a "religious smoothie" chock-filled to the brim with things that the Bible specifically warns us against. There is a serious problem, here. We Christians in America have been worshipping at the altar of "me" long enough -- we need to stop doing whatever feels "good" to us, and start doing what's RIGHT by GOD'S standards.

I may sound like a religious kook writing this, and I really don't care. What I care about is stirring you another place, a place higher than the heavens above; I want to urge you to place your hand in the One who formed you, the One who loves you beyond measure, and to honestly ask of Jesus, who possesses the Name above ALL names, "Lord, will You shape me into the person that You want me to be? Burn off all of the junk that is not of You, and mold me into the beautiful vessel that you envision me to be."

It's time to stop playing games, people. After all, Jesus wasn't joking around when He was dying on that cross almost 2000 years ago to make an atonement for you and me.

I'm tired of sitting back and hiding in the shadows -- I want to stand up and be bold for Jesus Christ -- no compromise. Whether you come with me or not in this venture is up to you, but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Oh,, C'mon...

Tonight, when the news was about to come on, I said to my husband, "I swear, if they have Michael Jackson as the lead story again tonight, I... will... SCREAM!"

Sure enough, the lead story was about how people "won tickets" to see the body of the man. I screamed as best as I could, considering I've been ill the past couple of days.

You see alot when you have nothing to do but sleep and gaze glass-eyed at the television.

I may receive flak for this, but there's more to genius than the way a person spins or sings. For every Britney Spears who can't sing, yet is famous, you have 100 Susan Boyles who sing and dance beautifully, yet unheard -- unless brought miraculously to the limelight.

For every "Air McNair" out there, there are 100's of young men who have been heroes of their own high school stadiums.

For every politician who strays on their wives (unfortunately, that seems to be a prerequisite to obtain a major political post), there are 100's of honest, hard-working civil servants.

In the this bed-rest period, I was also drawn to the Word. This is the problem; every time I turned around, I was drawn to the book of Ezekiel. I'm not the biggest fan of the book of Ezekiel, simply because some of the visual stuff is so hard to visualize. There are some very hard things to come to terms with in that book, and some very frightening things in that book. But just the same, God has a big tendency to stretch us and push us past our comfort zones.

In Ezekiel, Chapter 3, it spoke to me that not all of us will be sent to a land where people don't know our language. We actually may be called to minister to those in our own country, which could be harder to preach to than a foreign land. The way that God describes Israel, "hardened and obstinate", sounds so much like America. We are a proud people who has drifted so far from God, that we are like the church of Laodicia mentioned in Revelation.

Then, on another reading, I noticed where God tells Ezekiel that He has given Ezekiel the job of a watchman. Now, a watchman stood diligently at the tower at the city walls, and would stand guard. If trouble was brewing, it was the watchman's job to warn those within the city walls; if he saw trouble and said nothing, blame for those killed in the ensuing battle fell on that watchman's shoulders.

So, all of this has got me thinking... what are we doing? Even those who say we are Christians idolize other things and people. We rush to the big-time preachers as though they have some magical word for us that God Himself wishes to share with us in those quiet moments with Him. And, we need to be more responsible for getting the Word out to our brothers and sisters, our friends and neighbors, people that we know personally, and those that we don't know all that well.

You know, one thing that bothered me so greatly over this Michael Jackson business is there are people who never had a single day's interaction with this man who spent over 43-thousand dollars a month on prescription drugs, sobbing real sobs over this person they never knew. Yet, they don't understand the devotion of a person who adores the One who died to save their soul. He didn't do it for money, He didn't do it for His own glory - He did it for the love of YOU.

How do I express to my friends and neighbors that time IS running short, and that there IS a God who cares about them, and get them to actually listen? I know -- God said to Ezekiel that if he did try to warn a person, and that person did not want to hear the truth, then Ezekiel was free of all blame.

Why do I feel a need to write this? Because I need to tell you that there IS a Father in Heaven who loves you with a never ending love. He's waiting for you to turn to Him with your heart. He's been waiting for you to stop searching and he's waiting for you, with the porch lights on. Please, open your heart enough to honestly and humbly ask, "God, if you do exist, could you please lead me to You?" He will meet you, and you won't be disappointed!

The Pains of Childbirth

I love to talk to the Lord, and listen for His leading. Some days it's harder than others, though, because He not only lets me know how much He loves me, He also disciplines me and shows me where I need to improve upon my life for Him. Other times, He gives me an idea of something that He wants me to do for His glory. On those moments, it's as though I've been told, "Congratulations! You're having a baby!"

In the natural world, when I've seen those "blue lines" appear in that window of a pregnancy test, I'll admit -- I've always had a smidgen of fear mixed in with the joy and the excitement. I start thinking of all of the things to worry about with each child: will I love this child as much as my pet (hey, when you've been a mom to a cat for four years, you wonder the strangest things!), will I love this second child as much as my first, will I be able to show an equal amount of love to three children as to two, aren't I a little too old to have a fourth baby? What kind of parent will I make? Will I totally screw up these children? Oh, PLEASE -- don't let me screw up these children! Conversely, you start dreaming big dreams: I want to be the best mother to these children, these children may be major preachers/doctors/great talents someday, my sons and daughter will be better than I ever was, I cannot wait to feel tiny arms wrapped around my neck and to see toothless grins again!

The same can be said when God gives you a seed of a dream... a ministry, a goal to achieve for Him. A mix of fear and wonder hits you at the same time. You ask many questions: God, are You SURE you want ME to do THAT?! Isn't there someone else more qualified to do the job? Did I even hear right -- let me check that out again (I've taken more than one pregnancy test to make sure)! You may wish to put things off, until you're ready. In the same way that a woman's biological clock ticks and eventually the ability to have children ends, this world's biological clock is also ticking, and we must work while it is still day, and give birth to the ministry that the Lord has given us! Besides, as anyone who has children can tell you, you're never ready to have children, so just dive in!

Well, there have been some things that the Lord has really put upon my heart, things that He wants me to do. And to tell you the truth, I've been putting those things off for the longest time. I have all the pat excuses in place: I'm not spiritual enough, I'm not strong enough, I'm not qualified enough, did You forget all of those rotten things I've done... the list goes on. And then, the events started happening.

First, I was asked to lead a presentation at the local library. Now, this falls in conjunction with something that God wants me to do at and for the church, but I just have not done it, as I am "not qualified enough." I've never given a presentation of this sort, but the librarian has faith that I can pull it off. My storytelling mentor also has faith that I can become a "stellar storyteller" -- I just need the confidence. Some other opportunities are coming my way, and God gently told me yesterday that all of this is part of His plan. He wants me to be a storyteller in the church, and on our web-site. I started with the best of intentions in this endeavor, but wanted to take the "pregnancy test" over again, just to check.

Then, our family went to the church of our colleague/friend. He had a former minister of that church there to speak. His words touched me. I went up front, whereupon the minister was speaking Words of the Lord to those there that night. I asked of God, "Lord, you know I've been thinking that I can't keep pushing on in the ministry field -- it's so hard. I just want a word for Tim and me. Are we doing the right thing by You? Are we supposed to hang in there, or get out of the ministry? Are You pleased with us?"

This minister, who didn't know us from Adam, and who had NO idea what I was asking of the Lord in my heart of hearts, answered all of my questions down the line. I started crying. My God, who knows my innermost parts, heard my cries and gave words of encouragement to the likes of me --a simple handmaiden. He is happy with us, and we are not supposed to quit. In fact, He gave my husband and I a title that matches up with one he gave me 15 years ago: back then, He told me I was a "hurdle jumper." He called my husband and I "barrier breakers." Thank You, Lord!

Then, last night, I told my husband I wanted to go to a Camp Meeting held not far from our home. It was the last night, and the speaker, Reverend Jonathan Ziegler, was awesome. He again reiterated in his sermon what we were told by Reverend Dennis. Then, there was music and dancing before the Lord; I danced as I have not danced in what seemed like forever. Black, White, Hispanic, Asian people, all dancing before the Lord was so freeing and awesome, especially in our area, which seems to be the most segregated place on a Sunday morning. That's one of those visions that I've been dreaming of for our church --that it not be a "white church", "black church" or a "Hispanic church", but rather a "LOVING church filled with all types of people who exhibit the fullness of our Lord and Savior."

At any rate, as I was up front, the ministers started anointing people and praying over them. A feeling emerged from my feet, then whooshed up to my head, and I fell to the floor. An inner voice said, "Rest, just rest in the Spirit of the Lord." Then, absolutely no other leading from the Lord occurred, so I decided to take a nice, ole rest.

Suddenly, a woman larger than I hit the floor -- kinda. She actually landed on my face. I quickly sat up. No sooner had I got up, stood and started praying, Reverend Zeigler came up to me yet again, touched my forehead, and again -- that certain feeling which started at my feet, surged up my body, and whooshed up to my head. BAM! Down to the floor yet again! Only this time, I felt this inner word from the Lord: "You have been in child birth for a long time. You are pregnant -- not with a child of flesh and blood, but that of the Spirit. You are pregnant with a ministry that I have for you. You have been pushing and feel that you can push no more, but I say to you to push! Push! PUSH! If you do this, you will see it all come to fruition."

I got back up, sobbing; not tears of sorrow, but those tears which come when you know that you know that you KNOW that the thing which you have been waiting for is on its way. Am I excited? You bet! Am I frightened? Absolutely! Is God going to leave me or forsake me in this endeavor? NO WAY! When it was time to deliver my now-teenager, I remember being in labor for what seemed like forever. I was throwing up, I was miserable, and then it was time to push. OH, how difficult! And I thought the labor pains were bad! I remember feeling so weak, as though I couldn't push. But the doctor and nurses strongly urged me to do so, or the baby would have serious trouble. Then they showed his crowning head to me in a mirror, and I mustered up just the right amount of strength that I needed to help my beautiful boy into the world. My exhaustion gave way to sheer elation, and I had the strength to hold my newborn, to kiss him, to take that child in with utter joy.

This week, when I felt so weak, I was shown the crowning head of the ministry that God has in store for me. It may not happen overnight, but I have been given new strength to keep pushing on -- no matter how hard the task is, because I really want to see this ministry come to full term, and to see the light of day!

With what ministry have you been impregnated? You may have been waiting for YEARS for it to come to fruition, and you may have seen nothing, but I want to encourage you to hold on. I have not yet seen what God has in store for me to be born, yet, but I now see the crowing in the mirror. So I urge you to PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! We can DO it! If God gives it to us, we can do ALL things through Him!

Where does the time go?

Summer is officially here! Well, tomorrow it will be, that is.

This week, I let the children do whatever they wanted, except for my eldest son; the poor guy had his wisdom teeth pulled -- all four of them. He was feeling absolutely no pain when he left the dentist's office; he's feeling it, now, as he walks around the house with a hot pad wrapped around his face.

This year, I have decided to do something I haven't ever done before - I've signed up the children to take part in the reading program at the local library. The children are going to be busy almost every day of the week through to August. Besides that, I've even been asked to speak at the library. Talk about your fear factor situation!

I haven't been writing as much as I would like to, lately, as I have been very busy. I've been reading to children in a pre-school setting, writing and doing voice-overs for some television ads, trying to get my story-telling repertoire up to speed, trying to organize things for next year's homeschooling, and I've been working on losing weight since a hospital stay back in March or April. The Lord's Table has been a very good experience. It has been helping me to set my life focus where it belongs - with Christ Jesus. Not food when things don't go the way I'd like.

Even in the midst of trying to focus on God, I have found it so very easy to let other business distract me. Like the library, Facebook, family, and other such things to get in the way of me really spending some one-on-one alone time with my dearest and closest friend,,, the Lord Jesus. In my mind's eye, I sit with him under a huge tree. Don't ask me what type of tree it is, all I know is it's big. Sometimes I picture us climbing that tree. Sometimes He sits under it with me, and we sing away. Sometimes He brings me flowers and I tell Him about my hopes and dreams. Other times I picture Him holding me when the world seems too big. There are times I need to sob while He holds me and sings songs of love, encouragement and hope. There's that recess in my mind where I go when I need to be with Him and Him alone. Sometimes we meet at that tree in my dreams.

It's, funny, though. There are times when I'm in the midst of the business of being busy, I can see Him in my mind's eye, waiting at that big, beautiful, lone tree. He wants me to go to talk to Him about my busy day, to ask Him to help me out, to share my joys, fears, sorrows, everything. Sometimes I leave Him all day at that tree, waiting for me. Then, it's a quick, "Hello, Jesus, had a day and a half -- keep me safe, willya, I'm going to bed," and I'm off again.

Maybe that seems weird what I just said, but maybe Jesus is waiting for you... maybe, just maybe, He's waiting for you in the recess of your mind, as you wonder, where did the time go? Jesus is never too busy for me... why do I tend to think so many other things are more pressing than Him?

I guess my prayer would be that I focus more on the One who loved me so much that He could just die. Wait,,, He DID die for me. May I not lose Him while I lose track of time busying myself doing things that won't make a hill of beans difference in this world. Lord Jesus, help me make a difference for YOU, and may all else take a back seat to You, oh King of the Universe!

Who's waiting for you?

Every day, he hobbled out to the front porch. His steps were deliberate; his gaze was focused upon the place where he last saw his son. Tears flooded his eyes as he recalled the day his youngest left. Too many rules... can't breathe in a place where every one's perfect.... what kind of fun can be had here, anyway... gotta get out and get free... make my own way... Those phrases were still ringing in the old man's ears as he greeted the dawn, and peered down that dusty road.

Every single day, the father held out hope for his wayward son. Every single day, he prayed inwardly; at first, he prayed that no harm would come to his son. Then, he was reminded that for God to really work in the younger son's life, the father would have to take his hands off of the situation and learn to trust in God to bring his son back into his life.

In all reality, it was as though his son were dead, to the father's deep sorrow. He tried to send messages to his son, but no word came back as to the son's welfare. Work went on, as usual. The sun rose and set, as usual. Holidays came and went, as usual. But work didn't hold its value, because he didn't have his younger son to share it with. He couldn't poke his son on the shoulder to point out a double rainbow or a lightning storm. Every holiday seemed bitter-sweet, as he didn't have his entire family to share that time in joyous celebration. Celebrations had a hollow ring for the father.

Shortly before dinnertime, he meandered out the front door to retrieve his oldest son, who was still working on the family farm. He quickly glanced towards the long, lonesome road, and was about to continue walking to the fields when - wait a minute - what was it that he saw? He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He squinted his eyes, placed his hands over his forehead to place a shadow over his eyes to see clearly. The sun no longer clouded his vision, no tears did, instead.

For in the distance, he saw a familiar gait. It was slower, less assured, but it was his long-lost son, alright. He started walking with a determined gait, himself. Down that road towards his boy, his baby, he walked. The pace quickened as it turned to a full-force run for this elderly man. His son's face looked pale, unassured. He reeked; his father realized that his son probably hadn't taken a bath for a mighty long time. But father didn't care; he fell upon his son and kissed him on his neck, sobbing tears of utter joy.

His son started speaking: "Father, I have done wrong against you and and God, Himself. I don't deserve to be your son...."

Father didn't want to hear any of that. He called for his servants, and asked to run a hot bath for his son, get a new set of clothes out for his son, kill the fatted cow for his son, and decided to have a celebration to end all celebrations! His son was alive! And his son was HOME. No day would be better than this day!

Recently, we had a day that was better than most days. My husband has waited eight long years for the day he would hear one line from one or both of his sons, my step-sons. The sentence I read in my inbox was the best line I could have read, and brought tears to both of our eyes: "Tell Dad I said hi."

Now, our son was not off sinning,,, but due to other circumstances beyond our control, we were separated from my two step-boys. Tears STILL come to my eyes when I think of that one line, the most beautiful words I've seen on a computer screen in a mighty long time. Love never dies, especially the love that a parent has for his or her child.

God's love for us was demonstrated in the above story; this story was paraphrased from a parable our Lord Jesus taught. But we understand the longing of that father, we feel what the father felt; and it helps us to realize the infinite love of the Father towards us.

Maybe you're looking down long, lonely roads toward the pathway where your child has trod. Maybe you haven't heard from them in years. My humble plea to you is to never give up. The Father knows your heart. He's hearing your cries. If you've raised your child in the way of the Lord, believe that God is working out a plan. It may not be your plan, but it's the perfect plan, because it's designed by the One who created the heavens and earth. He's not too far away to hear you when you speak... and He loves your child more than you do. Remember Romans 8:28, my friend: "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."

Keep looking, keep hoping, keep believing. Your Father will work it ALL out for you!

And, if you've been running from the One who loves you more than anyone else ever could, please,,, come home. Your Father is waiting for you, with arms open wide, ready and more than willing to accept you, to bring you back to His bosom. You are special, you are loved and you are important to God. Come home; the celebration can't get underway until you're here.

Weigh to Go!

The other night, I couldn't sleep, for some reason not even known to myself. Usually on those moments, I feel that is God waking me up to pray intercessory prayer for people I don't even know. It turns a sleepless night into a very good night.

On this night in particular, however, I couldn't even seem to pull myself together to do that. So I turned on the tube. Very late at night, a peculiar thing happens. The infomercials emerge from their slumber and attack unwitting minds to buy, buy buy into happiness of some sort.

You see, we all seem to think, "If I had more money, I'd be happier." So, there on the screen were all sorts of wonderful ways that you could make money. You only have to work PART TIME HOURS to MAKE MILLIONS IN A YEARS' TIME. Now, all you have to do is send so much money.... ah, so THAT'S how THEY can make that much money in no time flat -- encourage others to send YOU money.

Or, we think, "If I were more attractive, then I'd be happy." The television was inundated with scores of weight-loss methods and exercise DVDs. I was almost tempted to buy the one from a former Olympian. It looked so easy to do, and the people looked so good and ripped in the program. Yes, I need to lose weight, but who am I losing it for? Am I losing it to get praise and extra comments? So that I can look great in a bikini again? I USED to wear bikinis -- but those days left with the arrival of my first child! So why do I want to lose weight, and why did I get so big in the first place?

Until my stay in the hospital, the exercise equipment that my husband bought to get in shape got no usage and gathered nothing but dust. I lost my instructions for the Total Gym (another way of losing weight which was advertised that night -- I learned some of the exercises I should be doing on that thing that night), and I watched the exercise videos that I had, but never did the exercises, themselves.

But you know, all of the exercise equipment in the world, all of the money in the world won't fix what can or cannot make you happy. Actually, you need to find out how to make all of that extra money advertised on the one channel so that you can afford to buy the exercise equipment advertised on all of the other channels! For me, happiness comes from being secure in the Lord -- and ALL of the fullness, thereof. However, I have gotten away from that fullness, myself. I've really been looking hard recently at myself in my effort to lose the poundage. Why do I use food to make myself feel better, if I have Jesus? Why am I not making Him enough?

I've been in this course called "The Lord's Table" for a week, now. Some things make me think. Other things make me cry in repentance, while other things said make me a little uncomfortable and angry. But, God is faithful and just to utilize this FREE on-line program to really allow me to go before the Lord in repentance, joy, anger, disappointment, laying myself bare upon His altar. I've been looking at what I've been feeling before I overeat, and at the core of it -- for me, anyway, it may not be that way for you -- is rejection and control issues.

But, instead of going before the Lord with my sadness over rejection, I was going to food. Before, when I was anorexic, control was at the core -- or rather, lack of control in my life around me. Eating -- or lack thereof -- were the only ways I could control SOMETHING. How sad it is to then come to the horrific realization that the things you thought you were controlling end up actually controlling you!

I need to seriously turn ALL control over to Jesus, and to completely, utterly, fully, 100%, honestly, no-holds barred TRUST Him -- even in the roughest seas -- to know that He has ALL things planned out for His greater glory. Even the jarringly heart-breaking times that I simply cannot, for the life of me, understand. This is the hardest part of my journey to lose weight, I am discovering. By the weigh,,, (I'm so punny), I have lost 6 pounds in the first week, and I plan on continuing, with HIS power and grace pushing me onward. To God be the glory, and may He help me and give me strength in this. And if you're struggling, may He give YOU strength, as well.

Memories....

I just saw on the news tonight about how scientists are working with rats to eliminate memories from people. The news piece started this way: "Wouldn't it be nice if your worst memories or traumatic events in your life could be erased from your memory...?"

At first I thought, "I have a QUITE a FEW memories I'd like to erase!" But then, just as quickly, thought, "No -- all memories, good or bad, are ulimately beneficial for you... but why?!"

I just got back from a trip to the hospital. I stayed overnight. I felt I was having a heart attack; my blood pressure was through the roof, I had shortness of breath, pain, dizziness, and that icy cold feeling across my chest. When I showed up at the hospital, I did actually have very high blood pressure, so it was good that I went in. It turns out that it was a mixture of high cholesterol, a newly-discovered of an irregular heartbeat and a panic attack.

I have lived through a lot of pain. A LOT of hurt in my life. But even memories of painful experiences are good for a person. Wait a minute,,, this is coming from a person who has been experiencing panic attacks since October 14?! Yes.

Pain helps us to avoid dangerous circumstances, and to prevent us from repeating stupid mistakes. A child who touches an electrical socket will not be so prone to blindly do it again -- possibly to his or her demise -- if that child remembers what it felt like to have that horrendous charge go through its little body.

Pain helps us to get on the right track. It hurt when that needle pricked my arm to take blood out of me. I got a headache when I took those nitro pills. But, even though the hospital staff was wonderful to me, I don't want to go back there anytime soon with something worse. I know that to not relive that memory, I have to start to eat right, and exercise.

Pain helps to alert of something wrong. If I hadn't felt that pain in my chest, which moved to my back and then to my neck, I would not have known that there was a possible problem with me. If I should, heaven forbid, I would forget, and have those pains again, I may not think to remember what was told of me by the physicians, and I could eventually die.

The same can be said of painful memories. God allows us to have painful memories to: help us to avoid dangerous circumstances, and to prevent us from repeating the same stupid mistakes; to get us on the right track; and, help alert us of something wrong.

In the study of the rats, it was found that when the memories were taken from them, those rats headed directly to a wire which emitted an electrical shock that they formerly (and wisely) avoided.

Painful memories are hard to deal with ... so very hard... but it's so much harder to NOT deal with them. People who learn from their bad memories actually become more productive members of society. You grow from learnt lessons, no matter what the cost, so I'll take the memories,,, good and bad,,, and try to form a beautiful patch quilt of life with them, and hopefully make someone elses' life a little better.

Rain, Rain on My Face

If today's weather were a person, I would imagine "Weather" would have been very moody today! First, we experienced a delicate, softly falling rain. Imagine the storm clouds that come upon a person's face,, and then -- mild tears fall from that person's eyes and roll ever so delicately down that person's cheek. A person who cries soft tears of joy and rapture is a wonderful sight to behold, but one crying tears of sorrow... well... one naturally wishes to take the pain away from that one.

Then, the rain took on a violent kind of turn, flying to and fro, not caring where it landed. When one encounters a storm such as that, they wish to run and find some sort of shelter from that storm. People who allow anger to rage in and out of them like a terrible thunder storm cause those same feelings in people.

Following the torrent of rain, we experienced the great and wonderful mood of "Weather"; in fact, the sky turned a gorgeous shade of blue, and a gentle breeze warmed our hearts with its equally warming breeze. People who are breezy and light warm our hearts. We want to spend all day in their bright, sunny dispositions.

And yet, something must have been troubling "Weather", for the breeze which had so previously felt so delightful to the touch turned menacing and howled through the trees in our back yard. The raging wind pounded fiercely upon our garage door. It frightened my children. How often do we frighten people with our words which emit from our bodies with a hurricane force, lashing at everything and everyone? I'll sadly admit, I have done more than my fair share of being angry one minute, being kind the next, just to blow away what kindness I had previously accomplished with a hurtful set of words.

Is this okay? Well, our Father in heaven got angry enough at the Israelites to wish their destruction upon them, time and again. Why can't we get angry, if the Creator of the entire universe gets angry, Himself?

Simply because it says in His Word that our God is "slow to anger and rich in love." It also says that God won't keep putting up with our shenanigans, but, better still, He won't stay angry at us forever. It has to take something mighty powerful for Him to get angry with us. So... how long does it take for us to get angry? Hopefully, you have a long-burning fuse, because it says this in the Bible about anger and angry people:

"He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, And he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city." -- Proverbs 16:32

"Better to dwell in the wilderness, Than with a contentious and angry woman." -- Proverbs 21:19

"Make no friendship with an angry man, And with a furious man do not go, Lest you learn his ways, And set a snare for your soul." -- Proverbs 22:24-25

When the person -- or people -- in your life come upon you like the storm that raged the Sea of Galilee and made strong, burly fishermen babble like babies, then just remember what those strong men did -- they called upon Jesus.

I imagine Jesus still laying there, half-awake, half-asleep. Can you see Him with a bent arm cradling His head? I bet He was more disturbed about being awakened than some storm brewing and tossing water on the deck. I'm certain that He then propped Himself up using the same arm which formerly cradled His head, sleepily tossed His other hand towards the sounds that boomed loud like a cannon being shot, and said simply, in a sleepy voice, "Oh, peace -- be still," in the same manner that one does when hitting the old snooze button.

We need to call "Peace, be still," to the raging waters that bellow and frighten us, in the name of Jesus. I'm not saying to declare that out loud; just pray to the One who created ALL things -- including people -- Jesus Christ of Nazareth. And instead of letting anger come in and control us to the point of wishing to inflict as much pain and embarrassment as feel we have just endured, we must be careful to answer with a soft word, being like that gentle wind which warmed all who entered in its flow.

What storm are you facing today? Is it a storm of your own making, or is it barraging you from the outside? Whatever it is, may you call upon the One who can calm the sea in any situation -- Jesus.

Be my Hiding place

I don't think that anything which happens in our lives is truly an accident. There's a purpose for every single thing that befalls us; the rain falls on the just as well as the unjust. During a flood, the last thing you want to see is more rain; during a time of drought, you will run out into the wonderful wetness and savor the droplets hitting your face. These happenings in our lives are placed in our lives to accomplish any number of things; either to test us, to make us stronger or to lift us up to a higher level of peace, love and understanding with our heavenly Father.

The same can be said of two events that, in context, seem different from one another. However, I believe that these two events interweaving in my life are for a reason. A few weeks back, I made a trip to the library, whereupon I found the book, "The Hiding Place" by Corrie Ten Boom. I have been having a hard time putting the book down; this was a story about a brave family that didn't realize how truly brave they were. What has been hitting me between the eyes is the smoothness with which the Third Reich came sweeping into Holland -- not only militarily, but mentally. One wonders, how could Holland, or any country, have allowed the horrendous atrocities to occur in their country. But you see, the Germans did not introduce all of these far-reaching restrictions over night. A law here, a rule there, until it was too late to fight back, and the countries ended up like a fly caught in a web.

This past week, I participated in my first-ever political rally. Over 1,500 people showed up on the grounds of Legislative Hall in my home-state, letting our voices be heard regarding our views on marriage between men and women. Men and women, black and white, young and old, were all united for one cause: we simply stated that marriage was between one man and one woman.

It's amazing to me how people who even say that they're Christians will turn around and revile those of us who stand up for Biblical principles. Is it too late, now, to reverse what has been coming to our eyes, ears and minds as a collective nation for over 80 years? The Scopes monkey trial started the ball rolling on solely teaching that lie otherwise known as evolution in our public schools. Madelyn O'Hare ushered in the age where we won't even be able to have a "silent moment" in our schools. We teach nine year olds how to place prophylactics on vegetables and teach girls that abortion is a viable alternative. Various television shows over the years have gradually numbed a nation into thinking that it's "okay to be gay."

When I try to state my opinion, I am greeted with the ever-present, "Well it says in YOUR Bible, 'Judge not, lest ye be judged.'" They also add, "I'm not going to give you credence for a lone verse in Leviticus regarding homosexuality." Yeah,,, even the devil can quote Scripture, when it suits his purposes, and there are more places than you'd care to imagine that talk negatively about homosexuality in the Bible.

I have to remind some people that there are NOT different levels of sin. No sin is worse than the other, in God's eyes, for ANYTHING that separates us from Him is sin. Gossip is just as bad as murder, in God's eyes. And running around on your wife while still going to church is just as bad as a person who loves someone of the same sex. In and of myself, I find I am a most sinful person, indeed; but, as I was telling my children in kid's church, there is NOTHING that can separate us from the love of God, and His forgiveness, if we humbly ask Him to do so.

Especially after reading "The Hiding Place", I am more than convinced that the end of this age is coming quicker than we may realize. I am also wondering more and more why we Americans think we are going to escape the wrath to come. We have allowed avarace, sin and greed to permeate our existence and then we expect God to bless us! We turn our backs as a nation on His laws while we terminate the unborn, celebrate "commitment ceremonies" -- even amongst the clergy! -- and teach our children that His Word is a lie when we openly celebrate reincarnation and evolution.

Jesus said it best when He said, "And whoever will not receive you nor hear you, when you depart from there, shake off the dust under your feet as a testimony against them. Assuredly, I say to you, it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment than for that city!” - Mark 6:11, and "Likewise as it was also in the days of Lot: They ate, they drank, they bought, they sold, they planted, they built; but on the day that Lot went out of Sodom it rained fire and brimstone from heaven and destroyed them all. Even so will it be in the day when the Son of Man is revealed. " - Luke 17:28-30

When I read the book of Revelation, I recall where Jesus speaks to the church of Sardis: "These are the words of him who holds the seven spirits of God and the seven stars. I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your deeds complete in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; obey it, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you.." Revelation 3:1-3

I don't want to be a dead church (you see, it's not a building that makes a church, WE are the temple of the Living God) -- I want to be ALIVE in HIM! May You help me, O Lord Jesus, to be all that You wish me to be for You! Awaken me, and stir in me the ability to do Your will, no matter what others may do or say!

Just some meanderings...

Usually, I go on Facebook twice a day. But I've been noticing a terrible occurrence; I plan on only being on Facebook a few minutes, but then find myself on there much longer than anticipated.

I start playing a game that which someone has sent me the "application" . I copy and paste a silly note that someone has sent to me and fill it out, myself. I start taking a quiz to see how "smart" I am in the knowledge of "80's music" -- as though it has any relevance on my life today. Then that quiz flows into another quiz, into another quiz and before I know it, too much time has slipped out of my hands.

I don't know... am I making any difference to any of my friends on Facebook? I wonder if I make a difference, period. Sorry I'm sounding like this. My greatest desire is to touch lives on behalf of Christ; somehow, that's one thing I keep questioning about myself.

Instead, I get phone calls from my mother who is now upset that I've accepted her niece (my cousin) as my friend, because my mother has not spoken to my aunt in over 17 years, and seems to think that my cousin will take news of her and my father back to my aunt, if I talk about them to my cousin. My sister told my mother, even though my sister has not become my friend, yet, but she can see who my friends are.

But you know, I have gotten in touch with a dear friend who has stayed true to Christ, and she and I now phone each other about once a week. I have been able to be friends with other people who I wouldn't have known otherwise. In every situation, God CAN shine through. I just have to pray beforehand and ask Him to lead me in my comings and goings, and to be an edifying force, and not to allow myself to be swept away by all things that can so easily distract me.

Please help me to be effective for You, dear Heavenly Father...

In the Blink of an Eye

The news just announced yesterday of the death of an actress, a talented actress from an acting dynasty. She was simply taking skiing lessons - on the bunny trail, no less - and fell. She was offered treatment, laughed about it and refused the treatment. Within the hour, Natasha Richardson was suffering from a headache. By the next morning, she was brain dead. Her family gathered around her, said their last goodbyes and pulled the plug. In the blink of an eye, she was gone. My condolences go out to her husband, young sons and the rest of her family.

When I heard about that accident, I was taken back to my husband's accident in August of 2000. I was expecting our daughter at the time. I just got done fixing my step-son's bike and was washing my hands when the knock on the door occurred. Standing before me were the police. They asked me my name. The vast myriad of thoughts that overcome your brain are overwhelming in those few seconds that the policeman says, "We're very sorry, but...."

In the blink of an eye, your whole world changes. My husband was minding his own business when someone passed a mail truck and hit my husband head-on. Even though he was wearing a seat belt, he still hit the windshield. He bounced back, and hit the side window. His hip was shattered, his other leg suffered a compound fracture, glass got in his eye and his thumb needed surgery. He actually died three times on the way to the hospital. Miraculously, he did not suffer internal injuries, he was not blinded, and he suffers from short-term memory loss. After that, you treasure the moments with your loved one -- including the times you want to haul off and smack him on his arm.

Our lives are but a vapor. I have been surprised at how quickly 25 years have passed from the day I graduated high school till now. I am surprised at how quickly my children have grown. One day, I will cross the threshold of this world into the next; how will I have touched the world in which I live? Have I done all that the Lord has given me to do? Have I really touched the lives of others in a positive way? More importantly, have I influenced them to serve and believe in a loving Savior? In the blink of an eye, someday I will be no more. In the blink of an eye, you will find yourself living in eternity - somewhere. Who have we touched today? Who have we reached? We need to work while it is still day.

What Would Jesus Do, if you sat in my pew?

I have a really dear friend who has been going to a Bible study at a church other than her own. While at this Bible study, the talk amongst those who regularly attend that church turned to pews. It turns out that one of the ladies at the Bible study sat in "the wrong pew." The lady whom the pew "belonged" walked up to the first lady, and stared at her. Just stood there... and stared. Finally the second lady spoke to the first lady: "You're sitting in the wrong pew; you're supposed to be in pew four, pew three is mine." The first lady sheepishly expressed her apologies and basically crawled back to "her" pew.

What worried my friend was this: "Becky, if I ever go to a Sunday night service, what do I do if I sit in the wrong pew?"

"You smile and say that you're new, and continue to sit where you're at," was my reply. No one OWNS a pew. If you're going to GOD'S house (which is a falacy, anyway, for if we are the temple of the Holy One, then the church building is only a meeting place to get equipped to do battle for the Lord), then it's GOD'S pew -- not yours.

She actually was moved to write a beautiful essay on her thoughts about this "pew" business. I asked her if I could print it as a "guest blog"; I hope she sends it to me so I can do so.

Last night on the news, the announcer stated that church membership in the main denominations are dwindling, and more people are actually claiming "no religion" for their religious preferences. Hmm.... would attitudes of "God's people" have a little something to do with it? You betcha!

Personally, I'm so sick and tired of condescending looks of those who claim they love God, yet hate the person who lives next door because they're,,, uh,,, not desirable. Pastor Ronnie (you'll find his blog listed in the column beside this blog -- I never knew him until I started writing a blog, but I'm so glad I know him now) recently stated something to the effect that he is amazed at how God uses what other people would throw away (like a drug abusing, jail bird) to bring glory to Himself.

What if this young man went into the church that I mentioned above, to search for the love and compassion of Christ, and end up getting "stared down" by some person who doesn't want to give up "their" seat? Aren't we supposed to welcome rich or poor, smelly or clean, well-dressed or tattered clothes, saved and unsaved, and embrace them as Jesus would? In our church, we don't have specific pews. I don't have a habit of sitting in the same seat; the only seats I sit in on a regular basis are the piano bench and the teacher's seat in the kid's room; and that's only for a short amount of time. In previous churches, I've done the same thing, because for me, to sit in a different seat is a wonderful way to get to know other people I wouldn't normally get to meet.

In fact, at one church in which my husband preached before I knew him, he unscrewed all of the brass name plates off of every pew and screwed them onto a board that he hung in the back of the church. Not only that, but my husband physically moved all of the pews around; when the parishioners came into the church, they didn't even get to sit in their "normal" pews. I still laugh when I think of how he must have blown the people's minds!

My question to challenge you is this: What if Jesus came to YOUR church and sat in YOUR pew? Would you welcome Him,,, or would you "stare" Him down? I hope you would smile and welcome Him -- or any person sitting in your so-called "regular" seat in with open arms, because after all, Jesus Himself said that anyone who welcomes someone in His name welcomes HIM. Next time someone sits in "your" seat at church, please imagine that that person is Jesus, and treat that person with love... then smile, introduce yourself, and welcome that person in. It'll make a world of difference!

Say,,,, WHAT?!

Recently, I've had a meeting of the minds with my fourth-grader. He LOVES to talk.... and talk... and talk... well, you get the idea. He gets that gift of gab easily, with a gregarious preacher for a daddy and a very talkative former disc jockey for a mother. However, he does NOT like to write reports. He would walk up to me and chat about a subject that we're researching, yet say to me, "Do I have to write more than seven sentences?"

The answer was a resounding "YES", when I gave him a "C" for a paper on Thomas Alva Edison. We have had our ears chatted off about Thomas Alva Edison, yet, when it came to writing a paper about this wonderful inventor, he hardly wrote a thing! My son does not suffer "C's" very well. So I sat down with him, and rewrote a paper, explaining to him and showing him how easy it was to just sit down and start telling me in written word what he was sharing with me orally. A week later, he had to write another paper, this time about David Livingstone. To my utter delight, he dove into writing this paper; he actually got up to 701 words -- over a page long! When given the proper encouragement, it's amazing what a person can do.

Recently, while praying to the Lord, I got an umption: "I want you to orate 52 stories in 52 weeks, and put it on the church website. I want you to also draw a picture to correlate with the stories so that children can color them in."

At first, I was scared, and overwhelmed. HOW would I do 52 stories? Then I felt that I really needed to number a notebook paper up to 52. Then, I felt I needed to write down "titles" to stories that I knew. That notebook filled up quicker than I thought with ideas for 52 stories. Then I worried: "I'm okay as an artist, but not stellar... how am I even going to begin drawing these pictures to color?" Then my husband pointed out that I've drawn some other pictures previously that I could use for the web-site stories. He also gave me an idea for a new drawing. I've been given wonderful encouragement from other friends regarding this new endeavor; now, what I need to do is dig in like my son did with his paper. With the proper encouragement, it's amazing what a person is capable of doing.

Fight the Fight

I have two friends whose divorces have become final relatively close to one another. They don't know each other, and their stories seem to be different.

One gal is upset about the death of her marriage, while the other friend is celebrating the end of hers. The other night, she asked me advice. She is upset that her now ex-husband wishes to share custody, 50/50. The thing is, her now-ex-husband is a good man who adores his children. I told her that if she trusted her children alone with her husband while married to him, then she should be able to trust him now; I don't think she liked that. I told her that I wish she would have asked me for advice before she filed for her divorce, which hit all of her friends like a bolt of lightening. None of us saw it coming or were told about it until it was almost final.

People tend to think that because I have been divorced that I will be in the cheering section for anyone who wishes to leave their spouse; I am not a fan of divorce at all. I know only too well why God HATES divorce. It affects the children, the husband's family and friends, the wife's family and friends, your business associates and your church family, not to mention God, Himself. I did not want a divorce; I wanted us to get help. There were problems that caused me to leave to protect myself, among other issues that is the business of my ex and myself. It's my understanding that my friend who is not happy about her divorce did not want hers, either.

This is the advice gave to the friend who was all too happy to get a divorce: "In life, marriages are like tides,,, there's ebbs and flows to every marriage. There are times you feel passionate about each other, other times when you feel more in like than in love, and other times where you don't like each other all that much,,, BUT marriage is so worth working for."

And that's the truth. It IS worth working for. If you fell in love with someone, there was a reason you did so. There was something that drew you to them. If your relationship is based on nothing but looks, well, then,,, uh,,, there's a problem, because looks fade. People lose their hair and put on weight and have bad breath when they first wake up. But if you are a Christian, and you said "Till death do us part," then that marriage is worth fighting for. Now, if that other person is running around on you and trying to beat you up, there are reasons to leave. But if you want to leave your spouse because you think your life will be more carefree, don't ask me for advice,,, you won't like it.

The devil is only too willing to try to convince you that you're in your rights to get a divorce -- it's up to us to know which is the voice of the enemy and which is the voice of God -- and fight hell, itself for the life of our marriages.

Sorry,,, but I just had to get this off of my chest.

He'll Do It Again

I grew up in what would be described today as abject poverty. Yes, my father had his own business, but it never made a whole lot of money, and every single year our family faced the terrible Sheriff's Sale. Every year, Mom would call us together and say, "God listens to the prayers of children, so I know He'll listen to you before He listens to me; you MUST pray that our house doesn't get taken away from us."

Pretty serious stuff for a child who wasn't even near the age of ten. But, every year, I prayed so fervently that our house would be saved. And you know, every single year it was saved from being sold out from under us. I personally believe that God saved our house from being sold not for my mother's sake, but to train up a little girl in HIS way, to teach her to rely on Him before all others, and to remember those times when He answered her prayers so that when times got rough when she got older, she would KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt who her Source truly was. It says in Isaiah, "the LORD shall teach your children, and great shall be the peace of your children."

I have been having a very strange peace, lately, during all of this latest hullabaloo over the economy, as well as our church. Don't get me wrong, I've worried alot in the past several months about things that, in the grand scheme of things, don't even matter. I have truly sweated the small stuff and have serious panic attacks over the littlest things. But in His Word it says, "I have never seen the righteous forsaken, nor his children begging for bread." And, "My peace I shall leave you,,, not as the world gives..." He's helping me to remember His Word is truth -- yesterday, today and forever.

I have personally known one who committed suicide over fixable problems. I see people hurting others and themselves over what? MONEY?! The love of money is the root of all evil -- now I know what that means, really.

In the midst of thinking about this, I have to mention Dolly Parton. I love that lady, and I don't even know why. She's so real, in spite of having had enough plastic surgery to keep Dupont or Rubbermaid in business. How is she real, you may ask? She's so transparent in her way of talking about things regarding herself and others. This week, as I was switching channels, I noticed her on Larry King. He asked her what she would do if she lost everything. She replied that she had been born dirt poor, and remembered doing things to get by with her family. She also said that even though she may not like it, she could go back to living a simple life as she did growing up.

And then it hit me -- I KNOW what it's like to be poor. What it's like to have NOTHING. To watch your father chop every other step in your cellar to get wood to burn to try to heat up one little room in your house. To sleep with a coat on and seeing your breath in the night air, whilst in your bedroom. To save milk jugs so that you can fill them with water from a local spring near a state park. To heat water on a hot plate and use a basin full of water to take your whole bath. And you know, it sure didn't kill me to be poor, so what's there to fear?

I've heard people complaining about little things; my own son will "throw shadows" at me (meaning, sulk) because I tell him I think x-box live is unsafe; he's unhappy with just enjoying his x-box and the multitude of games he gets to play on it. But tonight, he will be sleeping in a warm house in clean sheets. He will experience hot and cold running water out of a faucet. He will be able to brush his teeth with toothpaste, instead of salt on a toothbrush. He enjoyed a healthy portion of a good hot meal tonight, cooked on a working stove; and he'll be able to eat leftovers out of an honest-to-goodness working refrigerator. In our strong desire to make things easier for our children, have we made things ultimately harder for them?

Would I be happy if we lost our house and way of life to which I've readily grown accustomed and live the way I used to? No. But I know that if I needed to survive again, I could. Because my Lord will NOT leave me forsaken, nor leave my children begging for bread. He will keep me in His perfect peace. As it stands, I have a beautiful home, a wonderful and supportive husband, gorgeous children, and loyal friends, and best of all, a loving Father. And for that, I say, "Thank You, Father, for answering the prayers of a little girl so long ago and loving me, through it all, and giving me no reason to fear what lies ahead, because You are there, waiting to help all who call upon Your name."

What is Given on a 25th Anniversary, anyway?

The other day, I pulled it out of my head -- my first grey eyebrow hair. One, silver hair seemed to mock my thoughts that I tend to have about myself. You see, I refuse to think old. Don't get me wrong -- I won't do a single thing to change my face -- except pluck a few stray hairs, here and there. When I'm fifty, I won't plan on pulling a Madonna -- I won't ditch my husband and trade him in for a much younger model who is old enough to be my son. However, I tend to remember what it felt like to be younger, and my mind is always thinking of new things to do and new ways of doing things.

So, to see that grey eyebrow hair is reminding me that this girl is getting older. I still have quite a few years in me filled with goals and dreams that I have yet to accomplish. And to top that off, it's my 25th high school anniversary this year. Funny,,, my memories of school seem so fresh, that it's so hard to believe the years have melted away so quickly. And I'll admit; I'm really not looking forward to going to possibly going to that 25th reunion this year; if I would go, this would be the first reunion that I'd attend. And I'm not quite exactly ready, yet.

First, I'm not drop-dead gorgeous. In fact, I've put on quite a few pounds. There are going to be some people at this reunion who were not very nice to me at all, and for them to see me in my overweight state does not really appeal to me all that much. They made fun of me when I was thin and somewhat pretty; could you imagine what would happen if they'd spot me at the reunion, when I'm getting some greys and put on some serious weight? Also, I haven't accomplished anything of any real note -- at least, I haven't published those novels I've been meaning to finish writing. I haven't written any award-winning songs (although I've written songs, I've never had them published). I used to work in radio, but I now work for myself, in my own business that does not make millions of dollars, but does help me pay for homeschooling my children and pays for my insurance. How am I really able to measure up to the scrutiny that I will be sure to face if I venture to the reunion?

Then this morning, I was led to read from First Samuel. I read quite a bit; I sat in my bed, not moving, and reading until God made His point to me.

I read over the fate of Saul when he was told that obedience is better than sacrifice. I explained that section to my son as he came in to talk to me. Then I read about the anointing of David. There, paraded before the Judge and Prophet Samuel, were the sons of Jesse. They were young, beautiful and strong looking. Samuel was SURE that one of those sons were the chosen one. But God said one thing: People look on the outward appearance -- God, Himself looks at the heart.

So that's the thing that I think God wants me to remember, as I mull over whether to go on Jenny Craig, Nutrisystem or Weight Watchers, whether I join the gym or play my "Sweatin' in the Spirit" dvd. When I look back at the girl I was 25 years ago, I must have seemed so stuck up and so judgemental; what I was, was a girl who didn't know who or what she was, and only wanted to feel loved by someone. When I was younger and considered "sexy" by some whilst I was in my late teens and early 20's, my heart was so sad. I knew that I wasn't living totally for Him, and I felt so unworthy for anything or anyone.

I may have put on the poundage, but I now actually like myself more now than I did 25 years ago, because I know I am a child of God, and that He has never left me, nor forsook me. I still have a way to go; I need to realize that my successes are not based upon what the world thinks is a success, but what God knows is success. I'm learning that our church does not need to be a mega-church, nor do I need to be perfect. I don't need to be "rock-star" famous. I just need to touch my surroundings and the people with whom God allows me to cross paths for Him, and to try to show love as best as I can.

I also pray that I do not become "holier than thou", and ask Him what was asked of Him in Psalm 69:6: "Let not those who wait for You, Oh Lord God of Hosts, be ashamed because of me; let not those who seek You be confounded because of me, O God of Israel."

If I can remember who I am to God -- His child who loves Him and is loved by Him in return -- and I try to spur others to come to that wonderful knowledge, even if it's ONE person I can convince of that wonderful truth, then I am success in His eyes. And He doesn't care WHAT color my eyebrows may be!